Free Rock Chick 08 Revolution by Kristen Ashley Page B

knowing this about my brother. I could say it wasn’t much of a
surprise. I’d been underwear shopping with Indy, and often. She had good taste.
And Lee was all man (of the Ren variety) so it wasn’t a big leap that he’d get
off on something like that.
    What everyone didn’t know was that because I’d known Indy since I was born (which
meant I knew Grandma Ellen since I was born, and Grandma Ellen was like a
grandma to me too), she gave me the same life lesson.
    I just took it further. I wore sexy
underwear, no exceptions, no holds barred. I had never owned a pair of granny
panties from age sixteen onward.
    And I never would.
    I also never slept in anything unsexy
unless I didn’t sleep in anything (and that was the sexiest of all).
    I’d learned that Ren was turned on
not only by the tactile but also the visual. He liked watching me go down on
him. He liked watching me ride him. He liked watching my face as he rode me. He
also liked my nighties. The look and feel.
    And I knew he’d learned if he
showed late at my place he was in for a treat, because over the last couple of
months I’d given him a lingerie cornucopia of delights that he showed his
appreciation for in a variety of righteous ways.
    And tonight’s nightie was actually
new. I bought it just for him.
    Though I’d never tell him that.
    I checked the peephole just to be
certain and saw Ren again gazing down the hall. Since there was nothing there
but carpeted hall and doors, I wondered what fascinated him about that.
    Then wondering got in the way of
opening the door and getting to Ren so I quit doing that, and I unlocked and
opened the door.
    He heard the locks so he was
looking at me when I did.
    I was lamenting the fact that when
we had the chance to hook up, he usually had time to get home and change. That
meant I didn’t get him in suits very often. Like now, he was wearing a
lightweight white shirt, sleeves rolled up, and faded jeans.
    It wasn’t a suit I could peel off
him, but those everyday items of apparel looked better on him than any other
man could pull off, so I wasn’t quibbling.
    I tipped my head back, smiled at
him, leaned in and fisted a hand in his shirt. Then I pulled him in my
apartment.
    He kicked the door closed as I
moved into him, my hand sliding up, my mouth aiming for his.
    But he surprised me by putting a
hand to my waist and holding on there even as he set me slightly back. He
twisted and flipped the light switch.
    I blinked at the sudden brightness
and caught his eyes.
    Then I smiled.
    Yeah. Ren was visual. Whatever he
had planned, he wanted to watch. And to be able to watch, he had to see.
    It was always good, but I was
thinking tonight was going to be better.
    I leaned in and got up on my toes.
    When my mouth was almost on his,
Ren’s head moved back an inch and his other hand curled firm at the side of my
neck, holding me warm but steadily away from him.
    What the fuck?
    “Zano—”
    “That night,” he said, his eyes
looking into mine in a weird way that felt intense and probing. “What were you
doin’ at Club?”
    My head gave a little confused
shake and I asked, “What?”
    “That night I apologized,” he gave
me more info and I, unusually belatedly, sensed the danger and my body
stiffened. His hand at my waist wrapped around it to hold me to him as his
fingers at my neck dug in as he kept talking. “What were you doin’ at Club?”
    “Why are you asking this?” I
queried.
    “Why aren’t you answering?” he
returned.
    My brows drew together. “Because
it’s none of your business.”
    He ignored that and tried a
different tactic.
    “Were you with a man?”
    “No.”
    “A friend?”
    “No, Zano,” I snapped. “Why does it
matter?”
    “’Cause you weren’t with anybody.
You stayed a few minutes after I left you, took off to the bathrooms and never
came back. I know. I watched for you.”
    He watched for me.
    Nice.
    “But you disappeared,” he finished.
    “So?”
    “The exit’s at the