Free Backstage with Her Ex by Louisa George Page B

or durian?’
    â€˜What?’ Oh, merry hell. Beam me up.
    â€˜Kidding.’ As he laughed his leg brushed against hers causing a riot of tingling throughout her body. She didn’t know if he even realised he was doing it. But by God, she wanted him to stop.
    And to never stop.
    â€˜Okay, so no to the exotic fruit. How about...oranges that have been pressed through the thighs of nubile virgins?’ He handed her a glass of something thick and bright. ‘That’s very on trend at the moment.’
    â€˜No, darling, that was so last year.’ She laughed and took the proffered drink. ‘I’m glad you can see how strange this all seems to someone like me.’
    â€˜I suppose I’ve got used to it all. It is what it is.’ He paused, his brow creased as he surveyed the room. ‘I’ve never really thought about it, until now. I fell headlong into a life of crazy and it’s just a part of me now.’ He laughed. ‘Some people go to any event to get themselves noticed. I’m more selective these days.’
    Sasha shuddered. ‘I don’t understand this need to be seen. I’d hate having to face those cameras every day.’ But then, perhaps not everyone had a past they wanted to keep out of the spotlight.
    She followed him to the stark back walls, where bright orange oddly molded objects, made from what looked like balls of Plasticine, hung on tight steel chains.
    People around them talked about light and structure and the profound meaning of such stark urban symbolism. Or something.
    Nathan’s eyebrows peaked and a little frown line appeared on his forehead. She fought an urge to trace her finger along it, down his cheek, to that mouth.
    He whispered into her ear, his breath warming her skin. ‘Do you like the art?’
    She shook her head and bit her lip trying not to be thrown by a situation so utterly out of her comfort zone. Or by her body’s irritating response to his every touch. ‘Would it be rude if I said no?’
    â€˜It’s worth a bomb.’ His head tipped back as he focused longer on the piece. A laugh rose from his chest, full and hearty. ‘But it looks like...earwax?’
    â€˜Yup. Thank goodness I’m not the only one to think so.’ As she laughed their gazes snagged again. One second. Two. Something snapped between them, electric and intense. Something deep. Something new. For a moment bewilderment flitted across his face.
    â€˜Better not tell Rocco what you think—he’s coming over. Don’t break his heart.’
    A tall scruffy-looking man in an ill-fitting mismatched jacket and trousers sauntered over. He gave Nate a thump on the arm. ‘Long time no see, mate. How ya dooin?’
    â€˜Great. This is my friend, Sasha.’
    â€˜Y’all reet?’ The guy was called Rocco, but was from deepest Newcastle? She’d never heard him speak, famous as he was for his Silent Night series—living art that involved a bed, a mouth gag and handcuffs. Whacky didn’t cut it.
    She watched as Nathan engaged Rocco in quiet intense conversation. Where was the hell-raiser now? Talking knowledgeably about earwax installations and art spaces, drinking champagne and laughing. The more she discovered about him, the more she wanted to know. Which was all kinds of irritating.
    He stepped forward as he spoke, and immediately a cold chill snaked up her back.
    Ah. Clearly her body was just on physical overdrive. Lust. Hot and sharp, and not lasting.
    Physical she could deal with. She had total control over her body; she could wrestle it into submission. It was the psychological she had trouble with. The knowledge that love was fragile, that had been reinforced with every going-nowhere relationship she’d had.
    But to make things easy on herself she was going to activate Plan A. Just as soon as she could get a word in.
    Edging back from the group, she leaned against the bar and took a moment to