One Wicked Lick from the Drummer (The One Book 3)

made him feel known, invincible like Philly had long ago.
He’d happily deal with all the spiders and creepy things for them and call it a future.

NINE
Grip’s body heat was comforting in this place of things that made your skin crawl. The escape experience was so incredibly well done, Mena totally bought in on it. Despite being edgy, okay, scared, she wanted to find out what came next, and with Grip alongside her, she didn’t feel like it was going to beat her.
He was a steady presence. He didn’t do anything to hype her fear, nor did he laugh unkindly at her when she twitched and jumped. Yes, they were touching, and it had given her a moment’s pause, but there really wasn’t anything sexual about it. Holding hands in the dark was practical and bumping against each other was almost guaranteed.
He’d just saved her from being swooped by mechanical bats that felt incredibly real. She looked up at him. “I’m ready.”
If there were clues, she was yet to find one, but she wasn’t done trying. She broke away and opened the door closest. It was storage. Full of suitcases. Most of which originated in the days before wheels. And cobwebs. Shudder. She closed the door but Grip stepped past her opened it again and retrieved a torch. “You never know.”
He had fake cobweb in his hair, she twitched to brush it off, just as well fake cobweb was spider adjacent, so no, just no.
There were two doors left at this end of this corridor. “I guess we have to go through one of these.” The one in front of her had the words Linen Press written on a sign that was badly attached and swung off one nail. She opened the other door just as Grip said, “Wait.”
The rotten egg gas smell that assaulted her was enough to make her gag. Slamming the door closed, she coughed and then choked out, “Linen Press it is.”
Grip stayed her hand before she opened the door. “I know what happens in this room.”
“Are there spiders?”
“No spiders.”
Sheet storage sounded benign. Not that anything was what it seemed here.
“The door locks and the room gets smaller.”
“How small?”
“Until we have to stand close.”
Oh, linen press. “For how long?”
“It’s quick. A hatch opens up and we have to crawl out of there. If you’re in any way claustrophobic, let’s go back the other way and pick another door.” He flashed the torchlight against a wall plaque that said the same thing in warning.
“I’m game.”
“I like that about you, Ms. Grady.”
She’d like him not to say things like that in a voice that made her want his hands all over her body when she was about to have to stand close to him with no escape.
When he opened the door, fool that she was, Mena followed him inside. The room was square and lined with shelves stacked with sheets and towels. Everything was grey as if it’d had the life washed out of it, but this room smelled pleasantly of lemon-scented washing powder. Grip stayed by the door, which made a mechanical sound as it locked them in. She walked to the opposite end and faced him. The lighting dimmed and a red button, labeled let me out glowed.
They grinned at each other. Apart from the niggling spider worry, this was the most fun she’d had in a long time. She wasn’t going to think about the fact it was borderline inappropriate.
“Do you still think this is a bad investment?” Grip asked.
“I’m warming up to it. I’d want to see some more numbers in the business plan.”
“Warming, huh.”
She shook her head. “Don’t start.”
His shoulders came up, his brow in a knowing move. “What did I say?”
“You do this thing where you pick on a word I use and go all in on the innuendo.”
“I don’t even know what that means.”
“Don’t play dumb. You know what you’re doing. Drummers are never dumb.”
He grinned and the walls to either side of them moved, narrowing the room.
“For some reason I enjoy teasing you. I know I shouldn’t,” he said.
“For some reason,” oh that reason. “I’ve been a little formal with you.”
He coughed, all exaggeration. “Except on the beach.”
She sighed. “You hit me with all your naked beauty, and I’m just a girl who works too hard and hasn’t had any fun in a while.”
“Is that so?” he said, chin lowered, smile about to go supernova. The room narrowed again. The whole world was getting smaller. “Seems like bad economics to me.”
“How so?”
“I’d say it’s a tragedy if your needs and wants aren’t being met.”
The wall behind Mena shifted, forcing her to shuffle toward Grip who looked as if he was up for satisfying every need and want she’d ever imagined.
“You like to live dangerously, don’t you?” If her pulse rate was any judge, it was the man at the other end of this shrinking room who was dangerous.
“I like to live truthfully.”
Mena’s breath snagged. Oh fuck. He had to say that. They were forced to take another step closer to each other.
“Are you having fun now?” Grip asked.
She was skittish and terrified and turned on. “I am.”
“Good start.” He tipped his head to the side, considering. “What’s that saying? Start the way you mean to go on. What did you use to do for fun?” All the walls shifted, the shelves sliding together, the linen starting to bunch up.
“You know, the usual.” Strategize about sleeping with every good drummer in the world, culminating with you.
“Nope. Tell me how you used to satisfy needs and wants.”
They took another step towards each other. There was nowhere else to look but at him, nowhere else she wanted to look. “I’d dress up,