Indigo Rain

by Elise Noble

  Finally, he let me go, sucking with just the right amount of pressure as I shattered, the scratch of his beard on my skin countering the sweet touch of his lips. And when I broke, he gathered me up in his arms and hugged me back together again.

  I rewarded him with a stream of gibberish. “Wow. I can’t even… I’ve never… Words are gone.”

  He kissed my forehead. “We don’t always need words. Time for you to get some sleep.”

  “Huh? Wait. What about you?”

  I’d have been freaking blind if I’d missed the effect of our games on Travis, but just to be sure, I went in for a feel. Denim over rock-hard cock. Holy hell.

  “Too much, too soon, blue. I’ll go take care of myself in a minute.”

  I should have been appreciative of his consideration. Told him how sweet he was, or perhaps kissed him to show my thanks. But since he’d turned my brain to mush, what actually came out was, “Can I watch?”

  “Fuck me. You really are filthier than you look, aren’t you? An angel with the mind of a sewer rat.”

  “Is that a problem?”

  “Hell, no.” He gave me a quick kiss on the lips, his beard still damp with my juices. “Yeah, you can watch. Join in if you want.”

  I sucked in a breath as I got my first glimpse of naked Travis and nearly swallowed my own tongue. If there were an awards show for dicks, he’d win every prize.

  “Are you talking about acting like a dick or physical dicks?”

  “Did I just say that out loud?”

  “Yeah, babe.”

  “Three weeks ago, I would have gone with the first option, but now I’ve changed my mind.”

  “Do I need to make an acceptance speech? You know, first, I’d like to thank genetics, and also Trojan for keeping everything in good working order, but mostly Alana Graves for creating this replica of the Washington Monument we see here today.”

  “Shut up and show me what to do.”

  Travis spat on his hand then wrapped it around his cock, his fist moving slowly to start with. His earlier efforts had left me drained, but watching him now, my energy levels replenished with every stroke.

  “Can I try? H is for hands.”

  He didn’t speak, just wrapped my hand around the shaft under his. My fingers didn’t even meet, which was a daunting prospect for later on. Because there was no question I’d go all the way with Travis. The man had me in every way possible.

  “Shit, blue, I’m not gonna last long.”

  “Will you…” I screwed my eyes shut. “Will you come on me?”

  Quick as a flash, he changed positions, straddling me as he pumped his cock. Cum squirted across my breasts, and I stared at it, scarcely able to believe that in twenty-four hours, I’d gone from hopelessly miserable to borderline depraved. And Travis Thorne watched me, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

  “H is also for happy ending.”

  “And hot as hell.”

  “I’m burnin’ up, blue.” He reached forward to grab a handful of tissues from the box on my bedside table and wiped away the mess. “I’d like to roast all night, but we need to get some sleep.”

  “What time do you need to start work?”

  Travis sighed, his earlier good humour gone. “I should get back to the hotel early. Alana, we need to keep this quiet for a while. What’s happening between us. Not because I’m not proud as hell to have you as my girl, but because I don’t want you gettin’ scared off.”

  “It’s okay; I understand.”

  I didn’t like it, but I understood. And yes, I was nervous as hell about whatever would come next.

  “I just want to be absolutely solid before we go public. I know my reputation, but this isn’t some game for me.”

  “Me neither. I’ll have to break the news to my brother as well.”

  “Will I need to duck?”

  “Possibly. Like I said, he can be a bit overprotective.”

  “Then we’re on the same page. I’d do anything to keep you safe, blue.”

  “Just don’t break my heart.”

  He placed a hand on my chest, and I pressed my own over the top.

  “Our hearts are bound together now, so I’d be breaking my own as well.”

  CHAPTER 21 - ALANA

  SIX THIRTY, AND Travis hopped around my room as he pulled his jeans on, swearing under his breath. Three hours of sleep hadn’t left either of us particularly coordinated.

  “Are you sure you don’t want coffee before you leave?”

  “Stay in bed, blue. I’ll get it back at the hotel.”

  “What if someone sees you sneak in? The press?”

  “They won’t. I never get up this early, so they don’t arrive till noon.”

  It was true; the band really didn’t do mornings. A year or so ago, Gary had tried to make them do a run of eight a.m. public appearances, so they’d lain on stage at the beginning of a show and taken a nap in protest. One of the few times they’d stood up to the record label.

  “I’ll get there by ten. Save me a seat at breakfast?”

  Travis leaned down to kiss me, a chaste peck on the lips that turned into something entirely more heated.

  “You can’t sit next to me, or I’ll be hard all day. I’ll save you a seat next to Dex or JD.”

  “Why not Rush?”

  “Because Rush likes to hug you, and I don’t want to have to kill him.” Another kiss. “Bye, blue-eyes.”

  “I miss you already.”

  He messaged me the moment the door closed.

  Travis: Miss you too xx

  The texting theme continued when I got to the hotel. Squashed onto a bench seat beside Dex, I fished my phone out of my pocket when it vibrated.

  Travis: I is for innocence or indecent behaviour. Which do you prefer?

  Oh, hell. I glanced across at the man himself, but he was eating muesli with Vina, Meredith, and Verity, not a care in the world. Meredith gave me a wave when she caught me looking, and I forced a smile back. Gah! Travis Thorne was the most amazing, frustrating, sweet, sexy, filthy asshole I’d ever met. The sensible part of me said to pick innocence, a low-risk strategy, but the girl who’d lain there last night while a man came all over her was kind of tempted by option two.

  “What did that toast ever do to you?” Dex asked.

  “Huh?” I looked down and realised I’d destroyed a slice of wholemeal, and now I was spreading Nutella on the plate. “Oops. I’m a little tired.”

  “Didn’t sleep well?”

  I’d slept better than any other night in my life, just not for long enough. “Do you ever feel really restless?”

  “Nah, my pain pills knock me out every time.”

  I got a new piece of toast and focused on spreading the Nutella properly. I figured I’d earned the right to a decent breakfast after all the calories I’d burned last night. Innocent or indecent. Innocent or indecent… In the end, I decided to live dangerously.

  Me: Indecent behaviour. And J is for jam. I’m gonna lick it off you later.

  Travis looked across just as I dropped a miniature jar of strawberry jelly into my handbag, and I saw him suck in a breath. Good.

  Tonight’s show was at the O2, and we headed there after breakfast. I’d been to plenty of events in that arena, but I’d never seen it empty like that. I stood centre stage and took a picture for my own Instagram. Looking out at the cavernous space gave me a strange feeling of vertigo, a fear that everyone was watching even though there was nobody there.

  “Impressive, huh?” Travis said, walking up behind me.

  “Scary. What’s it like, being up here with thousands of people screaming at you?”

  “The biggest rush you can imagine. That’s why we’re still in the business. Otherwise, we’d have said fuck it and walked, then waited for the label to sue our bankrupt asses.”

  “Do you ever worry about falling?”

  “Nah, I jump instead. The fans always catch me.”

  “You’re crazy.”

 
“Crazy about you, blue.”

  “And cheesy. Did I mention cheesy?”

  “Perhaps in a few years, I can make a living singing Barry Manilow covers.”

  I was about to suggest adding Cliff Richard to his repertoire when one of the crew called him over. But as he walked away, my phone buzzed.

  Was that Travis?

  It sure was. A black-and-white photo, taken of him naked in bed with his hand over his cock. Flipping heck. It had begun. He’d cropped out any identifying marks, obviously mindful of the Reagan incident, but I knew it was him. And if he’d taken it earlier, he must have known which option I’d pick. Was I really that predictable?

  And how was I supposed to follow up? Did he expect me to send a picture too? Maybe, but he’d also never push me to do anything I wasn’t comfortable with. After a moment’s hesitation, I nipped into the ladies’ loo and took a picture of my mouth, just my mouth, with the tip of my tongue licking my lips. A little artistic editing and a pretty filter later, I sent it over. Take that, Thorne.

  He got his own back an hour later as I walked down a corridor in search of coffee. I didn’t have the best sense of direction, and it was all too easy to get lost, but I didn’t care when I saw Travis approaching. He glanced over my shoulder, shoved me into an alcove, and snogged me senseless.

  “K is for kissing.”

  Five seconds later, he’d gone, and I’d almost come.

  Things only degenerated as the afternoon wore on. First, Travis sent me the ultimate dick pic, which I unfortunately opened right after I’d taken a mouthful of coffee.

  Vina hastily passed me a handful of tissues to blot the mess off my keyboard. “Are you okay?”

  “Uh, fine. It just went down the wrong way.”

  Oh, dear goodness. He’d lined glacé cherries up along his length and decorated it with whipped cream. How in the hell was I supposed to compete with that? The best I could manage was a heart drawn in jam, the pointy part tucked into my cleavage.

  Me: L is for laughter.

  And possibly love too, because with every passing moment, my feelings for Travis grew stronger. Love was a strange creature. My mother had tied the knot five times without experiencing it once, Tessa swore she fell in love every other week, and my brother had been the king of one-night stands until he met Dove. I guess it was different for everyone.

  The show kicked off at seven with Vendetta, then Styx and Stones, and finally Indigo Rain. I’d started taking pictures of everyone now, and people just looked at them on my screen and picked out the ones they wanted me to send to them. Yes, it was kind of slave labour since I wasn’t getting paid, but apart from dealing with Herr Führer Gary, I enjoyed being there. I suppose that even though my father hadn’t been much of a dad, I had to thank him for giving me the financial means to be able to do this.

  Because there was nothing on earth that compared to watching an Indigo Rain set from the edge of the stage, seeing Travis Thorne turn to wink at you, then clutching your chest in panic as he swan-dived into the crowd below. Like he said, they caught him, and he carried on singing as he crowd-surfed on his back around the arena, eventually returning to the stage minus his shirt.

  Freaking heck. I was dating that guy.

  And tonight, he’d be in my bed again. At the hotel, he headed upstairs with the others while I lingered in the lobby, but I knew he’d be back. Five minutes passed. Ten. It didn’t matter because the black cab waiting at the kerb had its meter running. The driver would wait as long as I wanted. Finally, Travis jogged down the stairs with a messenger bag over his shoulder and a cap pulled low over his eyes.

  And ran right into Vina as she came out of a different door.

  Shit.

  “You’re going out?” she asked, then turned and saw me. It took her five seconds to put the puzzle pieces together, and her eyebrows flew into her hairline as realisation dawned. “You’re going out together?”

  I gripped her hand. “Please, please don’t tell anyone. We’re trying to keep it quiet.”

  “I won’t.” She mimed zipping up her lips and throwing away the key. “I won’t say a word.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I don’t suppose you’ve seen my room card? I can’t find it anywhere.”

  “Sorry. But the desk’ll just code you a new one if you ask.”

  “That’s what I figured.” She smiled. “Have a good time.”

  The cab driver grudgingly put away his packet of crisps when we climbed in, and I snuggled against Travis as we once more headed for Chelsea. What a difference twenty-four hours made. Last night, I’d been freaking out about Caitlin answering Travis’s phone, whereas tonight, I was panicking in case jam leaked all over my handbag.

  And now Travis dumped his bag on my lap.

  “Hey, what are you—” His hand slid underneath. “Ahh.”

  “I’ve been waiting all day to get my hands on you. Put me out of my misery, blue.”

  “So M is for misery?”

  “No, M is for masturbation. I had to jack off in the bathroom after lunch.”

  Travis! I smacked my palm against my forehead. “I’m not sure I needed to know that.”

  “Take it as a compliment. Besides, it’s fun. You should try it sometime. I could help you.”

  He ran a finger over the seam of my jeans, and I bit my bottom lip to keep from whimpering. Twenty-four hours, and I’d turned into a puddle of lust. I thought Travis might go for my zipper, but he didn’t, just kept his touch infuriatingly light as he made me squirm in my seat.

  If my legs hadn’t been so wobbly, I would’ve run into my apartment building, but as it was, I had to settle for a fast stagger with Travis holding me up. Believe it or not, I hadn’t even been drinking. The elevator took forever, and he pushed me against the wall and kissed me breathless on the journey to the sixth floor.

  “You seem like you’re in a hurry, baby?” he said as I cursed my key and the lock, neither of which wanted to talk to the other.

  “F is for foreplay, that’s what you said. And we’ve basically been doing that for the entire day, so excuse me if I’m a tiny bit flustered. F is also for faster, and that’s how you need to move.”

  This time when we got inside, he really did tear off my clothes. Buttons went flying, and I accidentally ripped his T-shirt when his arm got stuck. Oops. But I had him right where I wanted him, naked and ready on my bed.

  “Blue, wait. Shh, slow down. This isn’t a race. We’ve got all night, and we’re not rushing. I know what happened in the past, but I’m treating this like it’s your first time, and I don’t want to hurt you.”

  Hormones sizzled in my veins, and my libido wanted to straddle him like a desperate cowgirl, but logically, I knew he was right. It was gonna be uncomfortable. It always had been. With all the other stuff we’d been doing, I’d managed to shove the bad memories to the back of my mind, but now they returned with a vengeance.

  “Okay,” I whispered, the heat in my veins simmering down. “Tell me what to do.”

  “M is also for missionary, and that’s how we’re gonna do this. Lie on your back and raise your knees.”

  Yes, it stung as Travis stretched me, but he made up for it with his sweetness. Kisses, caresses, and a slow rhythm that let me savour the connection between us. My stepfather had always told me I was a good girl, and even today, those words made me feel sick to my stomach. But Travis did the opposite, whispering filth and smut and telling me how bad I was as he erased the worst parts of my childhood.

  “N is for nails, blue. Rake them down my back. I’ll pay for as many manicures as you want.”

  “You like that?”

  “Yeah, I fuckin’ do.” His head dropped forward as I clawed at him, and he let out a low groan. “Gonna come. Can’t hold out much longer.”

  “Do it.”

  Travis stiffened against me, peppering my cheeks with soft kisses as he grunted his release, and I knew at that moment the love thing was going to cause me a big problem. Travis
Thorne had entwined his soul with mine, and untangling them would be impossible.

  “You okay, Alana?”

  “I think so.”

  “Sore?”

  “A little.”

  “Do you want to sleep now? Or play with your jam?”

  Travis couldn’t keep a straight face as he asked, and I giggled with him.

  “I’m still hungry.”

  “Give me a minute to get rid of this condom, and then you can do whatever you want to me.” He pulled out, then rummaged in his bag before he went to the bathroom. “You can try this too.”

  He tossed me a can.

  “Whipped cream?”

  “Whipped queam. We did O and P yesterday, and I was struggling for Q.”

  The giggles turned into full-blown laughter. “You’re such an idiot.”

  “Yeah, I know. But now I’m your idiot.”

  CHAPTER 22 - ALANA

  ON FRIDAY MORNING, the dream turned into a nightmare when I heard the front door slam.

  My first, sleep-deprived thought was that Travis had run out on me. My second, when I realised Travis was still asleep with his arm around my waist, was oh fuck.

  “Travis, wake up! I think my brother just came home.”

  “Huh?”

  Sleepy Travis was normally cute, but not today.

  “My brother’s outside.”

  “Aw, fuck. Are you sure?”

  “Well, it’s either him or a burglar.” At that moment, a burglar actually seemed preferable. I had my phone, and my pepper spray, and, uh, half a can of squirty cream. “Wait here. I’ll check.”

  “Alana, if you think it’s a burglar, you’re not going out there alone.”

  “I’m almost ninety-five percent sure it isn’t.”

  “What about—”

  “Lanie?” Zander called. “Are you okay?”

  Dammit.

  “Sure, why wouldn’t I be?”

  “Just wondering why there’s a pair of size-ten men’s boots in the hallway?”

  Of course there was, and Zander took a size eleven.

  Travis had turned out to be surprisingly well house-trained, but now I cursed his foster parents for instilling that sense of tidiness in him. If he’d just thrown the damn boots down the side of my bed, I could have hidden him on the balcony or something.