by Cari Quinn
He couldn’t keep up with Denver, but he lasted longer every day. She was a freak, but a fun one. She always found the little hole in the wall places. Sometimes from the app on her phone, sometimes from the freakish Reddit she followed that was more gibberish than words as far as he was concerned.
Regardless, Denver had found the ultimate pizza place.
And he was fucking starving.
Lauren was suspiciously silent. She kept up with him, but kept tossing glances over her shoulder as if she was escaping someone. And he was trying to come to grips with the hair color change.
The dark hair had been more lush somehow. Not as gorgeous as her blond, but combined with her pale skin, the dark hair had made her seem a little older. Then again, maybe that was why she’d worn it for her deep cover act.
The blond was…different. Sweeter, maybe? He wanted to pull her closer and protect her. And the deep wine color of her lips was even more distracting. A neon sign that said, “sink into me”.
“Why do you keep looking at me like that?” she asked.
“I’m trying to figure you out.” He tugged her over to the side entrance and through the double doors.
“What’s to figure out?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Why were you skulking around? You’re not exactly the usual…” He trailed off. He didn’t want to insult her, but she didn’t act like the usual girl who tried to follow them around.
She jerked them both to a stop. “The usual what?”
He swung their hands lightly between them until she moved into him. Her impressive tits were straining against the Warning Sign logo. The shirt was too small for her and warred with the good girl blond with the overdone makeup. It emphasized her top heavy figure and clung to her grip-worthy hips.
Everything about her was inviting, save for her wary eyes.
He wanted to ease that as well. He couldn’t even explain why, but he wanted to make sure she was happy.
She tipped back her head. “Would the usual girl do this?” She dragged him down to her and smashed her mouth into his. He wasn’t sure how anything could be hard about her abundant lips, but she found a way to bash them against his teeth.
She stumbled against him in the shoes she’d been tripping on since the moment he’d met her. Again, it was as if she’d put together her outfit to be like every other fan, yet it didn’t seem to match her.
One more piece to her costume?
And why the hell did it get him revved?
He eased her back and covered her hands on his chest. “Easy there.”
A little wrinkle formed between her eyes. “That wasn’t right, was it?”
He grinned down at her. “Nothing wrong with the idea.”
She sighed. “Just the execution. Always my problem.”
“Just need a little practice, that’s all.”
She chewed on the inside of her cheek. He was pretty sure her brain was on overdrive based on her hard stare at his mouth. Kissing wasn’t a mathematical equation.
The doors behind them opened and a group of people pounded up the steps, breaking the moment.
West eased her over near the wall so no one would recognize him. He wasn’t exactly Molly or Juliet. They were recognized the most, followed by Michael and Mal.
Keyboardists weren’t exactly the top of the pile when it came to the fandom, but there were enough people who were into him. Especially with his new stage diving tactics. Most didn’t recognize him with his clothes on—helluva secret weapon.
Lauren was distracted by the stream of people who kept coming in the door. Enough that he was able to surprise her with a glancing kiss. She tried to move away and he cupped her face, holding her still.
She gripped his sweater and her huge eyes went even bigger the closer he got to her mouth. He made sure to go slow in case she wanted him to stop, but her eyes simply crossed the closer he got to her.
He laughed into her mouth, then groaned when she smoothed her hands over his chest and under to the T-shirt beneath. She trembled lightly—or vibrated—he wasn’t really sure.
Stepping back seemed to be the best option when she hooked an arm around his neck and went onto her toes. She crashed into his chest, her amazing breasts plastering to him as enthusiasm took over for both of them. She pushed him up against the wall. He whooshed out a breath and widened his stance to take all of her.
He’d completely lost control of the entire situation, but didn’t mind overmuch. Especially when she finally lined them up and her pillow-soft lips glided over his. He slipped his fingers into her hair and ended up gripping the fine strands along the nape of her neck.
The little purr that resonated between them left him zero to hard in three seconds. He didn’t even mind that it was her pushing him into the wall. He kinda liked the aggressive side to her.
Finally, she took a step back, her eyes glazed over.
He slid his hand down the inside of her arm. She shivered and goosebumps rose off her skin before their fingers laced.
Yeah, he wasn’t quite ready for her to disappear. Even if her story was a little hinky.
Did she even have a story? Not exactly. He hadn’t pressed her for one. He’d just seen her reaction to him—and then her reaction to the guy she didn’t want to leave with—and instinct had taken over.
Instinct and attraction were a damn potent combo, especially when Lila had basically declared her off-limits. That practically aimed a Day-Glo arrow in her direction as far as he was concerned.
Damn rebel that he was.
They raced down the stairs and her hair flew behind her in silvery ribbons in the neon-tinged night. The streets were wet—it was Seattle, after all. Everything was always wet.
Maybe even the sweet Lauren.
She clomped after him, her laughter drowned out by the traffic. “Where are we going?”
“This way.”
She looked both ways on the street and her fickle little frown lines were back.
“Wondering if you should be going off with me, little girl?”
“No.” She lifted her chin and quickened her step until they were walking side by side. “I just don’t understand how you know where to go. I lived in Seattle for more than half my life and I don’t know where I am in downtown.”
“You don’t have a magical researcher named Denver.”
“Who’s Denver?”
“Our driver-slash-personal-Google.”
“I need one of those.”
“You can’t have her.”
“Her?”
The corner of his mouth kicked up. “Yeah, her. She’s amazing.”
The frown was back. “What makes her so amazing?”
He shrugged and glanced at the street signs. He swore and dug out his phone. Denver may be a human GPS on crack, but he wasn’t. “She consistently finds the best local restaurants and diners—especially diners. The girl has never met a pancake she didn’t like.”
“Interesting superpower.”
He grinned down at Lauren and dragged her in closer. “That’s exactly what it is. A superpower. One that you’ll appreciate when you have the hot, salty perfection in your mouth.”
Her eyes grew wide and her lips parted.
And there he was, hard as a pike again. Good goddamn, her mouth was lethal. “Pizza, Lauren. Ricci’s Pizzeria.” He bent to her ear and nodded across the street. “Right there.”
“Oh.” She elbowed him in the gut. “You did that on purpose.”
“Maybe.” He hopped down the curb into the street and waited to make sure she didn’t stumble again in her stupid shoes. She gripped his hand tighter and followed him across the street into the little pizza joint.
It had old wood paneling on the walls, and ancient red vinyl booths with red checkered tablecloths. Garlic and cheese punched him in the face and made his belly roar.
“I’m not much of a carb person.”
He turned around and stopped in the middle of the aisle. “Are you serious?”
&nbs
p; Her mouth spread into a wide smile. “Come on. With these hips? You know I like pizza.” She pushed him aside and rushed to the counter. She gripped the edge of the chipped Formica as she tipped her head back to read the menu.
He itched to go up behind her and grip her hips. He’d liked the feel of her curvaceous ass against thighs a little too much. She wasn’t exactly short with her weird shoe-things on, but she didn’t top five and half feet either.
Those handful of inches would have been helpful in the shower.
Okay, no thinking about her and water. Not smart.
He swallowed and stepped up behind her at the counter. When he touched her shoulder, she startled, then she melted against him. “So are you a loaded pizza person? Or more like greasy pepperoni with extra cheese?”
He grinned. “I’m thinking you’re door number two.”
She shrugged and glanced up at him. “I can be number one.”
He looked over her head. The balding guy behind the counter flipped a three-inch long pencil from behind his ear. “Pepperoni pie with extra cheese and…garlic knots?”
She pressed her lips together and nodded. “Coke?”
“Beer?”
She wrinkled her nose. “Coke.”
He couldn’t fault her there. He liked a beer here and there, but had never been the big drinker in the group. He’d seen enough of what a twelve-pack could do to a person to want that rotgut most of the time. Occasionally, he did enjoy a microbrew when Michael and Ryan dragged him to a pub, but it wasn’t his vice. “Two Cokes it is.”
The guy ripped a sheet off his pad and shoved it through the window. He one-finger punched his way around an ancient register and barked out a total.
Lauren shoved her hand into the pocket of her tight pants.
“I got it.”
“I can pay.”
“I brought you.” He dug out his wallet. “I pay.”
“All right.” She shrugged and twirled her way down the slim aisle between the tables and took the one at the back.
“I guess we’re sitting there.”
The guy behind the counter grunted. “Trouble.”
“The fun ones always are.”
A lopsided grin split his weathered face showing a twisted eyetooth. “I married mine.”
West glanced over his shoulder as Lauren shimmied into the booth. “Bit early for that line of thinking.”
Gus—as his stitched shirt read—stuck his pencil back behind his ear. “You say so. We’ll bring it out.” He snapped two Coke bottles on the Formica. “Enjoy.”
West turned with the bottles in his hands. Lauren was sitting in the booth, her legs across the bench, her feet hanging off the end. He sat on the opposite side of the booth and set her Coke in front of her.
They’d gone from a liplock to this?
He wasn’t sure what to think about any of it. And suddenly, she looked impossibly young. She wouldn’t be the first fan to dress older than she was. It would explain a lot of her reactions so far.
West drummed his fingers on the table. “You’re not sixteen, right?”
“What? Where you get that idea?”
“Answer the question first.”
“I did. I’m definitely not sixteen.”
“Seventeen?”
She shifted until her feet were on the floor and leaned forward, then propped her chin on her hands. “I’m past the acne years, West.”
“How far past?”
“Why do you want to know?”
“Just making sure I’m not getting arrested for what I’ve been thinking about doing with you.”
“Oh.” She sat back. “What did you want to do with me?”
He spread his fingers on the vinyl tablecloth, keeping the bottle between them. “I’ve had various scenarios in my head. Most include stripping you out of those tight black pants and seeing if your panties match your bra.”
She blinked owlishly. “And if they do?”
“I think they’d look especially good at the end of my bunk. Maybe dangling off your ankle.” He opened his bottle and took a drink.
Maybe she’d fess up about the situation with the guy she was with. If he was a friend, or a boyfriend, or something else. He’d gotten vibes from her that had brought out all his protective instincts, but maybe he was way off-base. Then again, plenty of women forgot they had someone in their life—good or not—when they had a chance to get a piece of a musician. Or thought they had a chance anyway.
“I would be amenable to that. If you don’t mind that I’m a virgin.”
He choked on the soda and it spurted from his nose.
She leaned to the side and snapped a few napkins out of the holder and handed them to him. “Unless that’s a problem?”
He wiped his face, then the table with another wad of napkins. “What the hell am I supposed to say to that?”
He didn’t even know if that canceled out his concerns about the guy she was with. If she was a virgin, they must not be dating. Or maybe they were and it was chaste.
Fuck, he didn’t know. He wanted to come out and ask, but she wasn’t done yet.
“Most say nothing. It’s usually the time most leave, or end the date. I hope we can have pizza first, though. I’m really hungry.”
“Well, if you blurt it out like that, I can see why.”
She laced her fingers around her sweating bottle. “It didn’t work out when I told the last man I was dating. He grabbed my boob, so I thought I should let him know before we went further.”
He let out a breath and tried to ignore the sudden twist in his chest about envisioning another man touching her. Any guy, whether it was the guy in the audience or this nameless last guy she’d dated. Maybe she and audience guy were just friends.
Hell, she could be lying to him about any or all of this. Even if his gut said otherwise.
For fuck’s sake, he didn’t even know her. And even bigger problem—virgin.
Virgin.
What in the sweet hell?
“So is that why you kept sneaking backstage?” No fucking way. “You wanted…me?”
“Well, I wasn’t particular about anyone in the band actually.” She bit her lip and tapped the top of her bottle. “I’ve been to about a dozen shows. Some didn’t even include Warning Sign.”
“Excuse me?” He capped his bottle before he accidentally knocked it over. If she tossed another bomb his way, he wanted to be ready. “You just wanted someone in a band to pop your cherry?”
“What?” She tipped her head with a frown. “No.” She laughed. “No, I was doing research.”
Research? He didn’t have time to swallow that before she steamrolled on.
She untwisted her top and took a sip from her soda. “This is a whole different thing. You’re just attractive and I would very much like to see if you could do what other men—actually, even me, to be completely honest—have not been able to do.”
He was afraid to ask.
So very afraid. And yet he opened his damn mouth and asked anyway. Nothing could surprise him as much as the virgin thing.
He hoped.
“Okay, I’m probably going to regret this, but I’m going to ask anyway. What did you want me to do?”
She recapped her soda and reached across the table to cover his hands. “Give me an orgasm.”
Chapter Five
Lauren sat back in the booth and winced as her hairpins jammed into her upper thigh right on schedule. Better that pain than to relive what she’d just said and West’s response.
So far, he was giving her back a whole lot of nothing.
“That’s not why I’m here, of course,” she added hastily. Too little, too late? Maybe. But also accurate. Getting insider detail to add richness to her make-good project on fandom was the number one reason she’d whipped off her shirt in the crowd of a rock concert.
It wasn’t because she had Daddy issues due to being tossed out of her home after causing what her parents perceived as a family scandal.
> Certainly wasn’t because she was a former all girls’ school student running wild—or trying to and mostly failing.
Definitely wasn’t a case of being struck dumb by the hottest male body she’d ever seen up close and personal.
Okay, maybe that last thing. And this was a good diversion anyway. She wouldn’t lie, but if she could tell him a secondary truth while she carefully probed him for details for her project, then everyone would be happy, right?
“You don’t have to,” she said when it became clear he might not ever speak again.
“No?” West sucked down more of his soda. “Do you have a toy to help if I won’t?”
“Hardly. I’ve only ever used my fingers.”
He coughed and tipped back his head. “One of these times I’ll learn not to drink while you’re speaking.”
“Most people just ignore me.”
“How?” He shook his head as if the idea was patently ridiculous. “I’ve never known anyone like you.”
“That is probably true. I’m not the best at blending. I’m amazed I pulled off the groupie thing as well as I did.” She sighed and uncapped her soda again, taking a long drink. She’d need another soon at this rate. “I’m still new to the whole concert scene.”
“Wait, you’re new to concerts and you’re already sneaking backstage?”
She shrugged. “Go big or go home, right?” She didn’t elaborate.
He didn’t need to know quite yet that she’d never thought shows were the place for her until she’d made the biggest mistake of her life. Which had turned out to be a sort of blessing in disguise, because she loved going to shows. Dressing up for them, the music, the energy of the audience. The whole atmosphere of anticipation.
“So let me just add up some of the information you’ve shared so far. You attended this concert tonight with a man, whom you want to avoid because he doesn’t allow you to have fun. Which, to your mind, includes sneaking backstage and hanging out around rehearsals to meet a rockstar who might pop your cherry or give you an orgasm. Not a requirement, of course, just if the mood is right.”