Hard Lesson: A bad-boy, rock star romance

by Savannah Skye

  Feed him. Maybe his blood sugar's dropping.

  You're right. He won’t eat. Maybe he’s too hung over

  Or maybe he was as affected by their kiss last night as she was.

  It was so unlike Dev, who downed food with the ferociousness of a grizzly bear, to not eat. She hoped he wasn't getting sick because they couldn't afford their front man getting ill right now.

  Try a Pop-Tart. He loves those.

  "What are you doing?" asked Gina.

  "Giving instructions to Rory about the care and feeding of a Dev Lachlan."

  "You know a lot about these boys, don't you?"

  "I've known them all since I was eight, so yeah."

  "Then I'm really sorry if I overstepped last night. I was looking at my own experiences and applying them to you and your situation. You would know the guys better than me. If you say you’re cool and you’re not going to get hurt, I believe you. Just know I only poked my nose in because I care."

  Cheri smiled and gave Gina’s arm a squeeze. "Don't worry about it. It's been a long time since I had a good gal friend. It's nice to have someone who wants to watch my back."

  "Well, then I'm about to offer some more unsolicited advice. Like get off that computer and get yourself ready for this party."

  "Me?” she asked with a squeak. “I'm not going to this."

  "Oh, yes, you are. You are front office, so to speak, and yes, you are going. And you got the dancing shoes to go with it. Man, did you see those spike heels Dev bought you? I was drooling when I saw them."

  She’d been so sure the party had been band and core staff only, she’d thought she would have a couple Dev-free hours to get her head straight. Now, in the face of this new challenge, panic started to set in.

  "He said something about those heels, but Gina, I've never worn a pair in my life."

  "It's easy."

  Cheri tossed her a skeptical glance.

  "I'll talk you through it. Because they go perfectly with the little black dress in that treasure trove you have."

  Despite her protests, Gina pep-talked her through dressing up for the meet-and-greet. Using tricks from long years on the road, she spiffed up Cheri's blow out from the day before. Then, she brushed it until it gleamed and piled it up on her head with elegant curls. While Cheri wriggled into the simple black dress that clung to every curve of her body, Gina dug out a pair of textured black hose from deep within her own wardrobe.

  By the time they were ten minutes outside of Atlanta, Cheri was sporting a full face of makeup and, yes, even the dreaded spikes.

  She sat on the couch while Gina disappeared into the tiny bathroom. Cheri’s head was still spinning when her friend emerged dressed in drop dead sexy red dress that hugged her curves as tightly as Cheri's did.

  "Red. I love it!" said Cheri.

  "Red is the new black," she said with a grin.

  "Now you tell me."

  "Besides, I had room in my luggage for one good dress and red is my best color."

  It was true. The strong contrast of the deep color set off her dark hair and eyes.

  "If you don't get lucky in that dress, there is no hope for mankind or womankind either."

  "Ah, one little detail," said Gina. She took her phone and slid into her bra.

  "It won’t fall out?" said Cheri.

  "Nope. And the only one that knows it’s there will be the man groping your breast."

  "Well, that's unlikely," laughed Cheri. But she followed Gina's example.

  The bus finally entered Atlanta's city limits. Cheri watched out the side window as the huge city came into view. It was less crowded than New York but the majesty of the skyline held Cheri's attention. Cobb and the rest of crew came to the front of the bus, ready to get off and take up the day's work, but then stopped in their tracks as they sighted the women.

  "Holy shit," said Cobb softly.

  A couple wolf whistles sounded behind them, and Cheri’s cheeks flamed.

  "What?"

  "She can't see herself. We don't have a mirror big enough," said Gina. "Woman, you outshine Cinderella herself.”

  Cobb dropped to one knee. "Marry me, right now," he said.

  "Up," commanded Cheri, fanning her face in embarrassment. She couldn’t help but wonder if Dev’s reaction would be as positive. "No offers of marriage will be contemplated until this tour is over. Besides, I don't think the bus driver is empowered to perform marriages. But I will put you on my list," she joked, desperate to get the attention off her now.

  "There's a list?" said Cobb with a mock frown.

  "Of course," said Gina imperiously. "You can't expect a princess like Cheri not to have a list."

  "Get up, fool," said one of the other members of the crew with a laugh. "The women are playing with you."

  To Cheri’s relief, the bus rolled to a stop in front of the venue, which looked more like a museum than a concert hall. Cheri took her first step on her heels and instantly almost toppled over.

  She scrabbled to catch herself on the wall and glared at Gina as the guys chuckled. "I thought you said this was easy," she hissed.

  "It is. Just take it one step at a time. Cobb, help Cheri off the bus."

  "Gladly, my lady."

  On Cobb's arm, she descended the steps onto the firm concrete of the road. At the same time, the Gang of Five departed their bus. Dev turned his head and stared at Cheri as if he didn't recognize her. Gina clomped down the stairs in her heels and hung Cheri's photo case on her shoulder.

  "Honestly, you'd forget your own head, wouldn't you?" said Gina. "This is a working event for you, princess."

  "Thanks," Cheri said distractedly. She stared at Dev who was dressed in dark blue sports jacket, black tee, and black jeans so tight she swore she saw the ripple of his muscles when he walked. He lifted his eyes to look straight into hers and she turned away, afraid he’d see exactly how vulnerable he made her feel.

  Luckily, she was getting used to her spikes because her legs were trembling as they entered the marble-lined atrium of the theater. It was set up for a high-end party, with catering on tables to the right hand side and an open bar on the left. Waiters walked through the crowd of glittering people, men dressed in Italian suits and the women in New York or French couture.

  The band manager led the boys deeper into the crowd of people. While Cheri unslung her camera and made adjustments for the lighting, a tall and lean blond-haired man sidled between her and Gina.

  "Gina, I didn't know you worked for Sub-Zero.

  “Peter,” said Gina tersely.

  Cheri thought the man looked familiar. Then her eyes went wide when she placed the face with the name. Peter Ebon of Ebon Steel? She nearly squealed except it wouldn’t be very professional of her. Aside from Sub-Zero, Ebon Steel was her favorite band.

  “Is that all I get? Not even a peck on the cheek?” said Peter.

  “You seemed to have that covered the last time I saw you. Not with me, of course.”

  Wow. Did Gina have an affair with Peter Ebon? Holy shit. But it was clear that whatever had happened was long over. Gina wanted no part of the man. In fact, her eyes blazed with an anger Cheri never saw in her friend before.

  Peter slipped his arm around Gina’s waist, either ignoring the daggers coming from her eyes or too clueless to notice them.

  “Now, love. You know how the business is. Women throwing themselves at musicians is part of the game.”

  “I know how the business is, Peter. I just got tired of you giving it to me.”

  “You didn’t have to quit like that. We need you, Gina. Our new publicist is shit compared to you.”

  “I’m not so sure you’d want me back. You know us yappy little dogs. We tend to bite the hand that feeds us.”

  Peter’s face colored. “You never forget a fucking thing, do you?”

  “I never forget a good fucking, Peter. Or a good fucking over.” She shot him a lethal smile and then turned away. “Oh, look, isn’t that Darcy Andrews, the big time act
ress, over there waving to you? You should go say hello. I’m sure she wants to throw herself at you too.”

  “You really should give me a chance to explain.”

  “No,” said Gina. “I really shouldn’t.”

  “I’ll catch up with you later, Gina. We do need to have a good chat.” The handsome rock star bent to give her a peck on the cheek, but Gina moved her head. He shrugged and walked toward Darcy Andrews with a big smile.

  “No, we really don’t,” said Gina muttered.

  “So give, girlfriend,” said Cheri. “Did you and Peter Ebon had a thing?”

  “What we had is not worth talking about.” But Cheri saw the pain in Gina’s eyes when Peter walked away and she remembered her friend’s words of warning about Dev.

  “You've seen this lifestyle. A different girl in each city. They may be physically available, but emotionally, it's not happening."

  So maybe Gina was talking about her and Peter Ebon. But her words could be just as true about Dev Lachlan. The thought gave Cheri an uneasy feeling in her stomach.

  Gina’s next words didn’t do anything to comfort her.

  “There, go take a picture of Dev talking to that reality star."

  Cheri moved off and position herself to capture the shot Gina wanted. After she got it, she moved around the room snapping pics of the guys with different people. She lost track of time as she followed Dev, Rory, Connor, Mac and Quinn as they circulated through the gathering. It was fun until she caught Dev talking animatedly with a dark haired woman that hung on his every word. With a shock, she realized it was movie actress Darcy Andrews who Peter had gone to talk to. Cheri took the picture with a sinking feeling in her stomach.

  How could she hope to compete with someone like that?

  Obviously the men she grew up with were shooting stars, getting ready to take their place in the strata reserved for celebrities. What did she have? A half-baked job created for the sister of the band's drummer. It was a sobering realization. Dev Lachlan could and did have any woman he wanted. And now he was moving up to a level where the women were far richer and prettier than she ever hoped to be.

  Some Cinderella she was.

  Then her phone buzzed. Turning her back to the crowd she pulled it out from her bra and with a shock she saw it was Dev.

  Chapter Eleven

  Dev was so blown away he could barely speak.

  Cheri was fucking gorgeous. He knew she was beautiful and that the dress he bought her was sexy. But on Cheri, it was sin personified. It clung to every curve, cut just low enough to emphasize her full breasts and leave him wanting more. The spike heels he bought had her swaying her hips in a way that made his throat go dry as she passed.

  She was fucking killing him. On one hand, he knew he should pay attention to the people he was there to rub elbows with. On the other, it was impossible to concentrate whenever she entered his line of sight. The electric energy of being so attracted to a woman that he could think of nothing else filled his body with an aching pleasure even if it inconveniently robbed him of his voice. Dev did his best to keep his eyes off Cheri, but he couldn't help it. It was if she had a bulls-eye on her saying “Dead sexy.”

  And he wasn’t the only one who noticed.

  Male eyes followed her everywhere and Dev hated it. If he didn't make some sort of move, someone here was likely to beat him to it.

  He couldn't let that happen.

  Guilt nipped at him again as he saw Rory talking to a record exec out of the corner of his eye but he pushed it aside. Rory wouldn’t want her hanging out with any of the guys here anyway. If Dev monopolized her attention, at least she wouldn’t get mixed up with any of these players.

  Making his excuses to the movie star whose name escaped him, he moved toward the buffet. He took out his phone and tapped out a quick message.

  Lesson Three…sexting

  He waited for her response as every microsecond stretched into infinity. Finally, his phone buzzed in his hand.

  What happened to Lesson Two?

  Dev replied.

  You’re doing just fine on those spike heels without my help. We'll do the lingerie as a make-up lesson.

  That makes two make-up lessons. I have the sense I'm falling behind.

  He shot a glance around the room and caught sight of her profile across the dance floor. She was grinning, and her cheeks were flushed. That was all he needed to egg him on.

  Don't worry. If you fall, I'll catch you. In fact, I plan on catching you, so you better start running.

  There was a long pause before she replied. So what are we doing now?

  Sexting. I told you.

  The cursor blinked before his eyes before her reply popped up.

  …Did we start yet or?

  Dev bit back a crack of laughter.

  Not really. I would probably lead off with something like, I can't believe how hot you are.

  Thanks?

  Try as he might, he couldn’t wipe the stupid smile off his face. How was it that he’d had a starlet pawing at his arm, talking to him tits first not five minutes ago, but he was having more fun with Cheri and he could barely see her?

  No. You’re supposed to say something provocative back, like, "If I lick your popsicle I can make you hotter."

  Really? Popsicle?

  Roll with it.

  I'm no good at this.

  Try, he urged.

  He waited, pulse pounding as the three little dots blinked on his screen. Finally, words popped up.

  Come closer, sugar and I'll show you what heat really is.

  It wasn’t the words so much as the image of Cheri saying them that had his cock swelling.

  Better. Then I say, "Too late. I'm already so hot for you I could explode. I want to lick you from your--"

  "Dev!" said Bill from behind him. Dev flinched, and closed his palm over his phone screen. "I want you to meet Anson Paul of Red Ant Records. He's very impressed with your music."

  Dev turned, shoving back his blast of irritation, and held out a hand.

  "Nice to meet you, Anson. Don't you work out of Los Angeles?"

  The other man gave him a smug nod and shook his hand in greeting. "Yes. So you've heard of my little company."

  "Hardly little. Red Ant has Jane in Chains, Roadside, Urban Compulsion--some really hot bands."

  "I'm glad you keep your finger on the pulse of the music industry. You can understand then why I think Sub-Zero is a good fit with Red Ant."

  Dev glanced at Bill. He didn't make any deals, did he? They still had time left on their contract with their present record label.

  "Interesting," Dev hedged. "Of course, there are a lot of factors to consider."

  "Of course," said Anson. "Tell you what. When you make it out to Los Angeles give me a ring, and let me take you to dinner. It doesn't hurt to talk."

  "No, it sure doesn't."

  Anson excused himself, and Dev grabbed Bill's arm.

  "What do you think you're doing?" he snapped. "We’re perfectly happy with our label. I don’t want them getting wind that we’re talking to anyone else after all their support."

  "Just keeping our options open, Dev. Like you said, it doesn't hurt to talk. Don't worry. Whatever the band wants is good with me."

  Someone called his name and Bill excused himself, leaving Dev staring after him. But he wasn’t staring long because his phone buzzed in his hand.

  Hello? Are you writing me an erotic novel back or did I just do such a bad job that you’re not sure how to break it to me?

  He deleted the text he’d been about to send and tapped out another.

  Sorry. I was busy picturing you out of that dress but still in those shoes and I got distracted. I can think of five dirty things I want to do to you right now.

  This time, her reply came back like lightning.

  Only five?

  He nodded to himself. Atta girl.

  Now you're getting the hang of it. ;)

  Don’t deflect. You were about to tell
me the five dirty things you wanted to do to me.

  Not tell you. Show you.

  Show, not tell? But what if I want to whisper dirty things into your ear?

  Ah, fuck. She was getting into it now. And his cock wanted in on the action. It pressed against the front of his too-tight jeans and he had to duck behind a column to adjust himself.

  I have a list too, you know.

  He shouldn’t ask. The blood was already pounding in his ears. But his fingers were already tapping out his response.

  Like what?

  The wait was painful, but oh so worth it.

  I want to put my mouth on you.

  So simple. Almost demure the way she’d phrased it, really, but every brain cell in his mind short-circuited with the image of Cheri's tongue on his cock. Reason fled and his hand shook as he typed the next words.

  What else?

  I want to slide my hands over your chest and lower, past that trail of hair below your belly button, and close my fingers around you and squeeze. Would you be hard for me, Dev?

  Like fucking stone.

  That was no lie. His shaft could’ve hammered a nail into the broad side of a barn right now.

  Now you.

  He craned his neck from behind the column and saw her just a dozen yards away. She was propped against a table near the bar, her hand absently caressing the side of her neck as she stared intently down at her phone. Her lips were parted, her nostrils flaring delicately, and he wanted nothing more than to got to her, throw her over his shoulder and carry her to the closest secluded spot so they could fuck like animals.

  I want to slide my mouth over your breast and flick your nipple with the tip of my tongue. I want press my thigh between your legs until I can feel that heat against me.

  His breathing went low and harsh as his words played like a movie in his mind. He kept going, like a man on a mission now.

  I want to slip my fingers beneath your panties and find you wet for me. Come here.

  He stepped out from the shadows and willed her to look up. It only took a second for their gazes to lock.

  Her lean throat worked as she swallowed hard and she looked down at her phone.

  Are you serious?

  He should rethink. He should take it back.