by Wynne Roman
“Careful of what?”
“Ajia. He’s…been through some shit.”
I shoot Noah a look. One that says, are you fucking kidding me?
“We’ve all been through some shit, Noah,” I remind him. “Maybe you remember the story of the last guy who hit on me? My stepfather.”
A second later his grin is back. “Yep. It’s gonna be good. Ajia doesn’t have a chance in hell.”
I can’t help it. I grin back and tug him close for a hug. “I hope you’re right, sweetie.”
“Don’t worry, baby girl. You need any help, I’m your wingman.”
I give him a knowing smile. “Just for that, I’ll do you a favor. Go back to your girls.” I point to his other side. “They’re…anxious.”
Noah shouts his laughter. “Is that a nice way of saying they’re horny?”
“Yeah. They wanna fuck a rock star.”
He lifts his eyebrows. “So do you.”
I turn automatically, look to where I last saw Ajia. He isn’t there. Neither is the chick who was pawing his arm and whining for his attention. I search the room but don’t see them, so I turn back to Noah. He has an arm around one fangirl, while another whispers in his ear.
I take a long, deep drink from my cup.
That’s right, Bree, I tell myself. Partying with rock stars, living the rocker life, and you think you’ve got a chance in hell with a man like Ajia? Are you thinking with your head, your heart—or your pussy?
And what does it matter? Brave or weak, I’m either in or out.
How much risk can I afford?
“Thirty minutes, guys!”
It’s Baz shouting from just inside the doorway. I head for Knox, fresh from his shower.
“What happens in thirty minutes?”
“Limo. We’re heading downtown to Edge of Return’s afterparty.”
“They’re still on stage!”
He shrugs. “They’ll follow when they’re done.”
“I—” I’m not sure what to say. Am I invited? Should I ask or just slip out and head for the tour bus? It isn’t always easy to know where to fit when you’re the band mascot.
“You going with us?” asks Rye from behind me. He’s out of the shower, too.
Sheesh, how do they manage to get cleaned up so fast?
“Course she’s going with us,” snaps Knox. “Bree goes where the band goes.”
I guess that answers my question. I’m not quite sure how I feel about it, though. It’s great that Knox isn’t as uptight about my partying, living on the fringes of rock star life, but it would be kind of nice to be included because they want me there. Not just because I’m part of the entourage.
Oh, get freaking over yourself! My conscience has little patience with self-pity. Go and have a good time!
If ever I need to find an answer to my question—am I in or out?—this seems like the perfect opportunity.
CHAPTER 6
AJIA
“So, this is how rock stars live.”
Bree sits back on a sofa in the VIP section of a club in downtown Houston. All of us are partying with Edge of Return, celebrating the start of the tour. They have an upstairs room with a balcony that looks out over the main bar and dance floor. A DJ plays Something from Nothing by the Foo Fighters, and the place rocks.
I don’t know the guys in the other band well, but they seem to be a lot like us. They hit it big fast, a couple years ahead of Wycked Obsession, and they’re riding the wave. Nothing wrong with that.
I’m on the other end of the sofa, while Knox sits in a plush chair by Bree. The crowd’s an eclectic mix. I recognize a couple of movie stars from Texas, other musicians, and a supermodel with a very impressive female entourage. I also spot a couple of well-known sports figures, a few other minor celebrities, and some obvious groupies.
The faces get more impressive with every tour. But—fuck. I’m just an ordinary guy with some pretty good pipes. Mad Spencer, Edge of Return’s lead singer, is better. Worse, all this shit keeps me tied into that rock star thing that buried Ajia Stone, the man. Do I even know who he is anymore? Is he worth finding again?
I’m almost glad for the interruption when a huge guy approaches. He holds out a hand. “Hey, I’m Tom. Just wanted to say you guys were great tonight. Congratulations.”
“Thanks, man.” I stand and we shake hands. “Glad you enjoyed it.”
He and Knox exchange a couple of words, and then he’s gone.
Bree looks from Knox to me. “Doesn’t he play for the Texans?”
“Yeah. Defensive End.” I sit back down.
She stares at me. “You know football?”
I laugh. “C’mon, Bree. I grew up in Texas. You know a man in Texas who doesn’t know football?”
She grins. “Good point.”
She leans toward Knox, and they fall into a discussion of…who knows? I can’t really hear them except for an occasional word or two, and I don’t try to eavesdrop. Pretty sure they’d have included me if I wanted, but I’m preoccupied.
I can’t forget the way Bree slid herself down my body and rubbed her nipples over my chest. My cock perks up at just the memory.
What was she thinking?
And what the fuck was I thinking to let her? To dream about her? Or stroke myself off in the shower thinking about her?
I’m not a forever kind of guy. I’ve known it for a long time, learned it the hard way, and it’s not the kind of lesson a man forgets. I don’t deserve to even attempt that entirely fictional happily-ever-after crap, and I sure as hell am not tempting fate by trying to pretend otherwise.
Besides, Bree’s a kid, for fuck’s sake. Knox’s little sister. Off limits. She has been for as long as I’ve known her—and rightly so.
I’m at least as old as most of the girls you guys fuck around with.
Hearing her say those words, and knowing she saw that chick with my dick in her mouth, did something. Changed things around in my head. I’m fighting to push her back into that tidy little box that keeps her safe from assholes like me—and then she has to stroke herself over me like a purring goddamn kitten.
Fuck.
“I’m getting a drink.” I push to my feet. “Y’all want anything?”
Knox waves his empty Corona bottle, and I nod. Bree’s glass is half-full, and she shakes her head. “I’m good.”
The bar’s located along the far wall, and I glance around for the bartender. Zayne’s making the moves on some woman from the supermodel’s group, Rye’s deep in conversation with a woman I remember from the TV station, while Noah’s entertaining the groupies. Business as usual.
I wait until the bartender gets to me. He sends a waitress over to Knox with his beer, while I listen to Coldplay’s Adventure of a Lifetime.
“Good song.” A female voice comes from behind me.
I turn to see the supermodel standing just behind me. “Yeah. Coldplay’s always classic.”
She steps closer and runs a finger down my arm. “You know…Tonight is my favorite song.”
“Really?” I don’t believe her, but it doesn’t matter. That isn’t what this is about.
“Did you write it?”
“No. That one’s Rye’s.” I point. “Our keyboardist.”
She blinks but then she smiles. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out what she’s after. Sex radiates from her.
“Nobody could sing it like you,” she purrs.
Yeah, purrs. No other way to describe it. Part of me wants to laugh. A supermodel and a rock star. A fucking cliché…and that’s my life.
The bartender hands me my beer, and I lead her away from the bar to an empty space closer to Knox. Not really quiet or out of the way, but it doesn’t matter. She wants to be seen with me, to fuck me, and that’s supposed to be the goal on my part, too.
Better to fuck a random chick, supermodel or not, than think about other shit. Especially Knox’s little sister.
/> “So…” She presses herself against my side and whispers, “Any chance I can get a private concert?”
I can almost look her eye to eye. Doesn’t happen too often, but she has those long model legs and wears four-inch fuck-me heels. I get a flashing image of her standing in front of me wearing nothing but those shoes.
“A private concert?” I ask with a practiced smile. My cock decides to take notice. “Or something a little more…personal?”
She smiles back. “Singer’s choice. In everything.”
So she’s up for whatever I want? She rubs her hand over my crotch and my dick gets a little more serious.
Yeah, I could fuck her. And tomorrow? Another concert, another woman to fuck, and then go on to the next show. I have three months of that to look forward to.
I smile again, but it’s automatic. Nothing of me in it. That’s how I can do it, fuck a different girl every night.
“What do you say, baby?” She leans in for a kiss, but I turn my head. I don’t kiss on the mouth. Ever.
I glance at her but don’t meet her eyes. “We got time. Let’s see where this goes.”
The words are barely out of my mouth when Knox moves into my line of vision. He’s with one of Supermodel’s friends.
“Keep an eye on Bree,” he mutters as they pass by. “We’re going to…dance.”
I slide a quick gaze in Bree’s direction. She’s there on the couch alone, her drink almost gone. She’s messing with her phone and doesn’t look around.
Goddammit. But I nod.
Fucking Knox. What the hell happened? He was doing his protective big brother shit, but now he’s going off with some random woman? Worse, he trusts me to protect his baby sister, and he shouldn’t. He really fucking shouldn’t. I don’t trust me that way anymore.
Besides, I have Supermodel rubbing her tits against me again. I take a long pull from my beer as she starts chattering about something. Some photo shoot in Hawaii? I listen with half an ear and search the room for Noah, Zayne, or Rye. They can help with Bree, but Noah and Zayne are missing, and Rye’s got his back to me.
Finally I glance back in Bree’s direction to see Ayden, the bassist from Edge of Return, next to her. They’re laughing and talking and seem kind of friendly.
Shit. He’s way fucking out of her league. He’s even older than me. I take a step in their direction when Supermodel grabs my arm and presses her breasts against my chest. “Don’t you think so, baby?”
“Uh—what?”
“We ought to get out of here.” She rubs her palm over my semi-erection. “I think you’d like to get to know me a little better.” She laughs. “Or maybe a lot better.”
Coldplay turned into Maroon 5’s Don’t Wanna Know, but now that bleeds seamlessly into Demi Lovato’s Confident. Bree squeals, a sound I’ve heard a million times, and she’s on her feet. “I love this song!” she cries, and then Ayden leads her downstairs to the dance floor.
I want to be glad. If Knox is on the dance floor, he can look out for his sister. If he knows she’s there. Or if he’s even still at the club. He turned over responsibility for his sister the minute he tagged me. It’s how we’ve done it for years. If Knox isn’t there, one of the rest of us steps up. No questions.
So why does it irritate the shit out of me tonight? And that’s a dumbass question, because I know. And that pisses me off even more.
“You wanna dance?” I ask Supermodel.
“What?” She frowns at me.
“Going to the dance floor.”
“But I thought—” The frown becomes more pronounced. Enough that the beautiful face doesn’t look quite so attractive anymore. “We’re getting out of here, right?”
“Sorry.” I shake my head. “Not tonight.” I walk away but toss over my shoulder, “Nice to meet you.”
A screech follows me, but I’m just not that interested.
I spot Bree while I’m still on the stairs. She isn’t especially tall, but Ayden is. She’s wearing that little pink top, and it looks almost neon in the flashing lights. They seemed to be having a good time, but—damn! She moves her hips in a way that looks way too sensual, especially in that short, tight skirt. Her arms are up over her head, and I spot a band of flesh between the hem of her shirt and her waistband.
Ayden doesn’t seem to notice anything. He’s there dancing with her, yeah, but three other chicks have discovered him. Bree doesn’t seem to care. She just keeps dancing, moving like I’ve never seen her before. Like the music is part of her.
I wonder suddenly how much she’s had to drink, especially when a strange guy comes up behind her. His hands are on her hips and she looks at him, dances a few steps. He leans forward, she shakes her head and turns away, but then he touches her again.
I shove my way through the crowd. “There you are, baby girl!”
I can’t tell if she hears me, but I know the instant she sees me. Her body changes somehow. I can’t tell exactly what happens, but it softens or invites me or some damn thing. She smiles and her hips sway hello.
She drops her arms from above her head, and I grab her hand, pull her toward me.
“Hey,” shouts Anonymous Guy, and he follows with a frown. “We were dancing.”
I wrap my arm around Bree’s shoulders and shoot a don’t-fuck-with-me look at the guy. “Saw your hands on my girl.”
“Your—” He looks from me to Bree and then back again. “Hey, aren’t you Ajia Stone?” He doesn’t get my name right, either, but it’s kinda close.
“Yeah.”
“And this is your girl?”
“Yep.”
He holds up his hands. “Sorry, man. I didn’t know.”
Bree squirms against me, and so I tighten my arm. “No worries. This time.” I pull her closer. “C’mon, baby girl, let’s dance.”
My hands are on her hips, and I keep us moving.
She shifts close enough to shout in my ear. “That was shitty.”
“What?”
“You lied to that guy to blow him off.”
“So what? Did you wanna dance with him?”
She pulls back. “That’s not the point. I’m just trying to have a little fun.”
“You can’t trust guys like that.”
She stares at me. “You mean guys like you?”
Fuck. “Yeah. Guys like me.”
We dance for a bit, and then she asks, “What are you doing here? Where’s your girlfriend?”
“She’s not my girlfriend.”
“Okay. Tonight’s fuck, then.”
I jerked her against me as the song changes. Closer by the Chainsmokers. “Don’t talk like that.”
She tilts her head back. “Why not? It’s true.”
I press her head against my chest. “Just dance.”
It takes only a few seconds before her arms go around my waist, her hands at my back. They should be around my neck.
Bad thought. Totally inappropriate. That would put Bree on her tiptoes, her body pressing against mine from shoulder to hip. Her breasts pillowed against my chest, her crotch cradling my cock.
Nope. No way should I be thinking that shit. So why can’t I stop?
“Why are you doing this?” I can barely hear her over the music.
“Doing what?”
“Dancing with me.”
I don’t answer. Not sure what I want to say.
“Ajia?”
“Knox is busy. Ayden got distracted. Don’t want you out here alone.” I settle on that much of the truth. So why not tell her that her brother asked me to keep an eye on her?
Just stop this protective shit. I’m sick of it. I don’t need it.
She told us that in Austin. She’ll be pissed if she thinks it’s still going on.
She drops her head back, but I can’t read her expression with the shifting shadows from the flashing lights. “So, you’re here babysitting the kid.” The edge in her voice is sharp.
“I don’t do shit I don’t want to do.”
“And you want to be here with me,” she scoffs.
“Bree—”
“Like this?” It’s like she’s been reading my mind. Her grip suddenly slips from my waist, she pushes her palms up my abdomen, and then her arms wrap around my neck. She presses her torso against mine, her breasts flat against my chest, and her crotch cups the ridge of my erection.
Oh, fuck. When did I get so hard?
“Or like this?” she whispers against my neck, and then I feel the swipe of her tongue over my jawline.
I swallow. “What—how much have you had to drink?”
She laughs softly and closes her teeth over one corner of my bottom lip. “Not nearly enough.” She licks the same spot. “You want to be with me like this?”
Her lips are on mine then, soft and expressive, but there’s an honesty about her kiss. An uncertainty that keeps me from kissing her back. She doesn’t quite taste me and I don’t taste her, and I know in a sudden flash of understanding it’s because of her innocence.
She might be the same physical age as the chicks the band parties with, but she’s years behind in actual experience.
She presses her mouth against mine, harder, but I hold still. Slowly, she pulls away to sink back on her heels, her body touching mine in ways that should be illegal. “I guess not. Not like that at all.”
“Fuck me,” I mutter as I tighten my arms around her. “I fucking tried.”
My mouth slams against hers. I slide my tongue along the seam of her lips, and the instant they part, I push inside her mouth. Finally, I can taste her, the faint citrus from whatever she’s been drinking and something that’s uniquely Bree. It’s like no one I’ve ever kissed before.
Kissed?
My brain goes on instant alert, a part of me so very freaking aware that I don’t kiss women—ever! But here I am with my tongue seeking the hidden depths of Bree’s mouth. I feel like Indiana-fucking-Jones looking for the lost ark, and the only way to find it is through her kisses.
I lose the thought as she lets out a soft, sighing moan. Her hands are in my hair, tangling through the length of it and holding my head so she can move her mouth, her lips, her tongue against mine.