by Wynne Roman
She’s at the beverage table, pouring something into a red Solo cup. Vodka and Sprite, I bet. She’s dressed in a long skirt I don’t remember seeing before. It’s light brown decorated with colorful flowers…and a slit up one side that goes so high, I swear I see a flash of panties. Her top is white with thin little straps and tight enough to leave no doubt about the shape of her beautiful tits.
Son of a bitch!
I slip behind her and wrap my arms around her waist. “Baby. I missed you.” I lean down to kiss her just behind her ear.
She stiffens. I don’t know if it’s because she’s pissed at me or because it’s the first time I’ve touched her this way in public. Knox knows about us, so there’s no reason not to now.
She drops her head back and turns enough to look up at me. “Ajia.”
I take advantage of the moment to drop a quick, hard kiss on her mouth. “Did you miss me, baby?”
She blinks and frowns. “Don’t waste your charm on me right now, A. I’m pissed at you.”
“I know, baby.” I kiss her again. “I’m sorry.”
She steps away. I don’t want to let her go, but I do. I have to handle this the right way, whatever that is. Got no clue at the moment. I admit I know a hell of a lot about fucking women, but I don’t know shit about loving them.
“You should meet London.” Bree points to the woman I saw sitting next to her earlier. She’s maybe an inch taller than Bree, with long, reddish hair and dressed in black and white. “Marketing and PR,” Bree prompts when I just stare.
“Oh! Right.” I hold out a hand. “Ajia Stone.”
“Ajia.” She shakes my hand with a professional-looking smile. “Nice to meet you. I’m London Kennedy.”
“So you’re taking us on?” I ask as I grab a bottle of water. I’m always so goddamn dehydrated after performing.
“Looks like.” Her voice has an interesting sound to it, not quite an accent and yet not like anything I’ve heard before. “You being my current project.”
“Me?” I glance at Bree. She shrugs.
“You haven’t been online lately?” asks London.
I shake my head. “Not in a day or two. Decided to give it up. That shit gets me in trouble.”
Bree laughs, but she sounds more pissed than anything.
“What?” I look between her and London.
A shout distracts me, and I glance over my shoulder to see Zayne, Rye, and Knox wander in, surrounded by chicks. The room’s filling up with the usual mix of groupies and fans, and I suddenly want out of there. Bad.
I look back at Bree. London’s glaring at the other guys like she could cut off every one of their dicks. Or maybe it’s Knox she’s pissed at. I’m sure he’s her point man.
“Over here,” she says before I can process that. I follow her to probably the only halfway quiet corner of the room and grab Bree’s hand as I go.
“What?” I say again.
Bree nods toward London, who catches my eye with a very direct gaze. “You don’t need to avoid going online to get in trouble. You need to pay attention to it.”
Fuck. “What happened?”
“Well, let’s see. First you pretty much tell a couple of very pissed-off—”
“And vindictive,” puts in Bree.
“Female fans that you’re sleeping with Bree,” finishes London.
“What do you mean ‘vindictive’?” I ask, but London waves me off.
“Then there’s video of you two making out in the elevator.”
“Yeah. I knew about that.”
“Great!” London nods with a smile that doesn’t go any farther than her lips. “Which totally explains why you then drop out of sight for two bloody days, only to resurface at the airport in Austin.”
I look from London to Bree and back again.
“And, of course, nobody wondered what was going on when the rest of the band was at the Edge of Return label party last night without you. And none of your fans had anything nasty to say about Bree when she attended with Rye.”
I close my eyes and drop my head forward. “Fuck.” I take a breath and force myself to look at Bree. She stares at me with those wide, beautiful green eyes that tell me absolutely nothing, and it hits me again, how much I love this girl.
And how much I’ve done to hurt her.
“I’m sorry, baby.” I pull her against me and wrap my arms around her. I don’t give a shit that I’m sweaty from the stage or that the room is full of strangers. All that matters is that Bree has to know how sorry I am.
She’s stiff against me, but at least she doesn’t pull away. I adjust my hold until she has to soften her posture and then, slowly, her arms come around me.
“What do I do now?” I ask London, looking over top of Bree’s head. “How do I fix it?”
“We’ll talk about that. But not here.”
I nod. “Can you get everybody back to the hotel?”
London smiles. “If I can’t, Baz will. Or Knox.” She frowns and glances across the room.
I don’t waste my time following her gaze. It doesn’t matter. “Great.” I let Bree go long enough to shake London’s hand again. “Bree and I’ll go on ahead. We’ll meet in my room.”
“Got it.” London turns away, all businesslike.
“And tell those fuckers no girls!” I call after her.
She waves a hand but doesn’t turn around. I swear I hear her mutter the word, “Wanker,” under her breath.
Does she mean me or Knox?
I look down at Bree. She’s watching London cross the room to where Knox stands, a circle of chicks surrounding him.
“Kitten?”
She blinks and then raises her head to look at me. It takes forever for her eyes to meet mine.
“I’m sorry I hurt you, baby. I didn’t mean to. I—let’s get the fuck out of here. I’ll tell you everything, but not here.”
The seconds drag out. I hate that she hesitates, but then finally she nods. “Okay.”
Goddamn. I must have scared her off but good with my disappearing act. Fuck, fuck, fuck. That’s the last thing I meant to do, and I only know one way to fix it.
I wrap my arms around her and jerk her up tight against me. I shove my leg between hers, palm her ass, and then drop my head to catch her mouth with mine. I part her lips and stroke my tongue over hers before she can figure out what the fuck hit her. I give myself only a few seconds to enjoy my success, and then I kiss her like I don’t give a fuck who’s watching.
Truth is, I don’t.
CHAPTER 25
BREE
Somehow, Ajia has a Town Car waiting for us at the back of the venue. A limo is parked behind it—for the rest of the band, I suppose.
A crowd of mostly female fans is being held back by security and a metal barricade. They shout and wave when they see us. Ajia’s so easily recognized with his long blond hair and still wearing his stage clothes, all in black.
“Ajia!”
“I love you!”
“Forget that slut! I won’t break your heart!”
Pretty much the same shit they’ve been saying online.
I ignore it as best I can. The gossip is probably gonna get worse after that kiss in the green room. I can only imagine what it looked like, because it went straight through me. To my core, my heart, maybe even my soul. I can guarantee that pictures of it are gonna show up on the internet.
Hell, they’re probably there already.
Ajia helps me into the car, and I slide all the way across the seat. That amazing kiss aside, I need some distance between us. He gets in next to me but stays quiet until we’re on the way.
“Bree—”
“Why’d you do it, A?” I don’t mean to interrupt, but the words erupt from me.
“Which part?”
I can’t decide if I want to smile because he sees the possibilities that he fucked up in more ways than one, or if I want to be pissed because he isn’t
sure what he did to hurt me. I stare at him with a death-ray glare that I want him to think should level him.
“The part where you disappeared for two days without telling me where you were going—or why! That part.”
He watches me. I can tell he’s looking, but the flickering shadows caused by streetlamps we pass don’t provide enough light for me to read his expression. Finally, he sighs.
“Technically, I didn’t disappear for two days. I texted you yesterday.”
I narrow my eyes. Asshole. “You know what I fucking mean. You didn’t tell me you were leaving before you left. And, for the record, you didn’t text me until after Noah texted you.”
He blows out a harsh sigh, rubs a hand over his face, and shoves his hair back. Finally, he nods. “You’re right, kitten. I fucked up. And I’m sorry.”
“I know you fucked up. That’s not the issue, and it doesn’t answer my question. Why?”
He reaches for my hand, but I don’t offer it. He has to take it from my lap, and then he links our fingers. “Baby, I’m so sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”
I let the words echo between us for a second. “You weren’t thinking,” I repeat, like I can’t believe he said them. In a way, I can’t.
That’s it? He wasn’t thinking?
He tugs on my hand, pulling me closer until I either move with some kind of dignity or fall all over him. I don’t want that. Not right now. Especially when my long skirt has a side slit that shows off a lot of leg. Scooting around on the back seat is difficult enough without making the thing twist up around my hips.
“That fucking skirt is driving me crazy,” he says suddenly and then reaches across me with his free hand. He strokes his palm up my thigh until his fingers slip under the cloth and are practically at my hip.
“Stop it.” I shove his hand away. “Don’t try to distract me. You were explaining how you weren’t thinking.”
He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Yeah, okay. You’re right.”
He’s silent for a couple of minutes, and then his fingers tighten briefly around mine. “I was thinking, actually,” he says carefully. “I was thinking about everything we said to each other. About the things I’d told you—the fucking secrets I’d held for so long—and the amazing way you reacted. I didn’t expect that.”
“Expect what?”
“You didn’t judge me or remind me what a piece of shit I am. You said the opposite. You said things that made sense. You gave me…hope.”
It hurts to think that Ajia would automatically expect the worst. Not of me but of anyone. And that, still, he can only see the worst in himself.
That doesn’t mean I’m letting him off the hook.
“Oh, well, that makes perfect sense,” I snap. “Of course! I gave you hope, so you ran off without telling me.”
“Shit.” He shakes his head. “You really are pissed, aren’t you?”
“What was your first clue?”
“Look, it was stupid, okay?” Ajia shakes his head. “I was stupid. I was just so caught up in the whole idea that maybe, finally, I could put all that shit behind me. Or at least not let it drive me to do such stupid shit anymore. I knew I had to do something—and so I did. I raced off to fix it. I didn’t think a lot about what I was doing or how I did it. I just wanted to get it over with and come back to you…better. Cleaner, maybe.”
He sighs and drops his head forward enough that his hair slides over his shoulders and tumbles down his chest. “I didn’t want to drag you through any more of it. I wanted to surprise you with something good. I never fucking thought about how it would look to you.”
I don’t want to be charmed by his explanation, especially by the emotion behind his actions, but I am. Damn, but this man always does this to me! Grabs some special place inside me, a secret piece of me where only he has access. He is the best part of my life—and my greatest weakness.
“And did you do it?” I ask softly.
“Do what?”
“Fix it. Come back…cleaner?”
“Yeah.” He sounds thoughtful. “I think I did. And I have you to thank for that.”
He pulls me closer before I realize what he’s up to, and his mouth captures mine. His kiss holds me uncertain, confused and hopeful at the same time, because it’s way different from anything we’ve shared before. Not the statement he was making in the dressing room—whatever the hell that was—and not a hot kiss of passion. This is seeking and giving and sharing all at the same time.
It almost feels like…love.
Don’t get ahead of yourself! My common sense jumps to my defense, even as my body awakens to Ajia’s touch. He knows how you feel—you’ve told him—and you know he cares for you. But he’s never said the words—and don’t go expecting them. This is new, and a lot of shit has happened. Love is a big step for a guy like Ajia Stone.
I pant a little breathlessly when he releases my mouth. “Do…you want to tell me about it?” I ask.
“I do, baby. I will. I want to tell you. Everything. But not here. When we get to the room, okay?”
A small slice of disappointment flares through me. He wants to wait. It’s silly to be so sensitive. I understand why; we’re almost back at our hotel. But I guess a childish part of me wants Ajia to be so anxious to share everything with me, that he really can’t wait.
We pull up at the hotel a few minutes later. Honestly, it’s a relief. As much as I love being in such close quarters with Ajia, I need to keep putting a little space between us. This whole thing with him—becoming lovers, the tabloid gossip, his disappearance—has me off-center enough that I need a minute now and then to ground myself again.
A crowd of—I don’t know—fans and paparazzi hover outside the big glass doors of the hotel, and I sigh. They’re suddenly everywhere we go these days. It doesn’t matter if they’re here to catch sight of Wycked Obsession or Edge of Return or any other celebrity who might be staying here. The result will be the same when they catch sight of Ajia. Especially with me.
The doorman opens the car door, and I take a deep breath. Hotel security is there to shield Ajia as he climbs from the car. I follow, grateful for Ajia’s hand as he helps me out, and then he pulls me tight against him, his arm firmly around my shoulder.
“Ajia!” Multiple voices shout his name.
“Where did you go, Ajia?” That must be a reporter or a photographer.
“What’s in Texas, Ajia?”
“Are you and Bree Gallagher together?”
Feminine squeals followed by, “Oh, my God! I love you, Ajia!”
There are other cries. Threats and slurs and demands that Ajia dump a slut like me, and though I hear them, they don’t really penetrate. I’ve seen enough of it online, and I get the sentiment. Then we’re through the automatic doors, blessedly inside, and the noise dies away.
We’ve all learned not to say anything much in public, and I’m sure as hell not taking the chance of getting close to Ajia in the elevator again. That one bit us on the ass already. We’re out of the elevator and in his room before I can really think of what to do or say next.
Wish I’d been able to come up with something, because the first thing I see is the bed. That bed. The bed where I gave up my V-card, where Ajia did amazing things to my body, where I learned what he liked and how to do it. And, holy hell, how it all made me feel.
My skin heats to roughly the temperature of the sun, my nipples tighten to almost painful stiffness, and tension in my lower body produces a familiar wet heat between my thighs.
Jesus, Bree, not now!
There aren’t enough places to sit, especially when I know the rest of the band will show up eventually, so I pick the bed. It might piss Knox off, but I really don’t give a shit at the moment.
“Are you gonna forgive me?”
I blink and look at Ajia. He’s across the room, by the closet. His eyes are dark, but I’m not really sure why. I mean, he knows I’m gonna get over wh
at he did eventually—doesn’t he? We’ve never had a fight that lasted more than a day or two.
“I probably started to forgive you the second you texted me, A.” I give him a half-assed smile. “This isn’t about that. It’s about the fact that I didn’t matter enough for you to tell me you were leaving. It really—”
“Whoa, there, baby!” He stalks across the room like some goddamn predator, but the closer he comes, the less fierce he seems. He sinks to his knees in front of me and lays a palm on each of my thighs. “Who the fuck said you didn’t matter?”
I lift a shoulder. “Well…it seems kind of obvious. You didn’t text me until you heard from Noah—”
“I didn’t tell anybody!” His eyes are narrow. “Hell, I didn’t even text Baz until I was on the plane waiting to taxi out.”
“But you did tell him. Your manager.” I don’t mean to be a pain in the ass, but I have a point Ajia doesn’t seem to be getting. “It just wasn’t me you talked to.”
His face settles into a full-fledged frown. “I guess I’m not used to answering to anybody for what I do. I don’t—”
“That’s bullshit, A, and you know it. You’ve been accountable to the band for five years, and you’ve never let them down. You remembered to tell Baz what you were doing. You’re not an irresponsible jerk. You just didn’t tell me.”
He sits back on his heels, but he doesn’t take his hands from my legs. His expression evens out to one I don’t recognize. Understanding and regretful at the same time.
“You’re right.” He blinks and gives me a single nod. “You’re absolutely fucking right. The truth is, I think I was afraid to tell you.”
“Afraid?” I stiffen but allow one hand to drop over his. “That makes no fucking sense, A.”
He shrugs. “I didn’t know if I could do what I wanted to. If I could let go of all that crap I’ve been carrying around and—I don’t know—start fresh, I guess. I wanted to do it—fuck, did I—but could I really accept something so different from what I’ve believed all this time? I was taking a hell of a chance, and I knew it. Maybe I thought…it’d be better if you were pissed at me because of the way I took off, not because I failed.”