Copyright © 2018 by Carmel Rhodes
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Editing: Kristen—Your Editing Lounge
Proofreading: Judy’s Proofreading
Cover Design: Designs by Kirsty-Anne Still
Interior Formatting: Champagne Book Design
Table of Contents
TITLE PAGE
COPYRIGHT
DEDICATION
EPIGRAPH
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
THE EPILOGUE
A PEEK INSIDE CARTER’S HEAD
AUTHOR’S NOTE
ALSO BY CARMEL RHODES
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
For all the women who said I should, and made me believe I could.
Emotions are immortal spirits trapped in mortal beings.
Kensington Grace Roth was a princess. No, not an actual princess, but her grandfather had been governor, so almost. Demure, sweet, and dutiful: all the things a princess should be. Kensie liked being the princess, though she couldn’t deny it was a lonely job—always on, always smiling. That’s what princesses did, right?
What they didn’t do, was wear red mini dresses that did little to contain their breasts, but there she was, standing in the middle of her bedroom, jersey spandex clinging to her body, and a tiny smile parked on her lips. Her best friend, Jamie, smirked at her handiwork. “Under boob is the latest wave, Kensie. Kylie Jenner wore something similar last weekend.” It was payback for making Jam buy the burgundy Zanottis a few months back, when Kensie had used the other Jenner sister as a selling point.
“Great, because that’s the look I’m going for.” Kensie rolled her eyes at her blonde friend who was applying a final coat of bright red gloss to her pouty lips.
On the outside, she played it cool, but inside, she’d never felt so sexy. Too bad her hair and makeup would go to waste. “I just wish Trey were here to see me,” she pouted, crossing her arms over her breasts.
“Well, he’s not so you’re stuck with me,” Jam said, with an eye roll of her own.
Kensie and Jamie had been best friends since diapers. There was once a time the two were inseparable but growing up meant growing apart. With jobs and boyfriends keeping them busy, they rarely saw each other. In fact, if Trey weren’t in Nevada for his brother’s bachelor party, they probably wouldn’t be going out in the first place; a thought that made Kensie frown. When had they become so disconnected?
“Hey, no frowning,” Jam scolded. “This night is supposed to be fun.”
“Fun for who? Slumming it at some dive bar with you and your boyfriend isn’t my idea of fun.” She sounded like a snob, but Kensie would rather not waste this dress on a grunge party in downtown Seattle. She wasn’t even sure how she let her friend talk her into going in the first place. Kensie was more champagne and caviar than beer and chicken wings. “Remind me again how you met this guy? An interview or something?”
Jam’s lips quirked up into a grin, the kind of grin that meant trouble. Jamie was a wild child—she lived life out loud, something Kensie admired. Being the princess wasn’t always fun or easy but that was life, boring and hard. “Not exactly. We met before that, at the Rabbit Hole, the bar we’re going to tonight. I was with Lo—”
“—so you were drunk,” Kensie supplied.
She wasn’t jealous of Lorena… Okay, maybe a little. Lo and Jam were so much alike, their friendship came easy, and Kensie couldn’t help but feel like she’d been replaced.
“Yes, smart-ass. Anyway, I tried fighting my attraction to him all night, but there was something about him. His stage presence was electric. The entire crowd hung on his every word, his every note. Everyone in the room wanted him, and he wanted me. It was a high like you wouldn’t believe. By the end of the night, we were practically dry humping at the bar; that was after I flashed him of course.” She chuckled. It was trippy seeing Jam so happy, so light, so carefree. Love suited her.
“Of course.” Kensie’s voice came out breathier than she would have liked. Flashing and dry humping strangers wasn’t really her style, but she understood the appeal. Raw, lust-fueled need taking over. An urge so strong that all caution and etiquette flies out the window. The type of chemistry she’d only ever read about in books. She’d never admit it, but she loved hearing all about Jam’s conquests. Making love to Trey was nice—better than nice, it was great—but Kensie always wondered what it would feel like to be fucked. “So, then what happened?”
“I was so attracted to him—more attracted than I’d ever been to anyone before, there was no way I was walking away. I needed to feel him everywhere, ya know?”
Kensie nodded absently, her thighs pressed together, her cheeks flushed. Maybe it was the skimpy dress but listening to Jam’s story ignited a fire in her core. Unfortunately, the only man who could extinguish the flames was doing God knows what in Las Vegas.
“I wanted him, but I didn’t want the emotional connection. I didn’t want the attachment. That’s when I came up with the brilliant idea to have a threesome.”
“A what?” Kensie shrieked. The blush spread across her entire body.
“It’s insane, I know, but the bartender was hot, and in my fucked-up brain, I figured I couldn’t get attached if there was another girl there—like a buffer. Plus, did I mention how hot the bartender was?”
“Okay, so you, Ry, and hot bartender had sex?”
“No, sweetie.” Jamie shook her head slowly, like she was talking to a toddler. “We fucked in the back office.”
“You had sex in an office in the back of a dirty bar?” Kensie shrieked. Who has sex in a bar? Jam. Jam has sex in a bar, that’s who.
“Yup.” She nodded, proudly, swinging her leather jacket over her shoulders.
“And this is the place you’re taking me tonight?” Kensie followed her friend, flicking off lights as they went.
“Yup.”
Oh my god, Kensie, thought. What was she getting herself into?
A jolt of fear skated through Kensie’s veins as they exited the Uber. She couldn
’t tell if it was the cool breeze that greeted them as they stepped into the night or if it was how uncomfortable she suddenly felt in the red dress, riding dangerously high up her thighs.
Each step towards the small brick building with the blood-red awning, felt like a step into the abyss. Kensie reached for Jam’s hand, lacing their fingers, and squeezed.
“Don’t worry, babe, it’s not as intimidating as it looks.” Jam squeezed her hand back.
Intimidating was an understatement. The line wrapped around the building like moss on a tree. Hair dyed every color of the rainbow, flannel, and distressed t-shirts stared back, and suddenly Kensie felt ridiculous in her too tiny dress. “How long will we have to wait?” she asked, tugging at the hem.
“I’m fucking the lead singer. Do you really think we’re waiting in line?” Jam snorted, walking right up to the largest man Kensington had ever seen, six-six and all muscle. His grim face lit up with amusement upon seeing Jamie.
“Hey, Kitty Cat.” He smiled and waved them forward despite the groans from the crowd. “Who’s your friend?” He eyed Kensie up and down, pausing at the strappy, black Louboutins on her feet. Apparently, he’d missed the don’t eye fuck the patrons class in bouncer school.
“Kensie, this is Tee.” Jam tried and failed to stifle her laugh. “Tee, this is my best friend, Kensington. I’m popping her Rabbit Hole cherry.”
“Hurry the fuck up!” someone yelled from the line.
Heat crept up Kensie’s neck. She was sure her face was as red as the dress painted on her body. This whole night was a mistake, but the Uber was gone, and Trey was in Vegas. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Tee.” She gave a hurried wave and rushed inside.
The bar was much bigger than it looked. Wooden panels covered walls painted the same blood red as the awning. Posters for live shows and upcoming events were scattered here and there. The noise overwhelmed her. The show was in full swing and a mass of bodies swayed in front of the stage, but Kensie’s eyes trailed over to the bar. “I need a drink!” she yelled over the music.
“What would you like, princess?” Jam asked, snagging two empty stools.
Kensie thought for a moment. She hadn’t been to a place like this since college, she was wearing a tight red dress that left little to the imagination, and she missed her boyfriend desperately. There was only one thing that could salvage this night. “Tequila.”
“Tequila it is.” Jamie smirked.
An hour and four shots later, Kensie was relaxed and curious to learn more about the men on stage. “The band is decent. What’s their name?”
“Lithium Springs,” Jamie said wistfully. Kensie could practically see hearts in her eyes.
“You’re disgusting,” Kensie teased.
“Fuck you, you’re like that with Trey, and he’s a douchebag.”
“Hey—”
“No, we aren’t having the Trey fight tonight. Let’s dance.” Jam pulled her from her stool and they shouldered their way through the crowd until they reached the front. There was no room to move—forget dancing—they were just trying to stay on their feet.
The music was intense, and Kensie understood what Jam had been trying to explain earlier. The way Lithium Springs commanded the stage, she couldn’t keep her eyes off them, and it didn’t hurt that they were all gorgeous.
The lead singer, Jam’s Ryder, was tall and slim and covered in tattoos. He was shirtless, revealing the two shiny metal bars that pierced each of his nipples, and his black skinny jeans hung dangerously low on his hips. The bassist was equally handsome and equally tatted. His light-brown skin glistened with sweat as his deft fingers plucked at the strings on his bass guitar.
Behind them, partially hidden by a drum kit, was the most beautiful man Kensington had ever laid eyes on. If the other two men were kings, this man was a god. His face was perfection. The light-brown hair covering his jaw matched the curly, brown tendrils peeking out from under his black baseball cap. His corded arms were covered with brightly colored tattoos, intricately interwoven to tell a story, his story. But as sexy as all that was—and it was sexy—the best part of him, the part that had Kensie weak-kneed and breathless, was his eyes. Those mysterious blue orbs bore straight into her soul and left her feeling more exposed than the red fuck-me dress ever could.
She stood there, statue stiff, as the sounds of the final guitar riff crescendoed. The crowd swayed, a sea of sweaty bodies that propelled her forward until she was pinned against the stage.
She couldn’t move.
She couldn’t breathe.
The skimpy thong she wore under her dress was drenched; the tiny swath of fabric no match for her arousal.
“Kensie. Kensington! Let’s go!” Jamie screamed, shaking her out of her daze. The music stopped and Ryder thanked the crowd for coming out, reminding everyone to download their latest EP. Kensie took a moment to regain her composure before turning to look at her friend.
Go?
Just as she was preparing to protest, Trey’s face flashed in her mind. Yes, she needed to get the fuck out of there. She needed air. She needed to put some distance between her and her blue-eyed tormentor. She needed new panties.
Kensie followed Jam to the back of the bar. Her head spun. She was so preoccupied with trying to figure out what the fuck was back there, she didn’t notice Jam following the large bouncer from earlier. She didn’t question it when he led them out the side door, and she didn’t question climbing into the waiting van. She didn’t know when Jam called the Uber but she was glad to see it.
“That was intense,” Kensie breathed.
“I know, right?” Jam agreed, distracted, with her eyes locked on the door.
“Why aren’t we moving? Where’s the driver?” Kensie’s heart pounded, erratic little thump thump, thumps. She looked to her friend, the friend who came here with every intention of introducing her to the lead singer of the band they’d just watched perform. “Jam?”
Even in the dark Kensie saw Jamie’s eyes light up, and her breath caught in her throat as the side door swung open once again. She felt his presence long before she ever saw his face. Ryder exited the club first, then the bassist, and then him—the drummer with the eyes that caused her soul to shake.
“Jam?” she repeated. The van door opened and Ryder pulled Jamie up from her place next to Kensie and redirected her to the back row, winking as he gave her friend a firm smack on the ass.
The bassist was at the door next, looking at her like she was something to eat. “I’m Javi.” He extended his hand, and his voice dripped with sex.
Before she could reply, she heard him, his deep voice just as intoxicating as the rest of him. “Back off, homie,” he growled, grabbing Javi by the shoulders. “She’s mine.”
Kensie knew she should protest. They were fighting over who got dibs, like she wasn’t even there, like she wasn’t a person, just a snack to be devoured.
Javi looked at Kensie longingly and sighed, “You’re lucky it’s your birthday, motherfucker.”
His birthday.
She committed the date to memory and instantly hated herself for it. She hated the way her traitorous body reacted when he’d called her his, hated the rush she felt as he climbed in the van and sat next to her, completely invading her personal space. Their legs touched, his arm draped lazily around her small frame and he pulled her into his side.
She fit perfectly—like she was made for him.
Jam giggled behind her. Javi jumped in the front passenger seat and the bouncer, Tee, got in the driver’s side.
She knew she needed to break the contact, but his touch paralyzed her. His athletic body made her feel safe, and his bright tattoos were mesmerizing. He was like a calla lily—gorgeous, but toxic, and 100% likely to cause a rash. She needed to get the hell out of there before she did something she would regret, but instead, she looked up at the man absently rubbing circles on her knee and whispered, “I’m Kensie.”
“CT.” He grinned.
Her poor thong never
stood a chance.
God, she was an awful person. Trey was loving, and kind, and he trusted her. Yet, there she was having illicit thoughts about a complete stranger.
“Everything okay?” CT asked, noticing the shift.
“I have a boyfriend.” Kensie bit down on her lip. She hated herself for saying it, then hated herself for wishing she hadn’t. She loved Trey.
She was in love with Trey.
“I’m not trying to be your boyfriend.” He smirked, bringing his thumb to her mouth, gently wiggling her bottom lip free. His words stung, although she wasn’t sure why. She was in love with Trey.
“Good.” Kensie shifted, trying to put as much distance between them as the cramped space would allow.
“Not so fast.” CT hauled her back under his arm. His hand ghosted up the hem of her dress, higher and higher. “This is short,” he said, more to himself than to her. His face burrowed into the side of her neck, and his beard tickled the soft skin there.
“I have a boyfriend,” she gasped as his teeth grazed her ear. The move sent her heart into convulsions.
“But tonight I’ll be the one fucking you.”
Kensie pressed her lips into a thin line. She couldn’t let the small moan forming in her throat escape. She couldn’t encourage him. “Listen,” she whispered once she’d forced the moan back to where it came from. “I know you’re probably used to girls throwing themselves at you, but you’re barking up the wrong tree. I have a boyfriend and he’s the only one who gets to fuck me.”
A smile danced on CT’s lips. Amusement twinkled in his eyes. He was trying not to laugh and failing miserably. The cocky bastard had the audacity to laugh in her face and it pissed Kensington off.
Anger was good. The anger coursing through her veins helped suppress the lust that had nearly consumed her seconds ago. She wiggled out from under his long arm and gave him a hard shove. He fell to the side, laughing hysterically on his way down.
“Care to tell us what’s so funny?” Javi inquired from the front.
“Nothing,” CT croaked, regaining his composure. He righted himself and returned his arm to its home around Kensie’s neck. “You’re funny,” he whispered, his mouth on her ear. His warm breath sent a chill down her spine.
Lithium Tides: A Lithium Springs Novel Page 1