by RC Boldt
It’s a lot to take in. “Well, hell. It’s safe to say you’ve got me beat.”
Her laughter sounds brittle. “Yeah, well, it’s not exactly something I’m proud of.”
We arrive at the back entrance of the hotel, exactly how we slipped out, where Jed waits on our return. After thanking him, we head inside and step into the elevator. Simone’s quiet on the ride up to our floor, but Jed fills the silence, like usual, with his friendly chatter. We say good night to him and Vance at the door.
Once we enter the suite, it feels like we’re blanketed by some sort of intimacy. It must be because we connected on our run today. We shifted from employee and employer to…shit, I don’t even know. To whatever the hell this is.
Stopping in the hallway as if there’s some invisible force keeping us in place, I hesitate. “I…need to grab a shower.”
“Me too,” she offers quickly.
Those eyes of hers, now more of a golden brown in color, study me. Her skin is still flushed from the run, and a sheen of perspiration clings at her hairline. The hint of vulnerability that creeps into her features unlocks something deep inside me. Some sort of magnetic pull toward her.
She wets her lips, immediately drawing my eyes to her bare mouth, rid of any gloss or color she normally has when she’s performing. My fingers twitch with an unusually strong urge to run my thumb over her bottom lip.
“Thanks for, uh…” Simone trails off, ducking her head slightly, a few strands of hair that had come loose from her ponytail earlier falling forward. It takes me a moment to realize why she’s suddenly gone still.
Because it’s my hand that reaches out to slide her hair back.
When she raises her face, eyes locking with mine, her gaze is questioning and holds a hint of heat. I’m powerless, unable to draw my hand away. Instead, I cup the side of her face gently, unwilling to break this moment—whatever this is.
I study her face, wondering just who the hell Simone King really is. Wondering why she has this pull on me.
She lifts to her toes and presses a gentle kiss to my cheek, lingering for a beat and whispering against my skin, “Thank you, Kane.”
Kane. The way she says my name, the fact that she’s not calling me Mr. Windham for once, spurs something deep inside me. When she moves to retreat, I’m not entirely sure why, but my instinct is to lower my chin and turn my head slightly. Our lips brush—just barely, yet still so much—and we both freeze. Neither of us moves for a beat, eyes wide open, and I’m not sure whose breathing is more ragged, hers or mine.
“What’re you thankin’ me for?” I whisper, and with each word, with each syllable, the softness of her lips grazes against mine.
Her whisper is breathless. “For letting me tag along.” She still doesn’t move away, but neither of us is ballsy enough to take things further.
Fuck. This is wrong because I work for her. I’m not even sure I’m over what Lucia did, and I sure as hell don’t feel ready to jump into anything new. But it would take a damn intervention from God himself to pull me away from her right now.
Like a damn fool, I fucking do it. I move, bringing our mouths closer, more aligned. There’s no mistaking this—no mistaking my intent. I’ve crossed the line. “Anyti—”
She presses her mouth to mine, cutting off my words, momentarily catching me by surprise. But not for long. With a hand on her back, I pull her closer, fusing our mouths in a kiss that makes my cock harden instantly. Fuck, she can kiss. She clutches at my arms, and with a tiny moan, her tongue darts inside to toy with mine.
That’s when something inside me breaks loose.
I fist her ponytail, adjusting the angle of our kiss to deepen it, and walk her back, trapping her between the wall and my body. The sharp jolt of contact of our slightly damp skin stirs up the reminder of what we’ve just come back from doing.
Breaking the kiss, I intend to take a step back, but I can’t bring myself to do it just yet. Instead, I trail my lips across her cheek and along the column of her neck, taking tiny nips before soothing it with my tongue. I ease my body away from hers slightly, and she lets out a tiny whimper of protest, her hands moving to my waist to tug me closer.
“Come here,” she breathes out. And damn if it isn’t one of the sexiest things I’ve heard.
I trace the tip of my tongue along the shell of her ear. “I’m all sweaty.”
“Don’t care.”
A surprised laugh breaks free. “No?” I graze my teeth along her earlobe, and she arches in response. I ease back to find her eyes closed, and her expression is one of rapture.
One glance at her breasts has me groaning. Her damn nipples prod against her sports bra, and the fabric of her tank top is just begging to be released.
Just begging for my mouth.
I glide a hand up along her side, slow enough to give her a chance to tell me to fuck off. When she doesn’t, I swear my dick grows hard enough to nearly bust through both my briefs and athletic shorts.
Her breath hitches the closer my hand inches to her breast, but when my palm covers her nipple and she arches, pressing into it and urging me on, I nearly lose control. My mouth is on hers, our kiss hot and messy, teeth clinking but neither of us cares.
I drag my thumb over her nipple once, twice, and then a third time before she gives my waist a rough tug, bringing my cock closer to nestle between her thighs.
My guttural, “Fuck,” is spoken against her lips before she fits her mouth to mine once again, her hand cupping my ass and urging me even closer.
The knock on the door is so sudden, so unexpected in the silence around us—with only the sounds of our harsh breathing—that we jump apart, startled.
We stare back at one another, and I’d bet hard money that my expression looks as shell-shocked as hers, if not more.
The knock sounds again. “Simone?”
Rachel. Shit.
Simone smooths her hair, the same hair I’d fisted moments ago, and runs a hand over her slightly wrinkled tank top. Her eyes dart up to mine nervously before dropping below my waist.
“You should, uh, probably get in your room before I let her in.”
I glance down at what’s got to be the most massive hard-on I’ve had in… Fuck. Maybe ever.
Scrubbing a hand down my face, I watch her advance toward the door. “I, uh…” Shit. What the hell do I say?
I’m sorry.
I was out of line, and that was unprofessional as hell, but I don’t know that I regret it because it was also hotter than fuck.
I don’t reckon that would suffice.
“It’s okay,” she says softly. Stepping over to the door, she settles her fingers on the handle, turning her head slightly and speaking in a hushed tone. “It was just a weak moment. We bonded over shitty heartache stories and got carried away. No need to worry about it.” She hesitates when another knock sounds, and Rachel’s tone is worried. “Simone?”
I’m bombarded by a strange mix of relief and disappointment at her response. At how quickly she organized what just happened and classified it into a clean-cut category.
“Let me know if you two need me. I’m gonna grab a shower.”
“Okay.”
I slip inside my room and close the door just as she lets in Rachel, who immediately starts off with, “Gotta go over some things with you before I go hardcore with damage control. Your mother’s at it again…”
Shit. I lean my forehead against the door, torn with wanting to be out there with Simone while she deals with whatever clusterfuck her mother’s started this time. But I can’t. Not with this raging hard-on I’ve got that shows no sign of going away anytime soon.
Inside my adjoining bathroom, I stare at the closed door for a second. It’s almost as if I’m in a daze, my mind replaying every damn thing that just happened with Simone before we got interrupted, and my dick loving every fucking part of it.
Muttering an expletive under my breath, I undress quickly and turn on the shower. Even though I know it’d
be wise to just take a cold shower, I can’t bring myself to do it. My cock insists I take care of things, and now that I know how Simone tastes, now that I know about those little sounds she makes, what it’s like to have her grab at me and pull me close, there’s no way in hell a cold shower will do.
Stepping inside, I close the shower door, letting the water pulse over my body. Palms braced on the tile wall, I tip my head from side to side, stretching my neck in an attempt to ease the tension. The heat from the water reminds me of how much heat radiated from Simone, her body so goddamn hot and damp. That coconut scent from her hair still lingers in the air somehow.
Fuck, my cock juts out proudly, and with one hand against the wall, I reach down and wrap the other around my cock. I grit my teeth to stifle a groan at the contact, wishing like hell it were Simone’s fingers gripping me right now. Fisting my length, I give a strong tug, my grip tight. With my head bowed, water pours over me, serving as white noise while I imagine the gorgeous woman I was with moments ago on her knees at my feet.
Giving another tug, I glide my fist up and down my rigid length and close my eyes. As soon as I do, it happens; my goddamn fantasy comes to life. Simone enters the shower, shoving my hand away to take me in her own, those delicate fingers wrapping snug around me. She looks up, lashes wet, her long hair plastered to her shoulders and breasts. With a wicked smile, she leans forward, her pink tongue darting out to trace along the ridges and veins of my cock.
I lock my knees, willing my legs not to give out as she teases me, running her tongue along the notch of the head. My muscles tense, and when she takes me inside her hot-as-fuck mouth, it takes every ounce of self-restraint not to shove my cock down her throat and come right here and now.
Fuck, fuck, fuck. Gliding her mouth up and down my rigid length, she grips the base with one hand while her tongue toys with me. My entire body arches into her touch, spine rigid, when she sucks hard, her lips nearly airtight around me. She watches me, eyes filled with heat, and sucks harder, her fingers drifting between my legs to tease the underside of my balls, and that’s when I lose control.
My hands fly to her head, gripping her soaked hair and fisting it as I surge in and out of her mouth, my balls drawing tight. A low, guttural, “Fuck,” falls from my lips a second before I pulse my release in long, hot spurts down her throat. The gleam of satisfaction in her eyes as she swallows every single drop has me shuddering.
Leaning my forehead against the cool tile, I can’t bring myself to open my eyes. Don’t want to be slapped with the reality that I’m alone in this damn shower. That it was my hand and not Simone’s mouth that did me in just now.
She referred to what happened between us as a weak moment. I call it hot as fuck. And if what just happened in this shower is any indication, I’m in a shit-ton of trouble.
Once I finish showering and head out to grab water and a snack, Simone and Rachel are still going over details.
It doesn’t escape my attention when Rachel eyes me with interest. Simone, on the other hand, barely glances in my direction. When she does, it’s brief, only to avert her gaze so fast, you’d think I was the blazing sun threatening to destroy her retinas.
No need to worry about it, she said. It was just a weak moment.
That so-called weak moment had me jacking off in the shower, my cock harder than it’s ever been.
That same weak moment has somehow managed to lessen the two-ton grief-filled weight I’ve been lugging around. But that’s not what’s most unsettling.
It’s that, if given the chance, I doubt I’d be able to resist taking part in another one of those moments.
19
Kane
Washington, D.C.
Early July
“…so, I wrote this song because I think we all need a reminder to build each other up instead of tearing one another down.”
Simone sits at the piano, speaking into the mic secured on the top of the instrument, addressing her fans.
“We’re all facing battles, and just one little, ‘Hey, I really like that dress,’ or ‘Your hair is super cute’ or ‘You have the prettiest smile’—anything can have the power to make someone’s day a little brighter. Be the reason someone smiles. Can you try to do that for me?”
Cheers sound from the crowd, and Simone smiles. “I knew you’d be on board. You guys are the best.” She begins playing the first few notes of her next song, and they go wild, recognizing it instantly. “Feel free to sing along.”
Their words can be
Weapons in a war
Their words can cut down
What was tall and proud before
Their words leave scars
Deep down inside your soul
Their words can make you feel
So much less than whole
Build me up
Stop breakin’ me down
Follow your heart
Don’t you dare steal my crown
Build me up
Don’t break me down
Free that pain inside you
Tryin’ to make you drown
Build me up
With so many fans singing along, Simone’s voice sounds a bit muted, but her smile widens with evident pleasure. God, she looks even more beautiful like this.
“You going soft on our girl?” Jed’s tone is teasing.
I do my best to play it off. “Nah. Just tryin’ to reconcile the version I had in my head with this one.” I tip my chin, gesturing to Simone on stage.
“Nothing to reconcile. One’s fictitious. One’s real.” He turns to me, expression serious. “Getting to know the real one is a special honor.”
Shifting gears, he says, “I wanted to say that we all appreciate your work on assessing these venues. It’s nice to have a different perspective on things.” There’s a pause. “You might be a good fit for other musicians on the road like this.” He lifts his chin, gesturing to the stage. “Food for thought.”
I just nod, and Jed turns and heads to ensure the additional security personnel the arena provided us with are still in place and on task.
My phone vibrates in my pocket a few minutes later, and I check it, hoping Jed didn’t hit any snags. But when I glance at the caller ID displayed on the screen, I falter.
It’s not so much the sight of Lucia’s name as it is the realization that I haven’t thought of her since… Hell. I smooth a hand along my jawline as I try to recall exactly how long it’s been.
Since the night Simone went running with me. Since the night she dubbed a “weak moment.”
Things have returned to how they’d been before that so-called moment, but I’ve found myself waiting to see if she’d falter or show a sign that she’d like to pick up where we left off.
Not once has she indicated that. She’s been the utmost professional.
I’d be lying through my damn teeth if I claim I’m not the slightest bit disappointed. If I claim I wouldn’t jump at the chance to run my tongue along her skin and taste how salty she gets after a workout. To feel her arch into my touch, silently begging for more.
Fuck. Just the thought of her taste and how she kissed makes my dick harden. I groan internally and fold my hands in front of me, willing my body to calm the hell down. The last thing I need is to look like some sort of freakish perv.
My mind shifts to Lucia. I haven’t responded to any of her attempts to reach out to me. But where the thought of her normally felt like someone was singeing me from the inside out, I only feel a slight twinge now.
I raise my eyes to take in the sight of the woman’s face on one of the jumbo monitors in the arena.
The same woman who’s somehow helped me take a few small steps in the direction of getting past this shitty heartache.
A FEW DAYS LATER…
The knocking on the door is incessant, and I already know who it is even before I hear the obnoxious fake accent.
“Miss Keeng? Miss Keeng? You ask for happy ending massage, no?”
Simone hasn�
�t come out of her room, so I assume she’s still in the shower. She’s been doing shows nearly every night over the past week, and tonight marks the beginning of a much-deserved three-day break. How she maintains the stamina to be “on” each night, when just watching her perform exhausts me, remains a mystery.
“Miss Keeng? Me love you long time! Promeese!”
I fling open the door, coming face-to-face with Matthias Tobin once again. I stare him down. “You always like this?”
His shit-eating grin gives me his answer before he responds with a cocky, “Pretty much.”
An amused Jed stands in the hall. Vance, like usual, appears unfazed, his expression cool and calm. Begrudgingly, I step aside to let Matthias in. “She’s in her room.”
He huffs as he enters. “She’d better be primping and doing all that womanly shit because we’ve got a birthday to celebrate.”
I shove the door closed and trail him in confusion. There hadn’t been anything on the agenda for tonight.
As if hearing my thoughts, Matthias spins around from where he’s snagged a bottle of water from the fridge and narrows his eyes on me. “You don’t know? Didn’t you get the—”
I cross my arms, refusing to let him see my uneasiness. “Know what?”
He smacks a palm against his forehead. “Shit! I forgot and sent the email to the usual contacts for her security team, including David.” His sheepish expression is apologetic. “I, uh, usually try to surprise her and take her dancing. Just the two of us.”
My gaze narrows. “Dancin’,” I draw out the word slowly.
He tips back his bottle of water, drinking nearly three quarters of it before capping it and setting it on the counter. Copying my stance, he crosses his arms and grins. “Guess whose birthday it is today?” That grin grows even wider, challenging me.
Without any change in my facial expression, I respond with barely a hint of sarcasm. “Yours.”