Breaking the Habit

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Breaking the Habit Page 17

by Anne Berkeley


  Another barrage of raps shook the door. “Last call, fucknuts.” Carter, this time. “Keep poor Emster in there any longer and she’ll qualify for a disabled tag.”

  Rolling his eyes, Shane offered me his hand to help me up. I grasped it and let him pull me to my feet. While I adjusted my cleavage, tucking my breasts back into my dress, Shane tucked himself carefully into his pants. “I mean it, Em. You look beautiful.”

  “My lipstick?” I was sure it was smeared or worn off by that point. I really needed to buy a tube of the smudge proof stuff. I just didn’t like the way the stuff felt, like I had just coated my lips in a layer of liquid latex.

  “Doesn’t really go with my skin tone, but nobody’s going to see it on my dick.” Ducking away as I swung at him, Shane belted out a laugh.

  I’d seen him smile, but they were reserved, or laced with mischief. This was the first full-fledged smile that I’d seen, and it made my heart lurch in my chest. It fostered emotions I wasn’t ready to face. I pressed the heel of my palm to my chest, dulling the ache. It wasn’t rational to long for someone that was already yours.

  “You all right?” Shane asked, watching me.

  “Fine.” Grabbing my wristlet from the table, I tucked it under my arm so that I would have a free hand to leash the puppies. Rake and Fiend were immediately at my side, tails wagging.

  “I’ll get them,” said Shane, taking the leashes from my hand. “You’ll be lucky if they don’t yank you off your feet in those heels.”

  “Make them sit.”

  “Sit,” he told Fiend. “Sit!” Despite his tone, Fiend’s backside refused to touch the floor. Her entire body wriggled with excitement. “Fuck it.” Taking her collar, he clipped the leash. It fastened with a sharp snap.

  “They’re not going to learn if you’re not persistent.”

  “I don’t have the patience.”

  “You got me, didn’t you?”

  Glancing up at me, a smile toiled at his lips. Fiend took advantage of his momentary distraction and lapped at his face. “Goddamn it! Stop that shit! Fuck, I think she stuck her tongue in my mouth!”

  Suppressing a smile, I took Rake’s leash. “Rake, sit,” I said firmly and snapped my fingers, pointing down. He planted his ass on the floor. I bent and clipped his collar. “That’s how you do it.”

  “Show off,” Shane scoffed, dragging his sleeve across his mouth. Taking one last glance around the room, he tugged the door open, wrestling with the puppies so that I could go first. The whole thing was a farce. I couldn’t help laughing.

  “Shane, just go.”

  “They’re not going to learn if you’re not persistent,” he mocked.

  “Ha ha.” Taking Rake’s leash from Shane’s hand, I slid the collar up under his chin and snapped the leash tight. Rake came to heel. I did the same with Fiend. With the puppies collected, I walked out the door, past Carter and Jake. I could feel their eyes on me as I strode toward the elevators.

  Jake, if I had to guess, let out a low whistle through his teeth.

  “Shut up, Jake off,” Shane muttered, closing the door behind us. “Keep your eyes to yourself, kinky mother fucker.”

  “I didn’t say anything.”

  “Good. Don’t.”

  The bell pinged, and the elevator doors slid open. I stepped into the cab and gave the leashes another small snap, gathering the puppies’ attention. They had been singularly focused on Jake and Carter, and whatever smell they were picking up on the berber carpeting.

  “Sit.” Though under duress, they sat. The two were coiled like whips, waiting for the moment I let my guard down.

  The others piled in while I held the doors. When we were all in, I pressed the button for the ground floor. The silence lasted about three point three seconds.

  “So, Emster,” Carter began, “what does leccami la figa mean?”

  “Or posso leccare il tua figa?” Jake added.

  OMG. Were the walls really that thin? Beside me, Carter stared, amusement creasing his eyes. This…this was karma at its finest. The bitch was looking down her nose, pointing her long finger at me like the judge, jury, and fucking executioner for teasing Coop about her dealings with Tate. I should never have opened my mouth.

  “It means I love you, and I love you more.”

  Beside me, Shane chuckled under his breath. Luckily, the bell pinged and the doors slid open. Before Carter or Jake could call my bluff, I stepped off the elevator.

  ♪♫♪♫

  Tilting my head back, I emptied my flute of champagne in several large gulps, while Carter watched with certain relish. Cooper was laughing so hard, she was holding her stomach, which was bouncing jovially with every swell of her chest. Me, I was trying to drown out the flames of embarrassment licking my face and neck.

  The guys were all singing crude versions of That’s Amore, having figured out—thanks, in part, to Tate—that la figa didn’t actually mean love, Amore did. Tate didn’t know the real meaning of what had traversed between Shane and myself, but it didn’t take long to find out once Carter looked it up on his handy dandy cell phone.

  “Emster, you dirty, dirty girl,” he said with teasing admiration. “I didn’t know you had it in you.”

  “I think I’m going to have to find me an Italian girl,” Jake agreed. “Everything sounds so much sexier in your language.”

  As I held my glass out, Shane pulled the bottle from the bucket of ice and refilled it. He watched with amusement, waiting for me to tell him when. When the bubbles began escaping the edge of the glass, I finally held my hand up. “I only know the bad words for the most part.”

  “The most important ones of all,” Jake declared. “I mean, to go to Italy you need the basics like: Hi, how are you, my name is Jake, can you point me toward Positano. But, lick my pussy—leccami la figa—how do you travel abroad without knowing that one?”

  “Easy,” I told him. “You learn it there.”

  “Shut. Up.” Coop sobered and sat forward in her seat. “You’ve been to Italy?”

  “About a dozen times, starting when I was ten. My nonna wanted me to see the Old World. She, my poppa and I went once a year to visit our suppliers for the restaurant, to renew contracts and sample the quality of the merchandise.”

  “No shit,” Jake said. “So you’re, like, authentic.”

  I lifted a shoulder, noncommittally. I was Italian-American. I barely spoke the language. I hardly thought that made me authentic.

  “So what age were you when you learned the language?” Carter asked, a hint of a smirk worming its way across his face.

  Sitting back, I settled into Shane’s side. “That was all thanks to Enzo Restuccia. He was the son of the vintner. He used to take me on a tour each year—”

  “I bet.”

  “It was all innocent on my part,” I assured. A shy smile sneaked across my face, which I hid behind my champagne flute. “I had no idea what he was saying. I was seventeen. He was kissing me, and he trailed off into Italian. My understanding was a little better than my speech, but he had said something about the wine crushing that night. I thought he had said that I tasted delicious, and he was going to lick the wine from my feet.”

  I waited until their laughter and gibes died down once again to continue my tale. “That’s not even the worst part. So we’re at the wine crushing. I wore this little red dress with white polka dots that the vintner’s wife lent me.” I could feel the blood rising to the surface of my skin, aghast over my confession. “One of the cousins was playing the mandolin. We were all dancing and singing. I had a few glasses of wine. I thought I was all that, you know? As I climbed out of the barrel, I sat on the edge and lifted my foot to Enzo and told him this was his chance if he wanted to leccami la figa. Dio Mio, I thought my poppa was going to burst a blood vessel!”

  Tucking my face against Shane’s neck, I had to hide my face. His chest was shaking beneath me, listening to the others mocking my naivety. “So what happened to this Enzo?”

  “We
ll, typical of any Italian family, there was a lot of yelling and hand gestures involved, then a formal apology from Enzo, and his father gave us a really good discount on our wines that year.”

  “You mean your poppa didn’t give him a pair of cement shoes?”

  “No, he actually liked Enzo, not so much that I was left unchaperoned with him again. After that, he decided I was old enough to start learning how to negotiate contracts, and the other less appealing aspects of the restaurant business.”

  “I would’ve given him cement shoes.”

  “Look at this guy. Thinks he’s Don fuckin’ Corleone,” Carter scoffed, jerking his thumb in Shane’s direction. “Better watch out, Emster, he’ll be flying to Italy to beat up Enzo, too.”

  “Shut it, Carter,” Jake retorted. “You’re just sore.”

  “Yeah,” Carter agreed, to my surprise. It offered little comfort. He was genuinely angry. About what, I wasn’t sure. “Yeah, I am.” As the limo rolled to a stop, he threw the door open and climbed out.

  The Idaho center was situated directly behind the hotel. The drive was less than five minutes. Getting in and out of the car took the longest, due to the crowds of fans looking to score a signature from a member of the band.

  Jake rose to follow Carter. “Don’t worry, man. He’ll get over it. Always does.” He, too, climbed from the limo. Tate and Coop followed. When it was our turn, Shane pulled me back into his lap and guided my lips to his.

  His lips bade mine to open, and I did, but he didn’t dwell on my mouth. He gave me a few flicking teases with his tongue, and then moved his mouth to my jaw, blazing a trail down to my throat with the edge of his teeth. Meanwhile, his hands roved from my breast to the hem of my dress, working its way back north. I promptly halted his explorations by grabbing his wrist. When I looked up, the door was closed, but still… “As tempting as it is, I’m not climbing out of the car looking like I’ve been freshly fucked right here in the parking lot,” I advised. “Now tell me what that was all about.”

  “Sounds like you already have a good grasp on the situation,” Shane said with a smirk. “It’s too long to wait until after the show. We’ll have meet and greets and autographs before we can leave.”

  “That’s not what I meant.”

  “What? Carter? I don’t know what’s got his panties in a twist, but it’s not his leg. We stopped treating him like he had a disability when we were kids, man. He knows that. Besides, we already talked about that shit with your ex. I didn’t want him involved. It would’ve complicated things. That’s why I asked him to take you back to the car.”

  “That’s it?”

  Shane held his hands up in surrender. “Somebody else must’ve said something to piss him off, I swear.”

  “Ok.”

  “Good. Come here.” Grasping my arms, he pulled me against him, taking my mouth in another brash kiss. Laughing, I pressed against his chest. Determined, he chased my lips as I backed away. “Come on, Emelia. We have this whole car…”

  “You’d think I didn’t just take care of you back at the hotel!”

  “That’s why I’m thinking only of you right now.” Again, he threaded his hand into my hair and began guiding my lips back toward his. “Jesus, Emelia, it’s killing me knowing you don’t have anything on under that dress.”

  “Whose fault is that?”

  “Jake and Carter’s.”

  “How so?”

  “They rushed us.” Hushing me with his lips, he angled his head, deepening the kiss. My resolve quickly faltered. I sank at against him, molding myself to his body as if I hadn’t spent the last week wrapped around his waist. Shane knew when I surrendered, because he began sliding my dress up my thighs and over my ass.

  Accommodating his wishes, I spread my legs and straddled his lap. “God damn you, Richardson,” I cursed, my voice breathy with need. “Do you know how long it took me to get ready tonight?”

  Shane glanced at me, smirking, while working at the zipper of his pants. Arching his back off the seat, he wrestled them down until his cock was free of his pants. “Who’re you trying to impress?”

  Stupid question. “You.”

  “Well, then it worked.” Encircling my waist with his large hands, he guided me closer, my lips resting along his cock. I began rocking against him, pressing close enough to feel the pressure on my clit. “Fuck, Jesus, you’re so fucking warm.”

  Above us, the sunroof set in motion with a soft whir. Shane looked up, distracted. “Motherfuckers! Get up, Emelia! Hurry! Get out of the fucking car!” Lifting me off him, I scrambled to the door, pausing to shimmy my dress down over my ass.

  “Just give me a second!”

  “We don’t have a second, damn it! Hurry!”

  “Why? What the fuck is going on?” Answering my question, a spray of something wet jetted through the sunroof. I gasped, curling my back against the cold. Shane shouted, standing on the seat and climbing through the sunroof, taking the brunt of the hit so that I wouldn’t get wet.

  “Goddamn it!” His pants were up, but unfastened, and as he hoisted himself onto the roof of the car, he started to lose them again. “I’m going to kick your fuckin’ asses!”

  Outside, I could hear Carter’s guffaw, and Jake’s voice. “Thought you could use a little cooling off. Looks like I was rig—” The stream of water cut off as Jake and Shane scrambled down the side of the car. I could hear the metal buckling and crinkling under their weight. The crowd outside was roaring, half in laughter, half urging them on.

  Now that I had a few extra seconds, I fixed my dress and glanced in the mirror before stepping from the car. Marshall was waiting by the door. He extended his hand and helped me out. As I placed my foot down, I kicked a champagne bottle, sending it spinning on its side. Fuckin’ ammunition.

  I panned the scene around me. Tate was signing autographs, along with Carter. Though the latter was paying particularly special attention to a pair of blonds, who were all but identical twins. Evan, Derek and Taylor were controlling the crowd on either side of them.

  “Over there,” Marshall said, pointing toward the front end of the limo. Shane had Jake down on the ground. I hope that meant he was winning. I could only see the tops of their heads, but they were both laughing. I took that as a good sign. It was just another prank. I’d experienced them firsthand back in November when I joined Coop for Thanksgiving. Pulling me from my musings, I felt Marshall’s hand at the small of my back. “We should go in. Don’t want to leave Coop alone too long. She’s waiting inside.”

  As I passed Tate, he lifted his hands, a wide smile splitting his face. “I had nothing to do with it. Coop woulda kicked my ass.”

  “It figures,” I said, “the only one with sense is married.”

  Chapter 16

  Shane came in from the cold, just as I chased the last of the chill from my bones. His gaze landed on me like a homing signal. Crossing the room, he pressed a kiss to the corner of my mouth, while grasping my elbow as if to steady me.

  “My knight in shining leather.”

  Shane grinned sheepishly. “I tried. Did you get very wet?”

  “Terribly,” I quipped, “but then someone started spraying champagne through the sunroof.”

  Blinking, his grin widened to a smile. “I’m going to find the locker room so I can rinse off. Wanna come?”

  “Tempting, but no. I think I’m going to hang with Coop.” Coop left Levy with one of the crew back at the hotel. I assured her that he wouldn’t miss her, seeing how he had the puppies to entertain him, but she’d only been home for a few weeks and she was still having separation anxiety issues after spending nearly a month away from him while she was in the hospital.

  “All right,” Shane said. “Settle in. Get something to eat. I’ll be back in five.” Leaning closer, his breath puffed warmly again my ear. “But you’re mine after the show.”

  I opened my mouth to retort, but I was cut off by a loud, feminine cackle. Carter entered the room, an arm around each of th
e blonde bombshells. The taller of the two tripped on her own heels, and another round of cackling ensued. She was able to right herself with Carter’s help, but not before exposing half of her breasts to everyone in the room.

  “God help us,” Shane muttered. “Here we go.” Pulling his smokes from his pocket, he tapped one from the pack and pinched it between his lips.

  “It’s fine,” I assured. “Go rinse off. I’ll be here.” It wasn’t as if I didn’t know they didn’t fuck around. They were musicians. Single musicians. I wasn’t naïve.

  Frowning, Shane kissed me one last time and turned for the door. As he passed Carter and his entourage, the shorter of the girls gasped in astonishment.

  “Oh my God! You’re Shane Richardson! Sign me! You have to sign me!” Her hand shot into the air, wielding a sharpie marker.

  Shaking his head, Shane looked at me then took the marker and uncapped it. “Where do you want it?”

  Beaming a smile, she turned to the side and lifted her arm. Carter’s signature was already inked on the side of her ribcage. Dutifully, Shane dropped to a crouch and began scrawling his John Doe. “I’m going to get it inked permanently tomorrow,” the girl told him. Shane’s hand faltered. He lifted it away from her skin.

  “Sorry,” he said, and handed her back the marker. “No can do. If any girl’s going have my named inked on her skin, it’s going to be my girl.”

  The blonde looked up from under her lashes, fluttering them at Shane. “I can be yours.” I almost choked on my own saliva. Was she for real?

  “Not my type.”

  “What is your type?”

  “Hard to get.”

  Cooper burst into giggles along with me. I think that had to be the utmost funniest thing I ever heard Shane say. Shane turned and winked as he walked out of the room. The blonde glanced from me to Coop, as if left out of some private joke.

  “Let me introduce you to the girls,” Carter said, shutting us up. The smile faded from my face. Was the fuck was he doing? The girl just made a pass at my boyfriend. Was he really expecting us to entertain her during the show? Ushering them in our direction, I realized, yes, yes he was. “This is Cooper and Emst—”

 

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