by Cora Kenborn
I took a step forward. “I’d better go rescue my date before half of New York proposes to him.”
***
“What did I tell you, baby doll? Best seats in the house.”
“Sure, for people taller than a third grader.” I slumped back into the high-back chair and pouted.
The best seats were at our two-top table in the invitation-only club. However, the people with shitty seats had abandoned them in favor of standing next to the stage. I couldn’t see above anyone’s head.
Gage flashed me a megawatt grin. “No worries, Pheebs, it’s only the opening act and you’re not missing anything.” He rolled his eyes. “Not impressed. I’d rather watch you sulk.”
I made a face at him. “I’m not sulking.”
“Yes, you are. You don’t even like hard rock.”
“Is this where that whole ‘gift horse in the mouth’ saying originated?”
The huge smile dropped and his face glowed in the dim light. “Thanks for tonight, Pheebs. It’s cool being here with you.”
His seriousness startled me. There was so much I wanted to say, but I knew he’d given as much emotion as Gage was willing to concede. I settled for brevity. “Ditto.”
“Besides,” he said, his voice cracking and betraying him. “If I didn’t dress that bod of yours, you wouldn’t get laid in a sausage factory.”
“You’re probably right.” I grinned.
By the time the lights lowered, the crowd went insane. High-pitched screams tore through my ears while swarms of bodies rushed the stage. Apparently needing no introduction, the band walked out to thunderous applause.
I craned my neck to catch a glimpse of the stage. “Are they ready?”
Gage didn’t answer. He kneeled on top of the chair and screamed the band’s name, pumping his muscular arms in the air.
“Gage!”
“What?” He turned and scrunched his face.
“I can’t see anything. Is the band ready to play?” I whined, tired of staring at asses.
His head bobbed in affirmation. “Yeah, sorry, too distracted filing images away for my spank bank.”
“You said the lead singer is hot?”
“Jesus, hot is for amateurs, Pheebs. Julian Bale is sex on three legs. He’s my dream fuck.”
“Whoa, dream fuck pole position? I’ve never seen you act so girlie over a guy before!” I giggled at my own joke.
Disgust blanketed his face. “Wanting to bang Julian Bale is not girlie! I don’t know how he does it.” He turned his attention back to the stage. “But that man fucks you nine ways till Sunday with just a look.”
An unwelcome flutter bloomed inside me. I’d seen that type of look firsthand. My mind started to drift when a hard guitar riff took command of the venue. Five loud skins crashed and a hi-hat hurled from the drum set and then everything went silent.
“What’s happening?” I demanded.
“Shhh!” Gage’s eyes glittered in anticipation.
Low, sultry lyrics rasped, and I held my breath until it burned. The gravelly timbre branded me with every vibration.
Oh my god, that voice.
I needed to see him, but I couldn’t move. My legs weakened as an animalistic growl sent my heart into a free-fall. Once the vibrations quieted, the band crashed in with explosions of instruments that shook the room. People lost their fucking minds. Including Gage.
“C’mon, baby doll!” Grabbing my hand, he jerked me off of my chair and into his arms. Tucking me close against him, he carried me into the maddening crowd. He made it as far as the second row before smacking into a wall of bodies.
The band was on fire, prompting flurries of thrashing limbs and screams as multi-colored lights flashed around us. Overhead, a screen flashed the band’s recent video. I glanced at Gage, whose lips curled in a devilish laugh. I wrinkled my nose as he charged toward me.
“Gage? What the—”
Without warning, he bent down and wrapped his strong biceps around my hips. I found myself hauled into the air, and I slapped his back in retaliation. “Put me down! Gage! Put me down right now! Oh my god!”
He laughed against the skin of my thigh. “You wanted to see, baby doll. Feast your eyes!” Clamping the tops of my thighs with his forearms, he secured me on his shoulders.
I finally took everything in with an unobstructed view. I squeezed his neck for stability and laughed, focusing my attention on the stage. My eyes immediately sought out his sexual obsession.
The infamous Julian Bale.
It took less than five seconds for our eyes to collide with ferocious electricity. I gasped in recognition and lost my grip on Gage’s neck as tumultuous green eyes locked onto me. The words resounded from deep within, and I lost my balance and tumbled to the floor.
“Fuck. Me.”
Chapter Twelve
Gage stared at me as I lay in a crumpled heap by his feet. Apparently I’d lost my grip on my balance. I’d lost my grip on everything—including my sanity.
I nodded at his inquiry of my well-being as he pulled me up.
He shouted above the music, lips twisting wryly. “Of course you are. You take concrete headers every day.” The crowd sandwiched me to his chest.
My pulse raced, and I didn’t know where to look as the band continued to play. I turned my back to the stage. “It’s nothing, Gage. I fell.”
“You look like you’re about to pass out or throw up. I’m not sure which.”
The raspy voice quieted as the song mercifully ended. Deafening roars of adoring fans already clamoring for more filled my ears. Panic rose in my chest.
I have to get out.
After attempts at finding an opening in the crowd proved futile, I prepared to chew my own arm off and beat people with it to force my way out.
“This next song is a little different from the norm for you guys. It’s brand new.” Approval roared through the crowd, provoking a soft chuckle into the microphone. “Calm down, it’s no “Stairway,” all right?” Laughter rippled through the audience. “It’s something I wrote after a chance meeting that rattled my cage a little.”
“Or a lot,” a familiar voice called out from beside him, laughing.
Julian’s tone dripped with sarcasm. “Okay, whatever, Z—a lot. Thanks, asshole.”
“Just keeping you honest, Jag,” the guy he called Z said as the crowd lost their minds.
“It’s called “Tell Me You’ll Stay.””
I stiffened and prepared for his onslaught. Music replaced the chatter around me and an involuntary gasp caught in my throat. It was a hard rock ballad.
“Come out from the shadows, tell me you’ll stay. I won’t ask for more than only today. Give me your hand and whisper my name. Won’t let you go. I won’t be the same. You’ve got me in your claws tonight. I’m holding on tight. I can’t just watch you leave. It won’t be all right. And in your eyes the storm rolls in with fear. Don’t hide. I’ve given all my pride. Tell me you’ll stay…”
Halfway through the song, I faced the stage. He’d moved from center and stood as close to me as his dusted black boots would allow. He sought me out from beneath the sea of people, his gaze relentless. From the safety of our confinements, I was powerless to deny him.
My sex god. My Fancy-Pants.
Julian.
My stomach roiled with anxiety. But for reasons I couldn’t explain, I stood there and allowed him to passionately serenade me.
“Tell me you’ll stay. Baby, just stay. Princess…don’t run away.”
Breath left me as that word fell from those lips. I thought maybe I’d imagined it, but his darkened stare confirmed it.
Princess.
He pressed his bottom lip against the microphone, masterfully holding the last note until it crackled within his chest and evaporated. I couldn’t listen anymore—article be damned, job be damned.
I grabbed Gage’s arm. “I don’t feel so good. I’m going home.”
He nodded and reached for my hand, turning his b
ack to the stage. “Sure thing, Pheebs, just give me a minute.”
“No.” I held my palm to his chest. “You’ve been looking forward to this. I don’t need you to babysit me.”
His jaw set in a hard line. “Phoebe…”
I forced a smile. “I’m fine, I promise. Stay and have fun.”
“You sure?” He studied me closely. “This feels really shitty. What are you going do about the article?”
“I’ll text Nate. He can fake his way through an interview.” I lied for the greater good, so I gave myself a pass.
Please let that be true.
Appeased with my bullshit, he gave me a brotherly peck on the lips. “Be safe. You got B.I.P.?”
I glanced sideways at Julian. His fingers harshly strummed the strings of his guitar and his jaw clenched as he watched me.
I patted the underside of my bra. “Notorious B.I.P. locked and loaded.”
I couldn’t bear to give Julian a second look as I squeezed Gage’s hand one more time and tore through the crowd. Pushing my way to the back of the room, I rounded the bar and gave myself a moment to breathe.
He’d already started talking before I realized the music had stopped. “Slight break in the action, you guys. If you’ll watch the screen right above, you…”
I’d already tuned him out, unable to process his honey-graveled voice over my raw nerves, when the crowd went wild. Turning around in horror, I saw him jump off the end of the stage and head straight toward me. I panicked and did the exact thing that had collided our worlds in the first place.
I ran to the bathroom.
***
I was clueless as to why I freaked. It wasn’t like we hadn’t already had a one-on-one conversation. I shoved my tongue down his throat, for god’s sake. But the steely determination in his eyes had me running into the restroom, where I currently hid like some urinary refugee.
On stage, he wore the look of a determined man, and I wasn’t prepared to deal with what lay behind it. My inability to control my primal reaction around him scared me. I hadn’t felt as possessed in three years as Julian Bale made me feel in three minutes.
After almost retching in the sink upon entry, I plastered myself against the wall and prayed my legs would hold me up. Fear kept me firmly planted, although I assumed the video interlude was over, and everything had gone back to normal.
Those who assumed were not only unsafe in the ladies’ room, they were in for a shock.
“Well, aren’t we just the Pied Piper of Pussy?”
My knuckles curled tightly against the wall, and I fought the urge to dig my nails into the drywall. The last thing I needed was swoopy bangs and devil eyes in my face.
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” I demanded. The shell shock of finding out my stalker was a rock star faded into hot irritation.
The blond who ridiculed me at Club Vanquish propped herself against the hand dryer and smirked through heavily lined eyes.
“You may have spread your legs for him once but don’t expect it to last. Julian picks up random trash to get my attention, but he always comes back to me. You’re nothing to him.”
“Is that some pathetic threat?” I asked, pushing off the wall. Forget Notorious B.I.P., I wanted to take this bitch out downhome style—by ripping her hair out.
She smirked and stepped forward until she stood nose to nose with me. “It’s a promise.”
I shook my head at her in pity. “How sad for you, because I haven’t even touched your man. If your pussy is that good, why did he just stage dive to come running after mine?”
I’d pulled myself together enough to walk out when I heard angry pounding on the door and a familiar growl outside of it.
“Okay, I’m a guy, and if anyone has something unzipped, now’s the time to fix it. You’ve got until the count of three to come out, Phoebe Ryan. After that, I’m coming in whether you like it or not. So, whatever…your call.”
My sarcastic confidence started to crumble. No way would he walk into a women’s bathroom.
“One.”
Would he?
The other girls inside the room with me exchanged bewildered glances. Eventually, all eyes settled on me and narrowed.
“Two.”
I smirked at my blond adversary and offered the rest of them a feeble smile. “Don’t worry, he won’t really do it.”
“Three.”
The door flew open to audible gasps. Julian stood in the archway, eyes glowing and hair disheveled as if hundreds of fingers had manhandled it. In two steps, he stood in front of me, glaring. A shiver hit me as his tattooed arm grasped my elbow and maneuvered me toward the door.
He narrowed his eyes at blondie. “I’ll deal with you later, Viv. Sorry for the inconvenience, ladies. Enjoy the show.” He shook his head at me as we exited. “What is it with you and bathrooms?”
I couldn’t speak, much less protest, as he led me through the throngs of people filling the venue. My muteness didn’t deter him. Julian had nothing to say to me. He kept his eyes averted and lips pressed in a hard line.
Making an abrupt right, he guided me into a dimly lit alcove at the end of a hallway. My eyes had barely adjusted when he spun me around and pressed my back against a concrete wall. Startled, I snapped my head up to find his hooded gaze on me.
He didn’t say a word. His groan as his booted foot planted in between my calves said it all. Pinned between the hardness of the wall and his chest, I wasn’t prepared as his hands cupped my face with possessive firmness. Before I could protest, his mouth was on me.
My body liquefied when he licked insistently at my lips. Within seconds, I was kissing him back. Julian Bale kissed like his life depended on it. I came alive under his assault and surrendered to him. He groaned in approval as I wrapped my arms around his neck. My brain screamed at me to stop encouraging him but I defied it, molding myself against his defined chest while his fingers frantically tugged my hair.
Shit, shit, shit.
My brain finally wrestled my body into submission and I tore my mouth away from him. Everything inside of me mourned the loss of contact when I placed both hands below his collar bone and shoved him away with every ounce of strength I had left. Not anticipating my move, Julian stumbled back, his lips swollen. I glared at him and launched into a furious tirade.
“Don’t touch me!” I snarled, remembering the bathroom altercation. “I’m not your piece of trash pussy.”
Confusion swept across his face. “What the hell are you talking about? I just want to talk,” he said. “I want a chance to explain why I—”
“Julian!” a woman’s voice shouted from a distance. The echo of her quickly approaching heels visibly jolted him. “Julian! Where the fuck are you?”
His pupils dilated as the woman’s voice got louder. He reached for me again, and my petulant resolve renewed as I smacked his arm away. “Oh good, a chance for you to explain why the hell you’re creeping all in my personal business like some psycho.” I hit the wall in frustration. “You. This whole night, it had to be you.”
He shifted his body, as if suddenly uncertain of something. “You didn’t come here to see me?”
I let out a dry laugh. “Oh my god, get over yourself! You think I came here for you? That I was home mooning over your jar of shrubbery?”
“I just assumed they told you.” With suspicion in his eyes, he braced his arm against the wall and leaned into me. “If you’re not here to see me, then who are you here to see?”
Now I wanted to slap him. “Told me what? And who’s they?”
A slender woman with shoulder-length auburn hair rounded the corner, her face contorted with bewilderment and anger. Apparently, I wasn’t the only one who wanted to slap him.
“What’s going on?” Hazel eyes looked him up and down. “Are you okay?” Realizing I was standing beside her, she narrowed a stare at me and frowned.
“Helena, calm down. I have business to handle here for a minute. I’ll be right out.” Julian
turned his back to her and focused his attention back on me.
“The hell you will!” She swung his shoulder around to face her. “Your business is out on that stage, right now! You’re in serious breach of contract. If the label finds out about this…” Her voice trailed off as she brought her hand to her forehead.
My emotions were on overload. Between Julian’s stalker antics, his manager’s rants, and his girlfriend’s threats, I needed to find somewhere safe to decompress. I’d just opened my mouth when a second figure rounded the corner. He stomped with authority, papers in his hand.
“Excuse me, can someone explain to me what the hell is going on?” He looked methodically at each of us. He was dressed head to toe in black, with a studded chain belt wrapped around his waist. He was obviously the venue manager and his mere existence pissed me off.
Helena gave him a pleading look. “That’s what I’m trying to find out. I’m so sorry!”
Julian bristled with irritation. “Look, I said I’d be right out. The damn video was playing anyway, so, everyone, relax!” Ignoring them both, he focused on me and repeated himself. “Who are you here to see?”
I scowled at him defiantly, our battle of wills fully engaged.
The venue manager swore and shook his fistful of papers at Helena. “Bale is in breach of his contract. He’s to play for two hours straight—no break. Personal affairs wait until after the show. Ms. Gibbons, if you don’t get your artist on that stage right now, I’ll be forced to take legal action against him, you, and your company.”
“I’m sorry. He’s never done this before.” She caught Julian’s arm. “The video has been over.”
Pulling from her firm grip, he stared irately into her eyes. “Give me one minute…one.” He quickly continued as the venue manager started to protest. “I’ll make it up to both of you.” He glanced back at Helena. “It’s important.”
Helena sucked in a deep breath as fiery hair fell around her shoulders. Clearly agitated, she leaned toward Julian and growled in a low voice.