Those long, talented fingers flicked her ponytail away from her nape. “I like this spot.” Cam dropped a kiss that raced a chill down her spine. “I’m also partial to this spot.” His fingers wandered lower to dip between her breasts.
Batting him away, she laughed. “Neither place would be good for a tattoo.”
“Oh. That’s what the mirror session’s about, huh?” Resting his hands on her shoulders, he looked at Kylie in the mirror. “It’s a big decision. You really ready to go through with it?”
Aww. The big, bad rock star didn’t want her to do anything rash. How adorable was that? “I’ve been ready for years,” she reassured him.
When they were alone together, like now on the bus, Cam couldn’t seem to keep his hands from moving over her. They skimmed up and down her arms in long, slow strokes. “What do you mean?”
“I’ve wanted to get a tattoo for a looooong time.” Kylie wouldn’t call it an obsession, but only because she didn’t want to freak out the handsome man behind her. “I scoped out different shops. Got references. Looked at different body parts, just like today.”
“What design did you want back then?”
This was embarrassing. “Yours.”
“My what?”
Kylie pivoted in his arms to face him. Tapped his left shoulder blade, up high. “The one you’ve got right here. The band logo. Riptide, with a guitar as the T.” She rested her cheek against his chest so he wouldn’t see the heat reddening her cheeks to a color that always clashed with her hair. “Told you I was a big fan.”
“And I’m honored our music meant that much to you.” Cam used one finger to tilt her chin up. “So why didn’t you go through with it?”
“My sister, Kira, ratted me out to our parents. They threatened to not pay for college if I, quote, ‘defiled my body in that way.’”
Rocking his head back and forth like it was on a seesaw, he said, “Pretty sure picking college over our band was the right way to go.”
“Yeah.” It had made Kylie mad. Not mad enough to stand up to them, though. In hindsight, she should’ve gone through with it. If it’d gone someplace hidden by clothes, they never would’ve found out. She’d been too scared to stray from the path. Too stuck in a rut to ever poke her head out of it. Kylie vowed those days, and that girl, were gone.
She pulled out of Cam’s loose embrace to look back in the mirror. Tapped her collarbone and tried to imagine what her inked heart would look like there. “But I couldn’t decide on a spot to put it back then, and I still can’t.”
“You should probably make a safe choice.”
“I’ll make sure they sterilize the needle. Geez, I’m not an idiot.”
He burst out laughing. “Of course you’re not. I meant put the tattoo in a safe place, where people can’t see it accidentally. Especially since your future employment’s up in the air. Some companies have strict rules about that sort of thing.”
“Good reasoning.” Kylie wasn’t altogether willing to be practical. This tattoo wasn’t just for fun. It was to be a forever reminder of the U-turn she’d taken. A reminder of her bad-decision spree that was turning into the most fun of her life. “Although, it isn’t really an in-your-face statement if it’s on my hip. Not a declaration to the world that I’m finally making my own choices, good or bad.”
“Do you need to declare it to the world?” Cam tapped her breastbone, right over her heart. “Or just to yourself?”
Oooh, the man was good. Smart. Manipulative in a positive way, if there was such a thing. Cam didn’t treat her like some just-out-of-college kid. He treated her like a peer. Like a woman. Kylie appreciated the heck out of that. She spun back around and planted a long, lingering kiss on his lips.
“You get all the points for that comment. Plus, you can wear the crown of rightness. I can be rational while still embracing my independence.” What mattered most was putting it someplace where she could revel in it every day. So she patted her hip. “Decision made. Under the clothes it is.”
He slid his hand down her shorts with a suggestive smile that raced heat through her body. “As long as I still get viewing privileges.”
“Absolutely. What about you? Which one was your first?”
Lifting the sleeve of his black tee, Cam revealed the triple spiral on his right biceps. “I got it the night we auditioned for the label. They said they wanted to sign us. Which was great. Sent me into a tailspin. I swore I wouldn’t be taken seriously as a rocker if I didn’t have a tattoo.”
“For your street cred. Of course.” Biting back a laugh, she peered closer. “It looks Irish. Are you Irish?”
“Nah. Scottish, if you go back far enough. Or maybe my grandmother just told us that as an excuse to bake shortbread all the time.”
Kylie traced each curling leg of the tattoo with her finger. “Then what made you go with this design?”
“That night? When I decided I had to get one? I’d never thought about it before that moment. No research. No ideas. So I flat-out copied Flea’s.”
Yeah, she could run with the big dogs. And it felt great. All those years of lying on her bed listening to every song she could—from alternative to pop to indie to metal and classic rock. Kylie had no doubt she could hold her own against any random name-drop that her famous rock star made. She belonged on this bus. “From the Red Hot Chili Peppers? Arguably one of the best rock bass players of all time?”
He gave a nod of approval for her name recognition. “That’s the one. Figured that if a Celtic symbol worked its mojo for Flea, it’d do the same for me.”
“Sort of like a good luck charm?” It made sense. Rockers were too cool for something as mundane as a rabbit’s foot—or the interlocking, triple ring Kylie’d always worn on test days so she could worry her thumb across its layers when she got stuck.
“More like a mandatory rite of passage. Like a bar mitzvah. Or shaving for the first time.”
“Did you grit your teeth through it? Regret it the next morning?”
“Nah. Jake and Jones were with me, so I made like the needles were no big deal.” Cam winked. “Best acting I’ve ever done.”
Kylie shuddered. “I’m trying not to think about the needles. That’s another reason I want to do it soon. The longer I wait, the more I psych myself out about the pain.”
With a tug at her waist, Cam drew her out of the bathroom. “We’ll go tomorrow. I’ve already tracked down the perfect place. Brass Knuckle Tattoo Studio in Uptown. It’s supposed to be a funky neighborhood, right on a lake or two. There’s a good-looking restaurant on that block. We can grab lunch. Or a drink, if you’re feeling shaky afterwards. Thought we could take a walk and see why these Minnesota lakes are so famous.”
Omigod. He’d planned the whole thing out. Okay, maybe Cam had researched it himself, or maybe he’d just asked around. Either way, he’d planned a real date. Not snatched time on a rooftop—as awesome as that had been—or a hidden half hour in a club balcony before a gig. This was an above-board date. Out in the open. Romantic. Well, if you didn’t count the half hour of stinging pain she’d have to endure.
Kylie looked up into those bright blue eyes. “That sounds perfect.” She looped an arm around his neck to pull him down for a kiss, but Cam shook his head. Brought her hand to his mouth to kiss her knuckles.
“There isn’t long before rehearsal. I came to get you to show you my favorite spot.”
“In Minneapolis? We don’t have time to really go anywhere.”
“No, my favorite spot in the club.” He drew her down the bus steps and onto the sidewalk. Cars rocketed by. To the normal world, it was rush hour and time to head home. In her new world as a goody girl, her workday was just kicking into high gear.
The black cinder-block wall of First Avenue was covered with rows of large white stars. Each had a band’s name printed in its center.
“When you play here, if it goes well, they put your name on the wall. This goes all the way around the building.”
A star above her head caught Kylie’s eye. And a possessive thrill of belonging rippled through her. “There’s Riptide!”
“Cool, huh? I mean, look at these names. They Might Be Giants. Alice In Chains. Prince. The first time we played here—” Cam broke off, shaking his head. “There are some places that are iconic to rockers. Where it’s more than just a stage surrounded by four walls. The Greek Theatre in LA. Red Rocks in Denver. Soldier Field, back in your hometown.”
Kylie peered the length of the squat building. It filled the triangular point of almost a city block, but it wasn’t anything close to an amphitheater or stadium. “First Avenue is considerably smaller than all of those places.”
“But that’s what makes it great. There’s no filter of space between us and the fans. Trust me, you’ll feel it tonight. The energy’s unreal. It fills you up. Sets every nerve on edge—in a good way.”
The pilot light behind Cam’s eyes had kicked in, the same way it did when they had sex. His voice had dropped lower, too. It was all the warning Kylie got before he backed her against the wall. Slanted his wild, wanting mouth across hers. And kissed her senseless.
Senseless as in Kylie knew they were on a sidewalk, with people walking by at a fast clip. She saw their shadows against her closed lids. Heard the steady drone of traffic. Smelled the exhaust. Felt the contours of the cinder blocks against her back. But Kylie registered all that as though through a blindfold and blankets. The only real sensation was the heat of his mouth. The whip of lust lashing from the inside out. Cam’s hard body.
A combination of habit and need had her curling her legs around his waist. Cam shifted his hands to support her butt and carried her to the bus. “Let’s take this inside,” he growled from deep in his throat.
“What about rehearsal?”
“Beautiful, I don’t need any practice for what we’re about to do.” Laughing, panting, they both grappled with the door handle.
“What the hell’s going on out here?” Jake’s voice was colder than when Kylie had done the ALS Ice Bucket Challenge. Cam didn’t change position, but Kylie dropped her legs from his waist as fast as possible. “Cam? You have something to say for yourself?”
Cam squeezed his eyes shut. And slowly slid Kylie to the ground. “Not now, Jake.”
He came around to their side. Slapped his hand on the metal door, right over the door handle, in an obvious you’re not getting away from me gesture. “Yes, now. There’s no slot on the official tour itinerary for me ripping you a new one, so now’s as good a time as any.”
Kylie didn’t know what to do, what to say. Should she stay? Turn tail and run back into the club? It was clear the fight was going to be about her, but did she also have to be a part of these two longtime friends hashing it out? And why wouldn’t Cam let go of her?
“I’m waiting, Cam. Waiting to hear you try and spin this. To try and convince me, once again, that you didn’t just royally fuck us over.”
Cam set his jaw. She actually heard his teeth grind. “I didn’t do any such thing. Kylie’s impact on this tour’s been nothing but positive.”
“Are you trying to pretend like you’re not mixing sex and business? Again? When you’ve still got your hands all over her ass tighter than a drumhead.”
“Let me explain—”
Kylie jumped when Jake cut him off with another hard blow to the side of the bus, this time with his fist. “Or we could skip all that and cut to the part where I tell you there’s no fucking excuse for hooking up with the goody girl.”
The goody girl? She’d been downgraded by Jake to a just a title, instead of a person? Kylie definitely didn’t want to stand here and be insulted. Finally releasing her, Cam shifted sideways to partially shield her from Jake, and the anger radiated off of him like the heat waving off the asphalt. It was very knight in shining armor of him.
Enough so that she presumed Cam didn’t want her to beat a hasty retreat. Rats. Self-preservation was one thing. Leaving Cam to take the heat for their relationship all by himself was another thing entirely. It might not be her fight, but Cam had to know, if only by her continued presence, that she had his back.
Another twitch in Cam’s jaw. He opened and closed his mouth twice, as if rejecting the first words that came to mind. Finally, he said, “This thing with Kylie isn’t a hookup.”
“Great.” Jake threw his hands in the air. Gave both of them a look of anger coated with shaming. “So you banged her more than once. Damn it, you know better. You promised. No sex on the bus.”
“I know.” His defense tumbled out in a rush. “That’s why, technically, we never had sex on the bus.”
Ouch. That’d made all kinds of sense when they joked about it, half naked. But standing here in front of his very angry best friend? It sounded all kinds of lame. Even to Kylie.
“For fuck’s sake, Cam!” Jake exploded. “You’re seriously going to stand there and split hairs over where or how you did the goody girl?”
Enough was enough. Especially with a half-dozen people who’d now stopped to watch the fight. As Jones poked his head out the side door of the club, obviously looking for his late-to-rehearsal bandmates, Kylie thrust an outstretched finger at Jake. “Stop calling me that. I have a name.”
“Your name doesn’t matter, sweetheart. To me, you’re just another chick with shiny hair and nice tits who Cam let steer him off course.”
That was unfair on more than one level. Jake might want to blow off some steam, but he shouldn’t slam Cam’s leadership of the band unnecessarily in the process. “He’s not off course. Riptide’s sounding better than ever.”
Jake tilted his head toward Jones with a slow eye roll to boot. “Oh, look at that. Another one of Cam’s bedmates putting in her two cents on our sound.”
“What’s with the attitude? Kylie’s got her head screwed on straight when it comes to music.” Then Jones did a double take and let fly a long, low whistle. “Hold up. One of Cam’s what?”
This was spiraling out of control. Cam appeared frozen. Or, at the very least, unsure of how to respond. Aside from a death grip on Kylie’s hand. In the grand scheme of things, it wasn’t much, but she squeezed back with as much reassurance as possible.
More of a crowd was gathering, and camera phones were snapping every second of the heated exchange. Maybe recording it, too. This was exactly what Riptide didn’t need in terms of publicity. Jones was still too busy doing a double take at the thought of Cam and Kylie as a couple to bother trying to dial Jake down a few notches. And Kylie had no idea how to get the situation under control. Despite what her parents claimed, there really were some things that college didn’t prepare you for, after all.
Jake let his head loll back around toward Kylie. “Do you really care about the music at all? Or did you only take this job to get the legendary Watson dick inside of you?”
Without warning, Cam’s fist shot out and clocked Jake right in the nose. The force of the blow lifted him off his feet. The brown-haired man fell to one knee. Would’ve hit the pavement if he hadn’t put a hand on the bus to steady himself. Jones raced forward, but seemed unsure if he should help Jake up or try to keep Cam from throwing another punch, seeing as how his arm was cocked and ready to go again.
“Don’t talk to her like that,” Cam growled.
Kylie put a hand over her mouth to stifle her gasp. It was thrilling to have him stand up for her. It was terrifying to watch these best friends throw punches at each other. Romantic and horrifying all at once.
“I’ll leave Kylie out of it. Sure wish you’d shown the same restraint and stayed out of her.”
This time, it was Jones who stepped forward. “Enough, Jake. Kylie’s done nothing to deserve this.”
“Fine. I’ll say my piece, and then we’ll go in and get ready for the show.” Jake wiped blood away with the back of his hand. Glared up at Cam. “The new sound? Our hoped-for comeback from the disaster you caused with Triangulation? Doesn’t matter if it’s the best or worst damn music we’v
e ever played. Because the music isn’t going to be what ends Riptide. Your bad decisions will do that.”
His words struck a chord. A painful one. Omigod. Kylie tried to swallow around the lump of guilt clogging her throat. Was this really all her fault? Blood spilled between friends. A band being ripped apart. Was her impulsive—and more than a little alcohol fueled—vow to try living by bad decisions ruining Cam’s life?
CHAPTER EIGHT
Most people had their favorite restaurants in their hometown. Living life as a musical nomad, Cam had his favorite ice cream spots in every city. Josh & John’s in Colorado Springs. Pitango Gelato in DC. But at the top of the list was Sebastian Joe’s, here in the Twin Cities. And he couldn’t think of anything sweeter than licking Sebastian Joe’s ice cream from Kylie’s luscious lips.
“Try this.” He pushed the spoon between her teeth and was rewarded with a moan of ecstasy. Cam recognized that one. He’d wrung it out of her many times over the past twelve days. In fact, making her moan like that was his new favorite hobby.
“What is that?”
“Pavarotti—caramel, bananas and chocolate chips.” Cam stuffed another spoonful in her. “Now let me have a taste.” He started by licking the drip at the corner of her mouth, then swept his tongue inside to savor the combination of the icy cream against her moist heat. That wrung another moan from her. Made him go hard as a rock. So hard that he had to shift sideways and drop his leg off the side of the chair to the ground before it cut off all blood flow to his crotch.
“How do you do that?” he murmured against her ear.
“Do what?”
“Rev me up so fast that I want to drag you behind those bushes over there and jump you.”
“Well, it isn’t really practice, so I’m going to go with innate talent.” Kylie giggled, looking immensely pleased with herself as she licked at the edge of her cone.
“You really more interested in that ice cream than in kissing me?”
“My first taste of cinnamon honey ice cream? You bet. It’ll be gone in five minutes—and you’ll still be sitting there, primed and ready for me.”
The Opposite Of Right (Bad Decisions Trilogy #1) Page 7