by Amber Lin
“I’m not wearing underwear. The way we were positioned? Somebody had the right angle.”
Anger bubbled up, buoying his lust. He wasn’t sure if he was more upset that he’d literally put her in another terrible position or that everyone was going to see something that a small part of him had started to think of as his. “I’m sorry.”
She skimmed her thumb over his jaw, smoothing the tension building there, stoking another tension much lower. “Don’t be sorry. It’s exactly what we want.”
“Is it?”
She nodded, still stroking, spreading warmth down his neck. Her breath sweet against his cheek. “Where’d you get the ring? It’s gorgeous.”
“Paige brought it up this morning.”
Maddy’s breath hitched against him and then evened out. “She would know what I like.”
Another shift, only this time Krist wasn’t certain of the direction. He’d put on the show, delivered the money shots, exactly what they wanted, and yet he still felt like he’d gotten everything fundamentally wrong.
*
The engagement ring felt heavy. Maddy stared straight ahead, through the darkened Plexiglas divider. She could barely see through it to the sky, which had seemed blinding and bright just a minute ago. Now, in the darkened limo, her eyes wide, she struggled to remain stoic. Here, without any cameras, she had to fight to remain Madeline Fox.
Technically she did have an audience. Krist sat on the same seat as her. His body lounged, taking up more than his half but still not touching her. His face was turned away, looking at whatever out the window. Or maybe sleeping. His head drooped against the seat rest and rolled slightly with every bump along the New York streets. She could see the faint shadow of his facial hair because he hadn’t had time to shave this morning. Didn’t matter. He looked sexy this way. Even in the dim cabin, reds and blues popped from the ink on his arm, a chaos of color. He was a beautiful man, made more so by the lack of polish. It wasn’t an accident. He’d stripped himself of it, painstakingly removed any traces of the glue that held her together.
So heavy.
Well, probably because it contained thousands of diamonds. Paige had given Krist the ring, which meant their agent had purchased it. And Ward would have spared no expense on this PR stunt, so it was a real ring. Ten thousand dollars of real diamonds for her fake engagement ring.
“We got talking points?” he asked without shifting. Awake then.
Her throat felt thick, almost too swollen for words. “You did pretty good improvising just now.”
Her words came out neutral. Good, because that was how she felt—neutral. Not upset or hollow.
It would have been nice to be in on the joke, though. Would have been nice to roll up to Tiffany & Co, so they could go pretend ring shopping together. She’d have turned the store upside down, made a spectacle of them all, and landed the front page on every mag.
Well, they’d still get the front page with shots of Krist down on one knee. With shots up her skirt. So she wasn’t even mad. Just…surprised. If surprised felt like the dance room, late at night, when all the dancers had gone home, and her choreographer too—empty and cold.
“Hey.”
It took her a second to realize Krist was talking to her. That he had been talking to her, and she’d been lost in thought.
“Maddy,” he said, sounding strangely concerned. About her?
No, she was a cat. She landed on her paws and knew all the best ways to use her tongue. That was Madeline Fox. She should tell him that, but all she could do was turn away. Even when he touched her arm, she faced the window, not seeing anything at all. “We’re getting two questions about music.”
“Really? What did Ward have to do to get that, slaughter a goat?”
“They’re going to ask about sex.”
“On air? It’s a morning television show. The segment before us is about translating cat meows.”
He’d looked up their show. A strange feeling turned her stomach. “They’ll work it in. It’s worth the ratings bump.”
“Right,” he muttered, and then she did look at him. His expression was dark. Was he remembering his video going viral? Not ratings exactly. Views. Clicks. They all boiled down to attention and advertising dollars. Well, so did she.
She twisted the ring on her finger. It fit perfectly, of course. Ward would have gotten that right. She wondered if Krist would have gotten it wrong. That would be the kind of thing a typical guy might do. Measure his girlfriend’s finger with a string while she was sleeping, but slip up enough to get it wrong. Going together to the store to get it resized.
Not driving to a press event neither of them wanted to do. She had to remember that, how Krist had a right to hate this as much as she did. She remembered too, that she was doing this for him. To direct the press away from his sexuality. Enough on-camera action with Madeline Fox and no one would care that he’d once sucked a dick.
“It was fucked up,” she said softly. “Them going after you for that. Fucked up.” Lock had been right there in that elevator, smack dab in the middle of the threesome, and he hadn’t gotten half the backlash.
Something she’d only done at Krist’s request. He’d asked for that favor to save his friend public pain, but who protected him? And look where that had gotten him. A drunken makeout session in the bathroom of the VMAs had led to the favor, which had led to the fake engagement. Down the rabbit hole he went, so what did that make Maddy?
Krist ran a hand over his face. “My fault. I let my guard down.”
She’d seen him with his guard down just last night. “No, Lock let his guard down. He should have been watching out for you.”
“He’s not my keeper,” Krist snapped.
Then who is? she wanted to ask, but that felt too much like a morning TV show question, probing and personal, throwing the light on things better left alone.
“Sorry,” he muttered.
She looked down at her hands. The diamond soaked up every drop of light coming through the tinted windows and reflected it back, a tiny disco ball. And she realized what was wrong. It was too perfect. Krist wouldn’t get her this, not really. He’d pick some other stone, like a black opal or malachite or anything other than a white diamond. He’d skip a ring and give her a piercing for her tongue or something like that. Or hell, who was she kidding? Someone like Krist would never go for marriage at all—and never with someone like her.
He reached over and took her hand. His hold on her was firm, and she felt the warmth up her arm and deep inside.
Maybe he was holding her hand out of guilt for snapping at her. Or maybe he was just getting into character. Yeah, maybe he didn’t mean it, but the ring felt less heavy when he held it too.
Chapter Nine
They arrived on the set of Coffee with Kiki just in time to get briefed and fitted with microphones. An APPLAUSE sign lit up, and the small studio audience cheered as Krist and Maddy strode onstage holding hands. A few air kisses and awkward hugs later, they were all settled on the overstuffed neon couch so many celebrities had graced before them. The cushions looked so plush from home that the firmness surprised him. Not that he watched regularly or anything, but he’d landed on the show more than a few times, half-awake in a strange hotel room, aimlessly clicking through channels. He struggled to find a comfortable position.
Maddy grabbed his knee in what appeared to be a gesture of affection, but her iron grip told him he needed to be still. She seemed right at home. Which she should; this wasn’t her first time here. Though the last time he’d seen her, it hadn’t gone very well. He’d caught the segment from an Omni in Tucson, unsure if it was apathy or anticipation that kept him from switching the channel. KiKi had asked an uncomfortable question about Maddy’s mother, and even though they’d cut quickly to commercial, he’d seen her smile falter. After spending so much time with her lately, he knew how much it took to rattle her stage persona.
The applause faded. “We’re here this morning with the one and o
nly Madeline Fox and Half-Life bassist Krist Mellas. Welcome, welcome.”
Maddy pressed her hand to her heart, exuding warmth and flashing the ring. “Thanks so much for having us, KiKi.”
KiKi flailed, hamming it up with her trademarked cheesy grin and making a big show of covering her eyes. “Oh my goodness, I need my sunglasses. That rock is blinding. So, the rumors are true? Congratulations are in order?”
“Absolutely.”
“That’s wonderful. I remember when you were just a little thing. You came on the show with KidMania. And then last year after your eighteenth birthday. Now you’re getting married. We’ve all watched you grow up. Will your former cast mates be at the wedding?”
“Wow, we haven’t gotten that far into the planning yet. I’m sure it’ll be a private affair.”
“Krist, how do the guys from Half-Life feel about the engagement? Any jealousy?”
“Jealousy?” And then it hit him. KiKi really did have claws. He hadn’t been expecting a direct hit on daytime talk. That was stupid considering he’d watched her take down Maddy before. Why had he thought he’d be immune? He draped an arm over Maddy’s shoulders. “Anyone would be jealous of the guy marrying Madeline Fox.”
“Well, the reception is sure to be a blast. Should I save a date?”
“I know right where to send your invitation.” Maddy winked.
To hell, Krist thought.
“And speaking of blasts. How are the tour preparations coming along? You have a new album?”
Krist opened his mouth, but Maddy spoke first. Of course the question was for her. He was just window dressing.
“My new single will drop soon. There might even be a special guest in the video.” She squeezed Krist’s knee. “And yeah, more touring. I think I’ve been on tour for four years straight now.”
“Will you be joining her on tour, Krist?”
Why hadn’t anyone prepped him for these questions? His head was spinning, and the stage lights felt unbearably hot. “Half-Life will be touring too. We’re starting the European leg of our Beast tour.”
“So, a long-distance relationship? Those are hard. At least you’ll have your bandmates with you to keep you company.”
Wink wink nudge nudge. This was a tailspin. A train wreck. He could feel the tension radiating off Maddy’s tiny frame, but her smile never wavered. “I’m sure we’ll figure out ways to stay connected. Krist is very creative.”
KiKi’s eyes lit up, and Krist knew the sanctioned sex question was coming. “Oooh.” She fanned herself. “How creative are we talking? On a scale of one to h-o-t?”
He might as well not be here. They were just talking around him anyway. He knew Maddy was supposed to demure and dodge the question. Titillation without the tit. A laugh and a look. A lady never tells.
She released her grip on his knee, and her hand moved deliberately up his thigh. This was not part of the plan.
“Hot? Try scorching, KiKi. I’m having a hard time not jumping him right now.”
“Good thing we’re out of time then. This is a family show.” More fanning and flailing. “As always, thanks so much for joining us. We’ll be back after the break with a nutritionist to the stars who has a miracle smoothie that will make you look five years younger in a week.”
The APPLAUSE sign flashed again, and the studio audience burst to life. Maddy threaded her fingers with his and they left the stage as they’d entered, but they didn’t stop at the crowd of people waiting for them. Maddy pulled him past Ward and Paige, past Jimmy, past Colt. Maddy didn’t stop until she found the small greenroom where they’d been fitted for their sound equipment.
The door slammed shut behind them. “What the hell—”
“Shhh.” She yanked the wire out of her top and removed the small box from her dress.
He did the same.
Someone knocked on the door. “Ms. Fox? Mr. Mellas?”
“Give us a damn minute,” Maddy shouted. “Can’t I fuck my fiancé in peace?”
*
Maddy lunged at him, and they toppled backward together. She felt his surprised hitch of breath turn into a laugh—and then something harder and heavier as she wrapped her legs around his waist. Krist walked them backward, bumping into lights and video equipment. A whole rack of costumes of some sort crashed to the floor, and dust filled the air. He didn’t stop, though, and that just fueled her joy in him, for them together, for the span of ten minutes when it had been them against the world.
Anyone would be jealous of the guy marrying Madeline Fox.
He’d said it so calmly, so casually, that anyone watching would believe he meant it. Hell, she’d almost believed it—and she knew what he really thought about her.
He sat on a plush couch in the back of the tiny staging room, pulling her down to his lap. She went willingly, straddling him, looping her arms around his neck, consuming him even as she felt herself getting sucked into his sphere.
His gaze met hers. “Give them something to talk about,” he said, and it sounded half question, half challenge.
Her thoughts flicked to the song, which had a different ending entirely. They weren’t giving the world a mystery to figure out. And they definitely weren’t falling in love. But yes, a little gossip and semipublic necking would go a long way toward proving Krist’s supposed straightness.
She shrugged. “People will doubt us. Doubt the engagement. Since they never saw us dating.”
“But not if we’re banging in the greenroom,” he finished.
“Only trying to help,” she said in a singsong voice, playful because of course the opposite was true. Straddling his strong thighs, feeling him tense beneath her, muscles clenching, was mostly for her benefit. Mostly for her pleasure.
His eyes narrowed. “Are you?”
“Am I what?” She traced a finger along his jaw. His bristles tickled her fingertip and sent shivers up her arm.
He hadn’t shaved. Did he know how sexy the shadow would look on camera? She bet he did. Just like he knew how hot the nipple rings were, even if they were only the hint of a moon beneath his plain black T-shirt. His costume was no less deliberate than hers, even if it took a lot less time to pull off.
She tugged the hem of his shirt and got a glimpse of colorfully inked skin taut over his abdomen and—
He caught her wrist. “Is that what you’re doing with all this? Helping? Helping me?”
Uh-oh. She pulled her hand, but he didn’t let go. Didn’t matter. She couldn’t go telling him the truth. Instead she bent her head and nipped his cheek. Then lower, a scrape of her teeth against the scruff, sharp against sharp, both battling, both winning.
His grip tightened, and she pulled back to glare at him.
“Ouch.”
“Sorry.” He immediately loosened his grip, but he didn’t let her go. He smoothed his fingers over the skin of her inner arm as if soothing it.
She shrugged. “I’m bored. Are we still gonna fuck?”
His eyes narrowed. “Do you always do that?”
“Do what?”
“Play dumb when you don’t want to talk about something.”
Yes. She picked up a lock of cream-pale hair and curled it around her finger. “News flash: I’m a pop star. As dumb as a glittery rock.”
He grunted. “Smart enough to evade the question.”
She had the best evasion tactic, one he couldn’t possibly mind. One she wouldn’t mind either. With a devious smile, she moved catlike down his body and dropped her knees to the floor.
His eyes widened ever so slightly; she wouldn’t have seen if her gaze hadn’t been locked on his. All that primping this morning, the preening, so she could appear on television for fifteen minutes. And so that she could suck his dick looking like a goddess. This wasn’t her drunk, fucked-up self in the alleyway behind a warehouse club. This was Madeline Fox, international celebrity. This was anyone-would-be-jealous-of-the-guy-marrying-her Madeline Fox.
“Smart enough to use what I got,” she whi
spered.
She skated her palms up his thighs, enjoying the way he shuddered. Enjoying the choking sound he made when her fingers found his fly. His expression was dark and tormented, the perfect picture of sensual agony. He was lost to it, lost to her, the fly in her web, and she spun hers tighter and tighter with every stroke to his velvet cock. He’d never get free, never even realize what bit him, never mind the sting—
“Why did you agree to the engagement?” he asked, panting.
Shit. How could he still be thinking while she pulled out his cock, while she wrapped her manicured fingers around the burning length of him and tugged. She had more, though. More in the form of her perfectly lined and painted and glossed lips giving him a wet, smacking kiss right on the top.
He moaned, sounding pained, which mollified her somewhat. But then he said, “Is your contract in trouble? That’s what Ward said. Tell me.”
She tightened her grip on his cock—too tight now, but he didn’t push her away. Didn’t tell her to stop, that it hurt. Instead he squirmed. Red flooded his face in a flush that looked partly from pain and partly from pleasure. Beautiful.
“No talking,” she commanded. “Unless it’s dirty.”
His hands fisted at his side. “You don’t want this.”
One stroke. Two. “Because good girls don’t suck dick? I thought you knew. I’m not good.”
“That’s right. You’re bad. You like being bad. So why would you agree to be good? Unless…”
“Unless I wanted to fuck the legendary Krist Mellas,” she said, her lip curling. She wanted to stop this line of thought. Wanted to stop any thoughts at all, and usually her mouth on a man’s cock did the job. Krist’s body was similarly affected—taut and straining and pulsing against her palm. But somehow he’d found the presence of mind to ask questions.
His words slurred together so hard she could barely understand them. “Fucking me. Blowing me. We’re going to get caught again, and then what? Same thing.”
“Oh no, Krist. Not the same. Then you were giving head, now you’re getting it. You know that changes everything.”