by Jessa James
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Crystal gasped and tore her mouth from mine to look over my shoulder at the door. Reese’s voice came through clear as a bell. “Yo! Come on man! What are you doing in there? Jerking your meat? We’re on in five. Let’s go!”
Bang! Bang!
The last two blasts of sound from Reese’s fist hitting the door made Crystal jerk in my arms and I knew the moment was over. I was a coward. A fucking coward. I couldn’t do it, couldn’t look down into those expressive blue eyes and see hate, or regret. Or pain.
Closing my eyes, I rested my forehead against hers and relocated both of my hands to the relative safety at her waist. “I have to go.”
“I know.”
“Don’t go anywhere, kitten. Promise me.” I kissed her again, once, hard and fast. “Stay. I need to talk to you.”
“Is this what you call talking?” Her voice washed over me and I absorbed the moment, the feel of her in my arms, of her legs wrapped around my waist, her taste on my lips. But I knew this woman, knew her better than anyone else ever would. She was too damn smart for her own good. I’d managed to shut off that phenomenal mind of hers for a few minutes. But as soon as her body cooled, she’d be right back where she started.
Hating me.
“We'll talk, then we'll do more of this. Wait for me.”
I couldn't stand there and hear her say no. Hell, I was about to go on stage in front of eight thousand people. If she turned me down, I'd be worthless out there. So I kissed her forehead, then stepped back. Away. Knowing she might be gone when the concert was over.
”Wait for me.”
Crystal
I'd had five minutes to pull myself together after Kit walked out. It had been just enough to catch my breath, adjust my bra, fix my lip gloss and make sure my hair didn't have the almost-fucked look to it.
God, Kit had just pushed me up against the wall and kissed me. No, he'd almost-fucked me. If his bandmate hadn't pounded on the door, there was no doubt Kit would have banged me. I'd have let him, too. The chemistry between us had always been off the charts and after ten years, it hadn't diminished.
With his uniform of low slung jeans, his tight-fitting t-shirt, dark boots, he was gorgeous. Rock star gorgeous. But that was what he wanted everyone to see. I saw the look in his dark eyes, the intensity, the need. The rasp of his voice, the way he'd called me kitten again. He hadn't wanted any woman, he'd wanted me.
I'd had my legs around his waist like a monkey climbing a tree. What the hell was wrong with me? He'd cheated on me once. He'd do it again. Kit Kaswell was a player. The king of players. Hell, he'd written the playbook for players. I was just another notch. Getting the nerdy virgin in high school then bagging her again a decade later. I should have walked away. Gone to the hotel and had that glass of wine and peace and quiet I'd longed for before Kit had reappeared. Now, I wanted the hotel and Kit. Naked.
“I'm too excited to get the details of your relationship with the fucking lead singer of the hottest band. For now.” Tia dragged me down the hall as some tech guy with a big headset led us backstage. He told us to stand in the wing and he pointed to the stage. Not that we could have missed seeing the band. The crowd was yelling, applauding, whistling. Screaming. Reese Keeland was talking, saying something, but I wasn't paying him any attention. I was ogling Kit.
His head was down as he tuned his guitar, adjusted the strap on his shoulder.
The drummer moved into place. I knew all of them by name, not because I was a rabid fan like Tia, but because of all the online stalking I'd done about Kit. I felt like I knew them all. They were all hot in that pheromone dripping, tattoo covered bad boy way. But I only wanted Kit.
Crap. Not wanted as in now. I'd wanted him in the past. As in a decade ago.
Tia grabbed my arm and jumped up and down like a tween at her first concert.
“I see that look,” she shouted as the band hit a few notes, revving up the crowd. “This isn't just a crush, is it?”
I kept my eyes on the stage when I shook my head.
“Hello, New York!” The crowd went wild.
Reese passed the microphone to Kit, offering everyone one of his trademark grins. “We're going to begin tonight with the song that started it all.” He played the first few chords of Angel and the crowd went wild. He turned his head and looked at me, finding me as if he knew just where I was. My heart lurched, then settled. Yeah, I felt as giddy as Vi.
“Because the person who inspired the song is here tonight.”
His dark gaze held mine as he began the song, sang the first line.
“Oh. My. God!” Vi squealed. “You're Angel?”
Was I? The song was about losing someone forever and Kit sang the words to me as my whole body tensed with pain. Tears gathered in my eyes and I turned my head to wipe them away. I didn’t need Vi seeing this. Or Kit, for that matter. He’d broken my heart, thrown me away. And now?
What the hell was this all about? Why was I even standing her like an idiot? Was I trying to kill myself with this? With loving him again? Because he was the same old Kit. Sexy. Intense. Mine. Deep down, he would always be mine.
Kit turned his head and got into the concert. Sang and played until he was glistening in sweat, his t-shirt clinging to his corded muscles, until his tattoos were shiny and god, so fucking hot.
Had he really written Angel about us? I'd always thought it had been about a woman dying. That one of his band mates had lost someone in a car accident or something. But no. It made sense now.
He was telling me something. No, he was telling me everything.
I stood, rooted in place, as I watched the concert. I couldn't look away from Kit. He was good. So damn good at being a rock star. He made it look easy, effortless. Sexy as hell. And when he said goodnight to the crowd, he looked at me again. This time, it wasn't over a song that spoke of love and loss, but because of something new. Something that had never gone away. Something he had to have. Craved. Needed. Me.
As his feet ate up the distance between us, I became flustered, nervous. I adjusted my shirt, which didn't need it, wiped my damp palms on my jeans. All the while, he was staring at me.
“I think I'm going to come just by the way he's looking at you.”
I heard Vi's words, the teasing tone, but I paid her no attention. I only had eyes for Kit as he lifted the guitar strap over his head and swung the instrument into his right hand. He shoved the guitar at Vi, not even stopping to make sure she caught it. He didn't slow when he got to me, only scooped me up and kissed me. The kiss in that office had been a warm up, a gentle introduction in comparison to this. His tongue plundered, his mouth devoured. People swirled around us. It was loud and crazy backstage but I didn't pay it any attention. I only tasted Kit, felt him, smelled him. I couldn't breathe. I didn't need to.
All at once, he put me down. His lips were slick, his eyes intent and so damn dark.
“You're coming with me, kitten.”
He didn't wait for me to answer, only took my hand in his and tugged me down the emergency steps and away. Where? I didn't know, but I didn't care. I was with Kit. Nothing else mattered.
Chapter 5
Kit
I had Crystal’s hand in mine and it was like a fucking time warp. Touching her was like magic and suddenly everything mattered. Shit I hadn’t cared about in forever, like whether I ate, or slept, or had any time off from our relentless tour schedule, mattered.
Time was what I needed. Time to convince her that I couldn’t live without her. Time to make up for the years of hurt. I needed her, naked in my bed, and about a thousand hours to worship every inch of her body, for starters.
Dragging her out the rear security door, I nodded at the burly guard and waved down the hired car waiting to take the band back to the hotel. We never left at the same time, and this poor bastard would be on-call until all of us were where we were supposed to be. Cole liked to flirt with the sexy groupies lined up to touch him and sign autographs for a couple ho
urs. Reese was obsessed with his gear and would never let anyone near his fucking drums. He took them apart and put them away himself, every damn time. Tia would spend hours going over receipts and getting reports from the venue on sales figures. Riley and Sebastian would drive the sound crew crazy tweaking for tomorrow night’s concert. Our last concert on this tour. Forrest and Brian would put their feet up in the green room and party with some of the girls who’d come to the show. Everyone seemed to have something to do but me.
The driver pulled up next to us and I didn’t wait for him to get out and open the door. I jumped forward and held the door for Crystal like a fucking gentleman, her shy smile my reward.
I crawled in after her and pulled the door closed, sealing us in the dark cave.
“Back to the hotel, man.”
His name was Chris, or Curt, or something. Something with a ‘C’. But really, he was just one more anonymous face in a long line of no one. One week. One night. One hour. My life was a revolving door of people who didn’t matter. Other than the band and Tia, I hadn’t talked to the same person more than a couple days in a row in years. And that was pathetic. Fucking lonely. We played. We wrote music. We worked our asses off.
And then? Hours alone in a hotel room. Hours on an airplane in my own head, analyzing my life.
I'd known I needed Crystal before I saw that billboard today. Our tour was over tomorrow and we’d all agreed to take some time off. Last show. My plan had been to fly to California, find her, drop to my knees and beg her to forgive me.
But then the universe delivered her to me. My Angel. Right here in New York, where everything started. And ended.
“Yes, sir, Mr. Kaswell.”
“Thanks.”
Common courtesy was automatic, but I was already rolling up the privacy glass. The band was booked at the nicest hotel in town, and I couldn’t wait to get Crystal in that king size bed, press her soft body into the mattress and make her sigh and whimper and say my name.
All. Damn. Night.
“Where are we going?” Crystal’s eyes locked on mine as the flash of streetlights streaked by, alternately lighting her beautiful face and abandoning it to shadow. Her hands were folded in her lap and she looked a whole lot nervous.
“The hotel.”
“Oh.”
The privacy screen stopped moving with a final bump of sound and I lifted my hand to cup her cheek. I couldn’t stop looking at her. Couldn’t stop staring. Hell, I’d never stopped wanting. I ran my thumb over her full lower lip, wondered if she’d reapplied her cherry lip gloss.
“Kit, this is crazy. You know that, right?” Her voice was breathless, soft.
“No. Not crazy,” I countered. “Long overdue.”
That made her blink and turn away to gaze out the window. Pain. That’s what pain looked like on my kitten’s face. And it was my fault. I’d hurt her, badly. Yes, I’d done it for her own good, ripped my heart out in the process. But all that was over now. She was all grown up, a successful writer. I was rich, famous, and had everything I’d ever wanted. Everything but her. The weight of success over love was not equal. Hell, I'd gotten the fame but I hadn't gotten the girl.
“Why are you doing this? Why did you come to the book signing today?” She looked at me for the briefest of moments, then away.
“Can we talk about it when we get to the hotel? It’s only a few blocks.”
“Okay.” She sighed but I didn’t want her to think too much. Once that brilliant mind of hers kicked back into high gear, she’d probably push me out of the fucking car and tell me to go to hell.
So, I kissed her. Not too hard, not too crazy. Not like I was going to strip her clothes off before we got to my suite. I kissed her because she made me happy. Because just being with her made the dull ache in my chest go away. She made it all go away.
We were wrapped around each other when the car pulled to a halt at the curb. The driver didn’t have time to give me a warning. The staff at this hotel were top notch, fast. Too fast.
The door opened and light from a string of bright lamps lining the front of the building flooded the dark interior of the car. Crystal’s eyes fluttered open and she lowered her hands to her lap again, away from me. I didn’t like it.
I got out, blocking the view of the bellman as I reached inside to help her onto the sidewalk. Her jeans and top with the interesting shoulder cut outs hugged every curve. Her long blond hair had come loose and curled around her shoulders in a soft, sexy wave. Just looking at her made every bone in my body ache with need.
Naked. Wet. Begging. That’s what I needed from her. Soft and submissive and taking me inside that soft body.
As soon as she was out of the car, I wrapped my arm around her waist and hurried inside the hotel. We didn’t speak as we passed the elaborate fresh flower arrangements, chandeliers and artwork. The elevator opened immediately and the staff greeted me by name more than once as we made our way to my suite.
Fifth floor. Balcony overlooking Central Park. Walls so thick you could play a rock concert and no one would hear a thing. The entire thing reeked of money. But Tia insisted. When we’d hit ten million albums sold a couple years ago, she rebelled and said if we were going to live on the road, we weren’t staying in shithole hotels.
I didn’t care where I slept. That was the truth. As long as Crystal was with me from now on.
Pulling the key out of my wallet, I opened the door for her and she walked inside without saying a word. The draperies had been pulled back to let in the city lights and the view was spectacular.
“Wow.”
“Right?” I put my keycard back in my wallet and tossed it on the small table near the door. The room was more than adequate for me, with a king-sized bed, huge television, and a bathroom big enough to park a small truck.
I wanted her, but I’d just spent two hours on stage jumping, screaming, and sweating like a damn pig. I was not going to get naked with my girl like this. And talking would lead to kissing, and kissing would lead to naked. So, yeah. Shower first. “I’m going to take a quick shower, and then we’ll talk. Okay? I really need one.” I plucked at my t-shirt.
She chuckled and something tight in my chest unwound, just a little. “I know.”
I grinned and headed for the bathroom, pulling the door closed behind me, but not latching it. I didn’t want to shut her out, and I didn’t want a closed door between us. It was crazy, but I was afraid if she heard that latch click, she’d wake up from this fantasy I was in and she’d run.
Stripping in record time, I was under the water as fast as humanly possible. Every minute I was in here was another minute something could go wrong.
If I didn’t smell like a sweaty, disgusting mess I would have had her naked and under me already.
The soap smelled like ginger and lemons and some other frou-frou shit I would never use, but it worked, and it was easier than packing that kind of stuff myself. I was a man on a mission, and had everything clean faster than I would have thought possible. I closed my eyes and washed my hair, sticking my head under the water to rinse. My face was in the flow of hot water when I felt her hand on my back.
Chapter 6
Kit
My eyes flew open and my cock went instantly hard as I turned to find her standing naked in the shower with me.
Fuck. Me.
“Hi.”
“Hi.”
She lifted her hand to my chest, rubbing in a small circle that chased every fucking thought from my head. Nothing. There was nothing inside my skull but her. But the sight of her naked body. She stepped closer, her blue eyes clouded with lust and secrets and longing. “Is it okay if we talk later?”
Green light. Go.
Hell, yeah.
My answer was to lower my lips to hers and pull her close.
Our mouths fused and I forgot to breathe. This was not the kiss of the sweet girl who’d given me her virginity all those years ago. The kiss was hot and wet, her lips demanding a response.
&nbs
p; My cock pulsed and swelled to the point of pain between us. Her body was hot and pliant and I explored every inch of her that I could reach in some kind of frantic and pathetic need to relearn her curves, reclaim my territory. Her skin was soft, her curves lusher than I remembered.
Mine. She was mine.
I pushed her up against the tile wall and kissed my way down her body, stopping to worship her breasts, suck her nipples, rub my stubble along the curve of her hip the way I knew would make her shudder.
Dropping to my knees, I shoved her legs wide and used my hands to open her up to me, to my tongue.
Her fingers tightened into fists in my hair and her legs started shaking, but I wasn’t stopping, and I wasn’t being gentle.
I looked up her body to meet her blurry gaze. Yeah, she was right there with me.
There was no tenderness in me, not right now. I needed her to scream my name. I needed to feel her pussy pulse and clench down on my fingers as I sucked her clit into my mouth. I needed to conquer.
“Kit.” My name was more whimper than spoken word.
Yes. That was what I needed to hear.
I sucked and licked, sliding two fingers inside to stroke her off while I worked her with my mouth, remembering exactly how she liked it. She came all over me seconds later, her soft cries better than any song I’d ever written.
If I could make a song that sounded like the woman a man loved coming in his arms, I’d be the richest man on the planet. I could listen to that shit all night, and I was going to.
Her legs were too weak to hold her up when I reached over to turn off the water. But her hand reached for mine, stopped me before I could hit the handle. “No. I want you here. Just like this. Up against the wall, just like we used to.”
Fuuuuuck.
Her words brought back the visual. Whitmore had top notch locker rooms with showers and neither one of us had ever wanted to go home. Her to a mother who drank too much, a dad who spent more time bitching about life than working. Me to Ivy League parents I could never please and the bedrooms haunted by two older brothers I could never live up to.