Really, you’d think a decade would be plenty of time for your average man to tire, or bore, of the groupie thing and move on. Zane, though?
Nothing was average about Zane.
He stopped a few inches from me, all up in my space, but I stood my ground. I looked straight up into his beautiful face and met his unholy blue eyes.
His blond hair, shaved short on the sides but long on top, slid over his eye as he looked down at me. He raked it slowly back with one ring-laden hand and I caught a breath of him… that crazy-delicious man scent of his that always made my ovaries skip a beat.
“Maggie May,” he said, and the devil was in his slow, easy smile. Yeah. The son of a bitch smiled, like he was happy to see me. “Just thinking about you.”
Fuck me. He totally said that.
He eyed the oversized T-shirt I was wearing, the diabolical gears turning in his head. “The hell are you doing here?”
I wasn’t gonna touch that. Not the point. Though I was glad to hear that he didn’t know I was in the next room when he decided to throw this little party.
Then the song changed, and Marvin Gaye’s “Let’s Get It On” started playing… and the bottom completely fell out of my anger. Because seriously.
“Classy, Zane.”
“I’m all class, sweetheart,” he said, and the smile lit up his gorgeous face.
I couldn’t even help smiling back as I rolled my eyes. Shit, though. I was supposed to be mad.
How the hell did he always do this to me?
Oh, right. Because the man was evil.
He was also charming as hell, and while I wanted to hate him, a lot, sometimes I failed at that. Big time.
Sometimes—well, most of the time—I liked Zane Traynor far too much for my own good.
CHAPTER TWO
Zane
Maggie crossed her arms and glared up at me, like she was trying really hard to stay pissed. Which was cool with me. When Maggie got pissed, I got hard. Which meant I was already a helluva lot harder than I was a minute ago watching a couple of random chicks suck face. Especially when her nipples popped out against her shirt.
I did kinda feel like a jackass though. Had no clue she was in there.
My gaze skimmed down the oversized Sex Pistols shirt she was wearing, obviously a dude’s. Not Maggie’s usual look. Her lips were swollen and her compulsively-smooth hair was mussed up like she’d just gotten something on her back besides sleep.
What the hell did I interrupt in there?
I glanced over her shoulder but I couldn’t see shit, just the door to a bathroom. I shifted closer until we almost touched, leaning a shoulder on the door frame.
“Who the fuck’s been sucking on your neck?” My gaze had snagged on the mark I was pretty sure was a hickey.
She made an exasperated, frustrated noise in her throat that made my balls pull up tight.
It was no secret, at least to my dick, that I wanted this woman. Unfortunately for me and my dick, I’d never gotten my hands on her for more than a hug.
Maggie and I were “co-workers” and “friends” and not supposed to “go there.”
According to her.
“Zane,” she said extra-politely, “please take this in the nicest way possible, but you need to fuck off right now.”
I ignored that. Maggie told me to fuck off at least once a day. Justifiably.
We had that kind of relationship. I was comfortable enough to piss her off, she was comfortable enough to tell me to fuck off, and at the end of the day none of it mattered. Maggie and I were friends. The kind that occasionally wanted to kill each other, but still.
What kind of friend would I be if I didn’t at least make sure she wasn’t in there with some loser?
I tried to get a look behind her again but she closed the door as far as she could, wedging herself in the narrow opening. I wedged myself right in with her, shouldering the door a little farther open. I drew the line at forcing my way past her, but fuck yeah. I was gonna check up on this asshole whether she liked it or not.
“Come on, Maggs. I wanna meet him.” I gave her my wickedest smile, the one that made most girls soak their panties.
Maggie? Maggie wasn’t most girls.
“Don’t be an asshole, Zane. And would you please mind banging your new lady friends in your own room? You’ve got the master bedroom. See, over there. Behind those nice big solid doors.”
“Oh, they’re not for me.”
She rolled her eyes. “Right.”
“I brought them for Jesse,” I said, which was true, even if she didn’t believe it. “Hear he and Elle are fighting.”
Yeah, so I was a shit disturber. But when weren’t those two fighting?
Fuck if getting together wasn’t the worst mistake my two dumbass bandmates ever made. I’d put money on a breakup at the end of this tour. Better for the band. Better for everyone.
Loved Elle, she was a great girl, but my band brother needed an epic cocksuck, badly, to remind him life was too short for one pussy. Especially one that drove him up the fucking wall.
“Well,” Maggie said, “I’m sure Jesse and Elle would appreciate the gesture, but Jesse isn’t here. I am.”
“Cool. And why is that?”
She sighed. “Let’s just say… things got screwed up with the rooms, okay?” Then she started chewing on her lip.
“Uh-huh,” I said, distracted at the sight of her teeth gnawing on that full bottom lip. Fuck, but Maggie had a hot mouth. “Screwed up how?”
What the fuck happened to this girl’s mood since I saw her in the lobby an hour ago, looking all flushed and fucking cheerful? It was a great look on her, and I wanted some of it. I’d gotten a little carried away, putting her up against the wall, and for a nanosecond as those gorgeous gray eyes blinked up at me I thought she might actually accept my invitation to come party, which she never did. I always asked. She always said no.
It was kind of a ritual.
Maybe for once I shouldn’t have taken it like a gentleman.
“Look, it sucks we have to share a suite,” she said, ignoring my question. “But we’re both gonna do what we’re gonna do.” She cocked her head a little, glancing past me. “Seriously though, can we draw the line at the coke?”
I waited until her gray eyes lifted to mine again. I didn’t love seeing the worry in them… but Maggie always worried about me falling off the wagon into a vat of whiskey. I got that. Cocaine was never my thing, but Jack Daniels wasn’t exactly a hard man to find in a Vegas hotel.
Then I gave her what she wanted, because yeah. It was Maggie. And I was pussy-whipped like that.
“Yo, Snow White,” I called over to the black-haired chick in the kitchen. “Time to go, sweetheart.”
She was dancing by herself to Marvin Gaye, but Natalie jumped down off the coffee table, dragging the other blond with her to form a protective wall of bitch. “What!” Nat squawked, then threw me a theatrical pout. “If she goes then so do we.”
“Then go,” I said.
“Zane! What the fuck! Who the fuck is she?” Nat stood there in her panties, totally fucking indignant, looking at Maggie like she’d just stepped in shit.
Which really cranked up my stone cold.
“Get your skank ass outta here, Nat.”
Natalie’s mouth fell open. It was a good mouth to have around if you wanted your cock sucked, but other than that, she could keep it shut as far as I was concerned. She was the only one of them I’d met before half an hour ago, and that wasn’t exactly a ringing endorsement for the rest.
“You’re a real asshole,” she snapped, yanking on her skirt.
“So they keep telling me.”
Nat huffed, grabbed the rest of her clothes and stalked out with her coked-up friend. The other blond yanked a top over her fake tits, kissed me on the cheek, gave Maggie a catty once-over and left.
“Don’t let the door smack your ass on the way out!” Maggie called after her, then grumbled, “Wouldn’t wanna give i
t chlamydia.”
I stared at Maggie and she gave me a fake-ass smile right back.
So fucking interesting.
Six years I’d known her, and I’d never seen her in this particular mood. Normally she kept her shit under wraps. Cool, controlled Maggie; it wasn’t easy, even for me, to faze the woman. But right now, she was definitely pissed the fuck off, and frustrated.
Sexually frustrated?
If I didn’t know better, I might’ve even said she was jealous.
Whatever it was, it was giving me a raging hard-on.
She made an irritated noise in her throat and I followed her gaze; the other two chicks were still at it on the couch, but now they were horizontal and kinda scissoring.
“Good night, Zane.”
Maggie tried to shut the door, but I stopped it with my foot.
“Aren’t we in a mood.”
“Hey.” Some shirtless dickwit appeared behind Maggie, running a hand through his scraggly hair, and a flash of kill-crazy jealousy went off like a firecracker in my gut. “Everything okay?” He met my eyes and flicked his chin at me in greeting.
Fucking Coop.
I blinked, ’cause I couldn’t quite believe it.
Maggie was fucking Coop?
Shit, no.
I was all for fucking, in general. Was even pretty sure on a rare occasion or two some fuckwad had probably slipped under my nose and snaked his way up Maggie’s skirt. I was no idiot. Chick as hot as Maggie had gotten cock somewhere, at some point in history, even if she was too fucking discreet, not to mention uptight, to ever let on about it.
But this? Not happening.
So fucking not happening.
“Give us a minute,” she said to him sweetly, like really fucking sweetly, in a tone I’d sure as fuck never heard her use on me. “You know, band business.”
“Oh. Sure.” Coop disappeared, reluctantly. No shit. I’d get impatient too if Maggie was talking to some asshole at the door instead of riding my dick.
“You’re not fucking Coop,” I said, low enough he wouldn’t hear it, leaning in to make sure she did, my face tipped down to hers.
She didn’t back down. She just glowered at me, her eyes narrowing and her sweet mouth puckering, all pissed off and petite.
Which was why I loved fighting with Maggie. She was so fucking hot when she was mad. Hot, and cute as all fuck. Adorable. Like a feral kitten.
Also, if I really hit the sweet spot and she lost her temper, made it a lot harder for her to ignore me like she usually tried to do when I jabbed her buttons.
“Are you fucking Coop?” I pressed.
“News flash, Zane,” she bit out. “You’re not the only one who might want to do it in this stupid-fancy hotel suite, okay?”
“Jesus, though. Coop?”
She glared up at me, a storm brewing in her gray eyes. Then she growled. She actually growled, low in her throat, and I swear to Christ I almost came in my pants. “What the hell is wrong with Coop?”
“Where do you want me to start? For one, he’s not me.”
“Nuh-uh,” she said, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Not doing this. Not getting into this with you.”
“Let’s get into it,” I said, pushing another inch into the room, my pulse beating in my dick, spurring me on.
“Nope.” She put her hand in the middle of my chest, holding me off. “It’s been a really bad night, I have not been laid since Christmas, and you are not going to ruin this for me.”
Then she shut the door in my face.
Christmas?
Christmas was four months ago.
As I stood there, my back to the bedroom door, I racked my fucking brain to figure out who the hell Maggie’d fucked at Christmas.
Coop?
Some other fuckwit?
As far as I knew she wasn’t seeing anyone regular. Maggie’d never had a boyfriend in the years I’d known her. I’d seen Coop checking her out. I’d seen him flirt with her, but big fucking deal. Who didn’t flirt with Maggie? Half the crew was hard up for her, but the girl was so fucking proper and all-business she hardly seemed to notice. She so rarely partied with anyone, I’d gotten pretty comfortable telling myself if she wasn’t sucking my cock, at least she wasn’t sucking anyone else’s.
Now I had a visual. Sweet Maggie, down on her knees sucking off Andy Cooper—fuuuck. The murderous surge of testosterone and adrenalin made my dick so hard it felt like it might split in half.
Shit.
Maybe I was a fucking idiot.
Two hot chicks, horny and willing, were going at it right in front of me, and my head was in the next room.
But no fucking wonder. I’d been hot for Maggie, one of a very few woman I’d ever spent more than an hour with who wouldn’t spread her legs for me, for years. Years. And now she was giving it up to Coop?
Fuck. That.
Who the hell did he think he was?
Asshole had pretty much fucked his band’s sweet ride on Dirty’s coattails the second he breathed on Maggie. I said the word, the Pushers were off the next tour, and that gave me a grim fucking sense of satisfaction.
Would I actually do it? Maybe.
Depending how things went down tonight.
I grabbed the remote to lower the volume on the music. Too bad. It was Wolfmother’s “Woman,” a decent song to fuck to.
I liked sex the way I liked my music: loud and hard.
No idea how Marvin Gaye got in the mix. Probably my wise-ass drummer, fucking with me.
I listened, but I couldn’t hear shit from next door. What kind of awkwardly quiet, polite sex were those two planning on having? What were they doing in there, right now?
And how long was I gonna let this slide?
According to my phone, three fucking minutes had passed since Maggie shut the door. Felt like a goddamn hour.
But the longer I let this go, the worse it would be for Coop when I kicked his ass out. Yeah, so I was a sadistic prick. Didn’t bother me in the slightest that I was about to cockblock a brother.
Not when he was in there right now with Maggie, getting ready to stick his dick in her.
Right. That was about far enough.
I hammered my fist on the bedroom door. Hard.
Half a minute later, Coop opened it.
“Maggie!” I thundered over him. “Get your ass out here.”
“Don’t let him in!” Maggie called from inside. “He’s like a goddamn vampire. You invite him in, you give him power.”
Coop’s eyes narrowed a little as he looked me over and every muscle in my body coiled tight. Pretty sure he could smell the lust and aggravation rolling off me, but he just shrugged. “Sorry, man.”
He started to close the door but I stopped it with my hand.
“Coming in to talk to Maggie,” I said evenly. “You can step aside or I can take this shit right through you.”
He sized me up again and I flexed my other hand at my side, a couple of knuckles cracking as I made a fist. Adrenalin surged through me. Never woulda thought Coop had it in him, but shit. Was he actually considering fighting me for Maggie?
I’d spent years as a kid getting the shit kicked outta me by dudes way tougher and way meaner than Coop, and you got a clue, you lose enough fights, eventually you learn how to win. Which meant Coop took me on, he was so gonna lose this fight.
He knew it, too.
“Whatever,” he muttered and opened the door.
“For fuck’s sake, Zane!” Maggie scrambled off the bed, yanking her shirt down to cover herself. She was still wearing Coop’s T-shirt. “What do you want?”
“Want?” I met her in the middle of the room and once I was in her face, I leveled her with a hard, simmering eye-fuck, seeing as that was the only way I ever got to fuck her. “You really want an answer to that, babe?”
“You two got some shit to sort out?” Coop asked, standing off to the side, scrubbing a hand through his hair.
“Yup,” I said, in the exact same breath
that she said, “No.”
We stood there a foot apart, me eye-fucking her and vibrating with adrenalin, my dick standing at attention, her glaring up at me with her chest heaving and not blinking.
“Yeah, I’m just gonna go.”
“Cool,” I said, as Coop headed for the door. “Coupla girls in the other room. They’re yours if you want. Just take ’em with you when you go.”
“Alright, brother.”
Maggie’s jaw dropped.
“Andy.” She looked from me to him as he paused in the doorway. Then she walked over to him. “I have your shirt,” she said, clearly unable to process what the fuck was going on.
“Keep it,” he said. Then he gave her a chaste little kiss on the forehead and left, shutting the door behind himself.
Maggie drew a deep, ragged breath, then let it out between her clenched teeth. Her shoulders dropped as she turned to me.
“Are you kidding me?”
I shrugged. “He scares easy, Maggs. And he was pretty quick to replace you. Better you find that out now.”
She stood there raging, kinda like a baby bull about to charge. Then she took a few slow, measured breaths. She walked over and stood in front of me. Her gray eyes met mine, so fucking stunning against her honey-toned skin.
“I hope that amused you. Because it really fucking sucked for me.”
“Maggie—”
“Don’t. Coop’s a nice guy, and you just treated him like—”
“Coop’s a fucking pussy,” I ground out. “He just walked out on you. While you’re wearing his shirt. And why don’t you take that shit off? Take a shower while you’re at it, ’cause you stink like smarmy bass player.”
Yup.
Shit disturber.
But some things just needed to be said.
Maggie stared at me and an ugly, loaded, fucking terrible silence landed in the wake of my words. Her lips parted… then she shut her mouth. Her jaw spasmed, her eyelashes trembled, and for a horrible minute I thought she might cry.
Then she scowled instead and something raw flashed in her eyes, between hurt and rage.
“Yeah?” She whipped the shirt off over her head and flung it across the room. “Well, the shirt’s not the only thing he touched.” She stood there in her tiny, neon-green panties and nothing else, and my jaw went slack.
A Dirty Wedding Night Page 19