by B. B. Miller
She shakes her head slowly, reaching up to skim her fingers over my raw knuckles. I try again. “Florence Nightingale syndrome?”
She skims her lips over the back of my hand, soothing the steady ache and lets out a half laugh, but she pushes back against the mattress to put some distance between us. Her expression turns serious. “It’s okay if you don’t feel the same. I know it might take you a while to catch up. I’ll never regret saying it, no matter how you feel.”
I let my gaze wander down over her exposed body, drinking in the tempting swell of her breasts and the luscious curve of her hips against the disheveled sheets. Pushing both her hands up and over her head, I straddle her waist, pressing her hands into the pillow and lowering my full weight over her. “I don’t feel the same way,” I whisper, and her eyes widen. “I’m not falling in love with you; I’m already there.”
“You are?” The wary look of disbelief on her face overwhelms me. I never want her to doubt me, to doubt this. Not when it’s so real to me. The fact is, I’ll never have what people tend to define as a normal relationship. It takes a strong person to deal with the insanity that comes with me, and finally, I think I’ve found her. She’s the calm to my chaos, and right now, her eyes search mine, waiting.
“You still don’t get it, do you?” She furrows her brow at my words as they tumble out. “I’ve tried to show you. I’ve been drowning in everything for so long . . . booze, bad decisions, the partying . . . I knew there was something missing.” I let go of one of her hands and gently trace my thumb over her bottom lip. “It was you. And you just came out of nowhere—you saved me.” I lace our fingers together above her head, feeling hers tighten against mine, ignoring the pain that radiates through my fingers.
“You’re in love with me.” I’m not sure if it’s a question, or if she’s just trying the words on for size.
“And it terrifies me. I’m afraid I’ll screw up, or you’ll realize what a chore this all is, but I can’t deny it. So it’s you who needs to do the catching up, baby.” Her lips curve into that smile that slays me, and I lean forward to taste her, throwing everything into the kiss. All the spoken and unspoken words floating between us and every last amped-up emotion of the chaotic day.
My tongue sweeps over her swollen bottom lip, stealing her breath and making it mine. I feel her arch from the mattress, her warm breasts pressing against my chest, and I focus all of my attention on her.
It’s just about feeling her, worshipping her, trying to make her realize how deep I’m in. The more I taste, the hungrier I become. More urgency at a time when I just want to savor her. She’s more intoxicating than any cocktail ever could be. My lips trail the curve of her neck, close over her hardened nipple, and then skim down her torso. I’ll never get enough of her. That’s the thought in my head as my tongue flattens across her navel, and I lift both her legs over my shoulders.
Every whispered breath she has fills me, pushes me higher. Every stroke of my tongue against her heated skin imprints itself in my brain. The feel of her fingers tugging in my hair as I push her thighs wider only serves to intensify the constant ache I seem to have for her.
Turning my head to suck against the smooth skin of her inner thigh, I press my thumb in hard circles against her sensitive clit, just the way I now know she likes.
When she’s like this, when that mask she’s built up is stripped away, it feels like she’s really mine, like she’s letting me see something no one else gets to. I push her legs back, teasing and tasting her with my tongue. Nothing else matters, not the constant demands, or the drama, only her; warm, sated and shattering because of me.
Her palms roam across my shoulders, her nails digs in to mark me, and I do the same, biting against her hip before I claim her as mine once more.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Cameron pushes off the plush sofa in the suite at the W hotel. “You can’t just make decisions like this without talking to us.”
“He had her backed into a corner with his hands on her. I wasn’t stopping to get permission,” I fire back at him.
“Fuck’s sake. Who is going to handle this shit now? You really think we can find someone who knows us? Who knows our schedule, the industry, the people he does?” Cam asks.
“We’ll find someone. I’m not having him anywhere near her. He was jacked up on something. I haven’t seen him like that in a long time. If we hadn’t been there . . .”
Cam throws his hands up in the air in frustration. “Like you’re a saint all the time when you’ve been partying a little too hard.” His words sting, but even at my worst, I’ve never been as out of control as Brodie was last night.
“I’ve never threatened a woman.”
Cam glances at Tucker, looking for his assessment. Tucker just grimaces. “It was bad,” Tucker offers from the familiar position he’s taken up beside me. “I wouldn’t want him around any of you, actually. He’s been getting worse over the last few months. I think we’ve all seen that.”
“I’d say think about how you would feel if it was one your girlfriends, but I can’t even say that.”
“I get it, mate,” Sean chimes in. “The timing sucks, I’m not going to lie, but I understand.”
Cam huffs, turning from the wall of windows to face us. “You do realize this shit all started when you two hooked up, right? You’re staying somewhere else; you’re distracted, pretending you’re a prizefighter. What if you had broken your hand? What then, hmm? What about the tour?” He fires off the questions in rapid succession.
I unclench my fist, trying to ignore the radiating dull ache. “I didn’t break it. It’ll be fine in a couple of days.”
“Where’s Brodie now?” Matt asks from his perch in the hanging chair.
“He’s in his suite here. At least that’s where I sent him last night. I’m hiring some more security,” Tucker adds.
“Seriously? This is Brodie we’re talking about. He’s not exactly a threat. If he turns sideways, he almost disappears,” Cam argues, crossing the room to stop directly in front of me.
“And why do you think that is?” I counter.
“Maybe you should ask yourself that.”
I return his blistering glare. “I haven’t done anything in a while, and you know it.”
“Define a while. And what happens when she goes back to the States? Old habits die hard, my friend.”
I can feel my anger spike. Sure, we’ve been at each other’s throats before. It’s bound to happen when you’ve logged as many miles on the road as we have together. But, this feels different. It feels like Cam’s challenging me. “We’re not talking about me.”
“The hell we’re not. This is only about you,” Cam yells and Tucker shifts, ready to step between us. “That’s your problem. You only think about yourself. To hell with the rest of us.”
“Cam, relax, let’s all just take a deep breath, hmm?” Sean suggests, clapping his palm against Cam’s shoulder. “It’s an epic cluster fuck, but we’ll figure it out. It’s what we do.”
“Is that really the kind of the person you want around? Someone who would threaten a woman and take so much shit that he doesn’t even sound like himself?”
“How come you’re just complaining about him now, hmm? Didn’t seem to bother you a few months ago when you were snorting up half a bag and downing a bottle of Jack a night.” I may not want to admit it, but he’s right. That’s been my cycle. A cycle I know was enabled by Brodie. I can’t change anything that’s happened in my fucked-up past, but now, I have a reason to change. Maybe more importantly, I want to change.
“We weren’t on tour a couple of months ago, and—”
“I’d like to rip his fucking head off for touching her,” Matt practically growls as he interrupts, pushing up from the chair.
An unnatural silence stretches between us all. There’s been enough drama amongst us during the years we’ve been together, that I recognize this as one of the more intense situations we’ve had. This lifestyle—the demands
of it all and the temptation that lurks around every corner—is an unpredictable force that can result in either explosive genius or total disaster. And, for the first time in a long time, I’m not sure which way we’re headed.
“I’ll find somebody to manage the rest of tour, all right? I’ll get Nicole on it.”
Nicole Hays, our PR manager will kill me for springing this cluster fuck on her, but I really don’t have a choice.
“This is bullshit. You should have told us so we could make a decision together, as a group, if that’s what we even are anymore,” Cam grinds out.
“So vote now,” I challenge.
“Would it make a difference? You’ve already decided.”
“I gotta say, Cam, I’m with Kennedy on this one,” Matt announces.
Sean slings his arm around my shoulder. “We’ll figure it out. How hard can planning this shit be, really? I mean come on. We’re Redfall for Christ’s sake. We just need to show up and play.”
“Maybe we should name the tour that. Show up and play,” Matt muses, ambling over to us.
“I need some air,” Cameron grumbles, stalking to the door. It slams shut behind him with a brutal force, sounding very final.
“I have news,” I mumble under Abby’s ear as she sits with her back pressed to my chest in the sea of a tub in the ensuite. We’re ignoring the fact that she’s leaving soon and making the most of our time together. With the exception of a few conference calls she had, and me trying to track down Cam, we’ve been inseparable and insatiable. She leans back to press her warm, wet lips to mine. “Tell me.”
“Ravine is going to do the concert,” I whisper under her ear. She turns around quickly to face me, the water splashing over the sides of the tub as she straddles me.
“Landon Ravine? As in lead singer of The Vandels?”
I narrow my eyes, my hands sliding over her perfect tits, around her hips, settling to palm her ass. “The very one.”
“That’s huge, Kennedy!” she says enthusiastically.
“Mmm. I’ve heard that before,” I tease, earning me a splash of water to my face. “You’re a fan then, I take it? It’s his tats, right? You know, I have those too.”
She leans forward to trace her finger against the notes that line my shoulder. It’s something I’ve found she enjoys doing, and I’ll never complain about her hands being on me. If it were up to me, it would always be that way.
“Really? Is that what these are?”
“There’s a condition, though. There always is with him.”
She frowns. “What condition?”
I let out a huff, still not quite believing I’m even considering this. “He’s been trying to get me to be a guest mentor on his reality show pretty much since it began.” Her eyes widen at my words.
“And you didn’t want to?”
“I wasn’t really in any condition to be a mentor to anyone.”
She holds my gaze, her fingers tracing gently against the lines of ink on my chest. “And now you are?”
“I’m getting there. Because of you.” She smiles, a blush covering her face. “I wanted to check with you, and see what you thought about it.”
A look of confusion clouds her face. “Why does it matter what I think?”
I shift my hips, my length hardening against her sensitive skin. “I care about what you think. Also, they might joke around like they always do, and ask about my love life. I wanted to see what I was allowed to say on national TV. What you’re comfortable with.”
She lets out a soft groan as her hips roll back, her sweet pussy teasing over my cock. “I’m comfortable with anything,” she murmurs.
“That’s a very dangerous thing to say, Miss Walker.” Her answering giggle dies quickly as I show her why.
“Kennedy! Oh my God! Tucker! Stop him,” Abby practically hisses at Tucker who’s too busy trying to stop traffic.
“Come on!” I shout back to her as I sink down to the famed Abbey Road zebra crossing and lie down over it.
“You can’t lie down there. You’re going to get hit, you crazy man!” she half laughs-squeals.
“I can and I am. Get over here, you.” I lean up to motion her over as horns blast from either side of the street. Annoyed yells from impatient drivers and a round of applause from the other tourists float around us. I can see her hesitation and that internal battle I know she’s fighting.
“Clock’s ticking, Abby,” Tucker offers, as he jumps into the role of pseudo traffic cop. “I can’t hold them off forever.”
She laughs, shaking her head before running over to me and taking my outstretched hand. I tug her down as she giggles away, another series of horns exploding down the street. My fingers tighten around hers, and I glance over at her. “Now close your eyes and tell me what you hear.”
“You’re nuts,” she mutters, but closes her eyes. “You know most people just walk across here?”
I smile at her amused expression. The temptation to kiss her is running wild through me. “Where’s the fun in that? What do you hear?”
“I hear people who are going to run us down,” she says through a laugh.
“No.” I shut my eyes, feeling the pulse of the street seep into me. “It’s a song . . . it’s history . . . a rhythm . . . it’s alive.”
“Hey, fuckwit! Sometime today!” a deep, booming voice shouts to us.
I hear Tucker try to calm the masses, and then his concerned voice rumbles over to us, “Got about a minute before they lose it, sunshine.”
“Kennedy . . .” Abby whispers, her grip tightening around my hand.
“Shhh. Just listen.”
Abigail
Quelling my nerves, I take a deep breath and focus, trying to feel what he’s feeling. At first, there’s nothing. And then . . .
“A dance,” I whisper tentatively, as a strange sensation fills me. “Stately, but impatient.”
“Good.” I peek at him to see his encouraging smile. “Go on.”
“Perpetual movement, but with sweeping grandeur, like a waltz.” A blaring of horns interrupts, and I hear Tucker curse behind me as I spring to my feet in alarm. Kennedy laughs at me, but concedes and gracefully rises to his feet. Tucker ushers us off the road, but before he steps onto the safety of the curb again, Kennedy turns back toward the street and the impatient traffic flying by and makes a sweeping bow, as if he’s a courtier. The tourists across the street break out into applause and laughter, and I can’t help but join them. I’m grinning like a fool, my spirit feeling lighter than it has in years.
“One of these days, man,” Tucker grumbles, but I catch a hint of smile lurking on his lips.
“Oh, come on. Live a little.” Kennedy grins and slings an arm around my shoulders, pulling me close. He presses a kiss to my temple and then releases me to take my hand as we continue down the street. “So, a waltz, eh?”
Feeling foolish, I straighten my back and jut my chin out in challenge. “You’re making fun of me?”
“Not at all.” He brings our joined hands up and kisses my fingers, a move that makes my heart skip a beat and my pique evaporate. “Everything has its own energy, its own story just waiting to be told. All it takes is for someone to hear it. And everyone hears a different thing, so there’s no wrong answer.”
A throat clearing behind me is an abrupt reminder that we’re not alone and I wince. How can I keep forgetting a six-foot walking wall of muscle? Tucker has shadowed us everywhere we’ve gone today, but only speaks when needed. I can only imagine the things he’s seen since he’s been with this crazy bunch.
Kennedy glances over his shoulder at Tucker, and gives my hand a squeeze in reassurance. “Don’t worry, baby. Tucker tells no tales.”
“Lucky for you,” I mutter, casting around for a change of subject. “Hey, are you hungry? I think my stomach is finally acclimating to the time zone.”
“Yeah, I could eat. I know of a great—” He’s interrupted by the ringing of his phone in his pocket. With a scowl, he pulls it out a
nd looks at the screen; his scowl deepens as he silences the cell and puts it away.
“Don’t you have to get that? They might need you.”
He releases my hand and pulls me closer, dropping a kiss to the top of my head. “It’s my day off. Today is about us.”
My spirits soar at his declaration. He’s been like this all day; warm and openly affectionate regardless of the people around us. This onslaught of intimacy has completely torn down all my defenses, rendering all my previous worries moot. And I can’t remember being so happy.
“Okay, then. How about we go to a little place I know this time?” He’s led the tour today so far, and I want to share a bit of what I know about the city.
“Lead on, MacDuff,” he agrees, seemingly delighted at my offer.
“Sure. There’s a tube station over there.” I begin to lead us toward the entrance, but Tucker interrupts.
“Let’s take a cab instead,” he asserts, giving Kennedy a look. “You’ve been lucky today, but let’s not push it.” Kennedy looks like he’s about to argue, but Tucker stalks to the curb and immediately flags down one of the city’s charming black cabs. Truth be told, I love taking taxis in London, so I head off a potential argument by climbing inside. As I rattle off our destination to the obliging cabbie and quickly find myself squished between the two hard-bodied men. Not a bad place to be.
After a quiet lunch at an unassuming pub, we mumble good-byes to the smirking bodyguard as we close the door to the suite, and then we’re an awkward mass of limbs struggling to pull off jackets and sweaters and jeans between kisses. We fall down on one of the luxurious sofas, and he grunts softly as I run my hands over his firm chest. His skin feels like velvet to my touch, and I can’t keep my hands off him.
It’s sweet, sweet torture when he lowers his head between my thighs, sending my senses spinning. I push up to meet his unrelenting tongue. My breath comes in soft pants; it’s the only sound in the room besides his soft grunts of encouragement. In minutes he has me falling apart, my cries echoing off the walls.