by Brooklyn Ann
Just before she reached the hotel, a hand clapped on her shoulder.
Kinley spun around with a startled squeak.
Phil sneered down at her. “What’s in the bag?”
Terror punched her in the gut. Of all the people to catch her buying lingerie, it had to be this one. Clutching the bag tighter, she gave him a reply guaranteed to make him back off. “Tampons.”
Sure enough, his mouth turned down in a scowl of disgust and he took a step back, as if she carried a toxic substance. Before Kinley could savor her triumph, Phil leaned forward, eyeing her with abject hatred.
She met his stare. “What is your problem?”
“You don’t belong on the road with us,” he snarled. “This is a man’s job.”
Her patience vanished. “If that’s the case, what does it mean that I’m doing better at it than you?”
His face turned white as curdled milk. “You better watch your ass, bitch.”
Chapter Sixteen
Quinn’s breath caught when he opened his door to a goddess. A nervous goddess dressed to kill in a shimmering, low-necked, purple dress and silver sandals. Her hair fell loose down her back in a silken ebony waterfall.
“Is it too much?” Her voice was barely above a whisper.
She looked so sexy and adorable he wanted to yank her into his room and throw her on the bed. But he’d promised her a date. So instead, he took her hand and kissed her knuckles.
“You look amazing.”
She put a hand on the sleeve of his suit jacket. “So do you.”
By mutual consent, they left the hotel and walked across the street to a nearby Italian restaurant. The smell of garlic seemed to ooze from the walls.
Kinley inhaled appreciatively. “I love garlic.”
The food was fantastic, but Quinn hardly noticed. He was too enraptured with the experience. There he was, staring at a beautiful woman across a secluded, candlelit table, just like any normal guy on any normal date. He couldn’t stop smiling as he watched Kinley devour her first taste of osso buco. He’d recommended it because he’d noticed how much she liked steak. Her fearful expression at the price made him smile. It felt good to spoil her.
“I should hate you for this,” she said as she scooped the last bit of tender veal into her mouth.
He took another bite of his own. “Why?”
She laughed. “Because I don’t know if I can go back to a plain old steak again.”
Stay with me and you won’t have to, he wanted to say. Instead, he leaned back in his chair and smiled. “This is nice. No rushing, no smelly road crew, no screaming fans. Just a good meal and a gorgeous date.” Though he wouldn’t give up his life in music for anything, moments like these were as rare as shooting stars.
Her cheeks pinkened but she nodded and sipped her wine. “It is nice to have a break.”
For once they didn’t talk about music. They didn’t even talk about the tenuous conditions of their relationship. To his surprise, Kinley’s favorite movie was Harold & Maude, a dark comedy from the seventies about a young man falling in love with an older woman.
“I loved that one!” he exclaimed in wonder. Most people he knew hadn’t even heard of it. “But the ending is sad.”
With dark, contemplative eyes, she shook her head. “I used to think it had a sad ending, but now I realize that it was happy. Maude’s death wasn’t sad—it was on her terms. And before she left him, she taught Harold how to actually live.”
God, he loved her mind. “That’s an excellent point. Makes me want to watch it again.”
“I have a copy on my laptop,” she offered.
“Maybe we can cuddle in bed and watch it. That is, after I’m done worshiping every inch of your body.” He licked his lips, watching her. “I love making you blush.”
When the server brought the check, every cell in Quinn’s being cringed in reluctance to leave this oasis. But once Kinley stood and he glimpsed her long, long legs beneath the glittering material of her dress, his reluctance was replaced with anticipation to take her to another destination.
Unfortunately, Kinley had other ideas.
“We better make an appearance at the party, or people might suspect. And I gotta get out of this dress.”
Quinn nuzzled her neck, relishing the soft heat of her skin. “I’ll help you out of that dress.”
“Later.” To his disbelief, she smacked him on the butt.
Before he could retaliate, she dashed across the street to the hotel. Sighing, Quinn followed. Instead of going up to his room, he joined the party, which was already in full swing in one of the conference rooms. Immediately he was swarmed by fans and colleagues.
Grabbing a beer from the ice bucket, he did his best to be sociable and not search the room for Kinley. She emerged soon afterward dressed in jeans and T-shirt, her hair returned to its customary braid. If they were both dressed up, their connection would be obvious. Still, it irked him to see her back in her work clothes.
Quinn frowned at the memory of Kinley wrapping up patch cords, hauling amps, and meticulously cleaning his guitar strings. It didn’t feel right, having her work for him any more. Not when she was his girlfriend. Instead of this drudgery, she should be relaxing at the spa or shopping or…something.
He sighed. She’d never go for that. At least she did a better job than Phil.
As if reading his mind, the lead guitarist from Bleeding Vengeance commented from behind him, “That’s one hell of a guitar tech you got there. I’d love to steal her from you.”
Quinn fought back a growl. “Fuck you, Lefty.”
Lefty chuckled and left for the beer cooler.
It was almost worse at these parties, watching the members of Bleeding Vengeance as well as his own guys ogling her. Quinn ground his teeth. If it weren’t for Kinley’s plea for secrecy, he’d pull her into his arms and stake his claim. Then he’d politely inform every male present that if they touched her, they’d lose a hand.
Oblivious to Quinn’s protective eye, Kinley laughed off Roderick’s and Cliff’s flirting, focusing on her interview with them. It soon dissolved into the traditional debate on who was the superior band, Megadeth or Metallica, even though everyone knew it was a moot point since neither band would have existed without the other.
Klement walked by with an impish grin and said something that made Kinley erupt into a tirade of points extolling the virtues of her favorite. Quinn shook his head. Klement loved a good debate and he always knew which buttons to press to rile up an opponent. Kinley’s response seemed to meet Klement’s approval since he nodded.
“Now don’t put anything about those bands in our interview or the comments section will be all about them instead of us,” Klement told her.
Kinley nodded and then she and Cliff shifted the conversation to the subject of favorite songs and albums. Klement strode over to Quinn. At six and a half feet tall, he towered over everyone.
“How goes?” he asked, sipping a bottle of some exotic brand of ale.
“What do you think of her?” Quinn couldn’t help asking.
The bassist scratched his chin. “I think there’s a lot more between you two than the job, but that’s none of my business. I will say that her defensive attitude and constant feeling that she has something to prove could cause problems.”
His blue-green eyes surveyed the crowd as if analyzing every detail. His narrow lips turned down in a frown of disgust as he watched Lefty beckon Curtis from the beer cooler to, mostly likely, do a line or two.
Quinn shook his head. “What are we going to do about those two?”
Klement sighed. “I don’t know about Curt, but ever since Lefty hocked his Gibson for dope I’ve been wanting to fire his ass. Cliff and Rod likely won’t listen until he starts hocking their gear as well.”
“Curt hasn’t hocked anything as far as I know, but if he doesn’t get his ass in rehab, I’m sure that’ll come next.”
“Let’s hope not. Curt’s an amazing player, and so is Le
fty. But when your addiction is so bad that you’ll sell the means of your career to get your fix, talent isn’t gonna save you.” He suddenly smiled. “Speaking of fixes, wanna puff?”
“Not at the moment.” Quinn frowned. “Isn’t it a little hypocritical of you to be talking about them, given your own hobbies?”
Klement laughed. “Not at all. For one thing, I think I have ADHD and weed keeps me focused and won’t kill me if I smoke too much. For another, I grow my own. And even if I didn’t, I’d never hock my gear.”
Quinn shook his head as the bassist sauntered off to smoke down someone else. Quinn returned his attention to Kinley, wondering when they could slip away together—and when Roderick would quit staring at her chest.
Pulling out his phone, he texted her: We’ve been ignoring each other long enough. Go up to the room and I’ll meet you there in a few.
For the first time in hours, she looked up at him, eyes wide and tremulous. He could read the doubt in her face.
With a wicked smile, he texted: I’m going to make you come more than twice.
She read the message and a rosy blush suffused her face.
Quinn chuckled as she replied, Promise?
Maybe this could be fun. Then again… He frowned as Kinley said her good-byes and Roderick asked if they could join her. This secrecy was getting old fast.
Still, he forced himself to wait five minutes before leaving the party and going up to the room. It felt like an hour.
The sight of Kinley reclining on the bed in a decadent, black satin negligee made him suck in a breath. She looked like an elaborate gift laid out for him and only him.
Unbuttoning his shirt, he allowed his gaze to caress every inch of her luscious body. “Waiting for this nearly drove me crazy.”
She eyed his chest with obvious hunger. “I know. It was hard to act casual and professional around you.” She peeked at him shyly beneath long lashes. “Actually, it always was.”
“Tell me about it. It was damn near impossible not to beat the shit out of all those guys hitting on you.” He fought back a growl at the thought and removed his jeans. “You know, if you weren’t so hung up on keeping this a secret, they’d quit trying to get in your pants.”
Kinley snorted. “‘Those guys’ are your colleagues. You’ve known them a lot longer than me. Stop being so overprotective. I can take care of myself. Besides”—she stretched languidly on the bed like a cat—“I’m not wearing any pants.”
Hardening at her words, he climbed onto the bed, bracing his arms on either side of her stain-clad body. Primal satisfaction filled him in a rush. Sinking down to cover her body with his, he claimed her lips in a long, lingering kiss.
Trailing his lips across her cheek, along her jaw, and down to that sweet spot below her ear, he whispered, “But you are wearing this sexy nightie, and I intend to get under it.”
Kinley trembled beneath him as he ground his erection against her hot center in emphasis. Quinn slowly worked his way down her body, hands sliding across the satin, cupping her soft breasts and squeezing them gently before moving down to grasp her hips.
He gazed up at her with a pleased smile. “No panties? Very good.”
Quinn feathered soft kisses along her inner thighs, savoring Kinley’s little whimpers every time he drew closer to her center. Still, he continued to torment her, keeping his mouth only a breath from where she wanted it.
Kinley moaned and squirmed, but he held firm on her hips. The musky scent of her arousal flooded his senses like an aphrodisiac. Quinn couldn’t wait to taste her sweetness, but he kept up a little longer, enjoying the sensual anticipation.
“Please…please…” she panted, voice wild with delirium.
It was the moment he’d waited for. Softly, he brought his lips to the edge of her labia, tasting her wetness with a light flick of his tongue. Kinley bucked in his grip with a soft cry that grew louder when he took all of her plump heat into his mouth, sucking gently. God, she was so wet. He licked her up and down before curling his tongue along her clit like it was a ripe berry.
Quinn felt her orgasm against his lips. Her core flashed with heat and her flesh began to quiver beneath his mouth. Kinley cried his name and thrashed wildly beneath his grasp. Holding her still, he continued to ravage her, savoring the delicious sounds of her pleasure.
Only when he was half insane with lust did he stop and retrieve a condom. “Turn over,” he growled. “On your hands and knees.”
Still gasping, Kinley obeyed, presenting him with the most tantalizing ass he’d ever seen. Quinn took a moment to caress that soft round flesh before positioning the head of his cock at her entrance, teasing the plump wet folds in slow circles. Slowly, he guided himself inside her, sucking in a breath at the impossibly tight heat.
Once he’d filled her completely, Quinn threw back his head and groaned. He could feel her pulsating around him, shock waves still reverberating from the climax he’d given her with his tongue. Unable to hold back any longer, he seized her hips and thrust hard and deep. Another low cry escaped her lips as she spread her legs wider, body begging for more.
Nearly blinded by the haze of desire, he continued to ruthlessly pound inside her, taking her, claiming her for his own. Reaching one hand around her hip, his fingers found her clit and he stroked her in rhythm with his thrusts until he felt her tighten and spasm once more.
Quinn rode wave after wave of her orgasm, allowing it to overtake his senses before his body joined hers. His own climax ripped through him with electrifying clarity, tearing a primal low cry from his lips. Yet still he took her with frenzied savagery until they collapsed in a sweating, gasping tangle.
“Oh my God,” Kinley managed on a shuddering breath.
Carefully Quinn rolled off of her onto his back, struggling to catch his own breath. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”
“No…I…wow.” Her voice was laden with age-old feminine satisfaction.
“Good.” He removed the condom, tossed it in the wastebasket and grabbed another from the end table. “Take off your nightgown. I’m not finished with you yet.”
Chapter Seventeen
Kinley awoke to someone pounding on the door. Beside her, Quinn groaned in irritation and rolled out of bed, giving her a tantalizing glimpse of his ass before he yanked his pants on. They’d never gotten around to watching a movie.
“Who is it?” he called in a voice that boded ill for one who dared disturb him.
“It’s Gaffer. I got some bad news.” The road manager’s voice sounded ominous.
Gaffer? The thought of the boss catching her in bed with Quinn hit Kinley like a bucket of ice water.
“Oh shit,” she muttered under her breath as she scrambled out of bed, grabbed her clothes, and fled into the bathroom, closing the door before Quinn crossed the room to let Gaffer inside.
As she jerked on her shirt, she heard Quinn open the door. She froze at Gaffer’s solemn words: “Lefty’s dead.”
Kinley’s heart stopped. The air around her turned thin and cold. She sank to her knees and slapped her hand over her mouth to muffle her gasp. Maybe she was still dreaming. Please, let this be a dream.
“Dead?” Quinn’s voice sounded choked. “How?”
“Cocaine overdose, how else? I hate to say it, but I saw that coming from a mile off.” There was a moment of silence before Gaffer’s heavy footsteps lumbered closer and he knocked on the bathroom door. “You may as well come out, Kin. You ain’t fooling me.”
She sighed and emerged. In the face of such tragedy, her secret, or lack thereof, didn’t matter. It would later, but the fact of Lefty’s death mitigated all else.
As if in agreement, Quinn pulled her into his arms, brushing a kiss on the top of her head. “Does Curt know yet?”
Gaffer’s face contorted in pain. “Yeah, Curt woke up next to him and found him that way. He’s completely freaking out. I had to have the guys restrain him and haul him out to the bus before the hotel called security.”
; Kinley covered her mouth. Poor Curt. Lefty was his best friend. He had to be going through hell. She couldn’t imagine such pain. If she lost Kat… She buried her face in Quinn’s chest, unable to complete the thought.
“Oh my God.” Quinn ran a hand through his hair, face pale with shock and grief. “What are we going to do now?”
“The show still has to go on, at least on our end.” Gaffer shrugged. “So the first thing we need to do is get the hell out of here before the press shows up. Then I guess we’re going to have to find another band to fill in for Bleeding Vengeance for the rest of the tour.”
Quinn nodded, visibly struggling for composure. “And tomorrow’s gig?”
“We’ll talk about that later.” Gaffer patted him on the shoulder. “Right now we need to move.”
With shaking hands, Kinley finished dressing and packed up her stuff. On their way out to the bus, reporters waited with microphones and cameras. Quinn ignored them all, clinging to Kinley’s hand with a death grip, pulling her with him.
As soon as they were inside, the bus peeled out of the parking lot as if fleeing the grim reaper’s scythe. Kinley took in everyone’s hollow gazes and the sight of Curt curled up on his bunk, bawling his eyes out. She almost burst into tears as well. She glanced at Quinn and he answered her silent question with a nod.
Slowly, she made her way to Curt and began to rub his back in slow, soothing circles just as she’d done when her little brothers had had a nightmare. Unfortunately for Curt, this nightmare would never end. His friend was never coming back. The guitarist blinked at her, eyes bloodshot from cocaine and tears.
Without warning, he threw himself into her arms with such force she nearly toppled over. A grown man was different from a little boy, but not as much as she’d expected. Clinging to her like she was the only solid thing in the universe, he laid his head on her shoulder and cried until he ran out of breath.
The rest of the band and crew surrounded Curt in a protective circle. Some of the guys stared at Kinley as if they hadn’t seen her before. Which made sense, since she’d never given the impression that she was capable of comforting. Kinley ignored the scrutiny and hugged Curt tighter.