by S. Ann Cole
Without waiting for his answer, I walked off, leaving him to follow.
Ninety Miles’ band members got on wild with hoots and cheers as I approached their booth on the opposite side of the club. Jamie and Amy went in ahead of me, and Tex himself stepped out and came forward to meet me, locking me into an extremely tight hug, spinning me, then lifting me into the booth.
“Reunited and it feels soooooo gooooooooddd!!!!!!” the rest of the band members sang out in a very loud jeer.
I punched Tex’s shoulder and he set me back down on my feet, grinning at me.
“Don’t ever do that again, yeah?” I hissed at him.
Holding his hands up, he stepped back a foot. “Okay, Raven. Meant no disrespect. Just that, it’s been so long since I’ve held you…”
I looked up into his ice-blue eyes, lined thickly with black eyeliner. His lips full and kissable as they’ve always been. Eyebrow piercing, septum ring, choker around his neck, a black wife beater, a black tee tossed over his shoulder, black studded belt looped through his close-fitted black leather pants, and black fingerless gloves. With fourteen inches of jet-black hair flowing down the sides of his face, he towered over me at six foot two. Tattoos covering every visible skin from his neck down.
We stood there staring at each other wordlessly, as unbidden memories flooded in, of all the amazing sex we used to have, anywhere, anytime, on any occasion.
There was a time when I was so insanely attracted to him, that he almost knocked all thoughts of Jahleel out of my head. But that was almost. Because I could never fully get Jahleel out of my head, and in the end, Tex was selfishly and unfairly mistreated by me.
It’d been over three years since I’d seen him face to face like this. And he was no different. The same Tex. The same rock god who used to rock my fucking world.
Finally getting my mouth to work, I scolded, “You can’t call me that anymore either, because I’m not your raven.” I wiggled my ring finger at him.
“Oh, right.” He looked away and took a sip of his drink. “So where is he, then? I got the impression both of you were gonna be here tonight?”
His tone seemed causal enough, no detection of hostility or jealousy, so I answered, “Missed his flight.”
He snorted. “That’s why you, my Raven, need a man who can afford his own jet.” He brought his drink to his lips again, but did it so his thumb was conspicuously pointing at himself.
When I just ignored his jab, he made a derisive laugh and went in for the kill. “A dancer? C’mon, Raven, sure you can do better than that.”
“Right.” I nodded once, lips pressed together. “This isn’t a truce. This is a chance for you to talk smack about my fiancé so you can feel better about yourself. Goodbye, Tex.”
When I turned and made to leave, he grabbed me around the waist to stop me, his front pressed up against my back. And he was hard. Typical Tex. He had the sex drive of a lion.
“Saskia, wait. I’m sorry, okay?” he said huskily in my ear. “You know I can’t help being a dick sometimes. The honest truth is, I’m really happy for you.”
“Yeah, right.” I tried to get free from him—and his hardness—but he held me tight to him, and I could see Thomas shaking his head outside the booth.
Amy and Jamie were busy flirting and dancing with the rest of the rowdy, crude-talking band members.
“It’s the truth, Saskia,” he said, spinning me around to face him. “I am happy for you. I know exactly how you feel because…” He looked away for a minute, then back to me. “I’ve met someone.”
“Tex,” I hissed out, “you’re hard.”
His lips pulled up in a lopsided grin as he glanced between us, his brow arching at his arousal. “Because you’re sexy as fuck, Raven. And the amazing smell of your hair is fucking with my senses. You can’t blame my dick for getting hard for you.” He brought his ice-blue gaze back to me now. “But my dick doesn’t control me. Because this girl I met, I think I’m in love with her.”
“In love? Really?” I grinned, relaxing again. “The mighty Tex. Shot down! Ohhhh, you have to tell me all about her.”
With a small shake of his head, Tex stared at me for a long, long while with an intense expression. He studied me for so long that I started to grow uncomfortable.
As if noticing this, he abruptly turned and nabbed a bottle of Nuvo from one of the many ice-buckets on a long, rectangular table behind him. He screwed off the cap and handed it to me. “Straight from the bottle, just the way you like it.”
Taking the bottle from him, I took a long sip, and he watched me for a beat longer before taking my hand and leading me over to the seats on the other end.
“Why don’t we kick back over here?” he said, his voice a slow drag. “And lemme tell you all about her.”
Chapter Eight
JK…
Suffering from impatience, Jahleel rapped his knuckles on the pretty blonde receptionist’s desk. Unless she was fucking inept, he couldn’t understand what was taking her so long to hand over the key card and info for his and Saskia’s room.
He was fresh off a flight he hadn’t wanted to be on in the first place, and he was shit tired. But there was a three-day rule he had to adhere to, and because he missed his flight the night before, it was now four days.
Truth was, he hadn’t really missed the flight; he just didn’t get on it.
A last minute job offer came in to host a dance-off competition thrown by the producer of Dancin’ 2da beat, and he took it, because, to be honest, doing what he did—dancing—excited him a fuck of a lot more than making a lame appearance at some club just so people could stare at him like he was damn effigy or something.
He preferred to be known for his talent, not because he had a certain look or because he was engaged to the most erotically beautiful, fucking irresistible, lift-his-cock-on-the-spot woman in the world. So he took the last minute job—which paid more, incidentally—and left his girl hanging.
Then lied to her about it.
She would find out the truth eventually, though. ‘Cause even though the competition was aired live, the turnout had been huge what with all the big names being there, so it was bound to hit the entertainment news…and she was going to eat his fucking head off for lying to her.
But he’d deal with that when the time came.
Right now, he missed the fuck out of her and just wanted to sneak into their room and wake her up with cock.
Now if this blonde would just hurry the fuck up….
This tactic happened much too often for him to not know her game. She was deliberately being a snail to keep him there so she could “discreetly” eyeball him.
Chicks. They’re so fucking obvious, even when they aren’t.
Adjusting his holdall, Jahleel rapped his knuckles on the counter with a little more force this time. “Anytime this year, blondie?”
Blondie peeked up at him from beneath her mascara lengthened lashes and bit one side of her bottom lip. She was trying to be sexy. Except the lip biting, peek-up-under-the-lash thing didn’t work for every girl. She was pretty alright, but her face was a little chubby, no bone structure, and the lip biting just wasn’t working in her favor. At all.
“Sorry about that, Mr. Kingston,” she said in a voice less professional and more flirtatious. “I had a bit of technical difficulties here.”
Jahleel couldn’t help the choked laugh that came out. “Technical difficulties to pass me a fuckin’ key card? What’re you, an automaton?”
Blondie’s cheeks reddened. Passing him the key card, she confessed, “Okay, you got me. I’m sorry. It’s just…you’re so intense in person and…hot and I got a bit flustered when you came through the door and now I’m being unprofessional, but please don’t report me or anything and—ohmigod I’m babbling, I’m so sorry. I’m not even single or anything, I have a boyfriend. But yo—”
“S’okay, Jessica,” he assured her, giving her a wink and a smile to ease her flustering state.
; Her eyes widened a fraction, then fluttered a million miles a minute. “How do you know my name?” she breathed out.
Leaning over the counter, Jahleel flicked a finger at her name-tag, then walked off.
As he got over to elevator, the doors pinged open, revealing three Vegas vultures inside. All short, tight dresses, overnight hair and make-up and tired faces, like they’d just woken up from a night of hard partying.
And instead of getting off, they just stood there, gawking at him.
“Getting off?” he asked.
No one moved.
“Ohhhh my gawwwd, I think I just came,” said one of the girls in a sweet southern drawl.
Clearly, as long he was standing there, they weren’t going to move, and he really didn’t have time for this shit.
Against his better judgment, he got into the elevator and hit the number for his floor. His bodyguard was having breakfast in the hotel restaurant. Jahleel had told him he didn’t need him to follow him up to his room. The mere fact he even needed a bodyguard annoyed him.
But in occasions such as this one, he knew it was sage. ‘Cause fans could be complete sickos.
Getting on the elevator with these chicks was probably a bad idea, but he was dog-tired from working and partying the night till dawn broke, then getting on a plane. He needed some sleep, missed his woman, and every damn thing about this morning was irritating him. This whole ‘fans’ thing drove him up the fucking wall.
The ride was quiet enough, and Jahleel thought he would get away without an incident until one broke the awkward silence.
“I’m a huge JK Babe, you know,” she whispered in his ear.
“Nice,” he said, spiritless. “Engaged.”
Silence.
The other two whispered something to each other, and then they all cackled. As if him being engaged was so fucking hilarious, they couldn’t help it.
The world seemed to have this off prediction that his and Saskia’s relationship wouldn’t last because he would fuck it up. But he wouldn’t. He loved her, and there wasn’t a thing in the world he wouldn’t do for her.
Saskia Day was his life. His new life. His forever life.
And not another chance in hell was he going to do anything to hurt her again. So let the world doubt him. He didn’t really care.
The girl who proclaimed to be a “JK’s Babe” took out a pen and a minuscule notepad from her purse and started jotting down her name and number while she spoke, “We went to Club ZIP last night because it was advertised you’d be there. Like I said, we’re JK Babes. You didn’t show up. But someone else did…”
The elevator doors opened on his floor.
Before he could get off, the girl tore the paper from her notepad and stuffed it into his back pocket at the same time she licked her tongue up the side of his neck.
He jerked away and wiped his neck, but that’s what the fuck he got for getting in there with the vultures in the first place. He’d been sexually harassed quite a lot since he judged on that dance show. And it had only gotten worse. Hence his bodyguard.
Gripping the straps of his holdall to fight himself from wounding one of these women, he stepped off the elevator.
As the doors began to close, the girl called out, “Trust me, baby, you won’t be engaged for much longer. Be sure to call me. I’ll be more than happy to lend you these to cry on.”—She cupped her tits and squeezed them together—”They’re not fake. I promise!”
The doors closed, locking the crazies in, and Jahleel shook his head before progressing to his room.
As he neared room 409, a smile tugging at his lips at the short prospect of seeing Saskia after four long, agonizing days, the room door across from Saskia’s opened and Thomas strolled out in gym wear, towel tossed around his neck.
When he saw Jahleel, he stopped dead, looking as if he’d seen an apparition.
Halting in front of Saskia’s room door, Jahleel gave him a chin lift. “Hey, man.”
Thomas just stared at him like a deer in the headlights, which Jahleel found strange, since Thomas wasn’t a man who showed emotions. Let alone nervousness as his gaze shifted between Jahleel and Saskia’s room door.
Finally finding his tongue, Thomas said, “Hey. I was just about to grab some coffee, and I’m sure Miss Day’s still snoozing. Why don’t you come with?”
Jahleel arched a quizzical brow.
Firstly, Thomas looked more like he was going to the hotel gym, not for coffee. Second, Jahleel didn’t drink coffee, and they all knew that by now. Third, when the fuck did he ever hang out with Thomas for him to even suggest grabbing coffee together?
“Nah,” Jahleel declined politely, though suspicious. “I’m crashed. What I need is some sleep, and Sassy.”
Thomas still didn’t move a muscle, and from the corner of his eye, Jahleel noticed the big guy was watching his every movement as he swiped the key card in the door. And when the light on the door beeped green, the man literally winced.
The fuck was this man’s problem?
Without sparing Thomas’ uncharacteristic behavior a second thought, Jahleel pushed the door open and went in, where he was greeted with the obnoxious blaring of Jack White’s Sixteen Saltines.
Jesus fuck. The hell was she doing up listening to rock music so loudly at 8:30 in the goddamn morning?
Dropping his holdall on the floor at the door, Jahleel took a few cautious steps into the suite, wondering if Saskia had something planned. She knew well and good that he hated surprises. All he needed was to make love to her, come inside her, then fall asleep on top of her with his cock still inside her. Not surprises.
“In no mood for games, Sassy,” he called out, moving farther into the suite, waiting to see her jump out from behind somewhere. She was good for it.
The aroma of buttery popcorn traveled on the air. His foot hit something hard, and he stopped walking to look down. A black biker boot with buckles and chains. Saskia loved wearing those kind of boots.
But what sent the alarm off in his head was that the boot was too big to be hers. She was a size seven. That boot was a size ten, at least.
Men’s size ten.
The fuck was going on?
Slowly raising his head, Jahleel swept his gaze around the suite, and it landed on a coffee table that had three big bowls of popcorn, and a bottle of Silver Patrón.
Okay, that wasn’t weird. At all. Sure, people drank Patrón and ate popcorn for breakfast.
Not.
Something was up. Something was definitely up. And not a good something either.
But before Jahleel could move another muscle, the music went off and a familiar famous face popped into his line of sight.
Tex Laklin.
He was shirtless, wearing only a tight, unbelted, black leather pants. But tats clothed his skin from the neck down, a shit ton of long black hair falling down around him like he was fucking Samson or something.
Why the fuck was this cumstain in his fiancée’s hotel room again? Unless he was in the wrong room? Yeah, he had to be in the wrong fucking room because this couldn’t possibly be real…
As Jahleel continued on that thought process, about to walk out and punch that dumb receptionist for giving him the wrong room key, the walking tattoo opened his mouth, saying, “Shit, man. Are you always such a tardy bastard? First you missed an important flight, then you turn up here an hour later than you said you would. Late is dangerous, dude. But not as bad as absence. Crazy fucktastic shit happens when people are late, or don’t show up at all…”
A lot confused about what the hell was transpiring here, Jahleel asked, “Why’re you talkin’ to me again?”
“I’m just maki—”
“And why the fuck are you in my woman’s room?”
The fuckwad gave him a cocky grin, and Jahleel itched to punch it right off his face. “Because the real rock stars always wins.”
“I’m givin’ you one last chance to explain yourself before I rip your fuckin’ tongue out, mothe
rfucker,” Jahleel growled out, prowling forward.
But the coward skipped back a few paces, running from a fight.
“No, not yet,” Tex said, looking half-fearful, half-mocking. “Asskicking comes last. We got breakfast and a movie to get through first. Do, take a seat, a bowl of popcorn. The Patrón’s for you, dancer boy. You gonna need it.”
Tex withdrew a remote from his back pocket and powered on the TV at the same time Jahleel heard her voice.
“JK?”
Turning to the right, from where her voice traveled, he stopped breathing when he saw the woman he loved. The woman whom he’d asked to marry him and give him a new life. The woman who, before now, before this very moment, he’d considered as his future.
There she was, standing in the bedroom doorway. Naked. Completely naked.
Her eyes were still droopy with sleep, her hair a wild overnight mess of raven curls and purple ends.
She looked hungover and half-asleep. And though he was in the most confused state he’d ever been in, in his entire fucking life, he had to take one selfish second to appreciate her in all her natural beauty. She was totally fuckable and arousing just like that. And if circumstances were different, he’d be fucking her right there on that door post.
But all Jahleel could do was stand there and stare at her.
Why was this fucker, her ex to be exact, in her hotel room? Why was he half-naked and her nude? The answer was easy. He wasn’t an idiot. But he was fighting not to acknowledge it. He was waiting to see Ashton Kutcher jump out from behind a sofa and shout, “you’ve been punk’d!!” because this couldn’t, couldn’t possibly be real.
“Finally, Raven. You’re up,” Tex said, setting up a camcorder to the smart TV. “Go cover my goods and come grab a bowl. Breakfast and a movie.”
His goods? His fucking goods?
Still, as pissed as he was on the inside, Jahleel stood completely immobile on the outside. Couldn’t even blink. Shocked to the fucking core. He was in fucking shock.