Protecting His Assets

by Cari Quinn

Chase turned, of half a mind to follow them and mediate if need be. He also intended to chew out Jax for abandoning his post. What could be more important than protecting Summer from the insanity backstage? Some guy could sneak into her dressing room and push her up on the table and slide his mouth between her toned, supple legs.

  God, how she’d tasted. Sweet and raw. And she’d been so wet and ready for him.

  Or she could invite a guy in, shut the door and peel off his dark, probably tailor-made suit.

  “Fuck,” Chase growled, pushing his way down the hallway. He tried a couple of doors and found one locked, then stepped into a supply closet that reeked of bleach and…other things. The dressing room at the end of the hall was also locked, and a knock on the door yielded a terse response from a giant in purple lycra who was sporting about three coats of guyliner and possibly lipstick too. Not only did he not know Summer, he suggested Chase insert something up his “rectal cavity” that did not go there under normal circumstances.

  Chase blew out a breath. Evidently Summer and her suit had disappeared. Maybe the time had come for him to do the same.

  He strode out a side door into the parking lot and tipped back his head to gaze at the dark sky. Often there weren’t that many stars visible in the city, but tonight they seemed to be everywhere, twinkling madly. It was a warm night, the breeze more reminiscent of September than early December. People milled around the parking lot and he tucked his hands in his pockets and headed for his SUV, determined to ignore them.

  Being alone didn’t mean he was lonely. When did that ever happen? He’d been in the center of an adoring crowd for years, and the only reason people hadn’t come up to him tonight was because of the dark knit cap and dark glasses he’d worn for most of the show. He hadn’t wanted to be recognized, so he wasn’t. Plain and simple.

  His fans weren’t forgetting him. Not yet. And so what if they did? He’d told Summer she needed to find her own sense of acceptance inside herself, and he obviously did too. No better day to start than the present.

  He clicked the fob to open his doors and registered the beep with dull awareness while his eyes narrowed in on a slim brunette hurrying to a car at the end of the lot. All the way back, by the chain link fence that surrounded the property.

  As in the most unsafe place a female alone could park.

  His frustration and concern propelled him forward until he crossed the lot without thought to what he’d do once he reached her. He wasn’t even one hundred percent sure it was Summer. Long-haired brunettes who walked fast weren’t exactly rare.

  Ones that drove a vintage pink Cadillac? Fewer and farther between.

  She stopped near the bumper and pivoted to face him, her hair flying back as she turned. Surprise and then acceptance flashed over her face in the faint gleam from the nearest streetlight.

  She’d picked the most remote location possible. And judging from her expression, she guessed exactly how he felt about that fact.

  “Don’t say it,” she began.

  It made him smile, which was a damn near miracle considering one look at her had him harder than steel and practically willing to beg. He made himself leave some distance between them, though he ached to charge forward and haul her into his arms. “What?”

  “You know what. Yes, I know I shouldn’t have parked way back here. But it was fine earlier, because Jax followed me from the diner before the show.” She glanced at the obviously empty spots next to her vehicle. “He left early.”

  Diner dinners sounded awfully cozy. Jax, Cass and Summer—three spokes of a triangle. The rectangle they’d once been had broken off at one corner.

  He was the odd man out. Alone. By choice or by vice, he didn’t care anymore. He didn’t want to be by himself tonight. He wanted to be with Summer, to feel her wrapped around him in every way a woman could surround a man. Her hair on his skin, her hands on his hips, her tight, slick body clasping him deep. Her mouth feeding him her breath until it became his too.

  Chase took a step toward her, then another. She backed up, correctly reading the intention in his eyes. Instead of her reaction deterring him, he understood it was another level to their mating dance. He would pursue, she would retreat. He would catch, she would yield. And then they would both take—and give.

  “He’s your bodyguard,” he said softly, his gaze centered squarely on her mouth. In the shadowy dark he saw her bite her lip, worrying it between her teeth.

  She either shook her head or jerked her shoulders, he couldn’t be sure. Her feet kept moving backward and she clutched her purse to her chest like a shield. When she bumped into the fence, she glanced over her shoulder then glanced back at him again, all wary huge eyes and pale cheeks in the moonlight. Her breath slipped out as he came to a stop in front of her, almost close enough to touch.

  “No, he’s not.”

  Saying nothing, he waited.

  She let out another long, stuttering breath. In the dark, every sound she made seemed amplified. “He’s only temporary. You’re…you’re the one I want.”

  His heart gave a hard kick against his ribs as he erased the remaining distance between them and wrapped his hand around her chin. Tilting her head back, he lowered his face until their lips brushed. “Last time I made the move. Tonight I won’t. You asked me for what you wanted before. Tell me now. Leave no doubt in my mind.”

  She trembled once before she controlled it. “I saw you with her.”

  The statement didn’t compute. “With who?”

  “The blonde yesterday, here. She was leaning on you and you took down my poster—” She bowed her head. “Don’t make me do it.”

  His thumb nudged up her chin. “She’s my client.”

  “Uh huh.”

  “She is,” he insisted. “Her name is Anastasia Cordova and I’ll give you her phone number if you want. I’d rather you not compromise my already compromised ethics by calling her, but it’s your choice. All of this is.”

  “None of it is,” she whispered fiercely, leaning up so that he was staring straight down into her impassioned eyes. Right now they’d be blazing blue, the color of a summer sky, the sizzling center of a flame. “I don’t have a choice about wanting you. It’s like breathing. I open my eyes, I want you. While I make faces at the flaxseed oatmeal I eat for breakfast, I want you. I put my head down on my pillow at night and I want—”

  He crushed his mouth to hers, stealing the rest of the sentence, her breath and the moan that followed. She seized his shoulders, dragging him down so that they could feed on each other properly. Like unchained beasts who didn’t care where they were or who could see.

  No one else existed.

  He bit her lower lip, hard, then harder still, plunging his tongue inside to do battle with hers. She clung to him, swaying against his chest, meeting him stroke for stroke. And when he picked her up and turned to practically sling her over the hood of her car, she held on and pulled him down too.

  Sliding his arms under her, he cushioned her head in his palm and used the new angle to dive that much farther into the heated recesses of her mouth. She tasted of brandy and he remembered her flask and the hit she always took before her shows. He sucked on her tongue, his eyes flickering open and lasering in on hers. So dark and deep. She watched him watch her and feathered her fingers through his hair, scraping her nails lightly down the back of his neck. Urging him to deepen the kiss. He obliged her, wedging their bodies together while he consumed her one slow lick at a time.

  Distant laughter traveled on the night air and a hint of cigarette smoke from outside the club layered under the arousing apple scent that clung to her hair. She clutched him so desperately he figured she was still riding her post-show adrenaline buzz. He’d happily help her burn off all of her excess energy.

  “I’m going to get drunk on you tonight,” he breathed, razing his teeth over the tip of her tongue while she wriggled beneath him, her body hot and soft in contrast to the hard hood of the car.

  “Yes.” Just that
one word fired his blood. “God, yes.”

  He wasn’t even fully conscious of sliding his hand up her bare thigh to the soaked strip between her legs. Pushing it aside, he slipped in a finger, then two when she panted for more. He rolled them over her swollen and wet flesh, easing in only to rock back out and complete the circuit again. She clenched around him, saturating him in her excitement. Making it his as well. She arched and wrapped her leg around his hip, meeting each of his strokes. Her desperation to come made him rougher than he’d intended, and soon he was rotating his fingers inside her, grinding his palm against her clit on every downward slide.

  As she reared back, her head bumped the windshield, but even the certain pain didn’t still the manic thrusts of her hips. As she was about to come, he pulled out of her already rippling pussy and went to work on his jeans with wet, clumsy fingers.

  “Not again,” she gasped, and even in the midst of his agony, he laughed hard enough to screw up his aim. Easy enough to undo a zipper, but not when his hand was shaking. She laughed too, rubbing the heel of her foot over his ass and lifting up so that the blessedly well-placed moonlight caressed the dark slit between her thighs. Then he was on her again, dick in one hand, condom in the other, incapable of pulling away long enough to get the task accomplished.

  Luckily she took pity on him and helped him out, because the second she’d tugged the latex over his painfully hard length, he removed her panties, spread her thighs and cupped her mound. Her slick heat dampened his palm. “You good?” he gritted out, hoping she got his meaning. Because if she didn’t, he’d drop down and finish her off this way. Easier than trying to speak through the need closing off his throat.

  She leaned up on an elbow and blew a curl out of her eyes. “You asking if my pussy’s wet enough for you, Dixon?” Her breath hitched after saying pussy, a telling sign of nerves. It only made him want her more. “Try it and see.”

  “Summer.”

  “God, fuck me already. If I scream, you’ll know you did it right.”

  Chuckling, he lifted her hips and surged inside. “Oh fucking Jesus. Thank you.”

  She giggled and tossed back her head again, letting out a combination moan and laugh when she hit the glass once more.

  He shifted over her, pulling her toward the part of the hood most in shadow. This far away from the club, their only company was the wind whispering through trees hanging on to the last of their leaves and their own unsteady breaths. He shoved his jeans down so he could move more freely and hooked her legs around his hips. Wrapping himself up tight in her as he’d imagined.

  It wasn’t close enough. Nothing would be. She must’ve agreed, since she sat up and dug her nails into his ass, hauling him even deeper into her slick center. Curses and praise flew from his mouth, along with her name. Especially her name.

  “Summer, baby.”

  “Chase.” She gripped his ass, gyrating against him in the perfect rhythm. Making him work for the orgasm that already shimmered just out of reach. “We’re outside.”

  His regret at taking her in her dressing room surfaced again, even more insistent than before. Doing it outdoors in a parking lot was ten times worse. And ten times better.

  He slid home all the way, absorbing every bit of how it felt to have her snug, swollen walls clasping his cock. A swivel of his hips and she tilted back her head, offering him the perfect spot to suck and bite beneath her ear.

  “You are.” His teeth dragged over the cords of her neck. “I’m inside. So far inside you that I don’t…” He took a breath, tried again. “Don’t give a shit where I am. I’m in you.”

  “Yes.” Her gasping moan prodded him to drive harder, faster, until she fell back on her elbows on her car. Her classic car. If there were dings, he’d hammer them out. He’d do whatever it took to fix it, as long as he got to come inside her. To taste the moans on her lips while she came too.

  His injury tried to intrude, a sharp pulse of pain stealing his attention for a fraction of an instant. He fought back, altering his arm’s position, increasing his grip instead of lessening it. No way was he letting go.

  Reading him well, she briefly took control, pistoning her hips so perfectly that he could only savor the bliss. She knew what she wanted and she took it again and again, bringing herself to a swift orgasm that created waves of pleasure around his cock. He reached down and found her clit, prolonging her ecstasy—and his—as long as she could stand. Shuddering, crying out, she slanted her lips over his and offered her surrender.

  He took every bit of it like the greedy bastard he was.

  Eventually she went limp underneath him, her hair a dark tangle over her pale cheeks, her eyes as vast as the solar system above. Trapped in her gaze, he drove himself to the finish. He bit her shoulder to keep from howling like a damn wolf, but he couldn’t smother the sounds of his need. His body wrenched and heaved, his muscles locking until he’d spent himself dry and could only manage uneven breaths against her cheek.

  She shivered and he gathered her closer, not caring if his elbow protested or what he was risking by being bare-assed in a public parking lot. Summer was all that mattered.

  Then and always.

  “You said you didn’t do it twice.”

  “Hmm?” He stroked her hair, driven to keep touching her by some impulse he didn’t quite understand.

  Actually, he understood it fine. But acknowledging it would mean he had to do something he wasn’t sure he was ready to. Especially now.

  “You never sleep with the same woman twice,” she murmured, her lips moving against his throat.

  “Well, that was a bit of an exaggeration.” He winced. “Not much of one, but yeah.”

  She pushed her seductively messy hair out of her face as she looked back at the club. “I can’t believe we did this here.”

  Grinning, he tucked one of her curls behind her ear. A long pearl dangled from the lobe. He wanted to suck on both it and her dainty flesh before working the clasp free with his tongue. “It’s getting to be a habit now.”

  “A habit, huh?” She didn’t smile. Lightly, she jabbed her elbow in his gut, forcing him back. Considering that involved removing himself from a place he really wanted to stay—specifically between her creamy thighs—he wasn’t too thrilled about it.

  “Not all habits are bad.”

  Tugging at her skirt, she slid down the hood and braced her feet on the ground. “So, what, am I your latest addiction? Did you swap booze for me? I’m truly honored.”

  She didn’t sound honored. She sounded pissed. “You know I don’t drink anymore.”

  “What about women?” She ran her hand over her car, ostensibly checking for ass dings. Good luck finding them in that light. “Do you still nail them?”

  He couldn’t stop his smirk as he tucked himself away and pulled up his zipper. “Well…”

  “Not funny.”

  “Yeah, I’m getting that.” He pulled his T-shirt over his jeans. “You PMSing or something?”

  From her noise of disgust as she circled her vehicle to get in the driver’s side, he guessed she didn’t consider that a reasonable question.

  “Wait. I have a sister. I know I’m not supposed to mention periods and crap. I just wanted to let you know I’m…sensitive to women’s issues.”

  She unlocked her door and pulled it open. “I realize you lost about fifty percent of your brain cells after that orgasm, but seriously? You’re batting dangerously low.”

  “I don’t bat, I pitch.”

  “Not anymore you don’t.”

  It was a joke, he knew it was. He even started to laugh it off, but somewhere between his chest and his mouth, it got stuck.

  “God, Chase, I’m sorry.” She slammed the door shut again and covered her mouth. “That was inexcusable.”

  “No, it wasn’t.” He gave her a thin smile. “It’s the truth.”

  She shook her head. “No. It’s not. You’re going to get better, if you stop messing around and man up enough to have the sur
gery—”

  “I am having it.”

  “When?”

  He swallowed and flexed his left hand before pushing it into his back pocket. “Three weeks.”

  “Oh my God, really?” For a second, she grinned at him so brightly that even the darkness couldn’t compete with her natural wattage. Then her shoulders sagged. “I can’t be there. I can’t come.”

  He jerked a shoulder. “No biggie. It’s an outpatient thing. In and out practically. The time-intensive part is the rehab, but hey, like you said, it’s not like I’m pitching anyway. Might as well amuse myself somehow, right?” He gave her a lopsided smile. “Maybe I’ll get buff.”

  “You’re already buff, you ass. I never should’ve said something so cruel. And I wouldn’t have if…”

  “If what?” he prodded as she rubbed her forehead.

  After a moment, she dropped her hand and stared directly into his eyes. “I’m leaving.”

  “Okay.” He shrugged. “Your call. If you want to split, we can talk later.”

  “No, Chase.” She reached out and grasped his good hand. It didn’t make sense that even that one felt numb in her grip. “I’ve signed with someone to manage my career and he’s really excited about the possibilities. I am too.” She sucked in a breath. “The week after next I’m going on my first tour, and I’m not sure when I’ll be back.”

  Chapter Ten

  Chase sat in his usual booth at Slocum’s Diner and stared at the picture of Elvis near his shoulder. Even the King was smirking at him.

  Somehow his life had turned into a joke. One big fucking ha-ha moment with accompanying laugh track. How else could he explain how he’d ended up in a stationary position for the foreseeable future while the woman he lo—had strong feelings for, traveled around the country like a wandering minstrel? Without him. That was the salient point. Even if he’d wanted to go too—if she’d even been inclined to allow him to, as her bodyguard or as that undefinable other—he couldn’t. Not right away. He had some pretty serious rehab time ahead of him, and if he was going through with this surgery, he wasn’t going to screw things up by not doing everything he could to improve.