Shouldn't Want You (Cataclysm Book 2)

by Jerica MacMillan

  “No.”

  Her head jerks up, her eyes confused and alarmed, clashing with mine. “What?”

  I shake my head and cross my arms, assuming almost the same stance I had when those women were filing out of here. “I said no. We need to talk before you scurry off.”

  She clears her throat and looks away. “I’m not sure what you need to talk about. I’m sure you’re tired after your performance. And if you don’t want …” she clears her throat, “female company, then I’ll just get out of your way.”

  “No.” The word comes out more like a growl this time. “Sit.”

  Her chin kicks up, and she stares me down. “I prefer to stand. If you have something you’d like to say, then say it. I already filled you in on Eli’s day, his bed time went as normal, especially considering all the excitement of the day. It took him a little while to settle, but he’s been deeply asleep for two hours now. I expect he’ll sleep in tomorrow. Today was busy. But I can be back a little earlier than normal if you’d like. Though if I’m going to do that, I need to go to bed.”

  Images of her climbing into bed in tiny shorts and a flimsy cami flicker through my head, but I shove them aside. “I don’t want to talk about Eli. I want to talk about what just happened here.”

  She has the grace to look chagrined, pink tinging her cheeks. “They said you’d sent them up. They seemed to expect me to be here and assured me that you wanted them waiting for you in your room.”

  “Why in God’s name would you believe them?”

  She throws her hands out to the side. “Why wouldn’t I? Like I said, they knew I’d be here. They were very clear about your wants.”

  “And the fact that I told you I don’t party with groupies?”

  She swallows, but doesn’t look away this time, lifting one shoulder in a careless shrug. “I know how men are. They often say one thing and do another. I might not have as much experience as you clearly do, but I’m not completely unaware of the way the world works. You’re wealthy and famous. If—” But she clamps her lips shut, cutting off whatever she was about to say.

  I wait for her to continue. “If …” I prod when she doesn’t.

  But she just shakes her head, her eyes going to the door behind me. “I need to go. I’m sorry I misunderstood the situation. I assure you it won’t happen again.”

  She starts for the door, as though she expects me to move out of the way, but I don’t. Holding my ground, I watch her approach, but she stops several steps away, hesitating since I won’t move. “Excuse me,” she whispers.

  Instead of moving out of her way, I close the remaining distance between us, dropping my arms to my sides and stepping in so that my chest nearly brushes hers. Even if I hadn’t sworn off groupies after Eli’s mom, I’d never give those women a second look with Ava up here waiting for me. I’ve been trying to keep my attraction to her under control, but surely she must’ve noticed the way I look at her. I’ve seen her watching me as well. Which is what kills me the most about the whole thing. Not just that she allowed strangers into my suite, but that she’d even think I’d want to spend time with any woman other than her.

  Maybe I’ve done a better job of keeping my feelings to myself than I realized. Or maybe she’s just as inexperienced as I suspect, despite her earlier claim to not be completely clueless.

  Leaning in close, I lower my voice to just above a whisper, the wispy hair that’s slipped out of her ponytail moving with my breath when I speak. “Why would you think I’d want them?”

  Chapter Twenty

  Ava

  I hold my breath.

  Danny is so close. So, so close. Radiating heat and smelling like soap and sweat and man, looking at me with those intense blue eyes of his. Waiting.

  He asked me a question.

  “What?” I breathe, hating the way my voice comes out so timid. The way I sway toward him. Allowing myself to be swept away by someone with power over me. Again.

  I need to be smart. To be strong. Not like before, when I was stupid and naive, giving myself to someone who only wanted me for the variety, the challenge, the thrill of taking my innocence.

  Forcing myself to take a step back, I remember that I’m not so innocent anymore. I wonder if Grayson’s happy with himself for making me even more broken and jaded now. Ruining me in every way that matters.

  No. I shake that thought away.

  I’m not ruined.

  I’m strong. I found a job, a way out, an escape from the swirling vortex of crap that my life had become.

  I’m happier than I’ve been in a while. Mostly.

  Except right now my new boss is eyeing me like I’m a steak he’d like to devour, his gaze fastening on my lips far too often, his piercing eyes seeming to see through my skin to my bones.

  “Why,” he says slowly, patiently, the calm of his voice belying the tension in his posture, the glare still imprinted on his face, “would you think that I would want two strange women showing up and waiting for me naked in my bed?”

  Swallowing hard, I lick my lips, and he stares at my mouth, his own lips parting slightly in response. But he doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak. And after a beat his eyes return to mine.

  “Um,” I start, trying to focus on why it seemed like a plausible story a few minutes ago. But his nearness, his stare, his almost predatory posture is distracting.

  He steps closer again, reclaiming the slight distance I put between us. “I don’t.”

  “What?” I’m having such a hard time focusing on the conversation when his body seems to be trying to tell me something as well.

  “I don’t want them.”

  “Why not?”

  His brows tick up, changing his glower to something lighter, almost amused. “Why would I want them when you’re here waiting for me?”

  My eyes widen, and I take another step back. “What? No. I’m not … we’re not …” I stop and suck in air through my mouth, forcing my frantic thoughts to calm down. What he’s implying is what I’ve secretly wanted for weeks, but it’s such a bad idea. A terrible idea. He can’t mean what I think he means. “I’m here to take care of Eli. If I’m waiting for you, it’s only so I can return to my own room.”

  The set of his shoulders relaxes, and he seems to deflate a little, suddenly looking tired. He scrubs a hand over his face, blinking at the floor a few times before nodding. “You’re right. You are. I’m sorry. I wasn’t implying that I expected anything …” He sighs, crossing his arms again, this time looking dejected, almost lost, lonely. No longer angry or predatory.

  Without thinking, I step forward, placing a hand on his arm. Wanting to comfort him. The way I’ve wanted to for a while when that forlorn look crosses his face.

  He stares at where my skin connects with his, goosebumps rippling over his bicep, an answering zing traveling up my arm. Then he lifts his eyes to my face, his gaze questioning, studying, then he stares at my mouth. Again. Attraction blooming between us, filling the space, drawing us closer.

  And somehow I’m the one initiating the first touch. What is wrong with me?

  His other hand lifts and covers mine. “Sit with me. Let’s watch something on TV like we did in LA. I need to unwind after a show.”

  “Maybe you shouldn’t have sent your willing company away, then.” I try to force distance between us. It’s stupid and will only make him angry, but it’s a last ditch effort to defend myself. It’s the only thing I can think of to keep myself from falling completely under his spell, even as I’m slipping over the edge.

  He growls. Actually growls, low in his throat, the rumble vibrating his chest. He crowds even closer, his chest bumping mine so I feel the growl as much as hear it. His eyes look almost feral, and I can’t look away. “For the last fucking time. I don’t want random groupies who only see me as a conquest, something to brag about later, and if I’m really fucking unlucky, a free ride to finance their lifestyle. Get knocked up, and I’ll pay them to have my kid. It’s happened before, why not again, ri
ght? I’d rather live like the monk my bandmates accuse me of being.” He pauses, his eyes scanning my face, and I’m not sure if he finds what he’s looking for or not, because nothing about his expression changes as he continues. “I’d rather watch reruns with you right now, a respectful distance between us, and go jack off in the shower to thoughts of you later than touch anyone else.”

  My mouth drops open in shock, and when I tug my hand free, he lets it go, but he continues staring at me. Daring me to respond.

  I run a hand over my ponytail, looking around the room, not sure what to say, far too aware of my body’s reaction to him. My nipples are hard little points, poking against my bra, and heat pools between my legs. I clenched down there when he said he’d jack off to thoughts of me later.

  The truth is, I’ll be thinking of him while I touch myself tonight alone in my room. Like I have every night lately.

  Much as I don’t want to repeat the same mistakes from before, I can’t stop myself from asking, “You think about me? When you touch yourself?” Shock and arousal are a potent combination that knocks my brain off course, and all thoughts of protecting myself are flittering away.

  Danny’s eyes brighten at my question, a spark of hope flaring in their depths. “All the time.” His voice is ragged, like the words tear up his throat on their way out.

  I lick my lips, unaware I’m doing so until his eyes focus on the movement. I swallow, throwing caution to the wind. “What do you think about?” It’s a stupid question to ask. Tempting fate. But I can’t help it. Don’t want to fight against my feelings anymore. Not when there’s a chance I can get what I want, consequences be damned. I guess that’s always been my problem. Willing to risk damnation to get what I want right now. I was the kid who snuck cookies, even though I knew I’d get caught. I just didn’t care. The promise of pleasure has always been too powerful.

  His eyes flash, heat igniting in their depths, and he crowds me again, resuming that predatory tilt, standing once again with just a millimeter of space between his chest and mine. If I took a deep breath, I’d press against him. Instead, I hold my breath waiting for his answer.

  “You want me to detail my fantasies about you? Tell me, Ava, do you like playing with fire?”

  This time, I’m the one staring at his mouth. “Maybe.” I’m so turned on right now all I can do is whisper the answer. Am I really doing this? Pushing him to tell me about his fantasies? Yes, yes I am. And I want to know the answer.

  His hand grazes up my arm, the touch a shock to my system, but the best kind. He slips it behind my neck, tipping my head back so my eyes lock with his again. “Sometimes,” he whispers, “I think about us watching TV. But instead of curling up on the other end of the couch, you slide onto my lap and let me run my hands all over your curves. Then you turn and straddle me, grinding on me until we strip each other naked and you ride me till we’re both a twitching, shuddery mess of pleasure.”

  My breath rushes out, my core clenching again. A wicked smile tilts his lips. And he continues. “Sometimes I like to pretend you join me in the shower. Sometimes I lick the water droplets from your skin. And sometimes you sink to the floor and suck me deep, wrapping those pretty lips around me.” He brushes his thumb across my lips once. I part them, and when his thumb starts its return trip, I flick out my tongue.

  He groans. “Careful,” he warns.

  “Why?” I don’t want to be careful. Not with him. Not anymore.

  His eyes roam my face again, his breath fanning close to my mouth. “If you say things like that, I might not be able to stop myself from kissing you.”

  “Okay,” I breathe. I want to know what that feels like. I want him to ease the ache he’s causing with his words.

  If he doesn’t kiss me, I might die. From the unfulfilled ache. From embarrassment. I’ll slink off to bed dejected and lonely, fantasizing about him while I take care of myself and falling asleep with the hollow pleasure of a self-induced orgasm.

  Why settle for that when this sexy rockstar is right here telling me he wants me?

  And I want him. Enough that I don’t want to think about what might happen next, even though I know this is risky. Dangerous. Maybe it’s stupid, but I trust him. More than I ever trusted Grayson, and I thought I was in love with him. At least I know that anything that happens with Danny isn’t based on lies.

  He’s never filled my head with inflated stories. He’s always been honest.

  And that, more than anything, is what makes me think that wherever this goes, it might not end badly.

  He studies my face for a moment longer as my thoughts race, and I wonder what he’s waiting for. Deciding to take matters into my own hands, I press up on my toes until my mouth collides with his.

  I’ve surprised him. I can tell by the way he stiffens against me. But it lasts only a fraction of a second, and then his other arm snakes around my waist, yanking me tight against his body, his hand on the back of my head holding me in place as he slides his lips against mine.

  From the ferocity of his arm pulling me close, I expected his kiss to be just as fierce. But he’s holding himself back, brushing his lips across mine, the caresses soft, controlled, a marked contrast to the strength of his arm at my back. Growing impatient again, I nip at his lower lip, wondering what it will take to get him to give in to what he obviously wants. What I already okayed.

  He grunts at the feel of my teeth, pulling back to look me in the eye, amusement and desire warring for the upper hand. “You like it like that, huh?”

  I nod. I don’t know if I do, I just want him to stop playing around.

  This time when his mouth settles on mine, he nips at my lip, making me gasp. His tongue sliding into my mouth distracts me from the sting of his teeth, and then I’m wrapping my arms around his neck even tighter, fighting to get closer, sliding my tongue against his, sucking on it, welcoming him into my mouth. I want to climb him and rub all over him.

  As though he can read my mind, his hands slide down to my ass, and he bends his knees to hoist me up. My legs instinctively settle around his hips, and I let out a gasp at the delicious friction between my legs as he walks.

  Instead of going through the still-open door to his bedroom like I hoped, wanted, expected, he turns and settles on the couch. At first I’m vaguely disappointed, but then I remember the fantasy he just told me, of me grinding on him and riding him here.

  We’ll have to keep the volume down since Eli’s sleeping in the next room, but I can work with this.

  Pulling my knees tighter to his hips for leverage, I grind down on the hard length of him pressing against me through his jeans. He groans in response, his hands kneading my ass, encouraging, so I swivel my hips again, giving in to the demands of my body, losing myself in his touch, his kiss, the feel of him beneath me.

  I feel wanton. Brazen. I guess this is who I am now. And if that means sexy men groan into my mouth and encourage me to keep going, I don’t have a problem with it.

  His hands slip under my top, hot and firm on my bare skin, and all I want is to feel him skin to skin. Everywhere.

  Breaking the kiss, I cross my arms in front of me, yanking my shirt over my head and off, tossing it to the side. Before I can dive back into his mouth, he stops me, his eyes staring at my chest in my simple nude bra.

  “Christ, Ava,” he whispers, his hands closing over my breasts, his thumbs pressing against my nipples that are hard enough to be visible even through the light padding of my bra.

  I arch into his touch, reaching behind me to undo the hooks. I want his hands on me without the fabric in the way.

  His eyes flare wide as I pull my arms out of the straps, his hands now the only thing holding the fabric to my chest. He looks up at my face. “You’re sure?”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Danny

  Holy shit.

  Holy. Fucking. Shit.

  When Ava gave me that temptress look and asked what I fantasized about, I thought I’d push the envelope a little. Se
e how she reacted. If she seemed interested, maybe we’d kiss.

  I planned to go slow. Sloooow. Painfully slow. Because I’ve been operating under the assumption that she’s a virgin. Because she deserves a guy who’ll take his time with her. Who treats her like a princess.

  I wanted to be that guy. I know I can treat her like she deserves. That protective instinct that she’s roused from the beginning has only deepened, grown, and now I want the best for her. Always. With everything.

  But here she is in my lap, grinding on my dick through my jeans, her heat scalding me through the layers of fabric, her shirt somewhere on the floor, and my hands the only thing holding her bra in place.

  Fuuuck.

  This. This isn’t anything I would’ve expected. Not tonight. Not for weeks, maybe. Months. Like when we’re on a break from the tour and I could take her out for a proper date while I saddle Marcus and Kendra with babysitting duty. Then I could wine her and dine her and slowly and gently introduce her to physical pleasures in my bed.

  But she kissed me. And stripped off her own clothes.

  She presses her breasts into my hands, whimpering as she shifts her hips on my dick again, her hands coming up to pull at the fabric of the bra that I’d normally find boring. No lace, just simple tan satin with a few threads of embroidery between the cups and along the band. Definitely not lingerie intended for seduction.

  But when she whipped off her shirt, and her breasts were framed perfectly in front of my face, the simple lingerie made my mouth water.

  “Are you sure?” I ask, needing to hear her say she’s ready for this level of intimacy. Maybe she’s fooled around with a college boyfriend. Maybe she’s not quite as inexperienced as I assumed. We can take off our shirts and leave our pants on, after all. It’ll feel like high school all over again, but I can deal with it. For now. For her.