by Jane Anthony
“No, he’s just . . . artistic.”
To this day, whenever I tell anyone my name, the usual response I get is, “Oh! Like the song!” After all, Ainsley isn’t exactly a name you hear every day. I assumed Eric would eventually connect the dots, but he never did. As time passed, I figured why bother telling him at all?
“He’s heard of them, but he doesn’t listen to mainstream rock music, and he definitely doesn’t pay any mind to pop culture. He doesn’t even have a Facebook page. I mean I had no idea who Adele was until you pointed her out. Same thing, I guess.”
“He still wants you, you know.” She blurts it out so quickly, I’m not sure I heard her correctly. “He’s miserable, Ainsley. You have no idea what you did to him.”
“Oh yeah, he looked pretty devastated with Misti Rain on his arm.” I’ve purposely avoided this conversation for a reason. He may have her fooled but not me. I know him far too well. Kade’s not a lover; he’s a hunter. A feral beast who craves the chase and thrill of the kill. He doesn’t want me; he wants what I represent. A challenge. I sit upon the pedestal he’s placed me on because I’m the one person who dared to do what no one else ever has. Tell him no.
“Hey,” she says, her voice soft. “Misti was nothing to him.”
“Was? She’s not coming to the wedding?”
Jenny snorts. “Oh, God no! I told you a dozen times. He doesn’t want her. You’re the one he loves.” She covers my hand with hers. “Lovie, if you really want to be with Eric, then you need to be honest with him. In a few weeks, the two of you are going to be face to face with the big man himself. Rip off that Band-Aid and get it over with.”
I know she’s right, but at this point, I feel like a jackass. After all these months, what do I even say? Hey, remember that singer I said I dated? He’s actually the badass frontman for the most notorious hard rock band in the world. Oh, and he gave me multiple earth-shattering orgasms. Yeah, no, that wouldn’t go over well at all.
“Hey, honey. Sorry, I’m late.” Eric’s sweet voice startles me, and a blush creeps up my cheeks. I shift uncomfortably in my chair, trying to extinguish the burning arousal I feel from just thinking about Kade. Our lips meet in a chaste kiss as he takes the seat next to mine. “I see you gals started without me.”
“Hi!” My voice has taken on that annoying overcompensating, high-pitched tone that goes along with the guilt I feel. Eric is such a good man. He deserves a woman who is able to give him all of herself. I feel like the worst human being on the planet. “Eric, this is Jenny. Jenny, Eric.” I volley my hands between the two of them as I make introductions.
I don’t want to notice the way Eric has to lift off the seat to reach across and shake Jenny’s hand. He’s not a big guy, and that’s okay. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Jenny. Ainsley has told me so much about you.”
My eyes immediately roll past Eric and settle onto Jenny. Her eyebrow twitches, and I can feel what she’s thinking even before she even opens her mouth.
“Likewise, but she failed to mention you were . . . English?”
Jenny’s eyes lock on mine, reiterating everything I already know. Eric is the complete and utter opposite of Kade Black. Kade is massive, all parts of his anatomy included. He’s a mountain of a man with fuck-me eyes and a messy mass of unkempt black hair. He’s temperamental and cocky, and you can practically smell the danger emanating off him. Eric is lanky and thin. His neatly styled light brown hair fades into a trim beard framing his face. He’s handsome and gentle, but he’s certainly not the six-foot-five inches of inked rock god I’ve had the pleasure of getting up close and personal with.
“Australian, actually. I guess I’m just so used to it now, I didn’t think to mention it.” I flash Jen a tight-lipped smile and open my menu. I didn’t mention it because I knew what she’d say. Why are you fighting so hard against your heart that you go from one obvious extreme to the other? Tough guys like Kade are not dependable. I should know; I was married to one. Seems I have a type.
Eric, ever the gentleman, attempts to make polite conversation with my friend. “So, Jenny, Ainsley tells me you’re marrying a musician.”
“I am! He actually plays the drums for Black Diamond.” The look on Eric’s face is devoid of emotion. Jenny’s brows crinkle together, and my mouth goes dry. I reach for my margarita, hoping the frozen concoction soothes the sudden desert in my throat. “You know, Black Diamond? They have a bunch of hits. Let’s see . . .”Soul Crusher”, “War Cry” . . .” She looks into space as if she’s giving the topic some serious thought, but I know she’s full of it because she can probably rattle off every song in album order. “They had a really big one recently. What was it called? Ainsley, I bet you’d know.”
Bitch!
She casts an innocent smile, batting her eyelashes. “I don’t recall right now.” My eyes meet hers in a silent warning. I am not amused.
She reads me loud and clear and drops her eyes to her menu. “I’m so hungry. I wonder what’s good to order.”
Jenny’s motives are understandable. Now that they are all going to be here, this isn’t something I can continue to ignore. I will tell Eric everything eventually, just not today. Eric is a great guy, and I’m sure he’ll understand. I just need to come up with a good way to tell him, before New Jersey gets leveled by Hurricane Kade.
CHAPTER 19
Kade
WE ALL LURCH forward as the bus comes to an abrupt stop. “Band meeting, everyone off!” Vic’s nasally whine is more irate than usual. The bedroom door flings open, and Jenny pokes her head out. From the corner of my eye, I see Banger give her the “kill” signal, and she backs into the doorway again. For once in his life, Vic’s hysteria is justified. Five minutes ago, I walked to the front and announced I’m done with this tour.
The four of us stagger through the doors like a herd of cows. I told Ainsley I wanted her to continue the tour and come back to California with me. She looked me in the face and told me no. If she isn’t staying, then neither am I.
“What’s this about, Vic?” Konner asks, pushing his blue hair out of his eyes with his ringed hand. The strands get caught in the wind and only blow back toward his face again.
“Your fearless leader has decided to trade in fifteen years of blood and sweat for a woman he’s known for three weeks,” Vic spits.
Four sets of eyes settle on me waiting for the punch line. There isn’t one.
“Ainsley and Jen are scheduled to leave the tour in a few days,” I start. “When they leave, so am I.”
“What the fuck are you talkin’ about, man?” JJ asks in his smothered drawl. Tired and hungover, his lilt is extended and slow, taking far too long for the question to roll off his mumbling lips.
“I’m talking about Ainsley. She’s gotten in my head, bro.”
JJ’s bloodshot eyes narrow. “You’re bailing on us for some piece of ass you’ve only known for three weeks?”
“Watch it, man,” I warn, stepping into JJ’s personal space. “Your skinny ass has been begging to be kicked for years. Don’t make me have to be the one to provide it, Junior.”
“No, you watch it, asshole!” JJ shouts, poking his finger into my chest. I feel the anger beginning to roil in my gut. I don’t wanna beat JJ’s ass, but I will if he provokes me. “We let you get away with your sanctimonious shit, but this toes the line. Your decisions affect the rest of us. You’re not allowed to up and walk away because some bitch decides she’s done with you.”
One minute, he’s yelling at me, and the next, JJ’s back is pressed up against the side of the bus with my hand around his throat. “Keep talking and watch what happens. I fucking dare you,” I seethe. His fingers close around my forearm, but I’m not squeezing hard enough to do any real damage. Yet.
“Whoa, whoa. Kade, calm the fuck down,” Banger runs to JJ’s aid, pushing us apart. “You need to control your anger, bro.”
I drop my arm. JJ doubles over, panting and grasping his neck. “I don’t need to control my
anger. Everyone around me needs to control their habit of pissing me off.”
Banger walks to the back of the bus and paces back and forth, his tattooed fingers threaded behind his head. I follow, leaving the other three guys behind. He exhales a slow, deep breath. “Jen’s not leaving the tour. When Ainsley goes, she’s going alone.”
“But she’s only contracted for the first leg,” I say, confused.
Banger’s freaky-as-shit eyes land on mine. “I asked her to stay, and she said yes. Looks like we both had the same plan.”
My first reaction is to punch something, but I stand rooted to the floor slack-jawed, unable to move, unable to speak. I’m in the Twilight Zone. Any second, that Rod Serling fucker is going to march out from behind the bus and that creepy ass music is going to start playing in the background.
I should have known. Most people assume his nickname comes from being a drummer, but it came long before that. Banger is a chick magnet. Even when we were gangly teens, Banger laid more pipe than a plumber. He has that quiet cool that babes just go nuts over. The guy barely speaks, but whenever he does, it’s usually to spout insightful shit that changes your life.
“What exactly did you say to Ainsley?” he continues.
I eye up my friend, wondering what he’s getting at. “Just the truth. I think I’m falling in love with her.”
He quietly nods, allowing what I said to sink in. “You think, or you know?”
“I know it. She’s it.”
“You can’t force her to love you back, bro. Ditching everything you’ve worked for is not going to change anything.”
Ainsley does love me, though. I can see it in her eyes. The way they burn fierce and bright, pulling me within them. I can feel it every time she kisses me. It’s not just lust; it’s passion and fire. “So what do you suggest, Obi-Wan?”
For the majority of my adult life, Banger’s been holding onto my strings and keeping me grounded. I have a tendency to make irrational decisions and lose my shit at the most inopportune moments. This dude is my conscience. “Make a statement, bro.”
And sometimes, he says lame shit, too.
Yeah, I’ll make a statement. I’ll chain her to the bus and refuse to let her go.
The thought of Ainsley in chains excites me a little more than it should, and my dick twitches in my pants. “What kind of statement?”
“I dunno, but it should be big enough to prove to her that your feelings aren’t bullshit. Up until now, you’ve been treating her like your dirty little secret. A girl like Ainsley isn’t going to just believe that you like her. You need to show her.”
I fall back against the bus, crossing one ankle over the other. A statement. My gaze wanders around the deserted parking lot while I consider what the hell would possibly make Ainsley want to stay with me. Matters of the heart aren’t my forte. The only things on this planet that I know are music and fighting. My eyes shoot up to Banger’s. “What if I wrote a song and played it for her at the festival?”
“Couldn’t hurt.”
***
My muscles ache and my hands are on fire. Sweat drips off my hair and into my eyes, but I can’t stop punching.
The bag hangs in front of me in my home gym. Grunting like a beast with every hit, my knuckles mutilate the black leather with a loud slap. I have aggression I need to work out before I get on that plane. I’ve managed to stay sober, which is a feat in and of itself, but regulating my temper is not as easy.
Two days.
That’s how much longer until I’m staring into the beautiful brown eyes of the girl who torments my dreams. Banger said she is seeing some guy. Whenever I imagine his hands on her body and her legs wrapped around him, the thought causes a blind rage that stirs up the urge to kill. The bag jerks hard as my fist slams into it with the driving force of a team of Clydesdales.
I have to get my shit together. I cannot go ballistic at this wedding when I see her there with someone else. Somehow, I need to prove to her that I’m not the violent asshole she thinks I am. I have to formulate a plan. If I don’t play this cool, I’ll lose her forever. Banger didn’t say anything about this guy, other than they’ve been seeing each other a few months already. It would be a lot easier if I knew what I was up against.
When I finally give the bag a rest, my arms are Jell-O, and my hands are numb. My chest is heaving like a madman as I stand there catching my breath. I suck down some water and crush the empty bottle in my fist, but my insides are still teeming with acid. I drop to the floor and start banging out sit-ups with fury.
Ainsley Daniels.
She belongs to me. I beat on my chest like the caveman I am to drive that point home and continue my workout, but I don’t count my reps. The word mine blinks inside my head in pink neon with each move.
Mine.
Mine.
Mine.
The last guy who touched her now eats his food through a straw. Ainsley’s deer in headlights look is the only reason the guy doesn’t have a size thirteen Doc Marten imprint on his forehead right now. I’d be willing to concede that maybe I overreacted just a tad, but whatever, the guy had it coming. I don’t fucking share.
My body is wrecked by the time my workout is complete. I’m sore all over. It hurts to move, but I peel myself off the floor and head to the shower.
Blasting hot water scalds my skin. My throbbing hands press against the tile and my head hangs down, letting the steaming water beat on my back. The spray relaxes my weary muscles, but raw, animal testosterone continues to pump through my veins, plumping up my dick as I think about her. I close my eyes to will my obnoxious erection away, but all I see is her face.
Taking matters into my own hands, literally, I grab the base of my cock and pump my fist upward. My eyes pinch shut, imagining that my hand is her body wrapped around me, soaking and hot. A groan bounces off the clean white tile as my forehead rests against it while pummeling my own dick with my furiously flying fist. Her name slides off my tongue. An eruption of cum shoots out of the tip then trickles down my hand like lava. This is what I’m reduced to—a grown man jerking off in the shower.
Ainsley is special. She’s not some groupie who just wants to hang around rock stars and party. She never cared about any of that shit. She’s the kind of woman you want to curl up with on the couch and hold in your arms until the sun comes up. The kind you want to kiss in the morning and make love to at night. If given the chance, I fully intend to spend the rest of my life doing all of those things and more.
CHAPTER 20
Ainsley
MY STOMACH IS in knots. I finish my makeup, which is a feat since my hands are shaking like a detox patient, and walk back into my messy bedroom.
Discarded dresses and shoes lie haphazardly around my room as I try to figure out what to wear to Jenny and Banger’s rehearsal. Eric will be here in half an hour, and I’m still standing in my bra and panties. It shouldn’t be this difficult, but I’m nervous. I want to look good but not too good. My conservative side and my wild side are fighting for control and wreaking havoc inside my brain. I wish Jenny were here to pick for me.
There has to be something else I missed. Ugh, I’m being ridiculous. I walk over to a little black dress in the corner and slide it on before I change my mind again. There, I’m done. Except . . .
I do a little turn in the mirror. The one-shouldered dress fits me like a glove, but something about it turns my stomach into stew. This dress is what I was wearing at the exact moment my relationship with Kade turned from casual sex into something more.
Wearing it is a bad idea. It sends the wrong message. I should take this dress off and get rid of it. But instead of throwing it in the fireplace and never looking at it again, I step into tall red and black leopard print heels and walk back toward the full-length mirror.
My hands slide down my body, smoothing the fabric flat against my skin. After all this time, I can still detect the faint scent of his aftershave in the soft fabric. It’s comforting, like coming home
after a long journey.
The doorbell rings right on time. “You look nice,” Eric says taking in my outfit, but his eyes linger a little too long on my shoes. Ever since we started dating, I’ve tried my best to wear smaller heels, usually in boring colors like black and nude. I can’t tell if the fact that the four-inch heels make us eye to eye is what bothers him, or if he just doesn’t like them. Either way, I don’t bother to ask. The realization comes far too late that I didn’t wear them for Eric. I wore them for someone else.
“You look nice too.” Eric’s trim suit looks tailored just for him. As usual, he’s pristinely put together, not a hair out of place. I like that he’s neat and tidy all the time. He balances out my mess. We look good together.
He kisses my cheek and opens the car door for me. The weird indie music he listens to fills the space as we pull out of the driveway. I don’t even know how you’d categorize it. The haunted voice of the woman singing is melodic and ethereal. It’s too delicate for the way I feel. I need something loud to drown out the sound of my thrashing heartbeat.
Ignoring the awful song, I take a deep breath and go for broke. “Eric, there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you.”
He turns the volume down on his radio and glances in my direction intently. “Well, I’m right here, love. What is it?”
Just like ripping off a Band-Aid.
“The man I was with before you is going to be here tonight. I should have told you sooner. I’m sorry. I just don’t want you to think I was purposely keeping it from you or anything.” My heart and lungs feel like I’ve been running in place. I’m warm, overly so for the balmy evening it is.