9781488051265

by Reverb (epub)

“If he wants that.” God, she hoped he did. There was flirting and then there was actual fucking.

  Ray’s expression leveled off. “Honey, when that man looks at you, there might as well be a sign saying ‘lay me out and fuck me’ above his head.”

  That made her cheeks heat. “It’s not that obvious, is it?” Good god, the press would be all over David, and she was damn sure he didn’t want that.

  “Well, to us it’s obvious. Plus, not like you two have been subtle with the flirting.” He scrunched up his face. “But maybe not to others? You guys are pretty pro in public.”

  She tried to be. David did, too.

  Mish leaned back against the leather of the couch. “So basically, jump his bones?”

  Ray patted her on the knee. “Yeah. He’s a good guy. You like each other. And...” He trailed off.

  Mish leveled her gaze at him. “And what, kiddo?”

  He matched her stare, his golden eyes steady and true. “He fits in. With you. With us. Like Adrian did.”

  Oh. That was the thing that made her insides tighten in both joy and fear. Ray saw that, too. Maybe Zavier and Dom did as well. “I—Okay.”

  “I’ve rendered you speechless,” Ray murmured. “That’s a first.”

  She punched him in the arm and he laughed, then rose. “I’m gonna head back up. You always tell me not to think too hard. Works both ways.” He vanished through the privacy curtain.

  Mish watched it sway in the chaos of Ray’s passing, then settle into a rhythmic pattern similar to the motion of the bus. Yeah, Ray’d grown up a lot recently, and she did feel better. Calmer.

  She still wanted to fall into bed with David Altet. Maybe more than that, too. Time would tell. But whatever happened, Ray and the band had her back.

  Chapter Ten

  No one on the crew bus had racked out in their berths to sleep, which was fine by David. Joking around and laughing with everyone covered his agitation and need to be at the hotel in New Hampshire right fucking now. God. Here he was, at forty-three, acting like a horny teenager. Even when he’d started on T and went through all that had entailed, including having a teenaged libido again, he hadn’t been this needy.

  Then again, it wasn’t entirely about sex. He’d gladly lie in Mish’s arms or sit near her and talk for hours. Whatever she wanted. Unusual for him, but also freeing. He’d been the pursuer in every single one of his relationships back to high school. Whether butch, masc, or male, he’d been expected to fill a role.

  Mish didn’t want a role. She wanted him. And the reverse was true. He’d caught glimpses of the woman behind the bass guitar, and wanted to see and hear more from her.

  On his knees? Sure. Inside her? Yes, please.

  The rumble and vibration of the road didn’t help at all, and he nearly groaned in frustration. They had several hours before they’d arrive. The next day would be free from activities—a time for the band to rest and the crew to relax. The following day, they’d pile back on the bus and head to the nearby venue.

  Hours and hours to get to know Mish in whatever way she wanted. Also hours and hours he should be working. There was information they needed to share with Mish and the rest of the band. They had to figure out how to stop this clown. Nothing had happened at this concert, but David had expected a lull in activity—that was normal. A way for the harasser to gaslight the victim with See, I’m gone, you’re safe before striking again.

  How could David claim to be working to protect Mish while getting too damn close to be able to do his job properly? He needed distance to be objective and observant. To not be fucking distracted.

  He knew better, knew what happened when someone looked away from their objective. People died.

  The creeping taste of sand edged up his throat. He hadn’t screwed up on deployment, thank god, but he’d seen that outcome too many times and had the mental scars to prove it.

  Marcella lifted an eyebrow, then swung across the aisle to sit next to him. David forestalled any questions by asking one of his own. “So why is it you ride on the crew bus and not with the band?”

  Shock overtook Marcella, then she laughed. “I could ask you the same, you know. Would make more sense for security to be riding with them.”

  David looked away, focusing on the floor of the bus. Yeah, that did make more sense, and they had the berth space, too. “They’re such a tight-knit group.”

  “That’s exactly why I’m here and not there.” She folded her hands into her lap. Well-kept nails with green sparkling nail polish at the ends of slender fingers. They went well with her dark hair and golden complexion. She’d changed out of her skirt and suit into jeans and a blouse, but looked a hell of a lot more put together than he did. “Back when I took this job, I knew I would have to be a stellar manager, fight for the band and to prove I could do my job. I also had to step so carefully. This band was put through hell by that asshole before me. Ray nearly died. Part of what I needed to do was to give them the space they needed to heal and grow after that. To become the family they were already forming for each other.”

  “But Ray trusts you.” He saw that in Ray’s smile and the way he spoke to Marcella.

  “Now he trusts me,” she said. “That wasn’t always the case. I had to earn his trust.”

  Something in the way she’d said that set him on edge. “You think I don’t have to earn his trust and respect?”

  “Of course you do. And you have, David.” She cocked her head and studied him. “You’re also being very careful about your friendship with Mish.”

  This time, he looked out at the highway as they sped along. “I’m not being careful. I should be, but I’m not.”

  “Some bonds are important to build.”

  That made him snap back and study her. “You’re saying I should build bonds with Mish?”

  “I’m staying that Twisted Wishes has its own rhyme and reason. Their dynamic is different from any other band I’ve worked with. They build friendships. Relationships. Passion that isn’t just in their fans. Ask anyone who’s ever worked for them. Being closer to Mish isn’t going to hinder you on the job. If anything, it’ll only help.”

  “You can’t know that.” But he did know what happened getting too close. He’d seen it happen with others in similar situations. He’d fucking lost people.

  He pushed the thought from his mind. He didn’t need those memories, either.

  She pursed her lips in that maybe, maybe not way. “I have been working with Twisted Wishes a little longer than you.”

  True. He raked a hand through his hair. Everything about this job, about Twisted Wishes, threw him for a loop. “What about the press?”

  She laughed outright at that. “Oh, leave them to me. That’s why I’m here, after all.” She turned thoughtful. “Don’t have any scandals in your closet, do you?”

  He shook his head. Everything that happened overseas had been the price of war. The only item in his closet was his birth name. “But I do have stuff I want to keep private, you know?”

  “Don’t we all. Such is business. Like I said, leave the press to me. Also, no one here will think one way or another if you fall in with Mish. Or if you don’t. Or if you two just—” She waved a hand. “Everyone loves her, and you’re a good guy.”

  “She’s gotten close to the crew before?”

  A wry smile. “So did Ray, I hear, before Zavier joined the band. It happens.”

  But did it happen to him? Should it? David grunted. “You know, bouncing at events and corporate security was easier than this.”

  “Well, yeah. Rock’s got its own rules. But it’s got to be more fun than a room full of suits.”

  “Oh yeah.” Couldn’t help the smile. “This is the most fun I’ve had. But also the most frustrating.” He held up his hand. “And I’m not talking about Mish. I mean her stalker.”

  That sobered
Marcella. “I know we’re going to cover that in detail tomorrow, but I wish you could find the guy.”

  “Me, too. Would make life easier.” And his mind less conflicted.

  She blew out a breath. “I’m curious about your theories, but I also don’t want to work myself up, so let’s table that until tomorrow as planned. And if you do decide to hook up with Mish, I’ll keep you and her out of the press until such a time you both want to be in the press. Deal?” She stuck out her hand.

  He clasped it. A warm and firm handshake. “Deal.”

  She let go, then shimmed up toward the front of the bus. “Hey, are there any more of those beers left?”

  David folded his arms across his chest. He could use a drink, in some respects. But he wanted to be completely sober when they arrived at the hotel.

  He knew exactly what he was going to do. Mish had invited him...he was going.

  David closed his eyes and listened to the road, hoping yet again he wasn’t making a huge mistake.

  * * *

  Mish stayed in back for a little longer after Ray had left, but the laughter from the front of the bus drew her out of her funk and sent her back up. Turned out Dom was trying to balance a spoon on the tip of his nose and failing miserably, since Adrian kept poking all of his ticklish places. The end result was a happy Dom wrapped in Adrian’s arms.

  They were so predictable. But it brought her joy to see Dom so free and easy with his life—no longer conflicted between the stage persona he loved and inhabited on tour, and the much more reserved dorky version of himself he’d hidden from everyone but the band.

  Adrian had helped Dom bridge that gap, and that had allowed Dom to settle deeper into Domino whenever they were on stage.

  On one of the other couches, Zavier was his usual bad-boy self, all sprawled out and stunning. Except she knew better. He gestured Mish over to join him, pulling up his legs to make space. Ray sat across the aisle, scribbling in his Moleskine.

  “He’s caught the song bug again,” Zavier said.

  “Shush,” came Ray’s replay. “Busy.”

  Mish chuckled and sat, and like a cat, Zavier shifted his legs over her lap. “Feeling better?”

  She thought about that. “Maybe. A little, yeah.”

  “You want my advice?” Zavier’s blue eyes were bright and it was pretty obvious he was in one of his way-the-hell-too-overstimulated moods.

  “I know your advice, honey. You’re gonna tell me I should fuck him.”

  Zavier grinned. “Maybe tie him down first.”

  The spoon Dom had been playing with hit the floor. “Zav!”

  He looked over at Dom. “What?”

  But Adrian was speaking into Dom’s ear, so whatever he’d been going to say was lost in a gulp of air. Dom muttered, “That’s not fair.”

  Adrian embraced Dom from behind. “Totally is, babe.”

  She shook her head. Tying David down did have an appeal, but she had no idea if David’s bedroom play even ventured into kink. Not everyone’s did, even if all her bandmates were kinky as hell, and loud.

  Thank god for earplugs. Even in the expensive hotels they stayed in, the walls didn’t keep all the noise out.

  Zavier shifted his legs to gain her attention, and the humor had fled into profound seriousness. “You enjoy his presence. You’re both interested in each other. You should totally fuck him.”

  Ray shut his book. “That’s Zav’s solution for all relationships.”

  “It is not.” Zavier wiggled his toes in his socks. “My solution is friendship, then trust, then fucking.” He ticked each off on his fingers. “Then commitment, if you both want that. But start with friendship and trust. There’s nothing more important.”

  She patted Zavier’s legs. “Honey, you’re a good soul, you know that?”

  “Don’t give him an ego,” Ray said, and there was laughter in his words.

  “Give?” Zavier looked affronted. “I already have an ego.” He crossed his arms behind his head.

  “Mmm.” The look Ray gave Zavier was like watching sunshine. Bright and warm. “You do.”

  These men were all perfect for each other. Even when they snarked and argued.

  “You want your husband back, Ray?” Mish patted Zavier again.

  “Nah. Keep him for a while. He’s good company.”

  “So says our fearless leader,” Zavier quipped.

  “You’re all good company.” Mish leaned back and closed her eyes. Friendship and trust. Then fucking. That was a reasonable plan. Zavier tended to see through all the bullshit.

  “You like David,” she murmured, knowing Zavier would hear and answer.

  “Yes, I do,” he said. “More importantly, you do. And you aren’t a fool, Mish Sullivan.”

  She huffed, then lapsed into silence, enjoying the warmth of Zavier’s legs and the murmur of conversation that ebbed and flowed around her.

  They pulled into the hotel fairly late, but this one was used to hosting stars, from rock to sports. Everything went smoothly in terms of getting their rooms and unloading their personal items. Marcella was there, talking quietly to the night manager, David by her side. He glanced up at Mish and held her gaze for a long moment before that dropped away and he addressed both managers, all business again.

  God, he was stunning. She watched his proud back as he followed the hotel manager and Marcella into the lobby.

  Zavier bumped her from behind. “Come on, princess. Let’s go to our rooms.”

  She snorted. “I’m not your fucking princess either, Zavier.”

  “Mmm. So very true. But the sooner you’re tucked in, the sooner your handsome prince can come a-knocking.” He had his devilish grin on, but the giddy nature of his voice belied how tired he must be.

  Ray grabbed his arm and tugged. “Hey, your handsome prince wants to go to bed. Shall we?”

  Zavier turned that sly smile onto his husband. “Yes, by all means, let’s go to bed.” The way he said it made Ray blush. Perhaps Zavier wasn’t that tired after all.

  She shook her head and followed Ray and Zavier through the sliding glass doors.

  Chapter Eleven

  The hotel was secure, thank god. David’s nerves settled down to something near normal. After talking to Marcella on the bus, he’d spent the rest of the time worrying that if, if, he chose to go off with Mish, he’d be leaving the rest of the band unprotected, even though he’d be sleeping, too.

  Didn’t matter where he slept, in reality, but a part of his brain was already thinking about setting up shifts to sit in the hall and working on that with the hotel security.

  However, Twisted Wishes wasn’t the first well-known group to come through this location. They were hardly the most famous. There was an entire floor of the hotel that was locked out to the rest of the guests. And honestly, at the cost per night for these rooms, he doubted any of this hotel’s guests would be crass enough to venture up to catch a peek at Twisted Wishes, not when they could pay for a fan encounter or just call up Marcella if they were well-known enough. There’d been a few famous folks who’d done that in the past.

  They shouldn’t have any issues. The night manager seemed a competent, thoughtful, no-nonsense woman. She’d answered all of his and Marcella’s questions, and everything had gone smoothly.

  So yes, his nerves were settled. Right up until the moment fucking Ray Van Zeller winked at him, as if he knew what the hell was going down. Or might go down. The band was tight-knit indeed. They were like a family, and they’d tacitly invited David into that little world. He didn’t know if he could belong or wanted to. He’d been on his own for so long.

  Whatever was between him and Mish, they needed to sort some of that out tonight, before tomorrow brought a host of emails and speculation about the stalker none of them wanted to think about.

  Before he’d headed to
the crew bus with a stack of keycards, Mish had caught his hand with hers, pulled him close, and whispered, “Please come to me tonight.”

  It had happened so fast. If anyone had blinked, they would have missed the slide of their bodies, and that second of intimate connection. The please had destroyed him, as had the lust in her breathless whisper.

  Now, after stowing his gear in the room assigned to him, he stood at the door of Mish’s room. David took a deep breath and knocked on the door.

  A few heartbeats later, the door opened, and Mish stood there dressed in a T-shirt that didn’t cover her bright pink lace panties. Fucking hell, that was a look. All that leg. The curve of her body. The V the lace traced from her hip straight to her mound.

  He didn’t even have time to croak out a hello before she beckoned him in with a crooked finger and a wicked smile, like something out of a very hot porno, and yeah, his body and mind responded the same way. Dry mouth, hard cock.

  He stepped inside her room, the door swung closed, and he was pressed up against the unyielding wall. Mish’s lips devoured his in a bruising hot kiss. He kissed her back, and he let his bag fall to the floor so he could grab her ass and pull her closer.

  She moaned into his mouth, or maybe he moaned into hers. Couldn’t tell. God, he wanted more of her grinding against him.

  They were doing this. No shame, no worries—only a sense that this moment was right and wonderful.

  She broke the kiss. “I was worried you wouldn’t come.”

  He couldn’t help the deep chuckle. “I don’t think you’re going to have to worry about that.” He slid his hands up her sides, grazing his thumbs against her breasts—no bra under the T-shirt.

  She shivered at his touch, and her laugh was light. “Oh, fuck you.”

  “Isn’t that the poi—”

  She swallowed the rest of his word with a kiss that had him on his toes, heat burning through every part of him. Her hands roved down his body and slipped under his shirt, and it was his turn to shudder at the touch of her skin on his. The small of his back had always been sensitive, and Mish’s nails trailing over the flesh there had him pressing up into her arms and gasping.