Down To You: Rockstar Romance (Sixth Street Bands Book 5)

by Jayne Frost

  There was a note on top as well, but fuck that—it was in cursive. However, I did fold up the scrap of paper and put it in my wallet for some unknown reason.

  Rolling my head from side to side, I continued the painstaking process of typing the letters from the document into the text to talk app on my phone.

  What else did I have to do?

  I’d rushed back to the hotel after the show without bothering with the meet and greet. So there wasn’t even anyone here to party with.

  My head snapped up when I heard the door whoosh closed in Tori’s room.

  Be cool.

  Yeah, no.

  Cool went right out the window when her voice drifted to my ears. She was singing. And not just any song. The tune we’d been working on.

  I jumped to my feet, only to skid to a stop at the door. It was open, just a crack. But if I knocked she might not answer. And if I barged in she might be naked.

  No … she was never naked.

  Tori changed in her bathroom, and on the few occasions I’d been around, she locked the door behind her. Girl was shy. And why did that get me hard?

  Shoving my depravity aside, I knocked as I entered, figuring that was the safest bet.

  Tori spun around, and her water bottle landed on the floor. Clear liquid spread at her feet, soaking into the plush carpet.

  I blinked at her.

  Rosy cheeks. Wild hair falling out of her ponytail in damp strands. Dewy skin. And the clothes—tight little shorts and an oversized T-shirt.

  The girl looked like she just rolled out of someone’s bed, and Dylan wasn’t anywhere in sight. Along with anyone else she knew. Interesting. But only in the way that made my blood boil and my fists clench.

  I leaned a hip against the doorframe. “Where you been?”

  Flushing a brighter shade of pink, she eased into a crouch to pick up what was left of her water. “Nowhere.”

  Cocking my head, I closed the gap between us. “Well, you weren’t here. So you had to be somewhere.”

  She glared up at me through impossibly long lashes. “Obviously.”

  “So what’s the big secret?”

  Shaking her head, she wobbled to her feet, and out of habit, my hand darted out, curving around her wrist so she wouldn’t fall. She was hot. And not in the way that made my balls ache. Her skin was warm.

  With my free hand, I tucked a damp curl behind her ear. “You’re flushed, Victoria. Wanna tell me what you’ve been doing?”

  “I was at the gym.” Two beats and those eyes met mine. “Don’t look at me like that, Logan. I used to run five miles a day. I hiked and cliff dived, and I even bungee jumped once on my twenty-first birthday. And I would’ve done it again, but, you know …”

  All that righteous indignation faded, and I saw her. The real Tori. Sad and strong, and beautifully broken. But it had nothing to do with her body.

  Since I wasn’t the right guy to fix her, I dropped her hand. “Time to stretch, princess.”

  “Yeah I was about to do that. You should go.”

  She averted her eyes as she unfurled the mat, and that’s how I knew she didn’t want me to leave.

  Her gaze snapped to mine when I knelt down beside her. “I will. After I help you stretch.”

  She pondered for only a moment before taking her place on the mat. We went through the usual routine, until I got to the butterfly stretch. With her legs spread, so inviting, I moved closer until I was between her thighs and our faces were inches apart.

  Bracing one hand by her head, I moved the other to the outside of her leg. “How does that feel?”

  My question had nothing to do with stretching, and everything to do with my fingers digging into her flesh as I molded her thigh to my ribs.

  Her eyes rolled back on a sigh. Taking that breath and the gasp that followed, my lips ghosted hers.

  “How about this? You like this?”

  Whatever self-control I had flew right out the window when she squeezed her legs together, trapping me against her warmth. My mouth crashed into hers, my tongue dipping inside. And I was right. She tasted like sugar and cinnamon and vanilla and … Victoria.

  The combination made me hard in all the right places and so fucking weak I couldn’t hold myself up.

  Her eyes popped open when I pulled away. “Wha …?”

  Sinking back onto my heels, I crossed my arms over my chest. “You want to tell me about your note?”

  All those endorphins flooding my brain, my cock hard enough to cut diamonds, and that’s what I wanted to know? Not how hard she wanted me to fuck her. Or which position she’d prefer when I ate her sweet pussy.

  Yeah, this wasn’t good.

  Her brows drew together over lust-filled eyes. “I … uh …”

  Suddenly the idea of facing her while she explained was too much. So I patted the outside of her thigh.

  “Roll over. Your hamstrings are tight. You can tell me while I get the knots out of your back.”

  Nodding, she pushed herself up and then turned around. But at the last minute, she tugged her T-shirt off.

  I didn’t move, didn’t breathe, my gaze fixed on the ink shading her skin. Dragon wings with sad eyes in the center spanned the entire width of her back. Between the wings sat a single letter, an R in bold font, with a crown on top. The tattoo had no color, except for some opaque strands weaved into the design here and there.

  Mesmerized, I brushed a finger over one luminescent thread and froze. It wasn’t ink, but a tiny scar. There were dozens of them. A web of pain she’d turned into art.

  “I was in one of the bunks in the back when the truck hit the bus,” Tori said after a long moment. “The impact knocked me through the window. Through the glass.”

  She glanced over her shoulder, a raven curl falling over her eyes. The same eyes from the portrait on her back

  “It could’ve been worse, I guess,” she said, smiling sadly.

  My hand curved around her hip, and she flinched. “How?”

  Turning back to the wall, she whispered, “I could’ve been facing the window.”

  Gazing over all the tiny threads, my stomach twisted. Every instinct told me I wasn’t worthy of her trust. That I should leave. I leaned in and pressed a kiss to her shoulder.

  It was meant to be a goodbye. Because I knew I’d probably fuck everything up in the end. But I couldn’t stop, and my lips moved north along the soft skin of her neck.

  “You’re beautiful, Victoria.” I ran my nose along the shell of her ear. “All of you.”

  It wasn’t some bullshit line to get into her pants. The truth was, I hadn’t needed to use a line on a woman in years. And even if I were inclined to pull one out of the archives, it would never fly with Tori.

  She let out a sigh, melting against me. And though I wanted to fuck her more than my next breath, to show her how beautiful she was and look into her eyes when she came undone so she’d know it was true, I simply slid my arm around her waist and held her.

  Her hand covered mine. And when her fingertips brushed lightly over my knuckles, we took our first shaky steps out of the friend zone.

  25

  Nashville, TN.

  Tennessee Welcomes You.

  The sign flew by, blurred by the fine sheen of mist coating the windshield. Shifting in my seat, I tipped my head back to peek at the speedometer. A hair over ninety. And climbing. Just like my pulse.

  “Can you slow down a little?”

  My voice was steady. I heard it above the roar of blood pounding between my ears. But Logan didn’t acknowledge me. He hadn’t said a word since we’d left Chicago five hours ago. Not about last night’s kiss. Or my awkward game of show and tell. Not about the anger management classes. Or his plea agreement.

  It was like he was going out of his way to ignore me.

  Panic stole my breath when he gunned the engine, sliding over the broken yellow line to pass a slow-moving truck. Tears blurred my eyes out of nowhere, and my fingernails dug into my legs with enough p
ressure to leave half-moon indents on my skin.

  “Pull over!” I choked when we were safely back in our lane. “Now!”

  As if he just realized I was there, Logan whipped his gaze in my direction. His brows drew together over confused blue eyes, and that hurt me even more. Only I knew I didn’t look hurt. It was fear he saw.

  And I was afraid.

  But it had little to do with the road or the droplets of rain spattering the windshield.

  I was afraid of Logan. Terrified of the way he pulled confessions from me like he tugged the threads on his frayed jeans. Effortlessly. And how he made my stomach flutter. But mostly, I was scared that he wasn’t feeling it too.

  His eyes darted back to the road a second before he found his voice. “What is it? What—”

  “Pull over!”

  I hated the panic lacing my tone. And the way the car felt too small. Or maybe it was my stupid emotions, running wild and taking up all the space.

  He looked around frantically, but since I chose to have my breakdown in the middle of nowhere on a two-lane road with no shoulder, he couldn’t comply with my wishes immediately.

  What was it about this guy that brought out the crazy? It wasn’t my usual brand, which I covered with a layer of bitchiness. This was the messy kind. The kind that builds and builds until it explodes all over your leather upholstery.

  And just to make things interesting, the spitting rain turned to a steady drizzle.

  Burying my head in my hands, I fought the torrent of tears.

  Breathe.

  A minute later the car coasted to a stop.

  “Victoria.”

  Logan’s voice was calm, eerily so, but I was long past consoling. I clawed at the door, and when it opened, I tumbled out onto the dirt. Scratch that—the mud. Because of course it would be mud. Dirt you could wipe away. But mud clung to your skin and your hair and your soul.

  When I heard his car door slam, I hauled to my feet, my cowboy boots sliding on the silt. And I ran. Which was the stupidest thing I could’ve done. Not only was my gait unsteady, but I had nowhere to go.

  He’d parked on a small patch of ground in front of a gate that lead to a pasture where cows and sheep and horses grazed twenty yards away. Except for one baby cow who’d found her way to the fence.

  “Victoria … stop!” Logan’s hand coiled around my wrist just as I sank to my knees in the grass. Crouching next to me when I reached through the barbed wire to pet the calf, he said, “She’s gonna bite you.”

  “No, she won’t.” My fingers slid over her pink nose. “See?”

  When I turned to Logan with a smile, he wasn’t looking at the calf. All of his focus was on me.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I wasn’t … I didn’t think …”

  Guilt pooled in my belly since only a fraction of all this had to do with his driving.

  My attention returned to the calf. “S’okay.”

  After a moment, he sighed and dropped to his butt in the mud. Surprise parted my lips. Because he had to be as crazy as I was. Crazier.

  “No, it’s not okay,” he said, pushing wet strands of blond hair out of his face. “I feel like I’m always apologizing to you. Why is that, princess?”

  I side-eyed him as I scratched behind the calf’s ear. She didn’t move, as if she were as interested in whatever he was about to say as I was. Only he didn’t speak.

  When he hung his head, it occurred to me that Logan wasn’t the jackass everyone made him out to be. Or else why would he be sitting out here in the rain, struggling to find the words to explain why he’d tripped over some imaginary line?

  Any other woman would’ve taken the fun he had to offer instead of trying to forge some deep connection. There were no more breathless kisses after my confession. He’d just held me like any good friend would.

  “You don’t need to apologize, Logan. Just take the anger management classes and the test. I was planning on flying back to Austin in a couple weeks anyway.”

  Or a month. But that didn’t matter. Whenever he finished the classes, I’d be gone.

  Logan’s head snapped up. “What are you talking about?”

  “Just some shit Mac is throwing at me. I’ve got to deal with it.”

  “In Austin?” I nodded, and the furrow on his brow deepened. “How long will you be gone?”

  I went back to petting Bessie. She was on the ground now, legs tucked under her body.

  “Well, I mean, after you take your classes, chances are I won’t need to be here.” Banishing the frown tugging the corners of my lips, I swallowed hard. “I know the only reason you drove to begin with is because of me. I don’t blame you for being frustrated.”

  A dry chuckle rumbled low in his chest, and when I looked over, his face was tilted to the sky.

  “Fuck!” he growled into the air, and I jerked. Shaking his head, he pressed his lips together. “I’m sorry. I’m not mad. I’m just …” His eyes found mine, pale blue and stripped free of any guile. “I didn’t have a chance to read your papers, so I don’t know what that’s all about. I drove because, well … whatever, that doesn’t matter either. As far as my mood, that’s what I was trying to explain.” Taking my free hand, he looked down at his thumb as it glided back and forth over my wet skin. “Last year when I found Laurel, she was here … in Tennessee.” His mouth twisted up like he’d tasted something sour. “She was working at a strip club. I spent a few months here looking for her. That’s what I was thinking about. How much I hate this fucking place. And the closer we got … I don’t know …”

  His declaration ended on a sigh, and before I could process anything he’d said, he reached inside the fence and rubbed the spot between Bessie’s big brown eyes.

  “What do you imagine she’s thinking?” he asked, his brows turning inward in contemplation.

  I took the abrupt shift to mean we were done with true confessions. For the moment at least.

  I shrugged, fingering the little tag on her ear. “Don’t eat me.”

  He laughed, and the sound was like a melody. A song that spoke to a place deep inside of me that longed to hear music again.

  “We should go,” he finally said, shoving to his feet.

  Bessie rested her chin on the wire between two barbs and I leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to the top of her nose before taking Logan’s hand.

  When he hauled me up, he didn’t let go. “Where’s mine?”

  I looked up at him, blinking the rain from my eyes. “Your what?”

  His free hand slid to the back of my neck, and I shivered, because I knew. And he knew I knew. Which is why he didn’t hesitate to pull my mouth to his. The kiss was chaste and sweet and totally different from the one we’d shared in the suite. But I felt it in my toes and my fingertips, and everywhere in between.

  He rested his forehead against mine. “You ready?”

  The question tripped from his lips, filled with innuendo and dripping with dark promises.

  He’s going to wreck you.

  It should’ve scared me, that voice in my head. But I didn’t pay attention. Because I was already wrecked. Love had wrecked me a long time ago. And this wasn’t that.

  Safe in that assumption, I nodded and let Logan lead me to the car.

  26

  “Rock and Roll Princess Moves On From Her Prince

  Almost six years after the death of Rhenn Grayson in a tragic bus crash, sources confirm that Tori Grayson, Rhenn’s widow, has moved on with a mystery man. While staying in Nashville to oversee the Six Street Survival Tour, exclusive photos were obtained of …”

  The reading software spilling the dirty details into my ear stopped abruptly when I hit the link on my phone and four pictures flashed on the screen.

  It was Tori’s suite all right.

  Two Styrofoam containers of half-eaten Chinese food sat on the coffee table next to a Dr. Pepper can and an empty bottle of Shiner Bock. Nothing incriminating about that. But the men’s boots—my boots—tucked next to the
couch weren’t so easily dismissed. And of course, there was the requisite picture of the unmade bed. A doctored image, with the sheets bunched by the footboard and the comforter hanging halfway off the mattress.

  Whichever rag had commissioned the photos worked fast, since we’d only been in town a day and a half.

  The door between our two suites crashed into the wall when Tori rushed in, still dressed in the oversized T-shirt and tiny shorts she’d been wearing a half hour ago when she’d trotted off to the gym. Face flushed and eyes shimmering, she skidded to a stop in front of me and thrust her iPad under my nose.

  “Someone was in my suite. Look.”

  Panic threaded her tone, a tear spilling onto her cheek as she blinked at the screen, then at me, like somehow, I could fix it. I didn’t know whether she was more concerned with the story itself or the breach of security. And I guess it didn’t matter.

  Taking the iPad from her shaking hand, I set it on the table and climbed to my feet. “I saw them.” Her face crumbled, and I whisked away the next tear as I cupped her cheeks. “They don’t prove anything.”

  Because there was nothing to prove. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t dream about doing some really dirty things with Tori. Filthy things that hadn’t been invented yet. And sweet things. All the things. But we weren’t there yet. And right now, I was more concerned with finding the person who violated her privacy and making them pay with bones and flesh.

  Her shoulders sagged, and she took a seat on the sofa, bottom lip entrenched between her teeth. “Elise is on her way up.”

  Tori was too shell-shocked to realize how it might look—her being in my suite at eight a.m., with me wearing only a pair of gray sweatpants and shower damp hair.

  “I need to get dressed,” I said. “And you should go wait for Elise.”

  Honestly, I didn’t care if Tori sat right here while every member of the Big Three walked in, but I knew that wasn’t what she wanted. Taryn and Elise could spin this right out into the atmosphere as long as everyone believed it wasn’t true.

  Tori nodded, and I helped her to her feet. Sliding a hand into her hair, I tipped her chin with my thumb so I could look into her eyes. “Don’t worry, baby.”