But this—watching his voice take over the music, watching him interpret each song with his entire body...
To see that kind of talent is both awe-inspiring and humbling. Most humans aren’t blessed that way. And watching him onstage, I slide right into the role of fan, because the creature that’s strutting around out there? I can’t even bear the idea of being near that radiance.
I’ll get burned.
By the time he slides into his encore, I’m as seduced by him as every other woman who has seen him in a photo spread in a magazine and wanted him. Except that I know that once he’s offstage, he’ll become human again, and he’ll run hot and cold, tell me he wants me and then to stay away... holding me hostage against my will.
And I still want him. I want him in the same way as all of those women, and in a way that belongs entirely to us, to Adam and Carly.
Heart in my throat, I watch him launch into one final song.
I almost swallow my tongue when he casts a look in my direction, his stare finding mine and holding as he sings, as though the words coming from inside of him are meant for me and me alone.
Don’t leave me now, I am working it out
Don’t leave me now, I will come around
I’m in the dark, need to find the light
Just don’t break my heart
When he mops sweat from his brow with a towel and becomes human again, I make up my mind.
I’ve never wanted anyone as much as I want him.
I may never again, especially if I return to working for Miss Black.
I’m all in. No matter how incredibly, ridiculously stupid it is.
As the final notes of the haunting song fade, and the cheers rise, Adam does something that throws me completely off my game—he casts one quick look at me, then grabs his bass player—his male bass player—and lays one on him. And we’re not talking a little peck—this is an open-mouthed, raw, hair-grabbing kiss that’s as dirty as fucking.
The crowd absolutely roars, but Adam doesn’t seem to hear. He puts his everything into that kiss, and I’m mesmerized by the flash of tangling tongues, and the way that Adam’s hand cups the other man’s undeniably fine ass.
When he releases the bass player, and the other man grins and wanders over to join the rest of the band, Adam seeks me out, one eyebrow raised in question. I know what he’s doing—he’s trying to push me away, even as he pulls me closer.
But this doesn’t have the effect on me that he wants it to. No, far from being repulsed, I feel my body suffuse with heat, feel dampness surge between my legs.
If Adam willingly kissed another woman? I’d channel every last one of my trailer park roots and rip her hair out. And I don’t count Shanti the model in that equation.
Watching him kiss a man, and knowing he’s enjoying it?
It’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.
My knees are trembling as Adam stalks off the stage without even a backward glance at his screaming fans, making his way directly to me. His hand finds my waist, his palm as scorching as the heat in his eyes. I can feel my body respond, his fever igniting my own, and I reach up and tangle my fingers in his hair.
“You sure you want to take this on?” Grabbing me by my elbows, he jerks me up to my tiptoes, supporting me when I would have fallen. “I’m not a good person, Carly. I’ve warned you what’s inside of me. But I can’t hold back anymore, because I’m used to getting what I want. I want to do dirty fucking things with you. But not because you feel you have to, that I paid you to. Only because you want to.”
Being held the way I am, I don’t have much room to move. But I dip my head and lightly sink my teeth into the taut muscle of his shoulder, savoring the salt of his sweat.
The way Adam’s pupils dilate tells me that there’s no going back now.
“Carly.” Adam growls, then jerks me up even higher, crushing my mouth under his own. I’m vaguely aware of my answering moan, and of a rising brightness as I sink into the kiss.
Adam jerks away far too quickly for my liking, and I protest, tilting my head for more. But then I realize that the lights are the flashes of cameras, almost every person backstage having pulled their cell phones out to record this moment of tabloid history—Adam Kincaid kissing a woman.
“Fuck.” Adam snarls at the people around him—the people who are only here because he signs their paycheques. Even though he’s warned me that these people all want a piece of him, I’m still stunned.
I’d never think of illicitly recording what is clearly such an intimate moment. But I know as I see them all tapping away at their tablets and phones, that each and every one of them is looking to get an extra paycheque out of that stolen moment.
I don’t have time to comment, because Adam swoops me up in his arms—and oh my God, the way the movement makes his muscles ripple does funny things to my heart. And then he’s striding across the floor, growling at anyone who gets in our way.
He carries me all the way to a door marked Dressing Room A. One quick shove and we’re through, the door closed and locked behind us.
My pulse stutters, then begins to pound at hyper speed as he presses me to the door and places me back on my feet, the descent a long, liquid slide against his body, one that lets me feel all the hard planes of his body.
“I need a shower.” Eyes on me, he peels off that studded shrug that should look make him look ridiculous and instead tells me he just doesn’t give a fuck what other people think. Each movement makes the dark, tribal sun tattoo on his ribcage ripple, and my fingers itch to touch.
“Come with me?” He tosses the leather aside, revealing skin that’s slick with sweat. His fingers stray to the fastening of those tight pants, a cocky grin playing over his mouth.
I might have teased him, if I hadn’t seen that hint of uncertainty, almost hidden underneath.
It’s this that I’m drawn to—the hints of the real Adam hidden beneath the superstar. But if I tell him that, he’ll just push me away again.
I don’t speak. Instead I slowly clasp the hem of my T-shirt in damp fingers, drawing it up and over my head. Nerves make me tremble and I fight the urge to cover my naked breasts with my hands, suddenly wishing that Amy had brought me a bra, any kind of bra.
“So fucking gorgeous.” My nerves vanish in the face of Adam’s whispered, almost reverent words, and I force myself to lower my hands, letting him look.
I can feel my nipples tighten under the weight of his stare, and I swear I can feel it all the way through my core, right down to the suddenly slick heat between my legs.
He takes a step closer to me, and I watch, breathless, as he unbuckles his belt, then undoes the buttons of his fly, one by one. With his thumbs hooked in the waist of the leather, I can see enough to know that he’s naked underneath, his cock eager to escape from its snug prison.
I want to touch, want to run my fingers over skin that I know is going to feel like hot silk.
But I want to give him more, first. So rather than reaching for him like I want to do, I undo my own jeans, working the skin-tight denim down my hips and thighs, bit by bit, until it’s around my ankles and I step out.
I can feel my skin flushing with uncertainty as I stand before him in nothing but those barely there panties that Amy got for me. From my foray into buying lingerie for my job with Miss Black, I know very well that you can buy this kind of underpants—crotchless ones—in a style that doesn’t look any different from any other cute undergarment, save for its naughty little secret. But Amy got me a pair that would make a stripper blush... it’s basically a set of strings that wrap around each hip, and a nearly invisible triangle of nude lace that fastens with satin bows. One quick tug, and it will fall to pieces.
I can’t read the expression on Adam’s face as his gaze sweeps over me from head to toe. I bite my lip, worried, and it’s more than the usual first time naked with someone jitters.
Will he still be attracted to me, seeing my, ah, feminine curves? Or will he realize that his attraction to me i
s false, just the result of an intense, exciting situation?
And then he’s closed the distance between us, and his hands are cupping my breasts. His touch is firm, his expression serious.
“I’m glad you weren’t wearing a bra.” Slowly, so slowly, he rubs his thumbs over my nipples, and I arch into the touch, savoring the way it makes me ache. “I wouldn’t know how to take it off.”
“Really?” I moan as he explores the tight points of my breasts with curious fingers. “I mean, I knew woman weren’t, ah... weren’t your first choice. But...”
“But?” His expression darkens as he takes my nipples between thumb and forefinger and rolls them and I shiver. He’s watching me intently, I know, because he’s unfamiliar with my body and wants to know how I react.
“But I figured you’d... you know... done this a few times at least.” His fingers still, and I whimper in protest.
“So you figure I roll around in a big orgy of debauchery every night?” His lips curl into a half smile as I huff with frustration and wiggle, trying to get him to move again.
“Maybe?” This time my smile is a little bit wicked. I figure I’m allowed to tease him, since technically I’m an escort—never mind that I haven’t actually completed a job yet.
He huffs out a laugh, then without warning drops my breasts and grabs the curve of my waist, pulling me flush against him. He’s hot and hard and everything that turns me on... I just hope he’s into the softness that defines me.
“Since you’re so interested...” One hand curls around my back to stroke up and down my spine. “I’ve been in situations where others are having sex with women. I’ve watched men having sex with women, and women having sex with women.”
My breath catches, and I look up to meet his eyes. Part of me is hideously jealous of anyone that has ever seen Adam Kincaid in such an intimate moment, but part of me is relishing the ridiculously hot mental images that his words are putting in my head. What was he doing in these situations? Was he having sex with one man? Two? Did he touch the woman at all? Did they touch him?
The play of his fingers up and down my spine makes sparks fly in the wake of his touch, heightened by the deliciously dirty images that are playing through my head.
“And I like to kiss girls from time to time, because they’re soft and pretty.” Jealousy and desire are a potent combination, making me tremble when he traces his touch over my shoulder blades.
“You’re not exactly convincing me that you’re not all orgy-tastic,” I whisper. Unable to stand there passively and let him have all the fun, I feather my hands over his pecs, savoring the feel of those ridiculously solid muscles under hot skin, and feel saliva pool in my mouth.
Adam grins, his eyes at half mast as I tentatively explore the hard planes of his chest. When my fingers dip lower, playing over the lines of the naughty vee of his hips, he sucks in a breath.
“I never said I was all sweet and innocent, Carly.” In a lightning fast move, he catches my wrists in his hands, holds tight. I can feel my pupils dilate.
He may not know what he’s doing with a female body, exactly, but he’s still not afraid to take control.
And though I’ve always thought that what I wanted from a relationship was to be the one in control, now I know that I’ve been completely wrong.
I want to have that control... but only so that I can give it away to someone who knows what the hell to do with it.
“So you’ve... you’ve never been with a woman?” I hate the weakness I hear in my voice. It shouldn’t matter, it really shouldn’t. But I just can’t help but hope that I’ll be his first, burned into his memory long after I’ve returned to my old life.
He stills, his face suddenly devoid of emotion. I want to backtrack, to soothe him... but even though he’s made me wet and aching, I’m still mad at his habit of tricking me into giving him information, then withdrawing when it’s time to share himself. So I wait, barely daring to breathe.
“One.” Bending his head, his breath ruffles my hair. “Just one. And so long ago.”
Pulling away, I stand on my tiptoes and take his face in my hands. There’s something in his voice that breaks my heart, tears it right down the middle.
I want to make that pain go away, or at least make him forget. Unable to stretch up any higher, I pull at him, making him stoop until I can press my lips against his own.
God, but he’s an amazing kisser. He’s had a lot of practice, I’m sure, and that I don’t mind, since it means he knows what the hell he’s doing. When he slants his lips over mine and cups the back of my neck in his hand possessively, I remember how he did the same to his bass player, the two dark heads pressing together, masculine hands exploring.
I wonder if he’s like that with everyone, giving his full attention to whoever he’s with. Making them feel special.
“Stop thinking.” Adam mutters against my lips, his hands sliding down to cup and squeeze my hips. He slides one finger beneath the string that crosses over my hip, just a tease, and I shudder.
“Do that again, and I won’t be able to think about anything.” No hesitation—he pinches the sides of my skimpy underpants and works them down, then back up. The movement pushes the triangle of fabric between my lower lips, so that when he next tugs, it pulls tight, right over my clit, and I cry out.
“You’re going to have to tell me.” Eyes pinned to me, absorbing my reactions, every little shudder and sigh, Adam slides one hand to the front of my panties and one to the back. He works it back and forth, back and forth, and grins when I choke out his name. “Like that. That sexy little noise you just made makes me think I’ve found your clit. But a clit is a lot harder to locate than a cock, so maybe I should just check.”
He slides his hand between my legs, and my pulse thunders in my veins. I want to be an active participant, but as my hands find his hard biceps, all I can do is hold on.
He slides his fingers through my labia, pressing through the slit in the panties as my eyes roll back in my head. He strokes through the moisture and heat, coming close to the centre of my pleasure, searching for but never quite finding it, and I whimper.
“You have to tell me.” His words are rough, teasing. “I don’t know what I’m doing, remember?”
“The hell you don’t,” I mutter, eyeing the wicked grin on his face. To punish me for my attitude he slows his hand, and I swear.
“There. Just... ah!” When his fingers find that hard little nub I buck into his hand. I’m ready to go over just from this, from the way he’s watching me, so intent on bringing me pleasure.
I groan when he circles his finger over the swollen, slippery spot. He’s not entirely steady in his movements, but he is determined, and it feels better than any fumble fingered touch I’ve ever had down there before.
“You’re fucking gorgeous when you’re all worked up, kitten.” He laughs again as, unable to stand any longer, my knees wobble and I collapse against his chest.
“Now let’s see if I can get this right. When I do this—” he circles just around the outside of my pleasure zone, and a light growl emits from my throat—“you get cranky. Because it’s not enough, am I right?”
I can’t respond with more than a jerky nod against his chest, my fingers clawing at the skin hard enough to leave marks. We’re generating an inferno, sealing our skin together with heat.
“So that must mean you like it more like this.” His thumb joins his forefinger and he catches my clit between them, rubbing in a way that makes me see stars.
Men—boys—have been able to work pleasure out of me before, but they’ve been weak, pale sensations compared to what is rioting through me right now. And maybe that’s because while Adam isn’t the most experienced at bringing a woman pleasure, he still wears his confidence like he wears his stage persona—he owns it.
The orgasm builds low in my belly, curling my toes. I’m scared to move, to even breathe for fear it will disappear, as it so often does. But then he pulls me to him and devour
s my lips, his hand crushed between my legs, and I’m gone.
I cry out my pleasure as I ride his hand. His fingers release my clit and one slides inside of me, passage eased by the surge of wetness between my legs, and I writhe on his finger until he adds a second one. I feel wide eyed and wild, but the glimpse I get of his face shows me that he’s completely into it, so I stop worrying and ride out the shudders.
When I come to, my face is buried between his arm and his chest, sweat gluing us together. I run a shaky hand through my hair, pushing the tangled strands out of my face, sure that I must look like a disaster.
When I get up the guts to look him in the face—I’ve never let go like that before—I find him smiling smugly down at me.
I’d be annoyed, if he hadn’t just owned me.
“Your turn,” I whisper, sliding my hand down, then down some more. With far less confidence than he showed with me, I curl my fingers around his erection, which is begging to be freed from the confines of his leather pants.
And goddamn, but he’s big. Big and thick and hot and hard, and though I’ve never much cared for giving oral sex, or for the way boys are inclined to push your head down to give you the hint, my mouth absolutely waters with the need to taste.
“Carly.” Adam groans and thrusts forward into my hand. I swipe my thumb over the tip, grinning to myself when I feel moisture beading there.
“You were way too good at that. I’m not sure I believe that you haven’t done it before.” My voice is teasing as I pump my hand down his length, then bring it back up. I want to make him feel good about how much pleasure he gave me.
But my words seem to have the opposite effect. I can feel his entire body tense, and not in a good way. I hesitate, losing confidence, but don’t still my hand.
At least, I don’t still it until he twines his fingers with my own and gently pulls my hands from his pants.
“What’s wrong?” Oh God. Maybe having my hands on him has shown him that he’s not really into me—into girls—after all. But the rigid length of flesh that’s still pressing into my abdomen, and the harsh groan he utters when I release him beg to differ.
The Chase Page 10