Manster

by Cari Quinn

  Not like they didn’t know where we were headed, but the thrill of losing a tail used to be one of my favorite games with Zach and Bats. By the time we got back to the studio, Hunter, Keys, and Owen were leaning against a SUV with Bats on the phone inside.

  “Nice of you to join us.” Keys crossed her arms. “I’ve had to listen to the warden for the last two hours because you guys took off.”

  Zach shrugged and climbed in the open door. “You can usually keep your husband occupied a little easier.”

  “Ha-ha. Nice shirt,” she said over her shoulder to me as she climbed in after Zach. “Why didn’t you guys take me with you?”

  “You disappeared with said husband.” Zach laced his fingers behind his head. “Off for a quickie, Keys?”

  Ah, bickering. It was my favorite soundtrack on these little outings. Since our fair keyboardist didn’t have a comeback—and her cheeks were nearly the color of her lip gloss—I figured she’d distracted our head of security with a little hallway action. At least that was what she was famous for in our little circle.

  Owen climbed into the third row of seats with Hunter as someone tapped the top of the window to let the driver know everyone was in.

  Just as well that I’d missed Quinn and Indie. I wasn’t in the mood for a lecture about disappearing. Keys snuggled in between Zach and me. “You guys are causing quite the stir.”

  “Really?”

  “My phone’s been blowing up for the last half hour. At least thirty people were live streaming that little jam session on various platforms. Indie is alternately creaming her panties and ready to string you up.”

  “Why?” I glanced down at Keys with a raised brow.

  “You actually got more buzz from that little stunt than the radio show. They aren’t exactly happy with us.”

  “Then the asshat shouldn’t have left us in the hallway like a pair of rejects,” I said.

  I grunted as my pocket buzzed again and again. At this rate, it was going to kill the battery, for fuck’s sake. I dug it out of my jeans and silenced it, but not before I saw the shit-ton of notifications.

  Jake had tagged us on the video and it was going viral. Add in all the replies with links to live feed, and we were a little bit famous. Imagine that?

  I turned in my seat and met Hunter’s gaze. “Sorry, man.”

  “Guy was a prick. He deserved it.” Hunter pulled his aviators out of his pocket and put them on as he crossed his arms and got comfortable. “Wake me when we get there. I got shit for sleep last night.”

  Owen stretched his hands over his head with a loud yawn. “I hear that, mate. Callie is up pacing half the night these days. I’ll be happy when the baby comes.”

  The ride to the airport was uneventful. We had another flight to Seattle and one more to Vegas in the morning. Things were starting to ramp up for the promotional tour. The single was releasing and it seemed to be nearly as important as dropping an album these days.

  “Unbreak the Broken” was a quieter song than usual for our first single. Keys had written a piano piece that pushed the band in a different direction. Instead of burying it or selling the song to another artist, we’d decided to try it out.

  So far, the sneaks had caused a buzz the likes of “Cathedral”, our last huge hit. Instead of turning away from the headier lyrics and more emotional content, Hunter and Keys had written most of the album together.

  The studio sessions had been uneven, but powerful. We were all excited to try something a little outside our wheelhouse. While there were a few low-key songs in the mix, most of them were still in our hard-edged style. They just built from an emotional start instead of just a good time vibe.

  I was all for it.

  While I didn’t have much to do with the lyrics, my job was often to find the power in the songs and build in a beat that would match the guitars and bass. Our producer was willing to work with us, which was amazing, but he definitely didn’t rush us along. Which only encouraged all the linked-up couples to enjoy playing house.

  Only Zach and I were itchy to get on the road. Or at least I had been, before.

  I wasn’t analyzing that at the moment.

  Even Bats, who barely spoke to any of us these days, wasn’t pushing to get on a tour schedule. Strain was growing between Zach and Reed—enough that we’d all fallen into single rooms instead of doubling up like we used to.

  Again, more solitary moments for me to think too damn much.

  I flicked my phone to life and texted Piper. No way was I spending the whole damn night staring at the ceiling.

  Lesson two starts at 10:00PM. Keep your phone on, kitten.

  10

  Piper

  I cracked my knuckles as I paced across my living room. This was crazy. What did he mean by that damn text? Lesson two was at ten o’clock. What? Text-sex-a-palooza had a time schedule?

  That seemed weird. Maybe a touch creepy. I couldn’t get turned on at his command.

  Okay, so maybe Hudson could do it. He certainly had the night before, but I wasn’t a machine. And my body wasn’t used to all that attention.

  Good grief, this was my complaint. I needed to be shot.

  Rosie hopped up on the arm of the couch and tilted her head at me. I scratched her ear absentmindedly as I glanced down at my phone. Ten minutes.

  I was going to throw up. And whoa boy, was that sexy.

  I flipped my wet braid over my shoulder and played with the tail. I’d taken a shower and done all sorts of primping. It wasn’t as if he was coming over at ten.

  At least I didn’t think so.

  He hadn’t replied to the half dozen questions I’d had. Probably trying to get back at me for my silent text treatment until I’d been able to take a break. I didn’t know what to say and flirting over texts was just weird. Everything sounded cheesy.

  Well, except for his. They were most definitely not lame. They were sweet and hormone-inducing.

  I’d been wound up all day and distractible during the closing of the cafe. Tabs had given up on me stringing a coherent conversation together on the ride home.

  Her pep talk had been disturbingly chipper. Not like her at all. She’d probably been afraid to say anything that might make me hide under my covers for the rest of my life.

  Was I truly this doomed when it came to dealing with a man?

  Was it ten minutes yet?

  I glanced down. Only three minutes had gone by.

  Was he even worried about this countdown clock like I was? Probably not. He’d probably forget to text or he might even be out with someone else.

  Maybe the girl he’d given his freaking shirt to.

  Yeah, that had been the gift that kept on giving this evening. I couldn’t even be mad about it. Except for the fact that he’d taken his shirt off for her. Maybe. I wasn’t sure about that one. All I had to go by was the viral video of her screeching with his white dress shirt in her hand.

  Hudson was the most fashion-conscious male I’d ever met. He was always put together to the nth degree. No way would he just hand over his shirt. Did he hand over a kiss at the same time?

  Like I had anything to say about it. But I hadn’t even gotten a damn kiss initiated by Wyatt yet—my attempts to lay one on him so did not count as true kisses—and if that little tramp had…

  Stop it. She’s not a tramp. She’s probably a very nice woman who just shrieks far too much.

  I shut my eyes. I had to get it together. I was literally losing my grip here.

  My phone shuddered and buzzed and a ringtone came blaring out.

  A phone call?

  I stared down at the phone for a full two more rings before I punched accept. “Hello?”

  “Hello, kitten.”

  “Why are you calling me?”

  “Hello to you too.”

  I rolled my eyes, thankful that he couldn’t see me right now. “Hi. I wasn’t expecting a phone call, that’s all.”

  “Well, there’s only so far we can go with texting. Besid
es, I want to hear that little purr in your voice like I did last night.”

  My face flamed. Again, some bonuses to the phone. He had no idea how shocked my expression must be. “And why would you hear that? You’re not here.”

  “No, but my voice is. And those pretty, ringed fingers are going to do exactly what I tell them to do. I suggest you head to your bedroom for this one. I’m going to need you to spread out.”

  My mouth dropped open. “What?” I squeaked.

  “Lesson two has a final exam as well. You’ve graduated from sexting to phone sex for a final grade. I expect high marks from you.”

  For someone who didn’t want to play teacher, he was certainly rising to the occasion. And now I had the memory of his hard dick in my head again. It had been pressed into the small of my back all last night, even when we’d ended up horizontal on my couch. I had a hazy memory of him spooning me in the night.

  His big spoon was definitely impressive.

  “Are you speechless over there?”

  “Just a little bit.”

  “Good. I like when you’re surprised.”

  “You surprise me hourly.”

  “Well, that makes two of us, kitten.”

  My belly flipped and my skin tingled at the rumbly tone of his voice as he called me his preferred nickname. I wasn’t supposed to like it, dammit. But sweet mercy, I couldn’t get the sound of it out of my head. At the oddest times during the day, the echo of it slapped me sideways.

  Was this what it was like to be infatuated? If it was, I was screwed. It was very distracting in so many awful ways. Mostly because it was addicting as all get out.

  “Are you in your room?”

  “No.”

  “Well, take yourself there. And I want you in nothing but my shirt.”

  “What shirt?”

  “The one I left behind this morning.”

  “Is that a thing for you? Calling card a la Hudson Wyatt?” I hadn’t meant to blurt that out. God, I sounded like a bitch.

  “Um, no. I thought since it smelled like you after you rubbed yourself all over me last night that you might like to keep it.”

  “Why?”

  “Maybe I’m wrong.”

  “No, you’re not.” I didn’t know he’d left it behind.

  “Then what’s with the tone, Piper?”

  I wrinkled my nose. I didn’t like it when he called me Piper. At all. I was so twisted up.

  I huffed out a breath. “Your shirt made the rounds on the internet today.”

  “Is that right? So you were checking up on me?”

  “That is not the point, Hudson.”

  “Oh, but it is.” His voice was low and there was way too much pleasure in it.

  “I just want to know if I’m one of the horde, that’s all.”

  “No, kitten. It’s not a calling card. She was a fan and I was holding a sweaty shirt. For some reason, fans find that sort of thing appealing. Elvis and his scarves, same thing.”

  “You’re equating yourself with Elvis? I already knew your ego was healthy, but that’s a bit much even for you.”

  He barked out a laugh. “Oh, you definitely keep me from getting a swelled head. At least the one on my shoulders.”

  “Why is that so funny?”

  “What you didn’t see was I was wearing a T-shirt from the guitar shop we were in.”

  “Oh.”

  “Yeah, oh. I gotta say I’m enjoying this bit of jealousy.”

  “Why? We’re not exclusive. We’re not anything.” Crap. That sounded awful. “I mean—”

  “I know.” His voice was quiet. “But I wouldn’t do that to you. When I’m with you, even with this little game we have going on, I wouldn’t do that. All right?”

  I blew out a breath. “All right. Me too.”

  “Good to know, kitten.”

  “Right.” I nodded. “Now where did you leave the shirt? Is it a hide and seek sort of thing?” I scanned the room. My house wasn’t that big, for God’s sake.

  Then I spotted the shirt draped on the chair behind my laundry basket. I crossed the room to it and picked it up, instantly bringing the material to my nose. Obviously, I was way more pervy than I knew was possible.

  “Find it?”

  “Yes. Nice of you to put your dirty shirt near my clean laundry.”

  “Strip, kitten.”

  I swallowed at his authoritative voice. I wasn’t sure if his tone was spurring me on, or just my curiosity about what he would want me to do. I decided that my excitement had way more to do with the experience than the arousing timbre of his voice.

  Or at least that was what I told myself as I headed down the hallway to my bedroom.

  “Am I supposed to put the phone down while I, um, get undressed?”

  “Well, if I wanted you to actually strip for me, it would have been a FaceTime call.”

  “Oh.”

  “Don’t sound so intrigued.”

  “I’m not. I mean, what am I supposed to do? Stick the phone between my feet and hold it as I’m, well, you know.”

  He groaned. “Kitten, come on. You’re killing me.”

  “That’s hot?”

  “I watched you touch that perfect pussy from over your shoulder last night. If I’d had an even closer bird’s eye view, you wouldn’t have been alone in your orgasm.”

  “I told you I was willing.”

  “I don’t want you willing. I want you so far gone you can’t wait to get me inside you.”

  I swallowed. Hard. I didn’t think I’d ever gone there with anyone. Even when I was at the height of my experimental stage in college, I hadn’t done anything of the stupid variety. Well, other than get involved with a guy named Bobby. That had been a mistake on about three dozen levels.

  But if anyone could get me there, I was pretty sure it was this man. Then again, he’d been the one to get me to have my very first solo orgasm with an audience. I hadn’t thought that was possible. My life was a series of firsts with Hudson Wyatt.

  I moved through the threshold to my room and had a zooming Rosie follow me inside. I’d never had sex in front of one of my cats. Not that this was sex, but it was close enough.

  Then again, I also didn’t close the door on my cats. They liked to sleep on the end of my bed. They also liked to nibble my toes if I flexed my foot wrong under the covers. What the hell were they going to do when I was—well, when my fingers were otherwise engaged.

  I dropped the phone on my bed and switched to speakerphone. “Okay, I’m in my room. Give me a second.” I shoved my decorative pillows off the bed.

  “What the hell are you doing?”

  I held up my boyfriend pillow and stared down at the screen. Hmm, good thing we didn’t have video chat going. Awkward. I tossed the arm-like pillow wearing half a man’s dress shirt onto the oversized chair in the corner of my bedroom.

  How the hell was I going to explain that?

  “Um, I’m unmaking my bed.” I shrugged. Close enough.

  “What are you wearing?”

  I looked down at my lacy tank top and yoga pants. Not exactly hot. “A garter belt and a push-up bra.”

  “Hmm.” He sounded like he was moving around on something. Was he on a bed too? The thought of that made sweat gather between my breasts.

  I so sucked at this.

  “What are you really wearing?”

  I huffed out a sigh. “Yoga pants and a sleep tank. I’m about as sexy as a kindergarten teacher.”

  “I like when you wear that soft cotton. Especially when it hugs that superior ass of yours. What I like even better? When those pants are on the floor. So take them off, kitten.”

  My hand instantly went to the little triangle necklace with tiny diamond chips I was wearing. I worried the edges of the triangle before dropping it back against my skin.

  It was now or never.

  I flipped off my gray lace top and then my pants.

  “Are you wearing my shirt?”

  “You don’t want me n
aked?”

  “I want that more than I’ve ever wanted anything in a damn long time.”

  “Well, okay. Wow.” I blew out an unsteady breath.

  “But if I can’t have your skin on mine, I want you wearing something of mine.”

  I sagged onto the bed, his shirt clutched in my hand. This was crazy. I brought it up to my nose and the spicy ginger scent of him lingered in the fabric. I quickly slipped it on and groaned. I’d never worn any material this fine in my life.

  “You like the idea of that?”

  Yes, I did, but I really didn’t need him to know that. “You must spend a pretty penny on your shirts.”

  “That I do. My size isn’t exactly off the rack.”

  Considering the tails of his dress shirt went to my knees, that was a very true statement. I crawled into the center of my bed and snapped the covers over me. The phone went with me. Oops. I pulled it out and set it on top of the covers as I got situated.

  “Sorry. Okay, I’m ready.”

  “Was I under the covers with you?”

  “Are you sure you didn’t stash a camera in my place when you were here?”

  “No, but that’s a good idea. One of those smart cameras that turns on only when you’re in the room. While you’re getting ready in the morning and you’re winding that rich, dark hair into one of those twist things. There’s nothing sexier than when a woman is getting ready. The nape of your neck especially.”

  God, what was he doing to me? That wasn’t supposed to be sexy. Not at all. And yet here he was telling me it was.

  Was he all talk? And if he was, then why were my nipples hard?

  I switched off the speakerphone and tucked him against my ear. “Do you practice this stuff? Because you’re way too natural at it.”

  “Ah, you’ve got me off of speaker. Good. I can hear that breathy voice now.”

  “I’m not breathy.”

  “Yes, you are. At least when you let yourself go.”

  I cuddled down into my soft pillow and comforter. “This is weird.”

  He laughed. Not at me, but as usual, he seemed amused by me. I couldn’t remember the last time anyone had ever been intrigued or entertained by me. Well, at least a human.