Consume

by Jessica Prince

“Hey, you asked.” He shrugged, gathering his papers and standing from the couch. “I need to go over this with the team before tomorrow. I’ll leave you to your stewing.”

  “Thanks, asshole.”

  Then he was gone. And just as he said, I stewed. I stewed and stewed until I couldn’t take my own company anymore.

  Deciding to go see what Mace was getting himself up to—since Declan and Garrett were both bedded down with their women for the night—I donned my ball cap, grabbed my wallet and room key, and headed out of my room… right at the moment Marco leaned down and kissed Gina in front of her hotel room door.

  Fuck my FUCKING life.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Gina

  The date had gone better than I could have expected. The dinner had been lovely, the conversation even better, and I’d laughed so much the sorely underused muscles in my stomach ached. And I had to admit, the man had serious skill. He had a gift for touching a woman in just the right way to illicit a shiver with every brush of his fingertips on the small of my back or the palm of my hand. The touches weren’t intrusive or vulgar; they were the gentlest flutter of skin to skin as he guided me through a door or into my seat or while he was staring into my eyes as I spoke, giving me his undivided attention. It was chivalry at its finest, and by the end of dinner, I was beginning to feel cherished.

  Marco was even more amazing than I’d realized. He’d told me about his time as an Army Ranger, then about some of his more humorous jobs as a security guard. Each and every story he told gripped me, and after he talked about his time in the service, I was truly in awe of this incredible man.

  “I don’t believe you,” I grinned as we stepped onto the elevator that would take me to my floor of the hotel. “You’re making that up.” He’d just finished telling me about one particular socialite who got off on giving her security the slip so she could get into all kinds of trouble without them there to stop her.

  “Hand to God,” he chuckled in return. “It’s the truth. No way in hell she’d have been able to sneak past me if it weren’t for that wig and prosthetic nose.”

  My smile was so wide my cheeks began to ache. “Wow. That’s some serious determination right there. I can’t believe she carried all that stuff in her purse on a regular basis.”

  The door slid open, and he held his arm out to guide me into the hallway. His hand stayed on the small of my back as we slowly walked down the corridor.

  My skin prickled with awareness the instant we stopped in front of my door. “I had a great time,” I said quietly, my red face belying my nerves. I hadn’t had a first date in so long, and I was embarrassingly out of practice. Was I supposed to ask him in? Was I even ready for what that invitation would mean? Would that invitation mean something? God, I was such a mess!

  Before I had a chance to overthink, Marco stepped closer, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear.

  “I had a great time too, bomboncita. And as much as I hate that it’s ending now, I need to get a debrief from Ian. I hope you’ll let me take you out again real soon.”

  I got lost in that golden gaze of his. My breath hitched on an inhale as I asked, “What does that mean?”

  “What?”

  “Bomboncita. You call me that all the time, but I don’t know what it means.”

  He smiled down at me, stepping closer, and my knees wobbled. “It’s a term of endearment. It means ‘little candy’ or ‘sweetie.’ Since you’re a tiny little thing and sweet as hell, I thought it was fitting.”

  A smile of my own tipped my lips up. “I like it,” I replied on a whisper.

  “Good,” he murmured, his face inching toward mine. “I like you.” Then he kissed me. It was a good kiss. Real good. Hell, most women would have called the kiss great. The man was skilled in many arenas. But while I felt tiny frissons of electricity sing in my blood, it wasn’t the cataclysmic explosion I felt every time Killian kissed me.

  My brain cried out in misery, Why can’t this feel as good as Killian’s kiss? Whywhywhywhy?

  Marco pulled back and my eyes slowly fluttered open. “See you tomorrow?” He traced his thumb along my kiss-swollen bottom lip.

  “Uh… y-yeah,” I stuttered, swallowing thickly. Just because the kiss didn’t erupt like Killian’s didn’t mean it wasn’t good enough to throw me seriously off-kilter. I felt that familiar blush heat my face as I worked to gain coordination of my limbs. “You will. Be seeing me. I mean, tomorrow. You’ll see me tomorrow.”

  His laugh was like rich melted chocolate. “Sleep good, bomboncita.”

  “You too.”

  I didn’t move from my spot, content to just stand there and stare up at him. “Gina?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Go inside, sweetheart.”

  “Oh!” That pulled me out of my stupor. “Right!” Grabbing my key from the clutch Corrine had lent me, I slid it into the lock. As soon as the light flicked to green, I twisted the knob and pushed the door open. “’Night, Marco.”

  “Good night, sweetheart.”

  I gave him one last smile, then closed myself inside my silent hotel room and commenced freaking right the hell out.

  Corrine was right. I needed to call up my girls and tell them everything so we could dissect every single minute of it. Maybe then they’d be able to help me pull my head out of my ass.

  Because Lord knew I couldn’t trust myself to do it.

  Killian

  I was sitting alone at the hotel bar, steadily working myself into a drunken stupor when my phone rang. After witnessing that kiss in the hallway, I’d decided it was best to drink alone. I’d have been miserable company, and considering my pissed-off mood, Mace and I probably would have come to blows.

  I pulled the cell from my back pocket and looked down at it. “Shit,” I hissed at the name on the screen. I turned to the bartender and waved my empty glass, silently requesting another two fingers of Johnny Walker. I was going to need it if I had to deal with my old man.

  “Hey, Pop,” I said once the phone was to my ear. It was barely after seven in the morning back in San Francisco, so I was surprised to get his call. He’d retired a few years ago from his job as foreman at a construction company he’d worked at all my life, but he wasn’t one to just sit and relax. My dad was constantly on the go, hitting up bars, picking up women, building something in the workshop he had in his garage, or fixing whatever needed it in his house. He rose with the sun and stayed up well past dark, so a call this early when he could’ve been doing something active was out of the ordinary. According to him, idle hands made lazy men. “How’s it goin’?”

  “It’d be goin’ a lot better if my only son didn’t keep forgettin’ I exist so I have to pick up the goddamn phone to remind him my damn self since he’s incapable of callin’ his old man.”

  “Jesus, Pop,” I groaned. Having to talk to my father was putting a serious damper on the buzz I had going. “I’m in Tokyo, for Christ’s sake. What’d you want me to do? I’m sixteen hours ahead of you.”

  “So much appreciation for the man who raised you.” It was the same shit I’d heard over and over for as long as I could remember. No matter what I did, it was never enough.

  “Sorry,” I muttered into the phone, rubbing at the ache behind my eyeballs before picking up my refreshed drink and downing it whole. I pointed to the glass and tipped my chin, mouthing, “Another one.”

  “So how’s it goin’ so far. You gotten any of that Asian tail yet? I hear those girls are pretty flexible.”

  Pulling the phone from my ear, I beat it lightly against my forehead, muttering, “Fuck me.” I sucked back my refilled drink. “No, I haven’t. And do you have to talk about shit like that with your son? It’s disturbing as hell.”

  “What, you goin’ soft on me, boy? Used to be you woulda had at least two of ’em by now.”

  “Yeah, well maybe it doesn’t hold the same kinda appeal anymore. You ever think of that?” My old man should get a trophy for how to make his kid fe
el like shit in as few sentences as possible.

  “Jesus, Kill. You sound just like you did when you let that ex of yours lead you around by the short hairs.” He paused for a second, then added, “Please tell me you haven’t gone stupid over another bitch. I know you’re smarter than that. I raised you to be starter than that. Once with Cara was a learning experience. Twice is just plain dumb, boy.”

  I was officially over the conversation. “I gotta go. It’s late here, and we have some last minute shit to do in the morning. I’ll give you a call later, yeah?”

  “Be smart, Kill,” he said in closing. Then he hung up.

  And I went back to drinking.

  Gina

  I’d been tossing and turning, my sleep plagued with dreams of Killian and Marco. In one they actually had an old-fashioned duel of the pistols-at-dawn variety. In another it was a sword fight. Then there was the one where the two of them bareknuckle boxed, wearing nothing but loose-fitting basketball shorts. It was somewhat erotic and extremely disturbing at the same time.

  A brutal pounding on my door woke me up from the latest soap opera playing out in my head. It took me a second before I figured out that the noise wasn’t part of the dream but really happening… and it was loud enough to wake the entire floor.

  I shot out of the bed, grabbed the hotel robe I’d thrown over the back of the club chair earlier, and pulled it on over my cute, cotton baby blue nightie. I had a thing for girly nightgowns. It was a vice of mine. Even though no one had seen them in years, I had no desire to break the habit. They made me feel pretty.

  The banging continued, and I moved as fast as I could to open the door, so desperate to get it stopped that I didn’t check the peephole first.

  “Ah, Thumbelina. There you are.” Killian slurred. He tried to push off his place propped against the doorjamb, but was obviously way too drunk to stand on his own and stumbled into me.

  I grunted under his weight, struggling to keep us both upright. “Good god,” I strained. “You smell like a damn distillery.” Somehow I managed to get him to the bed and dropped him down onto the mattress. “What the hell are you doing here?”

  It took him two tries to sit up, and even then he still swayed dangerously. “Damn, you’re pretty, sweetness. Both of you are so fuckin’ pretty.”

  Raking my hands through my hair in frustration, I moved away to grab a water bottle from the mini fridge and get the Advil from my purse. “Here.” I handed him the capsules and uncapped the water for him. “Take these and drink all the water.” He did as instructed, only spilling a little bit down the front of his shirt.

  When I went to take the bottle back, he moved faster than a man as drunk as him should’ve been able to. His fingers wrapped around my wrist, tugging until I stumbled and fell into his lap. “Kill, come on.” I fought his embrace, trying to climb to my feet. “Let me go.”

  “Just let me hold you for a while.” Despite the slurred, wobbly speech, the request hit me like a sledgehammer. It wasn’t what he said as much as how he said it. There was a desperation in his voice that I’d never heard from him before. His voice grew softer, his arms tighter, and he repeated, “Just let me hold you.” He dropped his face into the crook of my neck and pulled in a deep breath.

  “Kill,” I whispered, running my fingers through his hair. “What happened?”

  “I’m no good for you,” he muttered, drawing a surprised gasp from me. “I know he’s who you should be with, but I fuckin’ hate it.”

  It felt like a hand had reached into my chest and was squeezing my heart. The ache was so acute it hurt to breathe. “Talk to me,” I pleaded quietly. “What’s going on?”

  “I’m not good for anyone,” he continued, his voice growing slower and more sluggish. “Wasn’t even good enough for a bitch like her. But you’re so much better. So much better than she could ever be. Pure class. She couldn’t touch you.”

  My mind reeled, wondering who this ominous she was. I tried to pull back, but his arms were like a vise, not allowing me to move an inch. “Know I should let you go. Let him have you. But I’m an asshole.”

  I didn’t know what to say, so I remained silent, my heart lodged in my throat as his mumbling eventually grew unintelligible. It didn’t take long for his arms to grow slack and the low rumble of his snore to penetrate the thick air around us.

  “Kill?” I whispered into the darkness of the room. “Kill, you awake?”

  He let out a snuffled sound and shifted us both, collapsing onto the mattress on his side. His grip on me made it impossible to move, and after a few seconds of struggling, I resigned myself to sleeping with Killian Everett spooning me.

  It felt like an eternity passed before I was finally able to settle. His drunken admission played on a constant loop in my mind. I wanted to push and pry, but he was in no state to answer any of my questions.

  Tomorrow, I thought as my eyes finally started to grow heavy. Tomorrow, when he was able to talk without stumbling over every other word, I’d find out what the hell brought this all on.

  With that, I fell asleep in his warm embrace, unable to shake the feeling that I was right where I was supposed to be.

  But like all things when it came to Killian, it didn’t last. When the glow of the sun shining through my curtains woke me the next morning, I turned and reached across the bed to find I was alone.

  My brain told my heart it was for the best, but the stupid organ just wouldn’t listen.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Killian

  Hong Kong

  I was going to kill him, no doubt about it. As soon as I got my hands around his scrawny neck, I was going to squeeze until his head popped like a grape.

  Shoving my way into the fray of debauchery and hedonism, I did my best to spot Mace in the packed hotel suite. He currently had his face stuffed between a pair of tits that had been surgically enhanced to the point that I was shocked the bitch could stay upright.

  When I’d woken up in Gina’s bed that morning, I felt like death and stunk like week-old garbage. Everything was a blur. I couldn’t remember when or even how I’d gotten to her room, but I knew I couldn’t let her wake up to me in the state I was in. I’d rushed to my room to grab a much-needed shower with every intention of going back to her, but when I returned she was gone. When I saw her in the hotel restaurant a little later, eating breakfast with the rest of the girls, she’d looked right through me like I didn’t exist. She’d been treating me like a leper ever since, spending every free moment with anyone but me. If I had to watch her and that fucker Marco making googly eyes at each other one more time, I was going to lose my mind.

  Needless to say, I’d been in a foul mood ever since. The last thing I wanted to deal with was more of Mace’s shit.

  I worked my way farther into the room until I located the speakers that had been set up to pump the music so loud it blared through the entire goddamn floor.

  “Yo!” I shouted over the disappointed cries when I ripped the cord from the wall. “Everybody clear out!” When no one moved, I bellowed, “Get the fuck out!” The crowd broke, everyone scattered like roaches whenever a light turned on trying to get out the door.

  I headed in Mace’s direction, glaring at the chick he was motorboating. “Bitch, you hear what I said?” I snarled, finally getting their attention. When Mace lifted his head, his eyes were glassy from the booze.

  “Hey, brother! Come to join the party?”

  The woman let out a scared squeak when I grabbed her arm and hauled her off the couch. “I said get the fuck out. Don’t make me repeat myself.”

  I gave her a shove toward the door, and she took off like a bat out of hell, tripping on her clear plastic stripper heels.

  “Dude, what the fuck?” Mace protested. “I wasn’t done playin’ with that one.” He reached for a bottle of Jack sitting on the table, but I was quicker. Pulling my arm back, I let it fly, smashing it into a wall across the room.

  “We’ve got a goddamn sound check in the mor
ning,” I growled at him. “The hell were you thinking, partyin’ like this the night before. You know better!”

  He collapsed back, scrubbing his hands over his ashen face. “Cut me some fuckin’ slack, will ya. I was just havin’ a little fun.”

  “You were having a blowout that would’ve gotten us kicked out of the goddamn hotel if I hadn’t shut it down.” The room was trashed, bottles scattered all about, some of them spilling their contents onto the floors. Trash was strewn everywhere. Cigarettes and joints had been put out on the expensive rugs, leaving burn marks behind, and what looked like cocaine residue was dusted on pretty much every flat surface. It was a wonder and a goddamn blessing the cops hadn’t been called. “What’s goin’ on with you, man?” I asked, brushing an empty Solo cup out of the chair across from him and taking a seat.

  “Nothing’s goin’ on with me,” he lied. “I’m just enjoying life. What’s so wrong with that?”

  “It’s no secret you’re a drunk, Mace. Been that way for years, no matter what we’ve said to you, or how much we fight you on it. But you’ve never been this self-destructive. It has to stop, brother.”

  The guys and I had grown increasingly worried with every passing day. We’d already decided that if we couldn’t help him get his shit together by the time this tour ended, we were going to have to take drastic actions. None of us liked the idea of an ultimatum—either go to rehab or get kicked out of the band—but we’d rather lose him that way than lose another brother permanently. All of us were still struggling with our friend Will’s death months back. We couldn’t handle seeing another one being lowered into the ground. We wouldn’t allow that to happen. No way in hell.

  “I’ve just got a lot of shit on my mind lately,” he muttered on a defeated sigh.

  “Shit like what?” Leaning forward, I rested my elbows on my knees and focused on him. “Mace, talk to me. Tell me what’s goin’ on with you.”