by Caisey Quinn
She wrapped her legs around him and tried to pull him down onto her. Into her. He grinned and kissed her softly. “Didn’t you want to be on top, pretty girl? I kind of got the impression that you did.”
Even after six weeks apart he could still read her. She gave him a wicked grin and nodded. He grabbed her and rolled so that she was on top. The heady sense of control overtook her. A girl could get used to this.
He raised his arms, placing his hands behind his head and watching her with a dark interest. He cocked a brow as if to say do your worst.
Kylie’s body warmed to a dangerous degree. Challenge accepted. She slid herself up his shaft, moaning at how good he felt against her sensitive flesh. When the tip of his erection met her opening, she used every ounce of self-control she had to lower herself onto him as slowly as humanly possible. Once he was all the way inside, her head fell back.
“Oh God, you’re so deep.” She rocked her hips slowly, not at all anxious to put any distance between him and that spot inside of her he was hitting perfectly. Her body turned to liquid as the soothing balm of pleasure spread through her.
“Lose the bra,” Trace commanded. She did as she was told, fighting with the clasp before slinging it across the room. Once her breasts were bare, Trace began lifting his hips to meet her. His hands reached out and caressed her nipples. Gently at first and then rougher.
He’d had enough of her slow, steady rhythm. She could tell by the way his cock was expanding and jerking inside of her. He sat up, pulling her close so their bare chests pressed against each other. She began riding him faster as he clamped his mouth down on hers. His tongue massaged the inside of her mouth as his fingers kneaded into her backside. Trace’s firm chest brushed against her soft breasts. That combination plus his dick stroking her G-spot had her ready to combust. The moans began slipping out without her permission.
Abruptly, he pulled back, gripping her tightly and forcing her eyes to meet his. “I’ve never wanted anything like I want you. Not a drink, not a drug, not even music. Not a single damned thing, Kylie. Do you understand that?”
She whimpered and nodded because it was the only way she could convey her understanding at the moment. And then everything exploded in a white hot flash. She was vaguely aware of the pinch of pain she felt as he bit down on one of her nipples. He began straining and groaning as he came beneath her. But her own release had her blind and mindless with a pleasure so intense it felt as if she were being torn from her body.
Panting, she collapsed on top of him. She trailed her fingertips around his chiseled chest as it rose and fell until she couldn’t keep her eyes open any longer.
“Thank you,” she mumbled softly. For loving me, she wanted to add but didn’t. “For wanting me more than anything else,” she said instead.
HE’D TOLD her once before. He didn’t make love. And yet…what had just happened between them certainly wasn’t fucking. Something had changed in him when he saw her up on that stage, giving the audience a part of her they didn’t deserve. A part he hadn’t even seen yet. He’d done what he’d done partly because he could see that she needed it. And partly because he’d been overcome with the need to possess her. To stake his claim on her. Because how long would it be before someone as amazing and strong and brave and talented as she was realized she could do better? How much time would it take for her to see that she was about to be a huge success and he wouldn’t be worthy of working on her road crew? Though he would, happily, if she wanted him to.
How long until she realizes you’ve been drinking?
She was the most incredible woman he’d ever known. And she was only nineteen. She would probably be taking over the whole damned world by the time she was twenty-five. He watched as she slept. Her body barely moved as she inhaled and exhaled softly beside him. Watching her, being with her, just being near her, gave him a type of peace he’d never known. He was pretty sure this was what contentment felt like. She made him happy in a way nothing else ever could. It was true happiness, genuine and pure, not the kind you find at the bottom of a bottle. But if he’d learned anything, it was that these types of feelings were fleeting.
She’d said Gretchen was the female version of him and she’d been mostly right. Gretchen was making his life a living hell. Worse than hell. Hell would be a vacation resort in the Caribbean compared to touring with Gretchen. Knowing he’d been the same brand of selfish and toxic when Kylie had joined him on his last tour made him want to kick his own ass. She deserved so much better than that. She deserved someone who could give her forever. A future. Promises that would be kept. All he could give her was today. Today he was sober. Yesterday he hadn’t been. Tomorrow he couldn’t speak for. But for the first time in his entire life, he wanted to make promises. More than that, he wanted to be able to actually keep them.
A thick knot formed in his throat, constricting his airways. She was smiling a little in her sleep. Her face was smooth, not at all like the tense expression she’d had on stage earlier. She could fake the audience out all day long, but she’d never be able to fake it with him. Damn that made him happy, like cat-ate-the-damn-canary happy. He was so proud of her. Proud of her strength, of her talent, and of how beautiful she truly was inside and out.
He lightly stroked the side of her face, grinning as she wrinkled her cute little nose at his touch. His stomach clenched as she shivered and then resumed her content little smile. Was this what falling in love felt like? He wondered if he was falling in love with her right that minute. Hell, maybe he already had and his stupid ass was just now catching up.
He forced his throat to swallow as he brushed a strand of hair from her face. He’d enjoy their time together while he could. Savor it like the bittersweet burn of the last drop of bourbon. Because he knew it’d be hell letting her go. But some day, when she realized that he’d just hold her back, he’d have to. That was very likely going to be the same day he’d lose his already faltering grip on sobriety completely. He was pretty sure that knowing that wouldn’t give him any kind of advantage over it. Just like knowing he wasn’t good enough for Kylie Ryans wouldn’t make it any easier to let her go.
“SHIT!” A loud banging sound startled him awake. Trace rolled his neck and sat up in bed. Kylie was still sleeping soundly next to him. Glancing over at the alarm clock on the night table, he saw it was just after midnight. Oh hell, her bus was probably already on the way to Atlanta by now. Not that it was a big deal. They were headed there as well. He just figured he should’ve asked her if she wanted to ride with him instead of screwing her into a coma and kidnapping her. Mia and that other chick touring with her were probably good and pissed.
He heard more swearing from Gretchen as she stumbled to her room. The room that used to be Kylie’s. Damn, he missed those days. Well, kind of. His dick didn’t miss the long nights of knowing she was just a few feet away. Especially once she’d started making it painfully clear that she wanted him as badly as he wanted her. If that was even possible.
“Kylie Lou,” he said softly, rubbing her arm just firmly enough to wake her. “Babe, you might want to call Mia or your manager or both and let them know you’re catching a ride to Atlanta with me.”
He watched as she opened her beautiful blue eyes and blinked several times. “Mmm. So it wasn’t a dream then.” She grinned and he cocked a brow at her.
“A dream?”
She bit her lip in that way that made him want to do the same. “I thought I dreamed you. I’ve been dreaming of you a lot lately.”
He leaned down to kiss her firmly on the mouth. Because he had to. Brushing his nose against hers, he smiled. “As much as I want to hear about these dreams of yours in explicit detail, you really need to call and let the girls know where you are.”
The clouded haze of sleep cleared and she sat straight up, nearly slamming her head against his as she did. “Oh no. Crap. I don’t have my phone.”
“Here,” he said, handing her his new one from its place on the nightstand.
Trace cleared his throat. Well, this was about to get awkward. “Mia’s is in there,” he said, hoping she wouldn’t read more into this than necessary. They’d transferred his old numbers to his new phone. He kind of wished they hadn’t.
“Okay.” She didn’t look mad, but she was suddenly very interested in scrolling through his contacts to get to Mia’s name. That was a bad thing for more reasons than his still sex-fogged brain could count.
Her jaw clenched as she avoided his gaze. She continued avoiding him as she called Mia and told her in a clipped tone that she was sorry and would see them in Atlanta.
“Hey.” He reached out a finger and tilted her chin so she had to look him in the eye. What he saw in hers stole his breath. Hurt. Fear. Most likely a fear of being hurt. “Don’t look like that. I don’t delete shit from my phone because I’m too lazy to fool with it.”
“Lots of numbers in there,” she said softly, handing his phone back. He heard what she didn’t say. Lots of women’s numbers in there.
“Kylie.” He shifted into her line of vision as she tried to look away. Once her gaze was firmly locked on his, he continued. “You could throw that phone right out the window and I swear to God I wouldn’t blink. There isn’t a number in there I give a damn about more than you. And I know your number by heart.” He watched her eyes darken, knowing she was deciding whether or not to trust him.
“Oh my God, do you have a girl in there?” Gretchen shrieked before Kylie had a chance to say anything. “Jesus, Corbin. Feel free to bring your whores on the bus. Guess I can bring whoever I want on here too from now on.”
“Go sleep it off, Gretchen,” he hollered back.
His girlfriend gaped at him in horror. Welcome to my life.
KYLIE PULLED the sheet up to cover her naked body. Trace’s expression was annoyed, but he didn’t seem concerned that Gretchen was about to barge in on them or anything. She relaxed a little, but still grabbed his shirt and buttoned it over herself.
“Do you have any idea what seeing you in my shirt does to me?”
She smirked at him after she’d finished with the last button. “Brings back fond memories of me kicking your ass in that mud fight?”
He snorted. “Something like that. What do I have to do to get a rematch?” He leaned in to kiss her but she stiffened. The press of his lips softened her, but just barely. Gretchen’s very presence on the bus with them made her tense. The pictures she’d seen of the woman pawing her boyfriend were promo shots. She got that. She knew it was true. But it didn’t take away the wounds from the sharp, stabbing knife of betrayal that had carved through her when she saw them the first time. The website had plastered them on its home page with headlines screaming that he and Gretchen Gibson were an item, that they were out on the town, and that he didn’t give two shits about his little fling with what’s-her-face.
Just knowing someone had the power to hurt her like that twisted her up inside. Made her wonder why in the world she thought she could hold on to a man who had women like Gretchen around. Women who’d get drunk and have a good time with him instead of pouring out his entire liquor cabinet. Women who knew their way around a bedroom and probably a few other places. One thing she knew for sure. It was important to size up your competition.
“I want to meet her,” she informed Trace as she stood up to pull her jeans back on.
He looked at her as if she’d just told him she wanted to give up music and take up space exploration. “You want to what?”
She rolled her eyes. Pulling her just-fucked hair into a ponytail, she turned and got in one last look at his naked body. “Get dressed. I want you to introduce me.”
“That is literally the worst idea you’ve ever had. No.”
She frowned. “Yeah, I wasn’t asking. Either you can introduce me or I can walk out there and introduce myself.” She reached for the handle on his door.
He muttered something unintelligible under his breath. “Give me a sec.”
She admired his back muscles as they strained against each other while he got dressed. For a moment she considered saying to hell with meeting Gretchen Gibson and just crawling right back into bed with him. But they were still a few hours away from Atlanta. There’d be time for that.
Trace stood and took her hand, which she appreciated. She gave it a gentle squeeze. No matter what she’d said, she had a feeling he knew Gretchen still bothered her. Well, not Gretchen herself exactly. Just the idea of her.
They stepped out into the common area of the bus but the woman was nowhere to be seen.
“Gretch,” Trace called out. Oh for the love. That hurt to hear. Not that he said it with any kind of emotion behind it or anything, but just the fact that he’d called the woman by anything other than her complete name stung a bit.
“What?” a harsh voice called back from the direction of the room where Kylie had slept when she was on tour with him. Salt in the wound. Lots of it. The kind from the giant container with the pour spout and the chick with the umbrella on it.
“Can you come out here a sec?” Trace sounded exactly as excited about this little impromptu meeting as he looked. Which was not at all.
When the woman appeared, in nothing but an oversized black Lynyrd Skynyrd T-shirt no less, Kylie sucked in a breath. Gretchen Gibson was all curves and long, thick ink-black hair swinging down her back. She had that rough look about her, like she’d been rode hard and put up wet, her daddy used to say. She looked like she could probably hogtie a steer in the time it took Kylie to put on lip gloss. But she was beautiful at the same time. Her bright, crystal clear gray eyes against her dark features made her striking, and her swagger made it clear she knew she was gorgeous. Well that’s not intimidating at all.
“Gretchen Gibson, this is Kylie Ryans. She wanted to meet you,” Trace said with no emotion in his voice. She didn’t miss that he didn’t call her his girlfriend. But he still held her hand, so she took that as a good sign.
“Pleasure to meet you,” Kylie said, sticking out the hand Trace wasn’t holding. The other woman eyed it with disinterest all over her face. Kylie dropped her hand and ran it through her hair. “My daddy was a big fan of yours.”
Gretchen raised an eyebrow. “Oh yeah? Was? He’s not anymore?”
Kylie swallowed hard. It was time to stop breaking apart inside every time this came up. “He passed away last year. Right before Christmas.”
“Sorry to hear that.” But the woman didn’t look sorry. She didn’t look…anything. Except maybe bored with the entire hassle of existing. As if being alive was somehow putting her out.
Kylie shrugged. “Anyways, I just wanted to meet you. Wanted to wish you luck on the tour.” She forced a smile. Which Gretchen didn’t return.
The woman sneered and glanced up at Trace. “Sure you did. More like you wanted to see if I was planning to fuck your man. Am I right?”
Trace stepped between them. “That’s enough. Don’t be a bitch, Gretchen. Or are you even able to switch that off?”
Kylie appreciated his gesture, but she could take care of herself. She was from the trashy side of town. She’d dealt with the worst of them in high school. Gretchen was obviously the damaged, pretend-I-don’t-give-a-shit-and-lash-out-at-you-first variety of female. “It’s okay. I saw all I needed to. Pleasure meeting you, Ms. Gibson.” Kylie smiled as widely as possible. If anything was going on, she’d bet her ass Gretchen would’ve been sweet as Grandma’s apple pie to her. But the woman was obviously pissed off and annoyed by her presence. Likely because Trace wasn’t paying her the attention she wanted. Thank God.
She pulled at Trace’s hand, ready to go back in the bedroom and enjoy their last few hours together, but Gretchen’s feathers were ruffled. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
Again, Trace stepped closer, putting a hand up to stop Gretchen from advancing on them. “It means she wanted to meet you and she did. So goodnight.”
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Kylie scoffed out loud. Surely he knew she wasn’t going to let him start speaking for her, regardless of what they did to each other behind closed doors. “No, actually I meant you’re nothing like I thought you’d be and I doubt Trace would even be interested in you. Obviously the tabloids got it wrong. So I can sleep easy from now on.”
“Well, actually, Trace was plenty inter—”
“Shut the hell up, Gretchen. Or I swear to God, I’ll call Noel Davies right this second and call this whole thing off. This isn’t just my last chance, sweetheart. It’s yours too.” The acid in Trace’s voice kept Kylie from caring that he’d called Gretchen sweetheart. He very clearly meant it in the meanest way possible. But what the hell had Gretchen been about to say?
“You know what? I’m going to bed. Kylie, you might want to check with the driver to see if there’s a car seat on the bus you could use.”
Wow, that was original. This woman wasn’t nearly as sharp as she looked. And screw her for not knowing the driver’s name. Kylie liked him. Missed him. Juanita, the woman driving her bus, barely even spoke to anyone. “Thanks for your concern. While I’m at it, I’ll see if Carl can locate your dignity. Or that last ounce of class you must’ve dropped on your way in. Lovely perfume you’re wearing, by the way.” Kylie inhaled. “Smells like drunken bartender and piss-drenched back alley. Bet your evening was super special.”
Gretchen launched herself towards her, but she didn’t flinch. Trace braced his arms around Gretchen before she reached her and walked her backwards.
“Night night, Gretch,” Kylie called out from over his shoulder.