Cherry Beats

by Vicki James

  “France?” I cried.

  Presley shrugged into his leather jacket the next morning. “Unless you know of a different Paris?”

  “You want me to go to Paris with you?”

  “Yeah.” He bounced on the balls of his feet to get his jacket to fall into place. “Then Budapest, Croatia, Norway, Denmark. I think Julia mentioned Italy somewhere along the way, but I was fucked and her voice grates on me sometim—”

  “Budapest? Croatia? Presley!”

  “Baby, you know I only like you screaming my name like that when I’m inside you.”

  “Don’t you do that—don’t you try and distract me with sex talk to get me all confused and agreeable.”

  “Imagine my big dick inside of you in all those different countries, Cherry.”

  “Presley,” I groaned. “Stop it.”

  “Yeah. That’s it. Moan hard for me.”

  “I know what you’re doing.” I glared at him.

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He smirked.

  “Focus. Listen to me. Presley, we never discussed me travelling all over the world when I agreed to spend time with you.”

  “I didn’t know we had to. Does it matter where we are as long as we’re together and I get to touch you whenever I feel like it?”

  “Oh, boy. Stop it. Stop it right now.”

  “What?” He laughed.

  “You know what. You’re working your shazam to make me swoon and agreeable.” I pointed at him in warning, giving him my best irritated glare, even though my thighs pressed together at the thought of him touching me whenever he felt like it.

  “I don’t get what the big deal is.” Presley sighed. “You agreed to stay.”

  “I know that, but…”

  “And you couldn’t possibly think that that involved being shacked up in this London hotel for the next few weeks.”

  I hadn’t even given it a damn thought. There’d been no mention of travel over the last few days, and even though Bourbon had given me his blessing to take a bit of time off, I hadn’t considered jumping on the nearest plane and touring the world with Youth Gone Wild during my absence from the bar.

  “Well… I mean, I...” I stuttered, trying hard to focus as I looked back at him, all rock god vibes and sculpted, tanned muscle dressed in leather.

  Presley took a few steps closer to me, clearly trying to contain his amusement. “Look,” he said as he pushed his hands into the thickness of my hair. “Listen to me, pretty green eyes. Before you can come up with a bunch of reasons why you shouldn’t do this, try and focus on one reason why you should.”

  You, I thought.

  “And then imagine this is the only chance you have to follow that reason. Can you say you wouldn’t regret it if you didn’t go with your gut and have some fun?”

  “I’m pretty sure this is how you got me into bed with you that very first time.”

  “Don’t act like you hadn’t wanted that for years before.”

  He gave me a chaste kiss and released me, snatching his grey beanie hat off the side table and fixing it in place on his head while he looked in the mirror. He made looking good seem effortless, and all I could do was admire him like the work of art he truly was.

  “Please tell me you brought your passport.” He caught my eye in the reflection of the mirror as he tucked his hair under his hat.

  I had. I’d brought everything of value with me, knowing Freddie was crashing at my place, not trusting my younger brother with anything of importance while I wasn’t around to parent him like the child he was.

  “Dammit,” I whispered, knowing I definitely had no excuses or reasons not to travel now.

  “You’re so cute when you act like you don’t want this.” The flash of that genuine smile made my body tingle.

  “Just out of interest, how long will we be gone for?”

  Presley turned to face me, dropping his hands down by his sides. “I’ll be gone for months. How long you stay with me is entirely up to you.”

  “Months,” I mouthed, feeling the gut punch that single word delivered to me. Of course, I wanted to stay with him forever but leaving my life, my job, and my friends behind wasn’t something I could do at the drop of a hat just because I’d fallen in love with a famous musician.

  “Don’t think of anything but today, Cherry. Let me give you today. Tomorrow doesn’t exist when you’re with me.”

  Blowing out a breath, I placed my hands on my hips and studied his face. It was crazy to put my life in his hands—the kind of crazy I knew I couldn’t live without anymore.

  “How insane is this about to get?” I asked quietly.

  Presley’s mischievous grin flashed back at me. “Youth Gone Wild, wild.” He held his hand out for me to go to him, and just like that, he had me under his spell again.

  What right did a mere mortal like me have to refuse a god like him?

  What right did I have to argue with this love that was growing inside of me?

  We had breakfast in London and dinner in Paris.

  Another hotel, another city, but the bright lights all around had my eyes wide, and my heart giddier than it had ever been. This was only my second time out of the country, and I was trying my hardest not to look like a complete geek as we soared across the seas in a private jet.

  A. Private. Jet.

  From cattle economy to the most luxurious, white leather interior I had ever seen.

  Playing it cool in the skies proved difficult, just like playing it cool around Presley had become exhausting. I was trying desperately to hang on to my identity—to stick to being the sarcastic, hard-working bartender I’d grown to be. I had so much gratitude for that girl. I’d nurtured her into something I thought was special and something she never dreamed she could be, yet here I was, waving goodbye to her and her life across the English Channel like she didn’t matter now a man had steered her heart in another direction.

  Despite all my protestations back then, I’d now become a Gertrude.

  An Anna.

  A Blossom.

  It was just so hard to linger on those concerns for too long when Presley wrapped his warm hand around mine and cosied up next to me.

  When we left Charles de Gaulle airport, cameras flashed around us from every angle. I could see why the boys chose to wear their sunglasses indoors, and I was grateful the second Julia had leaned into me and slyly passed me a spare pair of her own.

  “Save those retinas, sweetie,” she’d whispered.

  It didn’t stop my head from rising and my feet from stumbling the very second I heard a reporter call out my name, though.

  “Tessa Lisbon! Tess. Tessa! Over here.”

  My head turned in several directions, and I hadn’t realised I’d stopped moving until Presley tightened his grip on me, pulled me closer, and began guiding me forward.

  “They know my name in Paris,” I whispered up at him, and Presley smiled wickedly in return.

  Our bags were collected, and we were shoved into the back of several big, black cruisers I didn’t even know the name of. Every window was tinted, and when the doors shut on the crazed paparazzi outside, my ears were left ringing.

  I removed my shades and stared at the window where men were pushing their cameras against it, still trying to get their shot like animals.

  “That was wild,” I whispered to myself, mouth agape.

  “I’ve seen worse,” Dicky answered abruptly. He’d yet to make proper eye contact with me since he’d seen me at the airport, and it didn’t take a body language expert to know he was pissed at me being on the scene.

  No girlfriends, remember? And there I was, screwing that up for everyone.

  Julia cleared her throat and plucked her phone out of her inside jacket pocket. There were just the four of us in this vehicle, the other guys having been bumped off into another waiting car.

  “You did well,” Presley reassured me.

  “Really?” I asked, turning his way, suddenly needing his approval�
� or anyone’s approval, actually.

  “Really. It’s never easy.”

  “That was so much worse than outside of VINYL!”

  “As the band gets bigger, the crowds get thicker,” Dicky muttered, crossing his leg over the other and slinking back into the leather seat as he, too, picked up his phone and began scrolling through it. “And now it’s going to get worse before it ever gets better.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” I dared myself to ask, annoyed by yet another man thinking he could intimidate me with his shitty mind games. Freddie, Rhett, and Dicky could go fuck themselves with their behaviour.

  He glared up from under his thick eyebrows, not leaving room for misinterpretation on how he felt about my presence.

  “I mean, Tessa, now that you’re on the scene, the press will be even keener to get closer to the band.” He pointed a lazy finger at Presley. “It may have escaped your notice, but you happen to be screwing around with England’s most eligible bachelor. Scrap that… the world’s most eligible bachelor.”

  “Watch your tongue, Dicky,” Presley growled, his body tensing beside mine.

  “No.” I touched his arm, keeping him in place. “Let him finish. Let him say what he has to say. Let him get it off his chest once and for all.”

  I saw the slight twitch of Dicky’s nostrils. “Do you know the one thing people adore more than good music, Tess? A love story.” He uncurled his legs and leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees as he glanced between the two of us. “A scandal is great, but it’s the love story they want, and you’ve given that to them now. They’ll enjoy nothing more than building you two up and being a part of your creation, and then when they’ve had enough of that, they’ll enjoy nothing more than tearing you apart. Whether you want to admit this to yourself or not, there’s no going back for you after this. You can’t return to your normal life and simply be that girl who once jumped on a private jet with Presley West.”

  Presley groaned, and I squeezed his arm tighter, letting him know that I was okay.

  “If you think that you can slide into this life and hide in the shadows, hide behind the stage curtains, lock yourself away in hotel rooms and eat room service for the rest of your days without being detected, you’re wrong. If you think you can slip back behind that bar you love working at so much after this, you’re wrong.”

  “Dicky,” Julia sighed, somewhat defeated by the realities around us as she glanced down at her feet.

  Dicky glanced between Presley and me, his face serious. “If either one of you thinks I’m here to stop whatever you’ve got going on then you’re wrong. I’m not going to be that guy, and if I’ve learnt anything in my life while working with musicians, it’s that if you tell them to go one way with their careers, they’ll sure as shit do the exact opposite. I’m not trying to be the Debbie Downer of this band, but I am going to give you guys one piece of advice before this adventure of yours really kicks in, and I’m going to hope like hell you take it.

  “Whatever skeletons you’ve got hidden in your closets, get them out in the open with each other as soon as possible because the one thing that can blow this whole thing to shit for both of you is unexpected truths being splashed across the front page of every newspaper that exists. If you’re not honest with each other now, that shit will sting like a bitch when it comes out. If you’ve got nothing to hide, you stand a better chance of not hating each other once this affair of yours is over.”

  Over?

  The possibility winded me.

  What scared me more, though, was the look on Presley’s face as he turned away from me and stared out at the sea of flashing lights beyond the tinted windows.

  A look that said he had secrets.

  Ones he didn’t want to share with anybody.

  Not even me.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  We soon arrived at another swanky hotel. The Four Seasons was situated just off the Champs-Élysées, where we ushered past the few waiting paparazzi who had figured out where the band were staying.

  People I didn’t know were buzzing around me—the apartment we’d been thrown into this time was away from the other guys in the band. It was a separate room for Presley and me—one with enough space, yet again, to hold at least a hundred people. I stood there spinning slowly, looking at each stranger’s face milling around while Presley took everything in his stride.

  “You doing okay over here?” Julia whispered in my ear from behind me.

  “Who are all these people?” I asked, pointing at one guy whose jeans were so far down his arse, I couldn’t figure out how they were staying up.

  “Roadies, PR people, crew.” She shrugged. “Life in the band demands zero privacy.” She smiled with sympathy. “It’s one big family where everyone knows everyone, and people come and go as they please.”

  All I wanted was an hour alone with Presley. An hour to ground myself—to remind my heart why we were doing this and who we were here for—him. Always him. Perhaps a little for myself, too.

  “Don’t listen to what Dicky said, Tessa. The hardest part won’t be the media and their lies.” Julia reached up and squeezed my shoulder, leaning in. “The hardest part will always be having to share him. With us, with the crew, the band, the fans.”

  Before I could question her on that, she walked away, leaving me standing there, searching for Presley in a small sea of strangers.

  As soon as my suitcase was dumped inside the room, I distracted myself by dragging it over to the side, away from the madness, and I opened it up, needing to grab my toiletries and wash the day away. A few minutes later, the shower water rained down on me, drowning out the noise—drowning out the racing sound of my heart. My hands pushed through the wet tendrils of my hair as I tried to enjoy the temporary peace of my own thoughts.

  I’m in Paris.

  I’m in Paris with Youth Gone Wild.

  I’m in Paris with Presley.

  As I repeated these three things over and over again in my mind, a slow smile came to life, and my shoulders relaxed.

  I’m in Paris.

  I’m in Paris with Youth. Gone. Freakin’. Wild.

  I’m in Paris with my Presley.

  “This is fucking crazy,” I chuckled to myself, eyes closed as I sucked in a breath through the water falling over my face.

  “I think it’s fucking beautiful.”

  Gasping, I opened my eyes and blinked against the water, seeing Presley sitting on the countertop of the sink. His body was leaning against the mirror, and he had one leg crossed over the other knee as he studied me with narrowed eyes and a sadistic smirk on his face.

  “Hey, Cherry,” he said smoothly.

  “How did you get in here? I locked the door.”

  “Shh. Let me look at you.”

  His eyes trailed down my soapy, wet body. Presley leaned forward, pressing his hands into the edge of the counter before he jumped down, the creak of his leather jacket as he grew closer making my heart beat even faster.

  He slid a glass door open before he planted both of his hands high on the frame and studied me some more.

  “I think watching you in the shower is my new favourite thing to do,” he admitted with pure seduction dripping from his voice. He looked up at me through hooded eyes, and a strand of his sunshine hair fell forward.

  “Nothing to stop you from joining me, rock star.”

  His smirk turned into an enthusiastic smile, those beautiful blue eyes of his flashing with delight. “Water ruins leather.”

  “Shame.” I grinned back, reaching to the side to pick up the shower gel. I’d already washed my body, but he didn’t need to know that, so I poured some gel into the palm of my hand, dropped the bottle and began to wash my naked skin. I ran my hands over my tight stomach, practically able to feel the knot that gripped me as he watched, his eyes ablaze and his tongue poking out to trail over his bottom lip. The slip and slide of my hands made me seem graceful for once, and when I reached up to run them over my breasts,
I gave each one a gentle squeeze, rolling my head back and parting my lips to let out a small moan of pleasure.

  “Fuck it,” he growled.

  His leather jacket fell to the floor without concern, and he was pulling his loose T-shirt over his head and tossing it aside in a second, followed by him stripping out of his skin-tight jeans. Presley moved quickly, stepping into the shower with urgency and wrapping his arms tightly around my body, squeezing me to him like he wanted to make us one person instead of two. I could barely catch a breath with my arms pressed against his chest, my eyes wide as I stared up at his handsome face. I was on tiptoes, standing on shaky legs in his arms, feeling weak and vulnerable, yet powerful from the desire I saw shining back at me.

  When it was like this, just the two of us, no outside noise and no concern for real life, we were invincible. His intentions were pure, and his thoughts devilish. I’d never seen anyone look at a woman the way Presley looked at me, and despite all my desires to be an independent woman who relied on nobody but herself, he made me want to surrender my entire life to follow him and be by his side.

  “Having you here feels better than any drink I could ever drink or any drug I could ever take.” His fingertips pulsed over my skin, his biceps twitching and curling tighter around me. “Thank you.”

  “For what?” I whispered back.

  “For taking a chance on me. For not letting your doubts win this time.”

  “Let’s hope I don’t regret it.” I smiled.

  Presley leaned closer, brushing his lips over mine and staring straight into my eyes. “The only thing I’m going to make you regret is not following me sooner.”

  He kissed me hard, his lips attacking mine and leaving me breathless. Presley pushed me back, and my spine hit the hard tiles of the shower, forcing a groan to fall free before he hoisted me up in his arms and wrapped my legs around his waist. He was so strong, so powerful and in control, he could hold me upright without much effort, making me feel safe and secure as I towered above him and the water fell around us.

  “I would spend my whole life in a shower fucking you like this if I could,” he panted, his eyes searching mine before he slid into me without warning. My mouth parted and my body tensed as I accepted him, enjoying the stretch and thrill of pleasure that burst through me. Screwing was great, but that first thrust inside was always one of my favourite moments: the small pause, the fire that ignited, and the clenching of every muscle within my body that allowed everything else to come to life.