by A. K. Evans
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” she countered. “Just sex? Just sex?! Are you serious right now?”
“Chasey, baby, it’s been a long time,” he tried to reason with her.
A long time?
His wife just had a baby!
“I’m literally going to lose my mind,” I muttered, though I wasn’t sure anyone heard me. I mean, in the midst of all that was going on, I was not the one who was at the center of attention.
“A long time?” Chasey repeated. “Oh, I’m so sorry, Aaron. I was put on pelvic rest for the last eight weeks of my pregnancy and then managed to push a baby out of my vagina just five weeks ago. I should be more understanding of everything you’ve been through over the last thirteen weeks. What was I thinking? How insensitive of me, during all of that, not to be concerned about you getting your dick wet.”
Fucking asshole.
I thought what I’d witnessed at the ripe age of fourteen was bad. Obviously, it was. I mean, I saw my father completely naked with his dick inside a woman who wasn’t my mother. But this? This was just a whole new level of disgusting. His wife couldn’t have sex because she was carrying his child and had a medical issue.
What a selfish prick.
“Excuse me, miss?”
I had been so caught up in what I was watching and the rage I felt on behalf of Chasey and her daughter that I hadn’t realized all the people who’d walked in the front door.
Beck Emerson, the man who played the keyboard and synthesizer for My Violent Heart, was standing beside Chasey.
My Violent Heart was the industrial rock band. Nobody compared to them. And now, not only was Beck in the hotel, but so were the remaining five members of the band: Cash Morris, Walker Rhodes, Holland Oates, Killian Scott, and Roscoe Perry. There were four other individuals with them who I assumed were managers, security, roadies, or a combination of the three.
Chasey’s jaw dropped open at the sight of Beck beside her. I couldn’t blame her. The man looked incredible. And considering everything she’d just witnessed—though I didn’t know exactly how bad it had been—she deserved to have a man that looked like Beck looking at her the way he was.
Beck didn’t seem the least bit fazed by her reaction. Instead, with a gentle voice, he asked, “Is there anything I can do to help?”
There was a moment of hesitation, but Chasey eventually shook her head. “No. I just found out my husband is cheating on me. Actually, correction. He’s now my soon-to-be ex-husband.”
“Do you want me to kick his ass?” Beck offered. There was a devious look in his eyes and a smirk on his face.
“Hey!” Aaron shouted. “You can’t do that! I’ll have you arrested for assault.”
Beck looked in Aaron’s direction and ordered, “Shut up, dickwad. I’m talking to your wife.”
Chasey leaned toward Beck and reminded him, “Soon-to-be ex-wife.”
His lips twitched as he returned his attention to her and said, “Why don’t we go for a walk outside? You don’t need to be around this douchebag any longer, not when you’ve got this sweet little baby in your arms.”
I hated men. Hated them.
I thought they were nothing but lying, cheating, selfish individuals.
But in that moment, I loved Beck Emerson for what he did for Chasey.
Whether he was doing it for show or something else, I couldn’t say. It didn’t matter, though. He took that woman out of a horrible situation and gave her something so many women probably wished they’d have happen at a time like this.
The minute they’d exited the hotel through the sliding doors, I shifted my focus back to Aaron. He stood there, much like my father had, and allowed the harsh reality to smack him in the face.
He fucked up.
He fucked up so badly, and he knew he lost his family.
Too bad.
There was no excuse, none, for what he’d done. I hoped Chasey would stick to her guns and follow through on the divorce because I had no doubt that if she went back to him, Aaron would only cheat on her again.
As he walked back toward the elevator, I took in a deep breath and let it out.
This was too much drama for me, and I needed a major change.
Unfortunately, I was still here, and I needed to do my job.
I glanced up at the remaining members of the band standing in the lobby, and one caught my eye.
Cash Morris.
Fuck, the man was sex on a stick.
He was gorgeous, and he had a voice on him that could easily set panties ablaze.
That’s why he was the lead singer.
And right now, he was staring at me like he wanted to eat me up.
No thanks.
I’d give credit where it was due—he was hot and he could sing—but that’s about all he was getting from me.
Right. Time to get back to being professional.
Unfortunately, before I could say anything, Cash approached and shot me his megawatt smile as his eyes went to my nametag. “Hello, Demi Stokes. I’m Cash Morris.”
Do not react.
That look, that voice. It was, without a doubt, the reason why there was no shortage of women for him.
In a different life, one where I hadn’t been burned by the man I should have trusted the most, I might have fallen victim to that smile. Lucky for me, I got to see the truth of how men really are, and I’d never end up in a situation like my mother did or like Chasey just did.
No way.
Pulling off an almost impossible feat not to react, I ignored Cash’s flirtatious demeanor and replied, “Hi. I’m really sorry about what you just witnessed. That’s not a common occurrence. Well, the public fighting anyway. The cheating is more rampant than I care to admit. Anyway, how can I help you?”
Cash let out a laugh, and I swear it took everything in me to remain standing. Then he answered, “Aside from giving me your number, we’re going to need a couple of rooms.”
Cocky, self-assured, and convinced he could snag any woman he wanted.
Yep.
Cash was just the kind of guy I expected him to be.
Of course, there was no chance I’d ever give him what he was asking for even if he’d gone about it in a different way. But the simple fact was that he didn’t even try to put any effort into it. He simply assumed that because he was who he was he’d get what he wanted.
Well, not this time.
Deciding to be as pleasant as I could, I smiled at him before I said, “Rooms I can do. The phone number is not going to happen.”
The jerk didn’t even seem the least bit disappointed. He grinned at me. The asshole thought this was a game.
Then he pulled out his credit card and handed it over.
I took it from him and looked down at the computer in front of me. “How many rooms did you need?”
“Enough for ten of us,” he said. “We don’t mind sharing rooms if we have to as long as everyone has their own bed, but Holland gets a room to herself.”
That was surprising.
Holland was the only female in the band, so I was glad that they respected her enough to make sure she had her own space. I could only imagine what it would have been like for her if she had to share a room with any of the guys. I realize I didn’t know them at all, but I saw the way some guys lived, and gross would have been an understatement.
“Sure,” I replied.
For the next ten minutes or so, I worked on getting some rooms booked for Cash, his bandmates, and the rest of their crew. I handed out key cards and said, “Enjoy your stay.”
There was a round of gratitude tossed my way as they walked off. Once they were out of earshot, Cash said, “I’m definitely planning on enjoying my stay. It was nice to meet you, Demi. I’ll see you around.”
Smug.
So damn smug.
The man thought he was God’s gift to women.
Visually speaking, maybe he was. When it came to music and his voice, there was no doubt he’d been blessed.
<
br /> But that was as far as it was going to go.
Because when it came to being humble, I wasn’t sure Cash even knew what that meant.
Once again, I did my best to remain professional and not react. I simply offered a smile and a nod, nothing to indicate that it was nice to meet him or that I was interested in seeing him around.
He seemed amused by my response and chuckled as he walked away toward the elevator.
The moment he was out of sight, I let out a huge sigh of relief.
If one thing was for certain, I needed a new job because this one was bound to do more damage than I could handle.
On that thought, I left the front desk in the capable hands of my staff and walked back to have a talk with my best friend.
Two
Cash
“Is everything alright?”
“Yeah, it’s fine.”
Sitting on the couch in our hotel room—a suite I was sharing with Beck—I watched as one of my closest friends walked over and sat down on the chair off to the left of the sofa. Our suite wasn’t the swankiest of accommodations we’d ever had, but the room was clean and spacious, so I had nothing to complain about.
Noting the look on Beck’s face, I had no doubt he’d just fed me a line of bullshit.
“You’re lying,” I declared.
“Yep,” he replied, his eyes pinned on the television. I knew he was staring at that in order to avoid looking at me. That wasn’t out of embarrassment; he was merely pissed off. Sure enough, he confirmed that a moment later when he clipped, “That guy is a fucking asshole.”
He was referring to the half-naked guy in the lobby.
“I can’t say I don’t agree,” I told him.
“Shit. That baby was only five weeks old,” Beck muttered.
It sucked.
Anyone who witnessed what happened downstairs would have thought the same thing. But I knew this was hitting Beck harder than it would the rest of us.
Beck was raised by a single mother. His father walked out when Beck and his younger sister, Sadie, were just kids. Beck was six at the time; Sadie was only two. Their mom busted her ass to take care of them. So, while Beck and his sister didn’t have a father around, their mom more than made up for the loss.
“Are you planning to do something about this?” I asked. “How was… what was her name, when she left?”
“Chasey,” Beck answered. “And I talked with her for a while to make sure she was okay. I mean, how good can a woman who’s just recently given birth to a baby feel when she walks in on her husband cheating on her? Anyway, before she got back in her car and took off, I gave her my personal number and told her to call if there was anything I could do to help her.”
I cocked an eyebrow.
I realized Beck had a soft spot for single moms, but I had to wonder if what he’d just done was a wise idea.
“Do you think that was smart?” I questioned him.
Maybe that wasn’t the right thing to say to Beck given his current state of mind, but I wanted him to be careful.
The truth was, we’d seen our fair share of women over the years who were only after one thing. Well, maybe two things. They either wanted money or the score.
Luckily, the majority went after the latter, so in most cases, it worked out for everyone. These women could say they fucked a rock star, and we got laid in the process. It was a win win in most of those cases.
But over the years, we’d seen our fair share of scandal, and in almost every case, it came down to money.
The last thing I wanted was to see Beck’s offer, which was coming from a good place, to wind up being a nightmare for him.
“I don’t give a fuck if it was or not,” he shot back. “I can always change my number, but she might not have anyone there to have her back. To me, it was worth the risk.”
I nodded my understanding. He’d made up his mind already, so it wasn’t like anything I said was going to change it.
Then again, that was how it always was with us. Beck and I had been friends for as long as I could remember, having gone to the same school since kindergarten. I’d known him and Killian the longest. Killian and I grew up in the same neighborhood in a small town in Pennsylvania. That very neighborhood was where the three of us would practice our music for hours after school or all day long in the summer in the garage of my parents’ home.
We were all thirteen at the time. When we decided to get more serious about it, we realized we needed a drummer. I could play drums, but I preferred to sing. One day, two years later, a new kid moved into the neighborhood. Walker had been walking his dog one summer afternoon and saw us in the garage.
“You need a drummer,” he told us.
“Yeah, um, they aren’t exactly easy to come by here,” I retorted. “We think all the cornfields are keeping them hidden away.”
“I play,” he declared.
“Are you any good?” Killian asked.
Killian didn’t give a shit. He played the guitar, and his solos could rival that of Eddie Van Halen, Randy Rhoads, and Slash. Killian wasn’t going to allow us to settle for less than the best.
Walker looked down at his dog and ordered, “Stay.”
Then, without an invitation, he strode into the garage and sat down at the drums. Seconds later, Beck, Killian, and I were all exchanging looks. Walker wasn’t just good. He was amazing.
Our band grew by one that day.
It started to feel like we were the real deal at that point. We practiced all the time, either coming up with new material or remaking some of our favorites.
As time went on, we started to find our own style, and three years later, Roscoe joined our crew as a bassist. Things only got better from there.
Four years later, after we’d already released two albums with mediocre success, Holland became the final missing piece of My Violent Heart. No sooner did we add her as a vocalist and songwriter when everything exploded for us.
Suddenly, money was pouring in, we were touring, and we had the best of the best to produce our music with. It had been a whirlwind, but it was something I knew we were all so grateful for.
My bandmates were my best friends. They were as much a part of my family as my actual family was.
I’d spent so long thinking about where we started and how far we’d come that Beck stood and declared, “I’m jumping in the shower. Maybe that’ll help cool me off. Who would have thought some small town like this could have so much drama?”
I didn’t know the answer to that, but I had my own thoughts about this small town. I wasn’t sure drama was the word I would have used to describe it, but I didn’t tell him that. Instead, I said, “Well, it’s only Thursday, and we don’t leave until Monday, so there’s plenty of time for more to be had if that’s what you’re looking for.”
Beck grunted as frustration washed over him. Then he turned and walked toward the second bedroom in the suite, where he’d find his own bathroom.
As I sat there, I thought about what Beck had just said. Though he had a point about it being drama here in this small town in New Hampshire considering what we witnessed upon entering the hotel, I couldn’t look at all of it as a bad thing.
Because for the first time in a very long time, I had a challenge before me.
Her name was Demi, and she was beyond fuckable.
My cock got hard just thinking about her sassy attitude, plump lips, and blue eyes. Plus, the way she wore her hair, most of the brown strands with champagne-colored highlights cascading down over her shoulders and only the very front pieces around her face had been pinned back. It was as though she wanted it to look sexy but not like she’d tried too hard.
Or maybe that was just it.
Maybe she was a woman who was effortlessly sexy.
Or perhaps I had it all wrong.
Perhaps I was so drawn to her because she was so very different from every other woman who’d come into contact with me.
Being a rock star had its perks. I never real
ly had to work very hard to get laid. It was all part of what I’d been thinking about before when I was talking to Beck. Women just wanted to make that score and be able to say they fucked a rock star.
But not Demi.
She didn’t seem the least bit impressed by my rock star status. In fact, though I hadn’t had a whole lot of time to gauge exactly how she felt, I was willing to bet I’d learn quickly that she despises the very idea of me because of the fact that I do what I do for a living.
And that was what made her so much more appealing to me.
Demi wasn’t going to be easy to land.
But I had a feeling that if I took the time to make that happen, she was going to make it worth it. Even if for no other reason than to see that beautiful mouth wrapped around my cock.
Damn, her pretty pink lips were perfect.
What I liked even more was that she didn’t hold back from saying exactly how she felt with that mouth either.
Seeing her all fired up about that asshole in the lobby was a huge turn-on.
God, I wanted her in my bed and talking back to me more than I wanted to have a successful show tomorrow night. Considering how important our shows were to me, that was saying something.
Groaning in frustration, I stood and moved to my bedroom. Maybe I needed a cold shower, too.
We had a show tomorrow night, the night off on Saturday, another show on Sunday, and then we were back on the road on Monday.
Just as I told Beck, we had a few days here. I could use a bit of excitement and didn’t mind if we shook up the town a little bit.
Or, more specifically, I didn’t mind stirring up Demi just a tad to have some fun. Coming into this part of the tour, I didn’t think New Hampshire was a place I’d really remember. Now, I wasn’t so sure.
Because with eyes, lips, and an attitude like that, I had a feeling Demi wouldn’t let me forget it.
Demi
My head snapped up as I heard something get slapped down onto the counter at the front desk.
Cash Morris.
Ugh, did this guy ever give up?