by Shade, S. M.
“Now you’ve had a little taste of life on the road. What do you think?” Axton asks him.
Patrick considers it for a moment. “It’s a lot louder than I expected. So many people all the time. But I love it. I can’t wait to open for Tragic on the next one.”
Axton nods with a grin. “World tour. We’ll be in a different city, if not a different country, every day or two. It’s going to be some wild shit.”
“The search is on for the touring musicians to play with me. This all happened so fast. I don’t even have a band,” Patrick points out.
Axton points at him. “Don’t let Milo or the label push you into people you don’t like. They won’t focus as much on meshing your musical style with the other artists as they will pushing those artist’s careers as well. They know you’re good. They’ll use it. Insist on picking your own musicians.”
He does his best not to show it, but it’s clear Patrick is delighted with Axton’s praise. Before Axton acted like an ass to him, I know Patrick had a lot of respect for him and aspired to the same success. It must be flattering to know Axton thinks he’s talented as well.
I sit and listen as they discuss the next tour. They’re both so excited. Patrick’s wariness of Axton seems to dry up as they talk and laugh together.
One of the assistants, Sarah, sits down on my other side and I turn my back to them while I chat with her. My ears are still tuned to their conversation.
“Will you be bringing Hatch?” Patrick asks.
“You mean am I bringing Naomi?”
Shit, Axton. Don’t start.
There’s a moment of silence from them while I try to listen to his response at the same time that I’m admiring the photo of Sarah’s niece she’s sharing with me.
“Okay,” Patrick replies. “Are you bringing Naomi?”
I’m relieved to hear amusement in Axton’s voice instead of malice. “You like her.”
“Of course. We’re friends.”
“Friends, yeah, that’s what she said.”
“But you don’t believe it?”
Sarah excuses herself and walks away, but I barely notice.
Axton’s deep laugh is followed by words that make me want to choke him. “I believe it. Nice guys aren’t her type.” I turn around in my seat in time to see him lean toward Patrick. He drops his voice, but not enough. “She’s fierce, with a thing for grudge fucking. She’d destroy you.”
Patrick nearly chokes on his drink while Axton stands up, a satisfied little smirk on his face. “See you next tour, Thorn.”
He walks away while I’m still thinking of eighteen different things I want to yell at him. No one knew. Not one single person knew we’d fucked, and I thought that was the way we would keep it. I never specifically warned him against telling, but I assumed he wouldn’t want anyone to find out either.
He has pretty much ignored me for the last few weeks, and now he wants to get all jealous over Patrick again?
Patrick glances at me and I feel my cheeks heat up. “Why don’t we just both pretend we didn’t hear that?” he suggests.
“Why does he have to be such a dick?” I groan. “I don’t understand him.”
Patrick looks at Axton, who is still glancing at us as he talks to another group of people. With a soft laugh, he gets to his feet. “I think I get it. Let me get a hug, girl. I’m going to go.”
“It’s been fun,” I tell him, squeezing him back. “I’ll miss talking to you.”
“Same here. See you next tour.”
I’ve said goodbye to everyone I want to, and the noise of the increasingly intoxicated group is starting to become grating instead of fun. It’s time to call it a night. Hopefully, I’ll just sleep the whole ride back.
The buses wait just outside so I don’t bother to grab security to walk with me. The night air is chilly, and I fold my arms, wishing I’d thought to grab a jacket. The clear sky is sprayed with stars and I have to pause for a moment to take it in, along with the blissful silence.
A peaceful moment by myself to think back on this experience isn’t the worst way to end it. Until a hand grips my arm.
Jerking back, I breathe a sigh of relief when I see Axton’s green eyes on mine. “Shit! Are you trying to give me a heart attack?” I snap.
“You’re standing in a dark parking lot alone at night. You’re trying to give me the heart attack.”
“The bus is right there. I was just looking at the sky for a minute. And there’s no paparazzi around.”
Grinning, he nods. “I know.” His gaze wanders over me, and I suddenly feel naked. That look. It shouldn’t make warmth spread through my body. I’m pissed at him. I’m supposed to be pissed at him.
A shiver rattles me and he murmurs, “You’re cold.” Before I can respond, he pulls me against him, wrapping his arms around me.
Oh, he’s warm. And he smells so good. “What are you doing?” I mumble against his shirt.
“Hugging you.” His arms tighten around me when I try to step back.
“What? Do you think Patrick might be watching?”
He grins at my sarcastic remark and stares down at me. He hasn’t shaved and it’s everything I can do not to reach up and run my fingers over that scruff. “I’m not worried about Patrick.”
“Well, you seem to forget I exist unless he’s near.” I regret the words as soon as they’re out. I don’t want him to know how he gets to me. And I don’t want to sound like some pathetic groupie upset over not getting enough of his attention.
“There hasn’t been another threat against you since we stopped being seen in public.”
His words surprise me but not as much as the searing kiss he delivers right after. My head spins, and there’s no thought involved in the next few seconds. I wrap my arms around his back, under his hoodie. My lips part beneath his and he takes full advantage, sliding his tongue into my mouth. Fuck me. The man can kiss. Slow, and thorough and catastrophic to my self-control. So unlike the frantic, devouring kisses the night we slept together.
I can’t do this. I’m just setting myself up to get hurt. This is crazy. Along with a hundred other reasons this is a bad idea, he’s my boss.
Then stop fucking kissing him, Naomi!
Breaking the kiss, I step back a few paces and shake my head. “I can’t do this.” He’s probably drunk. Hell, of course he is. Everyone at the dinner was throwing them back like alcohol was going extinct. I’ll bet he won’t even remember it tomorrow.
Without another word, I hurry to the bus. By the time he gets in and takes a seat on the bench in the living area, I’m curled up on the bottom bunk. I squeeze my eyes shut, willing myself to sleep instead of replaying the amazing kiss.
Exhaustion and a few drinks take over and grant my wish…eventually.
Chapter Fourteen
Axton
Pouring her second glass of wine, Naomi glances out the patio door when thunder rolls across the sky. “I’m going to the sunroom to watch the storms. They’re supposed to last all night.” She does a double take, then grabs the bottle of wine to take with her.
Taking my ass to bed or even to my music room would be the best choice right now but I find myself picking up my bottle of bourbon and following her. She doesn’t object or even seem to mind when I sit beside her on the small sofa.
The baby monitor sits on the table in front of us and she turns up the volume so it can be heard over the increasing noise of the storm. We sit in silence, drinking, for a few comfortable minutes. We’ve only been home about twenty-four hours, and after the chaos of the tour, I’m sure she needs the break as much as I do.
A sudden clap of thunder shakes the house, followed by lightning so bright it leaves an impression on my vision. Naomi tilts her head, resting it on the back of the couch, and watches the sky with a contented smile. I’ve seen a similar expression on her face at concerts. Like everything is right in the world at that moment.
While I’m wondering whether I’ll have to fish my patio furniture o
ut of the pool tomorrow, she’s enjoying the wind and rain as if it’s a show put on just for her. “Why do you like storms? They’re a pain in the ass.”
The wind picks up and the power chooses that moment to go out, leaving us in darkness only broken by flashes of lightning. “Case in point,” I add.
Her gaze never wavers from the turbulent sky. “I’m enthralled by them. The sudden flash that imprints the world in blue, followed by a crack that sounds like the sky may have split open. The rumble of thunder you can feel in your chest. The sting of wind driven raindrops across your face, soaking you to the skin in a matter of seconds. Storms won’t be ignored. They insist on your attention in that moment, making you aware you’re alive and at nature’s mercy. What’s not to love?”
“Christ, you’re a romantic.”
“There’s nothing romantic about it,” she scoffs. “Just because you have no appreciation for nature or the little things.”
“That’s not true.”
“Really? Name something then.”
“Stars.” The word falls out before I have a chance to think about it. “I like to look at the stars.” Tilting the bottle of bourbon, I take a long drink.
“That’s why you like to work on the back patio at night? You like the night sky?”
“Yes.”
“And that’s not a romantic notion but storm watching is?” she teases, grabbing the bottle from my hands and taking a drink.
“It helps me keep things in perspective. All those stars, all the galaxies and fuck knows what else out there, reminds me that nothing really matters in the grand scheme of the universe. It will end anyway. Heat or ice. Explosion or a silent decay. It makes no difference. Eventually, for better or worse, there will be an end to everything and none of the shit we did will make any difference.”
Her fingers brush mine as she passes the bottle back. “And you find that comforting?” The power blinks on for just a moment, making the lights flash, but I’m grateful that they don’t stay on. Some things are just easier to talk about in the dark.
“Yeah, I do.”
Scooting an inch or two closer, she bumps my shoulder with hers. “A nihilist rock star. How original.” The alcohol is perceptible in her speech, but only barely. “Do you want to know what I think?” Her body is so close her arm touches mine.
“We both know you’re going to tell me no matter what,” I snort, and she slaps my leg.
“I think you’ve decided there’s no joy left to be had, when you just won’t let yourself experience it. You can’t turn off the light and blame the world for being dark.” Her words hang in the air among a rumble of thunder.
“Not dark, just…pointless.”
“Why does there need to be a point?” She sighs. “The thing is, I don’t see things much differently than you do. I just draw a different conclusion from it. Because you’re right. In a hundred years, a thousand, a million, none of it matters. Darkness will engulf everything eventually. But just because life has no aim doesn’t mean it has no meaning or value. It’s a personal thing. Life has whatever meaning you give it. To me, it’s about finding happiness where you can. In nature, the innocent joy of kids…” A sharp purple flash illuminates her face as she gazes at me. “Or music.”
She wraps her hand around the neck of the bourbon bottle again and tries to take it from me, but I pull it away, setting it on the edge of the table out of her reach. “What? I won the argument so you’re being selfish?”
“It wasn’t an argument. It was a conversation.”
“Fine. I won the conversation. Now, give me a drink.”
“No. I need to know you aren’t drunk when I fuck you.” That shut her up. It’s pure luck the power is restored at that moment and I get to see the pink flush through her cheeks. Her tongue slips out to wet her lips and she glances down like she’s just realized how close we’re sitting.
She shakes her head but has to swallow before she speaks, and if she means to sound disapproving, she’s fallen far short. “Arrogant, presumptuous ass.”
The gasp she lets out when I pick her up as I stand, tuck the baby monitor in my pocket, then march toward my room makes me grin. I toss her on my bed, put the monitor on the dresser, praying this isn’t a rare night Caden wakes up, and strip off my shirt.
As I approach the edge of the bed, her gaze roams over me and I can read every dirty thought in her head because the same are beating in mine.
“You can’t just tell me—”
My mouth stops her argument, and it takes less than a second for her to slide her tongue into my mouth, returning the fiery kiss. Warm skin meets my fingertips when I slide them just under her waistband on each hip. “I know. Nobody tells you what to do. I get it. Now, are you taking your panties off, or am I? Because I’m licking you either way.”
Cursing under her breath, she pulls off her tee shirt. There’s no bra impeding my view of her hard nipples that call to my mouth. She lets out a low groan when I suck one between my lips while pulling her shorts and panties off in one motion.
Last time I had her like this, I was a raging asshole. This time I’m going to do it right. Make her feel everything I’ve been wanting to give her for weeks. For one night I’m going to quiet the voice in my head screaming that this is a big fucking mistake. I’m not worrying about tomorrow. I just need her now.
Standing at the end of the bed, I pull her by her ankles until her ass hangs over the edge. Her gaze locks on mine. Her chest rises and falls with quick breaths as I kneel in front of her and drape her legs over my shoulders.
There’s never been a sexier sound than the gasp she lets out when my tongue first runs over her clit. Instinctively, she tries to close her legs. With her feet dangling behind me and my arms wrapped around her thighs, she can’t. I have complete control.
And I’m going to take advantage of it.
Burying my face between her legs, I lick and suck at her, chuckling to myself when she desperately tries to get away after the first orgasm. Oh no, not with me. Not tonight. When her body shudders and contracts a second time, she pleads, “No more, I can’t.”
I peek up at her pink face and glassy eyes. “I could do this all night.” My teasing threat makes her curse.
My cock throbs under my jeans and I can’t think of anything except burying it inside her. Sliding my hands under her ass, I scoot her back up the bed a little, then stand and strip off all my clothes.
Two orgasms don’t stop her from ogling me. Her tongue swipes over her lips and she reaches for my cock. Her shocked indignant expression when I slap her hand is priceless. “I didn’t say you could touch that.” I’m sure she thinks I’m taunting her or trying to dominate—I never have to try that just comes naturally—but this is pure self-preservation. If her soft little hand strokes me, I might not make it inside her. For the first time since I was a damn teenager, I’ll be glad to have a sheet of rubber killing some of the sensation.
“Well, I didn’t say you could—”
“Make you moan my name and beg?”
The irritated look she tries to give doesn’t quite make it, and I stare down at her as I roll the condom on. Her entire body is flushed a light pink, nipples jutting out. How can I blame myself for fucking her again? No man could resist this.
This time though, I want to make sure she enjoys it, all of it, not just an orgasm. I brush my lips up her stomach, and revel in the sound she makes when I suck her nipple into my mouth. Her body melts beneath mine when I kiss my way up her neck, then bring my lips to hers. Slipping a finger inside her, I take my time. The kiss is no less passionate for being a slow, thorough exploration instead of the usual hard, fast mauling of each other’s mouths.
Her hips rock against my hand. “Look at me,” I murmur, watching her face while I replace my finger with my cock.
“Axton,” she moans, wrapping her legs around me. Her hands squeeze my ass, urging me forward. “Yes, fuck, that feels good.”
Good isn’t near the word I’d use.
It’s never felt like this. I told her I could eat her all night, but this, I could do forever and never tire of it. Every stroke, every noise she makes, the smell of our sweat in the air, pulls me out of my head into some place I’ve only ever found in music. I could die fucking this woman.
Sitting up, I pull her onto my lap, her legs straddling me, and suck at her neck, driving my hips up as she moves with me. So perfect. So in tune.
“I’m going to come again,” she breathes. “Oh.”
The word draws out into a cry, and she buries her face in my neck, clenching around me.
“Naomi.” Her name falls out on a sharp breath and I hold her tight through my own shattering finish. A breath that could be my last and I couldn’t give a fuck. What has she done to me? The intoxicating effect she has on me, it’s like a drug.
Soft brown eyes look into mine, and I cup her face, dropping a gentle kiss on her puffy lips. “You’re wrong. There are things I find joy in. Hatch, music...” I brush another light kiss across her mouth. “You.”
* * *
It’s after two a.m. and Naomi is asleep in my bed. The storms have passed but not the one in my head, screaming at me to write. She inspired me. I’ve never met anyone like her. Her art is loving. Painting the world with the beauty she sees in it. Until I get the words down, I’ll never sleep.
Inspiration isn’t the only reason the need to write and play is so overwhelming. My brain wants badly to remind me that I’m a fucking idiot and I’ll be paying for this. It’s been a while since I’ve been tortured with the nightmares, weeks since I’ve woken in a sweat trying not to open that door. But I know they’re triggered by emotion and tonight, I felt way too much. I feel way too much.
The words to describe the turmoil roiling inside me flit through my thoughts. Enamored. Remorseful. Infatuated. Confused. And the most prominent; afraid. For me, but not nearly as much as I am for her.