My eyes are wide open, my story still left to tell.
I’ve grown, I’ve seen, I believe in me. I now believe in me.
We both have a story. Together we are true.
Oh, we both have a story.
And mine begins with you.
Jesus, she was killing me. Clearing my throat, I took a sip of water.
“She’s amazing,” Steffi whispered. Yes, she is.
The song ended with the entire theater on their feet, and there was no doubt in my mind that Wynne Benfield had just won the entire fucking competition.
As predicted, Ferris’s song fell flat. The crowd cheered, but no one stood. Poor Ferris.
When it came my turn to sing with Wynne, I made her switch guitars with me.
“Trust me,” I told her, when she started to question it. Instead of arguing, she simply handed over the guitar. Of everything that had gone down between us, her unquestioning trust meant the most. Wynne trusted me and damn if I didn’t feel the same for her. I didn’t trust anyone, but I trusted her.
The moment we hit the stage, it was just the two of us and our guitars. We were so into each other and the song, that we missed all of our marks. I only had eyes for the woman sitting on the stool next to me. As we sang about staying up all night while getting high and setting the world on fire, I had an epiphany. This moment with Wynne surpassed any high or drunken bender I’d ever been on. I wasn’t sure if it was love or not, but I knew that it was profoundly different than anything I’d ever felt before. I also knew that I wanted to take the time to find out what it was, or even better yet, what it could be.
The song ended with everyone on their feet, a deafening roar of voices cheering for the two of us. I took her hand in mine and she gave me a blinding smile. Then we took a bow.
As Wynne exited stage left and Ferris took her place, that feeling of unease returned. The song went well, and we sounded great, but both of us knew that nothing could top my duet with Wynne.
“You had your chance,” Ferris mouthed as Wynne was ushered back on stage. Wait, what? Fuck! Anger like I’d never felt roared through me as my heart thrummed painfully in my chest.
“You need to get back to your seat,” I heard someone say, but I couldn’t make my feet move. I could see it, the gleam of victory in his beady little eyes. I’d fucked up. I’d called his bluff. Only, he wasn’t bluffing. I fucked up, and now Wynne was going to pay for it.
“Sander?” Wynne called out, a look of concern etched across her gorgeous face.
“I’m sorry,” I mouthed.
“Clearly Sander doesn’t want to leave, so let’s give him another round of applause!” our MC, Joel, announced.
“Now, Sander,” I heard Jayne whisper. Defeat washed through me as I made my way back to the judges table.
“Drama king,” March joked as I took my seat. I didn’t bother to respond. All I could do was stare at the stage.
“Well, folks, it seems that the votes are in! Can we please have a drum roll?” Joel shouted. I wanted to close my eyes, but I wouldn’t let myself. I needed to watch. I could have stopped this. I deserved what was coming.
“America and the judges have voted, and I have to say, it was close. Buuuuut, the title of Million Dollar Musician goes to Wynne Benfield!” Right as Wynne’s name was announced, Ferris leaned over and whispered something in her ear. A look of confusion skittered across her face as her eyes darted to me.
Balloons and confetti poured down onto the stage as Ferris jerked the mic from Joel’s hands. “I’d like to say a few words of congratulations, but sadly I can’t, because the whole thing was rigged.” At Ferris’s words, the theater went quiet. “I was told this would be a fair competition, but how can that be when Sander James is sleeping with one of the final two contestants? I approached him about this yesterday, and you know what he had to say?” He held up his phone and realization hit. The fucking prick had taped the conversation.
I flinched as my voice spilled through the mic, out into the packed theater, and across the entire world. “Who do you think you are? If I want to fuck Wynne, I’ll fuck her. Who are you to stop me? No one, that’s who. I own this show. Therefore, I can fuck who I want.” Of course, it was taken out of context, but no one knew this and there was no way that I could prove it.
“I demand that Wynne be removed from the—” Before he could finish his sentence, Wynne turned and bolted from the stage. As I stood to go after her, I found myself blocked by three security guards.
“Move!” I shouted, as I attempted to plow through the middle of where they were standing.
“We need you to stay here, Mr. James,” one of them responded.
“Wynne!” I shouted as I tried diving over them.
“Mr. James, please stop.”
“Fuck you! Wynne!” I shouted again.
“Wynne!” I shouted a third time before the guards finally restrained me and I was marched from the building.
Yep, you could say I’d really fucked up this time...
The rest of Million Dollar Musician will be releasing in early 2019.
His End Game
Not Letting Go
One More Time
Right Side Up
Keep It Simple
The Last Call
Utterly Forgettable
Fractured Beat
Broken Lyric
Shattered Rhythm
Gold Digger
Evan’s Encore
RB Hilliard lives in Charlotte, North Carolina with her husband and two children. In 2012, she began writing His End Game, the first book in her MMG series. Hilliard has not only published six books in this series, but has gone on to publish her hilariously funny Whisky’s novels, as well as her Amazon bestselling rock star romance series, Meltdown.
Goodreads
Twitter
Facebook
Instagram
BookBub
A Dangerous Rock bonus scene
Bella
Las Vegas isn’t all heat and sun in late December. The spray of the Bellagio’s fountains is fucking freezing, especially without a buzz. But being lucid for this is worth any temporary pain.
I barely remember our wedding night. I need to remember every second of our first anniversary.
Joel’s hand is pressed against mine. We’re already done with most of the day’s activities. We went up to the top of the Eifel Tower. We rode on the gondolas. We gorged on strawberry sorbet instead of strawberry vodka slushee. And we kissed. God, how we kissed.
But we only kissed. Okay, and maybe we touched a bit over his clothes. Okay, a lot. But all that friction of his palm against my ass, his chest against my fingertips, his crotch against mine with those stupid jeans in the way—
I need more.
I need to get back to our hotel room and fuck his brains out.
I nestle into Joel’s body as we climb the steps to the pedestrian bridge over Las Vegas Boulevard. The neon lights of the city blend into the soft orange glow of sunset.
Before I met Joel, I never would have appreciated a view like this as anything other than a gross display of capitalism.
My life was as dull and grey as a winter day in New York City.
Now, it’s as vibrant as the sunset. Everything is in technicolor. Everything is within my grasp. And everything makes me feel alive.
I turn to my husband. His green eyes are on fire. He’s up to something. But then he always is.
“I can’t believe it’s been a year.” I comb my fingers through his wavy hair. Stare back into his gorgeous green eyes. “I think I’ve said that a hundred times.”
His smile spreads over his cheeks. “A thousand.”
“Compromise on five hundred,” I offer.
He shakes his head.
“Seven-fifty?”
“No.” His smile gets goofy.
“What?”
“You.” He slides one arm around my waist. Then he undoes my bun and combs his fingers through my hair. It’s the mil
lionth time today he’s done it. Okay, maybe the seven hundred fiftieth time.
It feels as right as the first time.
His touch sets me on fire as much as it did a year ago.
“What about me?” I lean into his touch. I’m losing interest in our conversation. I’m losing interest in anything except getting back to our hotel room and celebrating without all these pesky clothes in the way.
“You’re a shrewd negotiator now.” His eyelids flutter closed. He presses his lips against mine. It’s a soft, sweet kiss, one that can only mean I love you. “Alessandra’s taught you well.”
“I couldn’t get you to come down twenty-five percent. Alessandra would be ashamed.”
He laughs. “I’m sure you can think of some way to convince me.”
“Whatever do you mean?”
He pulls back and gives me a long, slow once over. His eyes fix on my chest. “Hmm… no idea. But I’m not the brains of this operation.”
“Really? In this sweater?” It’s freezing. My sweater and skinny jeans outfit is about as far from seductive as I get these days. At least once you add in my huge coat. Even if it’s currently unbuttoned.
Joel nods. “You under-estimate the power of your tits.”
“Do I?”
“You could start wars with them.”
“I’m a pacifist.”
“Stop wars with them.” He takes my hand and leads me over the rest of the bridge. “Or you could torture me.”
Mmm. It’s a good idea. But I’m not sure I can manage it right now. I had all sorts of plans about teasing Joel enough to drive him out of his mind, but with every passing minute, I’m less and less interested in anything but fucking him immediately.
It’s been a long day.
And it was a long few weeks before that. He’s been on tour since October. This is only a short break. Our holiday break.
Luckily for us, we got married a few days before Christmas.
We get our anniversary to ourselves, every year.
Well, until we have our own family. If we have our own family. I haven’t thought that far. I’m too busy enjoying now.
This particular now is short. We have a few weeks together then he’s back on the road. Then more time together. Then he’s touring again. Repeat, repeat, repeat until he retires or I take a position that has me traveling with him.
I’m lucky. Working with Alessandra means I have a flexible schedule. My boss is Dangerous Noise’s tour manager and she’s incredibly accommodating about sending me to put out all in person fires. I think it’s because she secretly believes in true love, though she always claims it’s so I can learn how to do her job. She’s always promising she’s about to retire and spend her days screwing boy toys on a tropical island.
I love working with Alessandra. I didn’t think I’d love the music industry. I certainly didn’t think I’d love being someone’s assistant. But both things satisfy me in a way school never did. This job is so much more dynamic than my past jobs doing research. I deal with life. With people. I fix catastrophes. Well, they’re usually more like minor problems, but everything feels life or death when you’re about to step on stage to a few thousand screaming fans.
I could do Alessandra’s job. Not yet, but one day. Or I could make a lateral change. Become an actual manager. Become a talent booker. Open up my own venue and use what I know to take a bigger cut of ticket sales. Hell, I could get into promotions or sales or recording. There are so many places to go, just in the music industry. If I step outside that, there’s a whole wide world of careers.
“Where are you going?” Joel leans in to whisper. “If you’re thinking about me naked, I demand details.”
“I’m not.”
“Angel, you wound me.”
I slide my arm around his waist. “I doubt that.”
“Here I am, thinking about taking you back to our hotel suite, stripping you naked, pressing you against the window, and fucking you with everybody on The Strip watching.”
“Everyone who can see up to the thirty-something floor?”
“Oh?” His voice is equal parts teasing and seductive. “You’d rather we do it somewhere where we’ll know people can watch?”
I might. I’m not sure. There’s something incredibly hot about knowing people can see me and Joel together. I’d never want to invite a third into our bedroom, not to touch him or me. But to watch…
“There are a few sex clubs where we can make that happen.” The teasing tone drops from his voice.
“Yeah?”
“Fuck yeah.”
“You want—”
“Yeah.” He nips at my ear. “But not tonight. I need you all to myself tonight.”
“You’re so romantic when you dirty talk me, baby.”
“That’s not dirty talk.”
“Maybe I’m using the power of suggestion.”
He leans in to whisper. “Nice try.”
“Tease.”
“And proud of it.” He slides his hand to my ass as if that will prove he’s a filthy pervert.
But I don’t buy it. I know my husband well. He believes in love with every fiber of his being.
“Angel, you didn’t answer.”
“What?”
“You better be distracted thinking of me naked.”
I laugh. “Close.”
“Tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?”
He laughs. “We’ll put on a show tomorrow.” He runs his fingers through my hair. “You’re all mine tonight.”
“Okay.”
“Okay?”
“Now, I am thinking of you naked.” His body behind mine, my hands against the glass, his cock driving into me again and again…
God, that having sex against the window idea is brilliant.
My husband is a genius. Even if he claims I’m the brains of the operation.
I stare back into his gorgeous green eyes. They’re so alive. Joel is alive in a way no one else I know is. And he makes me feel like that too.
And fuck is he good at making me feel dirty in the best possible way.
Putting on a show at a sex club with him… that’s a terrifying thought.
But it makes me hot all over.
I want that.
I want it with him.
He leads me into the casino. I’m not even sure which one this is. Honestly, I don’t care. I trust Joel to make today perfect.
We cut through the roulette tables. We walk past the slot machines. We get all the way to the passageway to the next casino. There’s a poster on the wall. Winter Special. Elvis Wedding $200 off.
That’s where we—
Where he—
He turns to me and takes my hand. Slowly, he lowers himself onto one knee. “Bella Chase.” He pulls a jewelry box from his jeans and pops it open. “Will you marry me again?”
It’s a necklace, not a ring. A pendant that perfectly matches my already perfect ring.
It’s huge.
It’s beautiful.
“We… we already are married.” I stare back at Joel. My brain is slowing down. It’s too heavy with thoughts of his body tangled with mine.
“I want another ceremony with you. One you’ll remember.”
“Just us?”
“If that’s what you want.” He looks up at me. “But I want everyone there. I want everyone to see how much I love you.”
“My dad?”
He nods.
“Your parents?”
He nods.
“In one place?”
“They’ll be okay for a night.”
“And Kit and Piper and Ethan and Violet and Lacey and Mal?”
He laughs. “You can list every single person we know if you want. I’ll kneel here as long as you need me.”
My smile spreads out over my cheeks. “Of course.”
“Get down here with me.” He takes my hand and pulls me onto my knees.
It’s a little messy. But I don’t care. Joel is pushing my hair as
ide to place my necklace on my neck. He fixes the clasp then runs his fingertips over my skin.
His eyes find mine.
He stares back at me.
I stare back at him.
We’re both smiling the widest smiles in the history of the universe.
My life is so different than it was a year ago.
I’m okay not knowing where it leads.
As long as I’m with Joel, I know my life is leading to adventure.
Want more Dangerous Noise? Start the series with Dangerous Kiss or skip straight to Joel and Bella’s story Dangerous Rock.
Sinful Serenade
Sing Your Heart Out - Miles
Strum Your Heart Out - Drew
Rock Your Heart Out - Tom
Play Your Heart Out - Pete
Sinful Ever After – series sequel
Dangerous Noise
Dangerous Kiss - Ethan
Dangerous Crush – Kit
Dangerous Rock – Joel
Dangerous Fling – Mal
Dangerous Encore - series sequel
Inked Hearts
Tempting - Brendon
Hooking Up - Walker
Pretend You’re Mine - Ryan
Hating You, Loving You - Dean
Breaking the Rules - Hunter
Losing It - Wes
more coming in 2019
Standalones
Broken - Trent & Delilah
Dirty Rich
Dirty Deal - Blake
Dirty Boss - Nick
Crystal Kaswell writes scorching hot new adult romances. Dubbed “the queen of broken bad boys” by her readers, Crystal loves writing flawed characters who help each other heal. Her books are always the perfect mix of heat, heart, and humor.
Crystal is best known for her addicting series: Inked Hearts, Sinful Serenade, and Dangerous Noise. You can find links to all of Crystal’s books on her website.
Christmas with a Rockstar Page 14