RUINED - The Price of Play: Everhide Rockstar Romance Series Book 2

by Tania Joyce

  “I’m just admiring the view.”

  “Why? See something you like?” Challenge flickered in her eyes.

  He gave her a ‘been there, done that’ smirk. “Like? Yes. Want? No.”

  “Then get off me.” She pushed hard against his shoulder.

  “As you wish.” He mustered a chuckle, sat upright, and peeled away the sweaty strands of hair that had stuck to his face.

  It didn’t matter how freaking sexy she looked when her dark blue eyes shimmered at him, or how much he’d love to have her long, gorgeous legs wrapped around his waist—he couldn’t lead her on. Couldn’t sleep with her again.

  Gemma stabbed her finger at him. “Leave Kara alone. She doesn’t need to be corrupted by you.”

  Too late. He smiled and placed his hand on his chest. “Me? Corrupt someone? Never.”

  He needed a distraction. He had to do something, anything, to get Kara out of his head. A few stiff drinks and heading to the hotel’s club to hook up with some other hot chick would do the trick. Someone quick and easy. There would be no up-until-dawn escapade, not with tomorrow’s agenda. He knocked his knee against Kyle’s. “Whatever we do tonight, remember we’re going to the autism center before tomorrow’s show.”

  “I haven’t forgotten.” Kyle ruffled his hands through his damp hair. “Midday, right?”

  “Yep. Bright and early.” Hunter nodded.

  “What are you doing there?” Kara asked.

  He grabbed the handle above the window and met her inquisitive eyes. He never liked talking about private matters. Too many people had abused and taken advantage of Everhide’s celebrity status over the years. Used them as a money-making machine—like their old record label, SureHaven—rather than acknowledging their talent, their skill, or caring about the causes that affected them. But Kara was Gemma’s friend; he guessed she could know. “They want to become involved with my autism foundation. After a meeting, the three of us will hang out with the kids in the center. Do some singalongs. Play games. It’s fun.” Hunter shrugged as if it were no big deal.

  “You? Run a foundation?” She folded her arms. One manicured eyebrow arched high. “How did I not know this?”

  He smirked. “You never cared to ask.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “Of all the organizations you could support, why autism?”

  Hunter clutched his hands together in his lap. “My sister’s autistic.” He stroked the scar on the back of his right hand that Jenny had given him when she’d hit him with a toy guitar. He’d been twelve years old; Jenny had been six.

  “Oh. I’m sorry.” Kara tugged on her gold hoop earring. “I knew you had a sister. I didn’t know she was autistic.”

  “Jenny’s cool, but she’s on the severe spectrum and needs full-time care.” The harsh truth pressed against his skin. His sister may have bruised and battered his body, and filled his head with nightmares, but he set his heart on helping families like his—he didn’t want them to suffer like he had. “Our foundation provides homes for young adults with autism. We have carers, programs, and support in place that enables families to have a break.”

  Kara’s hand splayed across her chest, and her face lit up. “That’s amazing.”

  The softness in her eyes sent a warmth spreading across his chest. He didn’t think this part of his life would impress someone like her. He angled his head toward her and threw her a charming smile. “I am amazing. And adorable.”

  “Don’t push it,” she said, pursing her lips.

  It was a constant battle for him to keep his family life separate from his public one. Privacy and their safety were everything. Jenny hated the media; the cameras freaked her out. While his foundation was important, he wanted to be known for his music, not his home life.

  The van slowed to a crawl and eased past the mass of fans gathered on the hotel’s pavement, waiting to catch a glimpse of Everhide. When the driver pulled to a stop, and they stepped out of the van, ear-piercing shrills filled the air. After a few waves and air kisses, security ushered them inside.

  “Are you on this level too?” Hunter asked Kara, following her out of the elevator, Kyle, Gemma, and security tailing close behind.

  “Yes.” She pointed along the hallway. “Gem said Bec booked me the room next to yours.”

  Next door? Crap! Knowing she’d be sprawled out in the bed on the other side of the wall from him made his palms sweat.

  Stopping outside Kyle and Gemma’s room, Hunter high-fived them. “Great show tonight, guys.”

  “Hell yeah,” Gemma said. “But what was up with you?”

  Her emerald eyes flashed, sharp and watchful. He’d stab a fork into his hand before lying to her again. The last time he wasn’t honest with her, it nearly tore them apart. That was something he never wanted to live through again.

  He ruffled the top of her head. “It was a momentary lapse in concentration.” That’s all Kara was. “It won’t happen again. I promise.”

  “Good,” Kyle said, opening the door. Gemma slipped into his arms and he talked back over his shoulder. “We’ll see you soon. Don’t rush . . . if you know what I mean.” Kyle kissed Gemma on the neck, and the two of them fell, laughing, into their suite and shut the door.

  Hunter slapped his hand against the closed door. “So we’ll see you two in about five minutes?”

  “Make it half an hour.” Came Kyle’s muffled voice.

  Hmm . . . he glanced at Kara. He could do a lot in half an hour.

  He loved that rush of picking up a girl after a show, bringing her back to his hotel room, and bonking her senseless. It was as exhilarating as a line of cocaine. Cocaine he hadn’t touched in years. But girls . . . well . . . the couple since Kara had been as thrilling as listening to soul music on slow. Shit! Was there something wrong with his libido?

  Scanning Kara’s body, heat simmered through his veins. Those boots. That short dress. Those tits. Yep. Nothing wrong with his libido. Not at all.

  Before he did something stupid, he needed a cold shower. Hmm . . . Kara. In the shower. His pulse jumped, and his balls ached. So. Not. Good. He had to get away from her, now. He clutched onto the strap of his backpack and walked backward, thumbing toward his room. “Okay, Kar . . . I’ll leave you to it. I stink, so I better go freshen up. I’ll meet you in Kyle and Gemma’s room soon.”

  At his door, Hunter waved to Mick, his bodyguard, who was on duty at the end of the hallway, swiped his access card, and strode into his room. He let out the breath he didn’t realize he’d being holding. Damn. Kara was doing his head in.

  He dumped his backpack on the ground by his suitcase, his jeans, hoodies, socks, and T-shirts falling over the edge. The king-size bed, made without a wrinkle in the crisp white cover, took up nearly every inch of the tiny space. Beat the hell out of sleeping on their tour bus. He grabbed a fresh pair of boxer-briefs, popped the chocolate left on the nightstand into his mouth, and headed into the bathroom.

  Under the warm water, he grimaced, unable to stop pictures of Kara flooding his mind. Slender body. Sexy legs. Sensational tits. His pulse jumped from moderato to vivace. Blood charged to his groin. God damn it. Lathering himself, he stroked his cock. Long, languid, hard rubs. His tongue between her legs. He tightened his grip. Pumped his fist. Quicker and quicker. His dick pounding into her. Over and over again. His breath hissed through his teeth. He squeezed his eyes shut. Thrusting his hips, he found release. He sighed and shook his head. What was wrong with him? He just jerked off to Kara.

  Stepping out of the shower, he jumped when the doorbell rang.

  “Hotel management.”

  What? He hoped it wasn’t some crazed fan who’d got onto their floor. But security wouldn’t let anyone near his room. Maybe it was a mix-up.

  “Just a minute.” He half dried himself, wrapped his towel around his waist, and peered through the spyhole.

  His breath caught in his throat. Shit. He stretched his neck side to side, trying to rein in his pulse. He opened the door.


  There stood Kara. Gone was the sexy dress, replaced with pale pink, silky pajamas. She scanned him up and down, and his body hummed.

  He smirked and propped his arm against the door. Best to act cool, calm, and collected. “Can I help you?”

  “You’re infuriating. You know that?” Kara said, her lips tight. He smelled whiskey on her breath. Had she drunk half the minibar?

  “I try my best.” He grinned. “But could you be specific?”

  “You. Onstage and in the car. Looking good, all hot and sweaty. Flirting. And teasing. Being suggestive.”

  What was she going on about? He’d been well-behaved. “I’m always like that. What’s wrong with it?”

  “You’re driving me crazy. We had a deal. One night and one night only. Never again.” She dragged her long nails down her cheeks.

  His back flinched remembering her digging those claws into his flesh. “Yep. That was the deal.”

  “So why are you tormenting me?”

  “I always do.”

  “I know. But since sleeping with you, things have changed. I still don’t like you . . . but the sex was soooo good.” An awkward smile quivered across her lips. “I was wondering if we could . . . renegotiate. Can we do it again? Just once more. And that will be it. I swear.”

  Oh shit.

  His heart jolted against his ribs. This was what he wanted to avoid. He had a mantra to never sleep with the same girl twice. He didn’t want to get involved, or hurt anyone, ever again. “You? Want to have sex? Again?”

  She twisted the bottom of her pajama top around in her fingers. Tiny wrinkles formed at the corners of her eyes. “Yes.”

  Fresh blood flooded toward his groin. So much for his release in the shower.

  No. Stop. Sleeping with her again would lead to problems. He didn’t want that. There had been a point in time, eighteen months ago, when he’d thought he wanted a girlfriend. He’d given it his best shot. With Gemma. Then Amie. But everything had ended in disaster. He wasn’t about to fall into some friends-with-benefits fiasco that would only end up with her getting hurt.

  But . . . damn, he wanted to fuck her.

  It was just sex.

  Shit. No. No, he couldn’t.

  Could he?

  He rubbed his forehead. His dick ached. He closed his eyes. Flashes of Gemma broken with tears streaming down her face, and Amie with her cold, callous laugh flickered behind his eyelids. He’d caused too much pain to people he’d cared about. Hurt people he loved. Got trampled by those who he’d fallen for. The permanent scars on his heart were too brutal.

  “I’m sorry, Kar. I can’t.”

  A you’ve-gotta-be-kidding-me look flared in her eyes. It stung him like a slap to the face. But before she had time to say another word, he let the heavy room door fall shut.

  When the latch clicked, he sat on his bed and buried his face in his hands. What normal guy turned down an offer like hers?

  He’d left normal behind years ago. He was such a prick. But what else could he have done?

  The hurt in her eyes when he said no cut deep into the marrow of his bones.

  Fuck.

  This was for the best.

  He should have known better than to screw around with Gemma’s friend. His friend. It was better to let her down now rather than later. This was the price he had to pay for playing around. Because anything was better than letting anyone get close to him ever again.

  Chapter 4

  Kara placed her hand on her queasy stomach and stepped out of the cab into the alley in West Hollywood. The cool wind snapped at her trench coat and tangled her hair. She adjusted her Dior sunglasses to stop the dust stinging her eyes. After finishing her training course yesterday, dinner and drinks with friends had gone on well into the night. Now she was paying the price. Her head ached, and she felt sick.

  After dashing through the gust, she went through the security check point. Her eyes strained at the gaudy street art illuminating the walls of the otherwise dull industrial buildings. With a free day before heading home, she’d come on set to watch Everhide film their new music video. She was here for Gemma. Not Hunter. She wouldn’t let him get to her. Not after his rejection in Philadelphia a week ago.

  It had taken three drinks from the minibar and every thread of her confidence to knock on Hunter’s bedroom door, and with one snip, he’d sent it tumbling to the floor. Another round of mind-numbing sex would’ve been a great antidote to stressful news. She’d found out earlier that day her operation had been brought forward. When Hunter had said no to sleeping with her again, she’d never been so humiliated and embarrassed in her life. Asshole. He didn’t hang out with her, Gemma, and Kyle that night either. Jerk. Today, if he resorted to his usual suggestive banter, she’d ignore him. She’d count knitting stitches in her head. And she hated knitting.

  With deft footwork in her stiletto ankle boots, she ducked under the sound booms, around the rigging and lighting, and skipped over the thick cords and cables that snaked across the ground. Drawing closer to the trailer, her chest tightened. She climbed the metal-grid stairs and hesitated. Her stomach swirled like an unsettled ocean. Taking a deep breath, she straightened her coat, fixed her hair.

  I got this.

  She gave her hands a quick shake to get rid of the nerves, rapped on the trailer door, opened it, and stepped into utter chaos.

  Pacing the length of the forty-foot trailer, Bec, the band’s personal assistant, cursed profanities to someone on her cell phone. Sophie, the band’s manager, threw heated words at three guys wearing shiny puffer jackets emblazoned with ‘All-Hyped Productions’ on the back. The band’s publicist, Kate, sat at the table, typing like a demon on her laptop. Kyle, Gemma, and Hunter sat on the luxurious white leather sofa like they were on the set of Friends.

  Gemma caught sight of her and her face lit up. “You made it.” She rushed to Kara and gave her a warm hug.

  “Yeah. Traffic was good for LA standards.”

  When Gemma pulled away, her face morphed from happy to worried. “You don’t look so good. Are you okay?”

  Kara brushed her fingertips across her feverish forehead. “Not really. I went out last night. Had too much to drink. I’ve been sick, and I never throw up from alcohol.”

  “Can I get you anything?”

  “No, thank you. I’ll be fine.” She peered over Gemma’s head. The second she met Hunter’s gaze, she gritted her teeth. Her nostrils flared.

  Knit one. Purl one. Knit one. Purl one.

  So what if he made an old sweatshirt and jeans look like he’d stepped off the Prada runway. If she had real knitting needles, she could stab them through his eyes.

  She sucked in oxygen and stuffed all her hurt into the spandex around her heart. Nothing would burst her seamlines today. Especially not him.

  Hunter ripped his eyes away, his wavy hair curtaining his face.

  That would be right. Hide. You sack of shit.

  Peeling off her coat, she flicked Hunter from her mind and surveyed the mayhem. “So . . . what’s going on, Gem?”

  “The plan for today’s shoot has turned into a nightmare.” Gemma stepped out of Bec’s way. “No outfits.”

  “What? Where are Margo and Carla?” Kara looked around for their stylist and make-up artist.

  Kyle leaned forward and rested on his elbows. “Margo’s sick. She fainted at dinner last night. Carla’s taken her to the hospital.”

  She could relate to not feeling well. Her belly still bubbled with nausea. “I hope she’s okay.”

  “Crap.” Bec threw her cell phone onto the table and jammed her hands on her hips. “That was Emily, Margo’s assistant. Emily forgot to send the outfits. They’re still in New York.”

  Kara drew her shoulders back, towering over Gemma. “Bec, do you need clothes for the shoot?”

  “Ah . . . yes.” Bec’s biting tone made it clear she was not in the mood to be messed with.

  “I can help.” Kara placed her coat and Luis Vuitton purse onto the
kitchenette counter. “We’re close to Conrad’s store on Rodeo Drive. I’ll call Adrian, the manager. We’ll pull items off the shop floor. Whatever we use, we’ll add to Everhide’s account.”

  Bec rushed forward and grasped Kara’s arms. “That would be incredible. I don’t have time to go shopping.”

  “Sure. No worries.” Kara’s stomach flipped a gazillion times. She’d done nothing like this before, but she knew she could pull it off. “Tell me what you need?”

  Bec scanned her cell phone. “Margo’s brief is here somewhere . . . Here . . . Nothing torn or faded. Plain-colored outfits. We don’t want them blending into the graffiti on the walls. Do you think you can have them within the hour?”

  Doubt flickered through Kara’s mind. That seemed tight. She was a designer, not a stylist, but she knew clothes, her friends, and their style. “Yes.”

  Sixty minutes to make it happen. Holy shit!

  “You’re a lifesaver,” Sophie said, then wiggled her finger at Everhide. “You guys . . . be ready the minute Kara gets your outfits. The rest of us will take Brandon for a coffee down the street. Let’s hope there are no more delays because he is pure asshole.”

  Kara smirked and jutted her chin at Hunter. “One of your mates, is he?”

  “Ha ha ha ha ha. No . . . he’s the videographer.” The deep timbre of his voice sent a strange wave of vibrations coursing through her body. What the hell was wrong with her? She really was sick.

  Sophie grabbed her purse. “We’ll leave you to get organized. Call me if you need anything.”

  Kara stepped clear of the doorway and Sophie led the management team and production crew out of the trailer, leaving Kara with her friends. Without a second to waste, Kara dived into her purse for her notebook and cell phone and called Adrian.

  Ten minutes later, she stood at the counter and scribbled some notes to make sure she’d ordered all the items they’d need.

  “Hey.”

  She jumped, sending a pen mark skidding across her page. Hunter. Where had he come from?