Idol (VIP #1)

by Kristen Callihan

  “Why don’t you lay it out for me?” Killian asks. There is a silky, dark note in his voice that I’ve never heard before. A definite warning.

  Jax either doesn’t hear it or doesn’t care. “If you wanted your side piece to come on tour, you should have just said so. You didn’t have to drag her on stage and mess with the band.”

  Killian sucks in a sharp breath and lets it out slowly. “I’m not gonna hit you,” he finally says. “You deserve it. But I’m not. Get this now. That is the last time you disrespect Libby. You got me?”

  Jax glances at me, and for a second I see a wince of regret, then it’s gone. “You disrespected yourself,” he says, “hiding and pretending this was about performing.”

  “You’re right,” I say before Killian can respond. “Which is why I’m no longer hiding.”

  “But you’re still going to pretend like you belong here?”

  Okay, that hurt.

  Killian snarls, taking a step toward Jax. “What the fuck is your problem?”

  “My problem? You fucking lied. To all of us.”

  “Dude,” Rye says, shaking his head at Jax. “It was obvious they were together.”

  “Seriously. Take your head out of your ass, man,” Whip adds, giving Killian a cheeky smile. “I knew he was gone on her the moment he started waxing lyrical about her voice. And it’s not like they’re very good at hiding those moony looks they keep throwing each other.”

  Killian’s eyes narrow. “You knew and you were going to ask her out?”

  “Naw, I was just fucking with you, Big K. You should have seen your face. I thought you were going to bust something.” Whip laughs.

  “I was about to bust your face,” Killian mutters, but he doesn’t look truly pissed. Not at Whip, anyway. He sets his attention back on Jax. “You used to be better than this.”

  “And you used to be straight with me.”

  Killian’s brows lift. “You get the hypocrisy you’re throwing my way, right?”

  The corners of Jax’s mouth go white. “Nice.”

  “Jax,” Whip begins, but Jax gives him a quelling look.

  “We didn’t need this bullshit right now,” Jax says. He walks off without another word.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Killian

  “Libs?” My voice is barely above a whisper in the dark hotel bedroom.

  Hers comes back just as soft. “Yeah?”

  “When I told you I’d never had a girlfriend, it wasn’t to score points. It was a warning.”

  Sheets rustle as she lifts up on her elbow. The soft fall of her hair slides over her shoulder, the silky tips tickling my arm. “Warning?”

  I roll on my side and pick up a lock of her hair. “That I have no idea what I’m doing. That I’ll probably do stupid shit.”

  “Killian, what the hell are you talking about?” She doesn’t sound annoyed, more amused.

  My eyes have adjusted to the dark enough that I can make out her features. Naked and mussed after hours of sex, she’s also so beautiful, I’m having a hard time concentrating. But her brows lift a little as if to prompt me to speak.

  “I’m sorry,” I tell her.

  “Sorry? Why?” She shakes her head. “I’m the one who should be sorry. I hurt you. And it hurts me too.”

  I’m pretty sure if I kiss her now, I’m not going to stop. So I give the ends of her hair a gentle tug in acknowledgment. “Same goes, baby doll.” A sigh escapes me before I can rein it in. “You were right. I push too hard to get what I believe is best, and I don’t think things through. Tonight was a shit show. Just as you predicted.”

  Already, the press is going crazy. I haven’t told her about the social media frenzy and the way the world is now demanding our story—and to know everything about her. I don’t want that nonsense invading this space.

  She doesn’t say anything for a second, then her warm palm finds my chest. I close my eyes as she smooths her hand over my skin. “We were both wrong. And both right.”

  I blow out a breath and look up at her. “I’m going to have Brenna put out a statement that we fell for each other during the tour, and that’s all we’re giving them.”

  Libby’s brows draw together. “Why?”

  “Because your happiness is more important to me than anything else.” A dark, ugly slide of regret goes down my insides. “And I’ll be damned if anyone treats you the way Jax did tonight. I’m sorry about that too, Libs. So fucking sorry.”

  Her hand slides up to my neck as she leans down and kisses my chest, right over my heart. Soft lips brush over my nipple before her little teeth nip it. My abs tighten in response, and a familiar heat surges up my tired, but clearly still eager, cock. Libby gives me one more tender kiss, then braces her arms on my chest. “Promise me something.”

  “Anything.” My arms come around her waist, tugging her closer.

  She smiles. “You might regret answering so easily.”

  “Never.” I kiss the crook of her neck, stroke her hair.

  “Don’t be mad at Jax.”

  Well, hell. I draw back enough to meet her gaze. “Feelings are a little hard to ignore, Libs. And I’m fucking pissed.”

  The tip of her finger traces my eyebrow. “I know you are. I’m asking you not to be. You need each other.”

  I want to argue, but she talks over me.

  “And you aren’t happy when you’re pissed at him.”

  “There are times when I truly dislike that you read me so well,” I tell her.

  “He has a right to be mad. I was wrong to ask you to hide it from your friends, and I plan to apologize in the morning.”

  My back teeth clench. “He had better apologize in return. That shit was uncalled for—”

  “Killian,” she chides. “Let it go. I don’t want to regret what I did tonight.”

  “Regret it?” I scoff, dragging her fully on top of me where she belongs. Her soft tits pillow on my chest, and I grunt with contentment. “You’d better not. That was hot as hell. Very Officer and a Gentleman.”

  She giggles. I love when my girl giggles. She needs more lightness in her life. “What are you on?”

  “It was,” I protest, kissing the tip of her nose. “I half expected you to pick me up and carry me out of there.”

  Her laugh is full-out now. “Nerd.”

  I nod. “And I loved seeing you jealous.”

  “I was not,” she protests, her nose wrinkling in disgust.

  “Was too.”

  “Not even.”

  “So much. Your skin had a green tint. Pretty, but not as pretty as it is now, all sex-flushed and wanting more. It’s okay, you know. I’ll give it to you. I’m easy that way.”

  Her laughter shakes her body, the smooth curve of her belly pressing into my hard dick. She shakes her head again. “Good. I’ll always want it from you.” Her eyes glint in the dim light. “And I was jealous.”

  “That’s it.” I roll over, pinning her to the bed. “No sleep tonight. Because I need to make a few things clear, and it might take some time.”

  Libby

  Killian makes himself at home on top of me, bracing himself on his forearms.

  “I’m not going to be jealous anymore,” I tell him before he can speak. A counterstrike, because jealous is a petty emotion I don’t want any part of, if I can help it. “That was a rare anomaly.”

  “Okay.” He answers so easily, as if content with whatever I say. I think he’s just humoring me. His brows lift a touch, and there’s a smile in his eyes. “Did you stake your claim on me tonight because you were jealous?”

  “You know I did.” I poke his side, finding the spot that makes him yelp before I grow serious. “Actually, I thought of how my life would be if I’d never met you, and didn’t have you in it. That is unacceptable.”

  “You’ll never have to know how it would be,” he whispers. “Because I’m not letting you go.”

  Cupping the back of his neck, I kiss him. And he sighs, sinking into it.

>   “Seeing you pawed by other women did suck, however.” I give him that honesty because he deserves it.

  “I hate being pawed by other women,” he breathes against my lips. “Kiss me and make it all better.”

  I do, practically eating at his mouth because Killian tastes so good, and because no matter how many times I touch him, I always want more. My body trembles, my legs twining around his waist, pulling him closer.

  He undulates against me, rocking his hips into mine, clinging like he’ll never get enough either.

  One of his hands slides to my neck, stroking it, the other dips between us. His fingers find mine, guiding them down. I wrap my hand around his hot flesh, and he groans.

  “This is yours,” he says, thrusting a little in my grip. “As his owner you have an obligation to take good care of him.”

  I smile against his mouth. “Oh, yeah?”

  “Mmm…” He nips my chin, makes his way down my neck. “Pet him, kiss him, keep him warm at night, entertained during the day.”

  I stroke along his length, squeezing the tip. Killian hums in approval.

  “Like that, yeah.” He sucks at the crook of my neck. “So you know, he’ll also need plenty of quality time with his new best friend, Pretty Pussy.”

  A soft laugh escapes me, but my body heats. I’m bone-tired and sore. We’ve been at it all night, and still I want him inside of me again, pushing his way in with that low, greedy grunt he always makes. The thought makes me lightheaded. My thumb circles the broad head of his cock, where it weeps. For me.

  “If he’s mine,” I whisper, nibbling at his ear, “maybe he doesn’t have to get all dressed up when he comes in for a visit.”

  Killian stills, his breath warm and damp at my neck. “Are you saying you want me to fuck you bare?”

  I can’t tell if surprise or caution tightens his voice. I’ve never asked a guy to go without. I’ve never wanted to. But I do with Killian. “Do you not want to?” I ask, cautious now too. “Because it’s okay if you—”

  “I want it,” he cuts in, husky and insistent. His gaze darts over my face. “You on the pill now?”

  “Had a shot. Three months of clear sailing. So to speak.”

  A familiar, cocky grin spreads over his face. “You know, going without, this speaks of long-term commitment, doesn’t it? You don’t say, ‘Fuck me bare,’ unless you’re thinking it’s just you and me for a long time.”

  I still, lifting my head up. “You’re pulling me out of my happy place, Killian James.”

  His chuckle vibrates along my skin. “And here I am about to sink right into my happiest place.” My noise of annoyance only serves to make his eyes crinkle. “Babe, it’s just you and me.” With that, his too thick, too hard, too fucking perfect cock pushes in.

  That first thrust of his is always a shock to the system, my body reacting to the invasion with a ripple of pure heat and a pinch of sweet pain. But it’s that feeling of connection, our bodies finding each other again in the most elemental way that clutches my heart.

  Killian enters me, and I am whole. It is that simple.

  I know he feels it too, because his body trembles on a gusty sigh. He doesn’t stop until he’s made his way fully inside—big, bold, and undeniable.

  “Hey,” he says softly, holding himself there. “Look at me.”

  My lids flutter open, that lazy, languid feeling coursing through my body like liquid golden heat.

  His eyes shine with emotion. “You and me, Libby. We stick together, and everything will be okay.”

  I believe him. There in the dark, surrounded by his strength, I believe that nothing will ever tear us apart.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Libby

  Seattle. It’s cold. It’s rainy. It’s beautiful. It’s also the last stop on the US leg of the tour. From here we go overseas—, to Berlin first. I have no idea why we’re jumping all over the place, but Brenna has explained it has to do with concert promoters and venue schedules. I really don’t care; going to Europe is exciting, and I can’t wait.

  For now, though, it’s Seattle. Once we check into our hotel, the guys and I pile into a van Whip rented. He’s driving, and for once, it’s just the five of us. No crew, no managers, assistants, or journalists. It’s kind of nice.

  First stop is Caffe Ladro, where I’m served a latte so pretty with its little stacked hearts on the foam that I almost don’t want to sip it. But I do, because the roasted-coffee scent is making my mouth water. It’s rich, creamy, dark, and damn delicious. I don’t feel even a little embarrassed when I moan.

  The guys chuckle, but are equally engrossed with their own drinks.

  A couple of scones and a second round—this time in to-go cups because, damn, that’s good coffee—and we head out to Aberdeen and Kurt Cobain Memorial Park. Cobain’s ashes were scattered, so this is the closest thing the guys can get to a grave site, and they want to pay their respects.

  A soft mist falls when we finally find the park. It’s tiny and forlorn, not much to it. Frankly, the place depresses me. A homeless man shuffles by, headed for the bridge by the river as we stand in silence around a stone guitar memorial marker.

  Killian’s arm wraps around my shoulders, tucking me close, with Jax on my other side, huddled up as we all are. I’m fairly certain Killian finds the place equally sad. But it’s Jax’s expression that catches my attention. He appears haunted and faintly green around the mouth.

  I know Cobain was his idol. There are similarities between them—both left handed guitar players, both shot to fame with dizzying speed, and both unable to handle it. Unfortunately Cobain, unlike Jax, succeeded in ending his life.

  I have no idea what Jax is thinking, but I can’t stop myself from taking his hand in mine. He stiffens at the contact, sucking in a swift breath. I’m not surprised. We haven’t spoken much since he found out about my relationship with Killian. He hasn’t been rude or shunned me, but he’s definitely retreated further into his shell.

  Not looking up, I give his hand a squeeze, try to tell him I’m here, that I’m his friend if he’ll have me.

  His cold fingers lay still for a moment, then slowly, he squeezes back.

  “‘Love Buzz’ was the first song I learned to play on bass,” Rye says suddenly. He laughs. “Didn’t even realize Nirvana was doing a cover until years later.”

  “If they loved a song, they’d play it,” Killian says. “No pretension about only doing their own songs. It was all about the music.”

  Jax’s smile is barely a curl of his lips. “Remember that phase when we tried to sing like Kurt?” He glances at Killian. “And you lost your voice?”

  They all laugh as Killian winces. “Ah, man. I sounded like a bull being castrated.”

  I snicker at that. Especially since Killian’s voice is closer to Chris Cornell’s. “In college, someone fed me ‘special brownies’” I tell them. “I had no idea what they were. I ended up dancing around the dorm, singing ‘Heart-Shaped Box.’”

  “I’d pay money to have seen that,” Killian says. “Big money.”

  “Apparently, I had food on the brain, since I kept singing, ‘Hey, Blaine, I’ve got a blue corn plate! Falling deeper in depth on piles of black rice.’”

  The guys crack up. I join them until our laughter drifts off.

  We stand silent for a minute more, lost in our thoughts. Then Jax lets me go, and we head back to the van. On the way I notice Killian’s bloodshot eyes. I’d been so worried about Jax, I hadn’t thought about how it would be for the rest of them. They very well could have done what I did for their friend.

  But Killian gives me a small, quiet smile. “Thank you,” he says, glancing at Jax, then kissing me softly. “He needed that.”

  Hours later, my subdued mood hasn’t lifted as we attend Kill John’s record label party at the hotel’s rooftop pool area. The views of Puget Sound are breathtaking, the food excellent. The people? Loud and plastic comes to mind.

  “You’re with me tonight, kid.
” Whip appears at my side and pulls me into a hard half hug. I almost choke on my salmon puff.

  “To what do I owe this honor?” I ask as I wipe a crumb from my lip.

  His pretty profile is stern as he surveys the crowd. “The piranhas are out in full force tonight. A guy could get eaten alive.”

  There are a lot of gorgeous women here, and a lot of suits, as Killian calls the record label execs. I don’t know which makes Whip more wary. I’m definitely not liking the way the suits keep looking at me as if I’m a stray that wandered into the party uninvited. Though it’s probably all in my head.

  “You need to be my beard,” Whip tells me for clarification.

  “You’re bi?” I ask, because I really don’t know.

  He glances at me, blue eyes twinkling. “Well, as a teen, I thought a little variety would add to my sexual mystique. But, alas, dicks do nothing for me. I’m all about the kitty.”

  I’m rolling my eyes when another male hand wraps around my wrist. This touch I know well.

  Killian gives Whip a look. “Dude, get your own woman.”

  “I tried. You cockblocked me.” Whip winks at me.

  “What happened to that reporter you were all over at the movies?” I ask.

  “You saw that?”

  “Everyone saw that,” Killian and I say in unison.

  Whip makes a face. “Turns out she thought the best way to get info out of me was to suck it through my dick.”

  “Sounds labor-intensive,” Killian says with a laugh.

  “More like a lost cause.” Whip’s nostrils flare then his expression clears. “But she had great technique.”

  “La-la-la,” I sing. “I can’t hear you.”

  Laughing, Whip lets go as Killian fits himself behind me, wrapping his arms around my shoulders.

  “See,” Whip quips. “Cockblocker.”

  Killian’s cheek rests against mine for a second before he gives my temple a kiss. “He thinks because we’re faux cousins I won’t kick his ass. He’s wrong.”

  They’re grinning, so I ignore the boast. “Faux cousins?” I ask.