Bad Beats: A Rock-Star Step-Brother Romance (14 page)

My stuff will be gone by the time you get back. I’m moving in with Josh and Sarah. I’ve paid up here through next month, though I doubt you’ll need the money.”

I start to reply, but there’s nothing to say.

Maybe she’s right. Since my mom’s death, my life has been pretty dark and depressing, but never once did she indicate any issues with balance in our friendship. In fact, it was the opposite. She encouraged me to lean on her, practically demanded it.

Forcing my hand to move, I turn the knob and step out of our shared apartment…I should say,
my
apartment. Shutting the door harder than necessary behind me, I escape my former place of refuge and look to a future minus one best friend. I’m glad my rats are already safe with Josh. I’m not certain I’d trust Robin to take care of them.

Sudden turbulence bounces the plane, and I open my eyes, not sure when I closed them.

“Looking good, Ms. O’Shea.” Drew gives me a friendly smile on his way to the back of the plane. He’s a major flirt, but I know he’s harmless. He showed me multiple pictures of his girlfriend before we even boarded.

I just shake my head, allowing all thoughts about Robin to drift away the same way the fluffy bunny-cloud outside my window drifts past the plane.

Drew is stalling, and I realize he’s waiting for me to comment.

“Right back at you, Drew. Don’t lose all your money in one place.”

My warning goes unanswered, but he moves on.

Shag and his entourage of security guards, consisting of Omar, Drew, and Bo, are playing cards for money. Big money. William, some talent handler from the record label, doesn’t participate. He relaxes in a leather recliner, on the opposite side of the plane; like me, he’s working on a laptop. From what I’ve gathered, he’s here to ensure Shag behaves himself. It appears he doesn’t trust me to do the job after Misty’s tumultuous tenure. I guess I can’t blame him.

Shag is a money-making commodity the label has invested massive capital into. They have expectations he’s failed to follow, and I’m just the newbie. Why would they trust their biggest investment to me without first knowing my capabilities? It’s just good business, and I can accept that. I’m Shag’s employee, not theirs. They want their own person involved, which again makes sense.

I’ll be with this little group for the next month, longer if there are any issues with taping. It could be worse. We could be stuck with Misty…or Marcus.

I involuntarily cringe at the thought of either joining us. At least Misty isn’t a concern.

The word is she has vanished from the music scene. Shag made certain she couldn’t work in the industry again, but the asshole reporter is another matter altogether. His devious behavior earned him a promotion, and he’s hiding behind a team of lawyers just as formable as Shag’s. For now they’ve called a ceasefire, but I have no doubt Marcus will be on the lookout for anything scandalous he can print about Shag, making the stakes that much higher.

Should I give in to temptation, and do what I still want to
do
with Shag, crap could seriously hit the fan. Step-siblings doing the dirty deed would give Marcus everything he needs to bury Shag and me both, but I can’t forget the fact we’re not yet related. We have at least a couple of months before our folks tie the knot, which means, I could shag my boss without being considered a kinky pervert.

There’s still the whole question regarding the cruise nastiness with Misty and the blonde with the dragon tattoo to consider, though I think I believe that Shag was somehow set up.

Perhaps Robin and Josh are right, and I’m a sucker for punishment that comes in the form of one sexy rock-star; but, in reality, I can’t see Shag doing something so horrendous, especially when he was trying to convince me to continue with our affair.

Damn!
I have to pee.

I place my laptop beside me and sigh. My inner debate will have to wait. There’s no way to avoid the inevitable. When nature calls, it calls with persistence.

Typically, relieving myself isn’t a catastrophic issue, but because of the plane’s layout, I’ll have to walk past the poker game, and Shag, to reach the restroom. Keeping in mind that I’m now his personal assistant, I need to get over any discomfort I feel in his presence if I want to do my job effectively. Not to mention, getting a bladder infection because I don’t want to face my boss, would definitely prove Robin right.

Unfolding myself from the comfort of my leather recliner, I stretch and straighten my Crude Element sweatshirt. We’re all wearing band merchandise for our flight and island arrival. I’ve got my jumbo-sized black top paired with black yoga pants. The sweatshirt is the same size I would have bought pre-weight-loss. It hits me just above the knees. My hair is pulled into a ponytail on top of my head, and I’m wearing my new glasses. I upgraded to a pair of retro, cat-eyed designer frames, with little rhinestones on the corners. Robin helped pick them out.

Stop thinking about her!

Not thinking about her is bound to be an ongoing challenge. She’s been my best friend since high school and roommate for over four years.

I’ll think about how much I’ve changed instead, because I actually feel pretty darn sexy in a naughty teacher, headed-to-the-gym kind of way. Shag hasn’t mentioned my weight loss, but he’s looked me over several times, like he’s trying to figure out what’s different.

Wait until he sees me in my new, form-fitting business attire. There will be no question then about my body’s shrinking size.

Record label guy—William, glances up and gives me a barely discernible nod, his first real attempt at anything thing that might be considered friendly. I smile and return the gesture before making my way down the aisle.

“Cadie,” Shag groans when I reach their table. “Omar’s killing me. I can’t concentrate.”

Stopping, I peer at their cards. “Don’t know what to tell you, boss. Sometimes you gotta lose to appreciate the times you win.”

They all chuckle, and Bo responds, “I see we have a wise woman in our midst. Do you read palms? Did you pack your crystal ball?”

“No, but I have my rune stones and magic wand,” I tease back, eager to fit in and be part of the team.

They laugh again, well, everyone except Shag.

He has that look in his eyes, the same look that’s haunted me numerous nights since the cruise.

Shag Steal wants to shag…me.

And I want him to shag me.
Crap. Crap. Fuck.

“Have at it,” I say to the guys, keeping my gaze trained on Shag, wondering if he’ll pick up on my double meaning.

My bladder reminds me why I’m back here, and I move on, through the door that separates the main area from the bathroom and bedroom. Yes, the jet has a bedroom.

Closing the dividing door, I enter the opulent restroom. Triple the dimensions of a normal, passenger plane; it is luxury at its finest. I can’t get my leggings down fast enough, planting my butt on the heated toilet seat just in time.

Relieved, I wash my hands and splash cool water on my face. Damn if Shag doesn’t make me hot. I can’t look at him without picturing all ways he made me come, and believe me, there were a ton of creative ways.

My ponytail seems too tight all of sudden. I release my hair from its band, letting it fall over my shoulders and down my back. Shaking it out, I give myself a long, appraising look. For the first time in my life, I truly feel attractive. I’ve lost just enough weight to increase my confidence while maintaining my curves and ample breast size. I feel more agile and less constricted. Even my thighs have a little gap between them.

A tap at the door puts a halt to my examination. “Just a minute. Almost done.” I shimmy my hips, pulling up the leggings.

“It’s me. Open up, Cadie Cat. Now.”

My whole body tenses at the command.

It appears Shag had no problem understanding my suggestion. Now I have to decide if I’m going to cross that line.

Oh, who am I kidding?

Shag Steal.

Sex.

Sex with Shag Steal.

I don’t need any crystal ball or runes to tell me what’s going to happen next. The only question is bathroom or bedroom, and can we hide our recklessness from Watchdog William?

Shag

“…because if you get pompous, you lose everything.”

-Paul Simon

“He’ll know,” Cadie whispers, her gaze darting from me to the door.

“Who will know?”

“William, our watchdog.”

“William doesn’t care what we do. He’s the CEO’s son, and he’s on the shit-list too. I promise. He’s all bark, no bite. As long as I complete the reality series, I’m in good shape. Since my big media mess, I’m making them more money than ever before. They need me.”

She takes a step away, but doesn’t get far before she finds herself pinned against the bathroom counter, ass pressed against the marble.

I reach around and flick the door’s lock, securing us inside.

“I don’t like how you’re so flippant about your bad behavior. Now that you’re benefiting from it, everything’s okay then?” She puts her palms on my chest, applying pressure, but not quite pushing.

“No, I don’t think what happened is okay, but, yes, I’m relieved things are looking better. Is that wrong?” Fuck, this woman makes me crazy. One second she’s all hints and innuendos and the next she’s ready to fight.

I’m ready to fuck.

It’s been over two months, and my fist isn’t the same as Cadie’s cunt. Not even close. “Can we talk about this later? I need you. Now. I got the impression you felt the same. Did I misread your ‘have at it’ comment?”

“I…no, I mean…” she stammers, embarrassed.

We don’t have time for this indecisiveness. William might be less of an asshole than she imagined, but he won’t take well to us throwing our mutiny in his face. It’s better if everyone suspects but remains uncertain about the status of our relationship. Omar knows how I feel, but that’s different.

She chews on her lower lip and lowers her gaze from mine, suddenly shy. I know better though. Cadie O’Shea is a sexual deviant in the best of ways. She hasn’t fully embraced her kinkier side yet, but I have every intention of helping her discover the beauty of BDSM…soon, if I have my way.

Our days on the cruise ship weren’t enough for me to indoctrinate her into the pleasures of pain, but I made sure she got a taste. Unfortunately, we don’t have enough time to continue her lessons now, but I intend to fuck her so hard she’ll have trouble sitting for the rest of our flight.

What she really needs is a vigorous spanking. That will have to wait too. It seems my planning lacked the resourcefulness I’m known for.

Why did I set up the poker game so close to the back area anyway? Not enough foresight. I never anticipated she’d make an advance, not this soon. I underestimated my girl.

Right now, the clock is ticking. I told the guys I needed a nap, but they’re well aware Cadie was headed to the toilet. We’ve got about three minutes, at most, if we expect anyone to accept our claim of innocence. We definitely don’t have extra minutes for this back and forth stuff.

She’s always responded with passion to my filthy, dominant talk, during sex. I know I’ll sound crude, but I have faith her wilder side will take the bait. I need control here.

“Look at me,” I demand, not bothering to camouflage my impatience. “Babe, you can’t deny your pussy wants my cock. Stop fighting it.” Slipping my finger under her chin, I tilt her head until she’s forced to look at me. “Say yes, or I’m outta here. I can’t be this close to you and not be in you. Not the way I feel.”

I grab her hand away from my chest and lower it to my crotch, leaving no doubt how much I want her. She lets out a little gasp and her lips part. Taking her reaction as the submission I’m seeking, I nip her bottom lip before covering her mouth with mine. Her hands come alive, grasping and clawing at my arms. She scoots up on the counter and wraps her legs around me, grinding against my straining erection.

Pulling away, I seize her shoulders, holding firm. “We’re down to about two minutes. How fast can you come?”

She doesn’t reply, instead it’s like she can read my mind. She slides off the counter, her body skating down mine, and she turns to face the mirror. Gripping the counter, she pushes her ass back, and I yank her yoga pants down, dragging her panties with them. Treated to a vision of her round bottom, I suck in a ragged breath, wishing again for more than just minutes. Reaching around her hips, I stroke her clit while undoing my jeans.

“Babe…”

“Just do it,” she hisses. “Fuck me.”

She doesn’t have to ask twice. Our eyes lock in the mirror as I slam into her. She lets out a whimper, but refrains from her usual cries and moans. Watching her struggle to stay silent is huge turn on. I grit my teeth and fight to keep my own grunts from escalating.

My fingers dig into her hips, and I pummel her pussy, my thrusts growing rougher as my balls draw up and my spine tingles. I’m going to explode. She’s close too. Her whimpers are getting louder.

Without thinking, I reach up and cover her mouth. Her eyes flare, and she bites down on my palm. The sharp pain acts like a release button, and I erupt. She follows me over the edge, her channel clamping down around my cock. My vision tunnels and I go still, emptying myself while she continues to pulse around me, prolonging my pleasure.

“Fuck, Cadie. You feel good,” I whisper harshly. “So fucking good.”

I remove my hand from her mouth and wrap my arms around her waist, resting my chin on her shoulder, my eyes meeting hers in the mirror.

A small grin plays across her face and her brow arches. Hating to separate, I pull back and give her ass a swat before reaching for one of the hand towels, stacked neatly on a rack above the sink. Seeing my intention, she turns the water to warm, and we clean up in companionable silence.

“We should stop meeting like this,” she whispers, still smiling, her cheeks flushed.

“We should, but we won’t.” I kiss her forehead.

Expecting a debate, I’m surprised when she adjusts her sweatshirt, squares her shoulders, and leaves me in the bathroom. I’m tempted to follow, but that might draw greater scrutiny.

So I stick with my original plan and go the opposite direction, heading for the bedroom’s double bed. The nap I’d eluded to sounds like a good idea now. I only wish Cadie could fall asleep at my side, and then everything would be damn near perfect. For now, though, I’ll have to take what I can get, because what I want isn’t possible and might never be.

Maybe if I wasn’t a public personality, we could be together, though I’m not sure how our parents would react. It’s not like we’re related by blood or even knew they were together. Who would believe such a crazy scenario could happen? Just how small is the universe?

Too fucking small, considering our unusual predicament.

I’m surprised Cadie’s father didn’t put two and two together. I was on a cruise. She was on a cruise. My mom did mention they thought it was funny that we were both floating on a boat at the same time, but for some reason, they never considered we were on the same one. They sure as hell will find out if we admit our feelings. Wouldn’t that be a fun conversation to have around the dinner table?

Fuck.
I want to get high. Bo smokes weed. Maybe I could convince him to roll me a joint.

What am I thinking?

Using isn’t an option. Not even weed. I’m stuck peeing in a cup, thanks to the show’s producers, who refused to work with me without some type of reassurance in place. Drug testing was what the label offered and is the main reason William is tagging along. My success is contingent on my sobriety, at least for now.

Personally, I don’t think pot is a problem, but I need to stay on course regardless. Too much is at stake. Slyder has a new baby boy to provide for. The twins wouldn’t know what to do or how to live apart from Crude Element and the music scene, and Misty flat out needs the money to support her mom’s expensive cancer treatments. Insurance doesn’t come close to covering the costs.

Even if I wanted to trade my career for a life with Cadie, I can’t. Too many people depend on me. Not to mention, all the other people connected to our brand who would suffer.

No wonder I used drugs and drank like fish. Being responsible is seriously stressful.

Stress is stressful.
I snigger at that thought.

Hell, maybe sleep is what I need to recharge, relax, and change my attitude. Something has to give. I can’t help but think that if Cadie and I could have a real relationship, with no hiding, I’d be in better shape and less tempted to fall off the wagon.

Why does Cadie’s father have to be “the one”?

Maybe if the stars align just right, my mom will figure out he’s not the guy for her
before
they tie the knot. Before would be better than after, that way Cadie won’t ever be identified as my step-sister.

If only I could be so lucky. There are just too many maybe’s and unforeseen possibilities.

Despite all the what-ifs and maybe’s, I drift to sleep with luck on my mind. My mom has never stuck with a man. Why should Cadie’s dad be any different?

* * *

Cadie

The jet taxis down the runway without issue, slowing rapidly, its breaks squealing. I exhale, after holding my breath.

We’re alive!
I silently cheer.

From what I researched, the island isn’t all that big. And I can’t lie. My imagination went a little overboard, envisioning us sliding off the pavement and into the tropical jungle that surrounds the small landing strip and its lone building. Of course the worst didn’t happen…but it could have, right? The way my life has been going, I’ve learned to expect the unexpected. That means expecting the worst.

Shag’s reality show is sure to provide an abundance of unexpected moments for its viewers.

After reading the write ups and studying five of the ten contestants’ photos, mid-flight, there’s no question things are about to get wilder and crazier than anything I could dream up.

In response to the gorgeous competitors, my own green eyed monster is already out and trolling, and I’m afraid I might have taken on
way
more than I can handle, considering my feelings for Shag, which after our earlier shagging session have been reignited and are burning brighter than ever. I hate to even admit that Robin and Josh’s warnings may have been accurate, and the way it stands now, if things go bad…a second time, I won’t have them to lean on.

There’s no way in hell I’d turn to them for support, not with them ready to blast me with: “I told you so!” Robin, especially, is out of the question. Now that she’ll be rooming with Josh, my friendship future looks grim.

Yawning, my ears pop, and I release my seatbelt and stretch, eager to plant my feet on something solid and not cloud-level. The backdoor clicks open behind me. I don’t need to look to know Shag has just emerged from the bedroom, where he’s been sleeping ever since our bathroom encounter.
Damn him and his stellar shagging skills!

With Shag, a bend-over-babe-quickie is an orgasm inducing event. I can’t even make myself come that fast!

“You ready to work?” he asks from behind, his voice still husky from sleep.

Drew, ever the jokester, answers before I can, “Of course she’s ready! Our Cadie is no slacker.”

I can’t help but laugh along with Bo, Omar and even William, who until now, I’ve yet to hear make any type of happy noise. Maybe Shag was right and our watchdog is an okay guy. Drew, for certain, is more than okay. He’s the type of guy who would make a fun boyfriend. He’s cute, in a dorky kind of way, but his carefree personality gives him added appeal. He appears to be good at his job too, yet another bonus.

Shag doesn’t seem as amused as everyone else and shoots his youngest security guard a somewhat snarky scowl.

Drew takes it in stride, shrugging. “What happened, man? Woke up on the wrong side of the bed?”

“Don’t you ever have a bad day?” Shag grinds out.

“Do you ever have a good one?” Drew taunts, surprising me.

Maybe everything isn’t perfect with these two after all.

Omar steps in. “Okay, guys. We have a lot to do. I for one want off this plane.”

Both Shag and Drew take the cue, letting the tension between them slip away, making me wonder if I read something into their interaction that wasn’t there. At the moment, I don’t care.

Like Omar, I’m ready to get out of here and am relieved that our plane’s sleek design means it’s lower to the ground, with just seven steps to navigate. Even so, I take great care descending, afraid I might face plant after sitting for so long. It’s Omar, not Shag, who takes my hand when I reach the final step.

“My lady.” He grins, offering a glimpse of his own charm.

The fact Omar has always been all business makes the gesture feel a little off.

And seriously,
w
hy is everyone being so nice to me?
No one answers my silent question, but Shag makes his opinion known.

It’s obvious he doesn’t appreciate Omar’s obliging actions and actually glares at his favorite employee, but he doesn’t get a chance to voice his displeasure. Two men approach, effectively halting the uncomfortable moment.