Edwards, Willa - Midnight Mirage (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) (2 page)

“You want more than that.” Lincoln’s words were resolute, indisputable. His dark looks and brooding air were a perfect contrast to Gabe’s brighter complexion and personality. “We know the truth, even if you won’t admit it.”

Lincoln’s navy eyes watched her, his gaze so intent she worried he might be able to see deep inside her to read truths about herself even she didn’t know. True, she’d started feeling listless lately. The constant movement was wearing on her. Life on the road in crummy motel rooms and living out of a suitcase had grated away the enthusiasm she’d once felt for her job.

For the first time since she’d quit over a year ago, she missed her old life as a high school music teacher. At least her former coworkers got to be home with their families, friends, and lovers during the holiday. Mallory had to spend her New Year’s Eve working.

Usually Mallory invited a friend, but this year she’d canceled on her at the last minute. Callie said something about having to spend the day in bed, and if she was sick, Mallory wasn’t interested in catching it. The worst thing about being a freelance writer--the health insurance plan sucked.

All her other friends had already made plans. Mallory was jealous of them all.

“Everyone ready to party till midnight?” The band onstage screamed into the microphone behind them, not nearly as talented as the duo before her.

The passion and excitement radiated from the crowd. It’s what had prompted her to quit her career as a music teacher and change her life entirely. That, and the fact she’d never wanted to be a teacher in the first place.

“It’ll be a night to remember.” Gabe stepped closer to her, pressing his body against hers. His hot, hard chest brushed her back, the thick bulge between his legs grazing her hip and making her thoughts scatter like uncoordinated jazz notes.

“Give us a chance to show you how much we want you.” Lincoln’s lips grazed her hair, in what could have been a kiss or simply a slip. It was impossible to tell. But he did nothing more, simply holding there. Wetness gathered across her skin, along her neck, dripping between her breasts, and legs, at his proximity.

Maybe that’s exactly what she needed to spice up an otherwise drab night, a good roll between the sheets. With anyone besides the men saddled up to her, touching her in soft, subtle brushes that made her entire body prickle. It couldn’t be them. Not Lincoln and Gabe. She wasn’t sure where the thought had come from, or the intensity of it, but she was compelled to listen.

There were millions of men milling about, drinking, getting hornier by the second. Mallory would be able to find someone interested in taking her to bed, or at least his car. Why did the idea of having a wild, torrid affair, like everyone already believed she did on a regular basis, hold so little appeal?

“Fine, if you don’t want to answer, I’ll ask a different question. What inspired your latest Mirage album?”

Gabe’s hand slipped behind her body, landing on her ass. His hot palm burned where it touched. He waved at the crowd with his other hand, receiving return waves and screams of devotion. A silent thrill ran through her as his hidden hand squeezed lightly, her muscles convulsing beneath the pinch no one was able to see.

“The fans,” Lincoln whispered, his words shuddering down her nerves, though they had no romantic or seductive meaning. His lips posed an inch from hers. If she turned, she could be touching them, kissing them, licking them. Her stomach twisted at the thought.

Catcalls filled the air as their fans returned the attention. One shrill voice screamed out above the crowd, shrieking out,
“Mirage!”
A potbellied, shaved-headed man dressed from head to toe in black stood out from the sea of other fans. His hands cupped around his mouth to amplify his scream towards the men bracketing her with their heat. “I love you guys.”

Lincoln waved from beside her, his arm grazing her side as he extended his hand to salute the fan. “Thanks.”

“That’s why we do it,” Gabe whispered in her ear. “To make people smile. Like you are right now.”

Mallory bit her lip, realizing she was smiling, among other reactions.

She looked over at him, meeting the honey-brown eyes and tawny eyebrows of her favorite rock star, the lead singer of the band she’d idolized before quitting her teaching job to take advantage of her music degree some other way than instructing ornery children to play the violin. She had all their albums, attended all of their tours. She’d followed their career since their first hit.

“And other emotions as well.”

“Can I play with you guys?” The voice rose again from the crowd, feet closer than before, interrupting their conversation. The bright stage lights shone off his head. His eyes were glassy, most likely because he was drunk or stoned.

Gabe dropped his hand from Mallory’s flesh, looking up from her to the portly man stepping ever closer to them.

“We’ve already finished our set tonight. We’ll have to catch you next time.”

The fanatic stepped closer, eyeing her up and down. He winked his left eye in invitation. One Mallory had no inclination of accepting. But as his gaze slide back to Gabe and Lincoln, she realized he wasn’t interested in her, not in any way beyond that she was with them.

“I’ve been telling everyone I would fit right in with you guys. I could jam with you. Pick up chicks together. It’d be awesome, man.”

Lincoln took a step forward, angling himself slightly in front of her. Normally she’d protest the gesture, but the look in the man’s eyes as he stared back and forth between his idols unnerved her to silence.

“I’m sure it would. But we’re in the middle of an interview right now for
Alternative Beats
magazine.” His chin dipped to motion toward Mallory. She felt her blood go cold as the fan’s eyes fixed on her, peering at her as if she were the opposition to everything he wanted in life.

“I’d kill to jam with you guys.” He continued on as if Lincoln had never tried to dismiss him.

Stepping forward with a menacing gleam in his eyes, now only a giant step away from her, he focused on her like the New Year’s ball at midnight. Fear filled her, and she wished for Lincoln and Gabe’s warm bodies against hers again. Their absence overwhelmed her body until she froze as cool as an icicle.

She’d heard stories of fans loving their idols so much they wanted to kill them. It had never made sense to her, but she’d never tried too hard to understand. Now she wished she had. The terror pounding in her chest told her this could certainly be one of those instances.

From the corner of her eye, she saw a flash of firework light gleam off metal in his hand and she stepped back automatically, not exactly sure if she were trying to flee or throw herself on the bomb for these men.

Her heel caught in a divot in the asphalt and twisted beneath her. Mallory fumbled forward, her hands flung out, searching for any solid place to land. Her foot tangled beneath her with two other much larger feet, torquing her ankle in the wrong direction as it exploded in a burst of white-hot pain. Electric shocks of agony raced up her limb to the rest of her body, every nerve shaking in surprised pain.

Her knee slammed into hard rock, slicing along the frozen, rough surface. Her palm ripped, her skin forced to break by friction, as she gripped for a place to land. Her wrist jerked, a sudden sharp pain quickly dissipating into a warm wave of hurt.

The fumbling of other feet around her was a vague, fuzzy noise in her ears, barely cutting through the hum of agony as security grabbed the portly fanatic. Two male voices bellowed above her. Two hands smoothed down her back, rubbing in a comforting circular pattern. But she heard and felt none of it, her body overloaded.

She breathed deeply, hoping to calm the raging beat of her heart and the blur covering her eyes. She refused to cry in front of a crowd, no matter how bad the pain was, and it wasn’t that bad. If she just kept breathing, she’d be all right. Her long, dark hair fell around her face, curtaining her flushed features, hiding her humiliation and suffering.

“Get him out of here,” she heard a stern voice scream from above her.

“It’s okay, love,” another soothing voice whispered as the chaotic noises and screams of the fan being dragged away dissipated. “You’ll be all right.”

When her breathing had returned to the normal rate of a marathon runner, Mallory looked up, her head resting upon a hard male chest, lightly covered in a worn, warm T-shirt. Gabe’s sympathetic golden eyes, fringed in thick black lashes, stared down at her. His soft, sandy hair spiked in random peaks around his head.

Her face heated with embarrassment as she realized her breasts were smashed into his chest. Her groin pressed into his upper thigh, rippling with heat at the mere contact. A defined, hard bulge pressed against her stomach, inches from her diaphragm. A fever rolled through her at the intimate contact, heating her hotter than a sparkler.

She shouldn’t be so turned on by just being close to a man. She was an adult, not a horny teenager. She ought to be able to control herself. But as her panties grew damp, she knew she was losing the fight.

Mallory pulled back to give him a weak smile. She sucked in a surprised breath at how his features darkened. “I’m fine,” she said, trying to reassure Gabe even as she grimaced at the pain rolling through her, easing back from his muscled chest.

“No, you’re not.”

He placed a hand on her upper arm to steady her, stopping Mallory dead in her tracks with the single touch. Fire vibrated from where his skin made contact with hers, sizzling along her veins and gathering in her stomach into a tight ball, similar to the lit ball shining bright above the Times Square gathering. “You’re hurt.”

She slammed her eyes shut, forcing herself to control the wild, rampant urge to lean into him for support and more bubbling up within her. Gabe threw a few commands over his shoulder as images of her recently formed New Year’s resolution with these rocks stars danced along her eyelids. His hands remained firm on her upper arms, lending her his strength as easy as counting down from ten.

“Come here.” Gabe pulled her into his embrace, wrapping her arms around his neck as he hoisted her into the air. “I’ll take you back to our bus and get you cleaned up.”