Love Rock'ollection: The Brutal Strength Rock Star Trilogy, books 1-3 (84 page)

Trevor’s cell rang. “Barnes,” he barked. “Yes, we’re here.” He glanced over at her before pocketing the phone. “C’mon, Avery. He’s starting to use profanity.”

“Holy shit!” JR exclaimed when they rounded the corner.

Dwight turned, his blue eyes immediately widening. “Bro.” He slapped his brother on the shoulder.

“What the hell…” Marcus trailed off. His eyes met hers briefly before they slid slowly down her body and back up again for a more thorough examination.

She’d expected that the skintight black leather skirt slit to the thigh and the midriff baring bustier would make him angry, but apparently it was also eliciting another response. One she hadn’t counted on. Her body tingled as he caressed her with his gaze.

“John, can I have my Ibanez, please?” she asked.

Her guitar tech, mouth agape, handed over her guitar.

Leather and silver bracelets slid down her left arm as she threw the strap over her shoulder and clipped it on. She moved past Marcus without another word. Poised just offstage, she listened as Trevor introduced the band. Being late had been another calculated move on her part. She’d wanted to send him a message that from now on she’d do as she pleased.

“Avery.”

She felt his warm hard body slide in behind her. Her breath caught.

“You look like a hooker,” he breathed, stirring one of the styled curls near her neck.

“You would know,” she said acidly.

“Every man in that audience is only gonna have one thing on his mind, and it won’t have anything to do with how well you play that guitar.”

She turned to find his blue eyes blazing with anger.

“Is that really the kind of attention you’re looking for?” He stalked out past her, onto the stage, the bright lights illuminating his taut body, his hand up in the air waving to the crowd.

Brutal Strength launched aggressively into the set. Marcus hammered out power chords that she augmented with complex swirling riffs. Beyond the natural chemistry that they had always shared, an extra undercurrent of tension swirled between them tonight.

Six feet plus of threat and intimidation, Marcus prowled around the stage always watching her, always close. Every brush against her seemed calculated.

Trying to remain focused, her guitar balanced on her knee, she bent her head down and dug in on a spotlighted solo. Suddenly, she felt his body behind her and his lips on the bared skin between her neck and shoulder.
Shit
. Though she covered up brilliantly, he’d made her flub it.

On edge, her stomach fluttered uncontrollably with nerves after that. She rushed all the way through the next song. At the end, she lifted her head just in time to catch a lewd hand gesture from a man in the front row.

Is that really the kind of attention you’re looking for?

Marcus was right. Damn him. She could feel his eyes on her even now.

After JR punctuated the last number with a frenetic flurry, Avery let out a pent up breath. Marcus thanked the audience and headed off stage.

JR hopped down from the riser and crossed to her, grabbing her elbow before she made it to the center mic. “You sure you still want to do this encore thing? Don’t you think you’ve already got him angry enough?”

She shook her head, her jaw tight.

“Ok. It’s your funeral,” he warned. “I’ll grab Dwight.”

“Hey Phoenix.” She tapped the center mic. “You want another one?”

The crowd roared in response. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Marcus spin back around.

“Ok. Ok. You asked for it. Here goes Fleetwood Mac’s ‘Oh, Well,’” she said, turning her head to look at him. “And Marcus,
honey.
This one’s for you.”

He scowled, digging his hands deep into his pockets, every line in his body tense as she strutted toward him. Her fingers picked out the instantly recognizable opening chords, her rebellious eyes meeting his displeased ones.

When Dwight’s bass and JR’s drums joined her, she turned dismissively away from him, flicking her hair back over her shoulder. Back at center mic, she sent him the sarcastic message, singing the defiant lyrics while sassily swaying and undulating her hips to the rhythm. Her fingers flew over her guitar during the raucous, extended instrumental portions.

As the crowd cheered their approval, she popped off her strap, guitar neck held in one hand as she strutted by Marcus, who hadn’t moved a muscle during the entire performance.

“Whoa, Red!” Bryan exclaimed, extinguishing a cigarette under his booted heel. “Smokin’!”

She acknowledged his compliment with a nod while handing her Ibanez to the tech.

Bryan closed the distance between them, grabbed her by the hips and pulled her into him. “The cover wasn’t half bad either.” He grinned.

She stiffened at first, but when she noticed Marcus watching, she covered Bryan’s hands with her own and moved them down to her ass. Then she placed her hands behind his head, brought his lips down to hers, closed her eyes, and pressed her tongue into his mouth.

She felt a breeze of cold air lift her hair as someone blew past her.

“He’s gone now.” Bryan broke off the kiss and stared down at her. “That wasn’t nice, Red.” His expression was a blend of hurt and anger. “If I want to be used, I’ll just go back to my girls. At least with them, it’s upfront and honest.”

She stood there stiffly, shame darkening her cheeks.

“Now.” He paused, pulling a rumpled cigarette pack out of his jeans pocket, his brows drawn down over glittering grey green eyes. “If you want to try that again,
without
an audience.” He shook out a cigarette and lit it. “Come find me. I’ll more than make it worth your while.”

THE MEET AND greet back at the hotel was torture. Everyone gave her a wide berth, Bryan and Marcus both staring daggers at her. She kept glancing at her watch. After she’d been there the mandatory amount of time, she slunk out.

The evening had not gone the way she’d envisioned. Far from feeling triumphant, she felt like the biggest loser. Payback had been bitter instead of sweet. She inserted her key card and rode the elevator up to their reserved floor. A couple of roadies gave her wary glances as she passed them in the hall. Yeah, it’d been a shitty day.

When she stepped inside her room and fumbled for the light switch, she suddenly found herself flattened against the wall, arms pinned at her sides.

“That was quite a performance tonight, Ace.” Marcus’ eyes glittered, reflecting the city lights framed by the open curtains out her window.

She swallowed nervously as he stared down at her.

He pressed tighter into her, rocking his hips against hers.

She moaned. Even as hurt and angry as she was, she wanted him and he felt so good.

“You moan for the boy like that?” he asked, his voice a low arrogant rumble.

She yanked her hand loose and slapped him across the cheek. Her eyes darted away and he gripped her chin turning her back to face him. His expression shadowed and possessive, he gazed down at her.

“I suppose I deserved that.” He closed his eyes. When he reopened them, his expression was softer. “I fucked up, Avery. I fucked up real bad. I know just telling you how sorry I am isn’t going to be enough. I realize I’ll have to prove it to you, and I will. But for now I just need to be with you.” He lowered his head, sculpted lips touching hers and moving earnestly against them.

A momentary resistance was all she managed before melting into him. “Marcus,” she breathed against his lips.

He pressed his advantage, his tongue slipping inside her mouth and plundering it. Her heart thundered and her will completely collapsed. She had committed this to memory, but the exquisite reality of it was so much...

Wetter.

Hotter.

Better.

She grabbed his shirt and pulled him tighter, matching him stroke for stroke, tasting his mouth, teasing his tongue, tracing his teeth.

“Avery,” he groaned, lifting his head and raining heated kisses down the side of her arched neck. His hands grazed the sides of her breasts as they moved lower. She felt corresponding swirling sensations low in her belly in response.

This was so, so good.

And so, so dangerous.

No.

“No, Marcus” Reaching deep inside, she found her resolve again. She pushed against his chest. “What kind of idiot do you think I am?” Warm tears leaked out of the corners of her closed eyes. “The things you did…The things you said. There’s no taking any of that back.” She struggled against his solid strength.

“I don’t accept that.” He locked his arms. “I can make you forget.”

“The drinking.”

“I’ve quit.”

“For now,” she replied, shaking her head.

“Forever.”

“Forever’s a long time.”

“It sure as hell will be without you.”

A loud knock sounded at the door.

“Avery, you still awake?” JR called from the hallway.

Marcus released her.

Breath ragged, she avoided his eyes and practically ran to the door.

He put a hand over hers, stopping her before she opened it. “This isn’t over,” he said softly near her ear. “I’m getting you back in my life where you belong, and I’m giving you advance notice that I’m not gonna fight fair. Whatever it takes, that’s what I’ll do.” Taking her gently by the shoulders, he turned her around and ghosted the pad of his calloused thumb down her jaw line. “You belong to me.”

He opened the door for her and acknowledged JR with a chin dip.

“Marcus.” JR’s brow rose as Brutal Strength’s enigmatic front man stepped past him down the hall. JR turned back to her with a look of confusion. “What’s going on?”

“Why are you here JR?” She touched her swollen lips with the tip of her tongue, tasting Marcus there.

“I need your help,” he said, squeezing her shoulder. “Can I come in?”

THE NEXT MORNING, through mirrored sunglasses, Marcus watched Avery from across the plane. She’d once again transformed into her standard garb.

Thank God.

She still looked sexy to him. He found himself imagining what she might be wearing underneath.

Without disengaging from her conversation with Sam, her gaze flicked toward him. If he hadn’t been watching her so intently, he surely would have missed it. Opportunistically, he lifted his sunglasses and winked at her.

She immediately shifted, drawing her long legs up on the sectional and tucking them beneath her. ‘Hail to the Chief’ suddenly emanated from her cell phone. She glanced at it and frowned. “Hello, Mary,” she answered.

The airplane lounge suddenly went completely quiet.

“No, I haven’t seen the pictures…That won’t be necessary…Yes, Mary…ok…ok…Yes...No, I won’t wear it again.” Blushing, she ducked her head down and lowered her voice.

Marcus leaned forward to listen.

“Yes, I am seriously considering it, but for now I just want to focus on getting through the rest of the tour. Ok… Will do.” She hung up and leveled her gaze at Sam. “Did you know Mary was going to call me this morning?”

“I wasn’t sure.” Sam shrugged. “But with those pictures of you in the bar floating around I knew it was only a matter of time.”

Avery sighed. A different ringtone trilled from her cell. “Crap,” she muttered.

“Who is it, now?” Sam asked.

“Marcus’ mom,” she whispered.

“Shit,” Dwight exclaimed.

Marcus cringed.

“Hello, Rheta,” Avery started. “Yes…No, are you sure? …I didn’t think after all that’s happened…Ok, Mom…I know…I want…It is. I’m sorry.” Her voice went thready at the end. She plucked at the laces on her sneakers. “I wish things had turned out differently, too.” A tear tracked down her cheek. “Thank you. I appreciate that…I do… I love you, too.” She sniffed, placing the phone down on the cushion.

Sam put her arm around Avery and handed her a tissue.

“Dammit!” Avery exclaimed as the cell began to ring again.

“I’ll get it for you,” Sam offered. “Hello? No, it’s Sam. We’re just getting ready to take off for Dallas…Oh, ok. It’s Justin.” She handed the phone to Avery. “He won’t take no for an answer.”

Avery took it from her. “Hey…No…I’ve already had two uncomfortable calls, thank you…No, I’m ok,” she said in a small voice, glancing around uneasily. “Hey, I’m not alone. Can I call you back later? I promise…I miss you, too…I wish you were here…Love you, too. Bye.”