NicenEasy (11 page)

“If you’re quick, you can grab the other corner suite,” Jace
suggested. “Chick has the one that opens on to this area, V grabbed the one on
the other side, but the corner suites are real nice. Windows on two sides of
the bedroom.”

“Taken,” Donovan said. “So where’s Riku? And Hunter?”

“Sightseeing. They’re staying somewhere else, avoiding the
insanity, but they’ll arrive by the middle of the week.” Jace rubbed his chin.
“I’ve had an idea I want to go over.”

“Beverley not keeping you busy enough?”

A slow smile spread over Jace’s features. “Plenty busy.”

Donovan still found it hard to believe that Jace had hooked
up with super-organizer Beverley. Jace and Donovan shared the title of band
slobs, but at least Donovan
tried
to keep tidy. Things, inanimate
objects, tended to get away from him. Jace just spread his stuff around him.

“So is there room for Elliott, or do we have to book him a
room on another floor?”

“Nah, plenty of room,” Jace said without hesitation. “Go
find a room, Elliott, dump your stuff there and it’s yours. Beverley sorted it
all.”

“Not Bev?” Donovan said. “Still Beverley?”

“Yup, and hey, Don, who are you to fucking talk?” If Jace
wasn’t grinning, his heavy-lidded eyes half closed, Donovan might have hit him.
Nobody called him Don. Well, one person, but nobody else.

Contenting himself with a light punch to Jace’s arm, he
turned away. “Let’s get that corner suite. Are you okay, Elliott?”

Elliott shrugged. “Fine, thanks. I could do with an hour to
myself after that journey, thrilling though it was to see two hotel kitchens in
one day. Do you know every kitchen from here to Chicago?”

“Pretty much.” Donovan grabbed Allie’s hand. “A nap sounds just
fine.”

Except it wasn’t a nap he had in mind. He’d gone too fucking
long without getting her to himself, and they had a bed to christen.

She was smiling, her cheeks flushed when he closed the door
behind them. The suite had a bedroom that opened out through wide double doors
on to a pleasant sitting area, which could be converted to another bedroom if
they ran out of space. Not yet though. He left the sliding doors open but
didn’t take his attention from her. “Do you need to rest?”

She shook her head.

“Good.” He advanced, seized her and took her in a rough,
demanding kiss.

She returned it and pressed her body close to his, but he
wanted more. Time to play games, see how far he could push her this time. The
suite would have privacy glass, but would she know that?

“You’re mine, you know that? But how many people see you and
want you? Do I have to show you off in front of everybody out there before you
can accept that you’re mine?”

She stared up at him doubtfully, but he saw the barely there
spark in her eyes and it set him off like a firecracker. Hot and ready to go.
“Maybe I should make you wander around naked so everyone can see what a prize I
have. But if anyone touches you, I might have to kill them. They can look, but
they can never touch. Not unless I invite them to.”

“Will you?” Her voice was a whisper but she didn’t sound
afraid. A low note of arousal throbbed at the back of her throat.

“Yes, I will, just to prove to you that you are completely
and absolutely mine to do whatever I want with. Jace is supposed to be a good
fuck. I haven’t heard any complaints. You like him, don’t you?”

She nodded and, despite knowing this was his game, a flare
of jealousy took him by surprise. It added spice to the situation. “Take off
your top and your bra. I want to see your nipples pucker.”

After a blink, she lowered her gaze to concentrate on her
top. He thought of ripping it off her, but he liked the way the material
followed her curves, softly suggesting the satin skin underneath. He’d like to
see her in it again. Not that it compared with her body, slowly revealed when
she peeled the top off. She stopped, dressed in a severely practical black bra
that managed to turn him on far more than a confection of lace and ribbon
might. It delineated the pale skin of her breasts, drawing attention to their
sweet curves. He swallowed.

Watching him, she reached behind with both hands and
unclipped the bra, but she didn’t take it off immediately, the witch. Instead,
she teased him, revealing herself bit by bit, holding the fabric under her arms
when she brought her hands forward again to stop the garment falling off. The
straps fell down her shoulders. Only then did she let the bra fall.

Her nipples weren’t completely stiff, but the tips had
beaded and darkened. He loved that she didn’t try to hide herself from him. He
looked, taking his time, watching the skin crinkle a little more.

He lifted his gaze to her face and marked the flush
sharpening her cheekbones. She liked him watching. “Do you think Jace would
like that? He likes a good pair of tits.” He picked the cruder word
deliberately and it had its effect. A sharp gasp sounded in the quiet of the
room. “Very pretty.” He reached out and flicked one nipple. She bit her lip and
he saw her throat move, but she didn’t make a sound. He’d make her scream
before he was done.

“Maybe he’d look at them like this, touch them like this.”
He cupped both breasts, pressing down, relishing the hard points pushing
against his palms. “I think he’d like them. Would you like to share?”

She shook her head, then her eyes widened and she nodded.
She wasn’t sure what she was supposed to respond.

But he didn’t smile to reassure her. He wanted her off
balance for now. “Remember what I said? He can look, and maybe I’ll let him
share, but you are mine. You can’t do that without permission, do you hear?”

Wetting her lips, she managed a small “Yes.”

He didn’t need “Master.” This wasn’t that kind of game.
“Finish stripping, then I’ll decide if I want to call him.”

She unbuttoned her jeans, then slid down the zipper,
torturing him with the slowness of her response, but he wouldn’t have it
different. His cock was so hard, he was afraid the buttons on his jeans would
leave an imprint on his flesh.

She turned around before she slid the jeans down her legs,
displaying her silk-clad bottom. Pretty, feminine. He had a startling urge to
bite, to test the firm skin with his teeth, but maybe another time. After
undoing her running shoes, she slid them off and stepped out of her jeans.

“Stay there.” Walking forward, he palmed her arse, rubbed
and then pushed the thin material off and down, leaving her completely naked.
Her hair brushed her shoulders, hung over her face, so he pulled it back and
tucked it behind her ears. The smooth silk teased his skin. He slid his fingers
down over her neck, pausing to press his nails slightly into her shoulders,
giving her the suggestion of pain. He kept his nails trimmed, and sometimes he
played the guitar without a plectrum. His fingers had toughened up over the
years. Hard enough to do more than tease if he wanted to, and she had to know
it.

Parting her arse cheeks, he touched between, tested her
readiness. Wet, soaking wet. Now, he wanted her now.

He stopped himself barely in time. “Wait there. No.” He had
an idea. “Play with yourself, make yourself wet for me. And for Jace. You won’t
know which of us takes you first, because you’re going to close your eyes, you
hear me?”

“Yes.” She sounded subdued, but he could see part of her
face reflected in the full-length mirror in the corner of the room. She didn’t
look subdued. As their gazes clashed and held, he saw the sparks in her eyes
had fired up to a fully-fledged blaze. She loved this. He loved her loving it.

“Close your eyes.” He tried to sound stern and must have
managed it, because she did as he said. Then she put her fingers between her
legs and he nearly lost it. Watching her play with her clit, one hand between
her legs, the other holding on to a nearby chair to steady herself, he could
have come on the spot, spurted over her skin, marked it with his essence.

Turning abruptly, he headed for a door at the side of the
room, which turned out to be the bathroom, thank God. Fuck, Beverley knew her
job well, and the people she was working for, because he found a box of condoms
alongside the unwrapped toothbrushes and bottles of shampoo in the cabinet. He
grabbed a couple, in case he screwed up putting on the first one. His hands
were shaking now, he wanted her so much.

She was still in the position he left her in, eyes closed,
one hand between her legs, busy playing with her clit, occasionally dipping
into her pussy to collect more moisture to dampen her fingertips. She’d done
this on her own. He loved watching her do this, practice, knowing what worked
for her. Donovan watched and learned and went higher. Hastily, he unbuttoned
his jeans, shoved his underwear out of the way and rolled the latex over his
cock. It stood to attention, pointing at her, just where he wanted.

He didn’t step forward immediately. “Do you want me first,
or Jace? Or maybe somebody else? I could call everyone in. Beverley might get a
kick out of watching Jace with somebody else. How about Chick? Or maybe Riku? I
know for a fact he likes women in multiples of two or more. He just lies back
and lets them work on him. I’m sure he could slot you in.” One stride took him
to her, barely reaching her. Just the tip of his cock teased her rounded
buttock.

“Take the cock in your hand. Put it inside your body.
Wherever you want it.” He deliberately referred to it as “the cock”, impersonal
and non-sentient. Just a thing to use her, to take her and then go on to
something else, its owner temporarily satiated.

She bent down further, exposing her sweet, puckered rosebud.
Another time he’d tease it with his tongue, make her hold still while he
readied her for his cock or his fingers. Because sure as hell he didn’t want to
hurt her.

He had to bend his knees, but he remained steady as she
reached between her legs and grasped his cock, clumsy because she still had her
eyes closed. “Good,” he said, his voice barely a breath. “Do it.”

She pushed the head into her wet, hot opening. Swallowing
his groan, Donovan leaned forward so he could thrust farther into her. In this
position he met no resistance. “Feel it. Feel us.”

Superb, the very best. Nobody compared to her. Shit, he
couldn’t remember anyone else. They didn’t matter. They might to someone else,
another time, but not now and not for any point in the future. It just wasn’t
possible.

He was buried deeply inside her now, in every way, not just
physically. He looped one arm around her waist to steady her and began to drive
them both to oblivion. Her hold on the chair helped her to brace herself
against his thrusts as he rocked against her the way he sometimes rocked on
stage, but then it was the imitation of ecstasy. This couldn’t get more real.

The sounds of their bodies connecting was the best music in
the world, something he could never hope to imitate, their bodies slapping
together in counterpoint, a rhythm so sweet, so perfect he’d never tire of it.
He pulled her toward him, watched the mirror, saw her breasts bounce as he
stroked inside her, watched her bite her lip and wanted to soothe the sting
with his tongue.

The tattoo on his shoulder tightened as he moved, as he
pulled her close. He couldn’t see his own face, but he knew how he must look,
lost in her body. Fuck, he couldn’t keep up their game. She overwhelmed him.

She was still playing with her clit. He felt her fingers
dance against him and wanted more, but then needed to watch, needed her to
pleasure herself.

He felt the first quivers of her internal muscles as she
cried his name, and that sent him over. With a yell, he came, her body
clenching around his, milking him of everything he had to give.

Half laughing, shaken by the intensity of the experience, he
leaned forward and kissed her shoulder blade. “Fuck, you are so good at this.”
He wanted to tell her more, but he’d seen how she shied away when he’d tried to
open the possibility of love between them. Yes, she was right, but she was wrong
as well, and he’d make her talk about it. He loved her. Now, this minute, he
loved her. What they needed to decide was how long it took before they called
what they had together the unequivocal real thing.

Donovan had crowned the experience of rough, hard sex with
tenderness. Taking her into the shower, he’d soaped and shampooed her, babied
her until she felt like the most cherished princess alive. Part of their game,
maybe, but something she loved, as she’d loved his treatment of her before.
Good, hard, fucking, morphing into…something else.

After two days? And he’d mentioned the L word in the hallway
outside her room at the other hotel.

Now they lay in bed together, naked, snuggled against the
fierce air-conditioning, which he’d cranked up to give him an excuse, he said,
to hold her close and keep her warm. That had melted her, right there.

He went up on one elbow, stared at her, bent and kissed her.
She loved his kisses, the way he took time to savor her. He’d dropped kisses
all over her in the shower, rinsing her clean and then testing, so he said,
that he’d got all the suds off her. He drew back, gazed at her, his eyes
drinking her in. “I love you,” he said.

Panic roared through her, bringing every part of her body to
life, but although she pushed on his shoulders, kicked to move away from him,
he held firm, boxing her in with his forearms. “Wait. Listen.”

She couldn’t do much else. This man was nuts. Romantic, but
nuts.

“I’m not talking forever. I’m talking here, now, today.”

That made a tiny bit more sense. “Okay.” Frowning, she
stared up at him. “Why say it?”

“Because I feel it. Now, this minute. Maybe one day I’ll be
ready to make promises, but not today. All I can say is that you’ve made me
very happy and I feel closer to you than I have to anyone outside the band for
a long, long time. When I say I love you, I don’t mean it’s a lasting thing, I
don’t mean I owe you anything, or you owe me. But I’ve learned to express
myself in the immediate present.”

A tad less scary then. “So after a weekend, you think…?”

“That we’re good together, that I want to spend more time
with you. You never know, after we stay here, and if I can persuade you to come
to L.A. for the next leg of the tour, we might find that we’re bored or we
can’t stand each other. Maybe I vote Labour and you’d vote Tory if you could,
maybe you think all men should be castrated at thirty, I dunno, something like
that.”

“How old are you?”

“Thirty-one.” He smiled and dropped another kiss on her
mouth. “So you’re too late.”

“Just as well I like you the way you are.” She palmed his
semierect cock and felt it harden before she drew her hand away.

“Coward.” Since he accompanied the accusation with another
kiss, she didn’t mind too much. “So when I tell you that I love you, it’s because
that’s what I’m feeling right now. I don’t make promises I can’t keep, and I
won’t tell you something I don’t mean. Nothing heavy. Are you okay with that? I
can keep it to myself if it bothers you.”

No pressure. Could it get any better? The underlying message
was that she should stick around to find out. Since he’d bought some time for
her, the least she could do was join him in L.A. Not that it would mean much
sacrifice. Rampant sex in luxury hotels had a certain appeal. “I have to think
about tomorrow,” she said cautiously. “I don’t have the luxury of money, so I
need to earn a living.”

“I get that. Believe me, I get it.” A shadow crossed his
face and his eyes turned blindingly silver, vivid, as if he’d drawn a mask over
his inner feelings. He took a deep breath. “In the interests of plain speaking,
let’s get this out of the way. I’ve been lucky enough to turn something I love
into a career, and I’ve been lucky enough to do it twice.”

“Not just luck.”

“Some of it is. Being in the right place at the right time,
developing what people want when they want it.” He grinned. “I’m not saying
there wasn’t some fucking hard work involved. You get to be good and make a
career by working hard and keeping at it. But that last hit, the one that takes
the ball out of the field? Very often it’s just good fortune. When I think I’m
getting too arrogant, I always remind myself of that. It could have been
someone else in that pub when Hunter walked in. I might never have talked to
Jace that night when he invited me into the band. I could be playing with
another rock band, one barely scraping a living.”

“Are you glad you’re with this band?”

He grinned and dropped a kiss on her lips. “Infinitely,
especially this second lineup. We just—work.”

“So Riku and Zazz have made the big difference.”

“They’re both risk takers. Before they arrived, we were
good, not spectacular, and on our way. Until Matt zoned out.” He paused. “When
he left, we knew we wanted to go on, so they came in and they pushed us, made
us think about what we could do, what we could be. And as a producer, Matt’s
adding so much more, although he was a great vocalist.” He paused. “I could
kiss you all day.” He bent his head and gently opened her lips with his tongue,
giving her one of the thorough kisses she loved.

There was that word again. “Right back at you,” she murmured
when she could.

“What?” The corner of his mouth quirked in a smile.

“For today, I love you.”

“That sounds good to me.” This time his kiss was deeper and
longer. “I won’t expect anything and I don’t want you to.”

“Except fidelity.”

“Except that.”

Another step toward a closeness she’d never fully known
before. Honesty. “I’ve never gone this far before.”

He undulated his body against hers. “I know you weren’t a
virgin.”

“No, not that. I mean the honesty thing.”

“Ah, that.” He paused. “I always want that. If I’m not
getting it, I walk away.”

That sounded ominous. “A threat?”

“No, just how I work.”

“You wouldn’t work through the problem?”

He shrugged. “Not usually.” He shook his head. “It’s just
something I can’t do. I watched it happen for years and I swore it would never
happen to me.”

She said nothing, just continued to meet his gaze. He rolled
over onto his back, drawing her with him, and she went, resting her head on his
shoulder and tucking one leg between his. “Yeah, well.” He puffed out another
breath. “My parents are pretty ordinary on the surface, but like all ordinary
people, concerns seethe underneath. My dad’s a bank manager. He works in a
small town in England and he’s content. Or he would be, if not for my mother.
Sure, they’re still together, which most people consider good, but he’d have
left her years ago if she hadn’t stopped him. She’s a teacher though she
doesn’t work these days. It’s not a vocational thing. It’s what she found
easiest. The path of least resistance, with not too many risks involved.”

This didn’t sound good. She’d never heard that bitter tone
in his voice before.

“She worked a few years, enough to secure maternity leave
and then she had us. Three of us, a year between each of us. I’m the eldest.”
So plain, matter-of-fact that he could be talking about someone else, not about
himself. “She got ill when she was expecting Maeve and had to spend the last
two months of her pregnancy in hospital. I think that’s where she must have got
the taste for it.”

She cupped his cheek. “For what, Donovan?”

His mouth twisted in a grimace. “For being ill, for getting
attention that way. Not hypochondria as such, because I don’t think she
believes she’s ill, but using the illness to get attention. When I got chicken
pox, she said she was too ill to take care of me properly and she left me in
bed most of the time. Dad brought me something to eat every night. He got to be
a good cook.” He sighed.

“Deception, Allie. She deceived us all. Paul and Maeve and I
got wise eventually. She stopped me going to university, said she couldn’t cope
on her own, and I believed her until I discovered her eating a hearty meal, all
things she claimed she was allergic to. Fish and chips when she was sensitive
to fish and allergic to gluten and starch. That was it for me and I left home
and found a place at an art college. She did me a favor in a way, because I
worked behind bars and in pubs to get some cash. That’s when I started playing
with bands.”

“I never read any of this.” She said it without thinking but
his hand stilled on her body where he’d been stroking her before. “You know I
like the band’s music. I love it, and the latest album blew me away. I play it
all the time.”

“So you’re a proper groupie,” he said with a smile.

“I guess I am.” Yes, honesty. “I read about you too.
Everything I can find.”

“Did you fantasize about us?”

What was this, truth or dare? But he’d just told her an
important part of his life, one she hadn’t read anywhere online or off. “Yes,
yes I did. I told you. Some of the things you said, when we—” She couldn’t say
any more, but she could tell he knew what she meant. That he’d hit her
fantasies on the nail.

“If you tell me more, we’ll make it better. Every time.”

When he looked at her like that, eyes blazing with passion,
she wanted to tell him everything. And when he held her, she felt ridiculously
safe. She’d always sworn she’d make her own way in the road but she needed him
like she’d needed nobody else. “It was you,” she said. “Always you at the
center.”

“Since we’re in the right place…”

As his lips touched hers, someone rapped on the outer door
and then walked in without waiting for an answer.

Donovan rolled off Allie and she dragged up the sheet to
cover her breasts. Hello, rock star lifestyle.

Donovan sat up and ran his hands through his hair, pushing
it off his face. “Fuck, don’t you know to wait after you knock?”

Chick Fontaine in the flesh. Allie had seen pictures of him
but the man sometimes known as “the bear” was even more ursine in person. Thick
black hair and a beard enhanced the burly figure, and although the beard was
carefully clipped and shaped, it still gave the startling blue eyes a wild
emphasis. “Shit, man, don’t you know how to lock doors?” He indicated the outer
door with a wave of his hand. He glanced at Allie. “Hi.”

“Chick, this is Allie. Get used to seeing her.”

Chick shrugged, an impressive movement of massive shoulders.
“Yeah. I’ve seen you online. So hi, Allie. Where are you from?”

“Wisconsin via Essex and Germany.” Chick raised a brow. “My
dad was in the army,” she explained.

“Oh, right.”

“She’s an editor with Casterbridge,” Donovan said. Allie
stayed frozen, the sheet firmly tucked under her armpits. Considering that a
few seconds before she was about to do the dirty with her new lover, she felt
too vulnerable to take part in a rational conversation.

Chick turned his attention to her and she felt the power of
his intelligence. “Casterbridge, eh? That’s one way of poaching an author.”

Donovan growled low in his throat. “That doesn’t come into
the equation.”

Chick brightened. “Really? Okay, Donovan, am I planning for
her on the tour?”

“Until I tell you otherwise.” Donovan’s words clashed with
Allie’s “Until Los Angeles”, which made them turn and glare at each other. But
only briefly. When Donovan reached for her, Allie moved away, which proved
surprisingly tricky in a bed this large. Probably because she had most of the
top sheet wrapped around her.

“You have another visitor in the main area,” Chick said.
“Your mother.” He beamed.

Donovan and Allie gasped and Donovan supplemented that
comment with an “Oh, crap.”

“Something wrong? She wrote me last week and said she’d love
to come visit. She and your father had a few days and I suggested they come and
see the concert.”

Donovan sighed. “You suggested or she hinted?”

Chick shrugged. “I thought you’d like it. Anyhow, your
entourage is growing daily.” He glanced at Allie. “The agent guy wants a word
too, but he says he’s cool to hang for a while.”

“He’s just getting over the flu. I don’t know whether to
tell you to avoid him or talk. The idea of you two together scares me.”

Chick beamed, an expression that gave him the appearance of
a large teddy bear. “Thanks for that. I’ll take him a coffee.”

Donovan slapped a hand over his face and groaned. “Fuck,
I’ve created a monster.”

Allie was laughing as Chick left the room. Donovan wasn’t.
“I’ll take a quick shower and get out there,” he said. He glanced at her.
“She’s seen the pictures on the internet, that’s why she’s come. You can stay here
if you like.”

She made a quick decision. “No, I’ll come with you.”

They got out of bed and began to dress. “I forget who you
are,” she said, rummaging in her case for clean underwear. “After two days, I’m
thinking of you as Donovan.” He turned around as she did and smiled. “Not Don,”
she added as she pulled on her panties.

He took her hands. “Thanks. My mother calls me Don. She
wanted to call me Donald, but my father liked the singer. So do I.”

“I like the bassist.”

He bent and kissed her. “Thanks.” He straightened. “Let’s
get this over with.”

They dressed in five minutes flat. Allie dressed to melt
into the background, in jeans and a fresh T-shirt, her last, she reflected
gloomily. She’d have to send something to laundry or start washing by hand.
She’d only brought enough for a few days.

Rummaging through her jewelry bag, she found a pair of
silver earrings and a hair clip. She didn’t want hair still damp from her
shower straggling around her face and if she stopped to dry it, she was afraid
he’d go without her. He needed support and right now, she was it.

The large living room contained a lot more people than when
they’d arrived. Walking into a room containing all her musical heroes minus
two—Jace wasn’t there, neither was V—should have been daunting for Allie, but
she had only one thing on her mind right now. Giving her lover all the support
she could.

The members of Murder City Ravens had casually distributed
themselves around the large area, surrounding the two people sitting on one of
the huge couches with their backs to the large floor-to-ceiling window behind
them.