Rock Me Deep (11 page)

My chin barely moved as I nodded. Porter was more right than he even knew. It turned a knife in me, guilt flooding my senses. Lola had experienced a day full of things she never imagined, and for some of those, I was to blame.

Glancing out the window, I squinted through the tinted glass. The guards were still there, the party only beginning to die down. I spotted the glow of garbage-can fires and wondered if the police would swing by to force the crowd to disburse.

The walk to my small room was short. I'd picked the one furthest down the hall, closest to the practice room. Passing by Lola's bed, unable to see inside, I struggled with my raging desire to shove through and finish what I'd begun.

Shoving aside my heavy, charcoal curtain, I let myself drop onto my mattress instead.

It was dark, I'd covered the small window in the wall with a slice of thick foam. My insomnia was bad enough as is, I hated the idea of the sun seeping through the glass before I was ready to wake up.

Sliding my shirt over my head, I dropped it carelessly. My belt would have come next, but when I touched the cold metal, I was assaulted by the memory of her heat.

In spite of myself, I sucked air through my teeth. Lola had squirmed under me, so warm and tender and soft all at once.
Mostly soft,
I mused. The hard-on I'd sported could have cut through my jeans.

At the time, when I'd found myself strewn across her, I'd stopped thinking about all the reasons I'd crafted to stay away. Her chest had thrummed against mine, heart stampeding. Feeling her, seeing her reactions and knowing I had to be the cause, I'd just... I'd started to give in.

Lola had made it too easy. Grinding under me, her blue eyes so wide and unsure, I'd sensed her hunger as clearly as she'd felt my massive erection.

I'd wanted to crush my mouth on hers until she either begged me to keep going or pleaded with me to stop.
Which one did I want from her?
I gave my head a shake. That porcelain tub had been so perfect.

It had doomed me.

I told myself to stay away from her. The danger of sleeping with Lola is obvious!
Scowling, I ripped my jeans down to my ankles. The engorged bulge in my boxers was a constant reminder that my rational thought didn't exactly agree with the rest of me.

Lying back on my bed, I stared at the ceiling. There would be no key there to crack this puzzle. Still, I stared, unblinking.
If I wondered about her wanting me, now I know the truth.
My cock gave a sympathetic throb.

The way she clung to me when I saved her from the guards... and the way she touched me when she thought I was hurt...
It shouldn't have been insignificant. Instead, it all cemented my desire to get closer to Lola Cooper.

Shutting my eyes, I recalled again how she had trouble meeting my gaze. How she'd turned so red, writhing beneath me, my erection grinding on her belly.

Fuck, I'd wanted to kiss her so bad. Reaching up, I dragged my fingertips over my lips.
If Porter hadn't shown up, making me worry about getting caught, I don't think I would have stopped. I would've given in, dropped the walls and taken a bite out of Lola Cooper.

My fingers crushed against my mouth violently.
I'm awful, a fucking monster. I'd risk ruining my future—the band's future—by taking what I want from her.

If I let myself give in and had my way with Lola, she'd probably hate me after. Every woman I slept with eventually did. I couldn't balance sex and my career before, why would now be different?

She'd probably quit the band.

My muscles turned to lead at the idea. Inhaling deeply, I thought I could still smell her in my nose—and I wanted that. I longed for more of her, every single inch she had to give me.

I was selfish.

And I knew it.

Tracing my stomach, the crevices of abdominals, I cupped the shape of my raging hard-on.
Fine, I'm selfish. I'm greedy and terrible and all I want is to taste Lola's sweet pussy. To hear her gasp and fucking scream because my cock is stretching her to the brink.

Squeezing the head of my cock through my boxers, I moaned. It was true. All of it was true.

But if I gave in to my desire for this blue-eyed woman, everything would crumble. Not just the band, though that was a real issue. Not just my relationship with Lola; but my ability to hold back.

Once I went after Lola, there
was
no stopping. I didn't do things in half-measures. When I wanted something, I took it. It became
mine.

If I'd just kept things professional, it would have been fine. I could have controlled myself. Then she'd yanked me down into the tub, and everything had changed.

A thick growl rose in my throat. Dipping my hand under my boxers, I traced the hot skin of my prick. It was painfully erect, as tense and strained as my mind was.

Lola was all I could see in my head. Her stunned face, her exquisite fingers. My ears flooded with the memory of the music she played. I was desperate to make her create a new song for me. A song made from the notes of her breathing, punctuated by her sobs and passionate moans.

I wanted to make Lola Cooper into a part of me. And I could have
fucking
resisted that, if I hadn't landed on her in that bathroom tub. If she hadn't caressed my head in worry.

If she hadn't cared.

Panting softly, I pumped my fist over my cock. The strokes weren't slow, they lacked the control I felt represented me. Lola was seeping into everything I was. Even now, in private, my composure was wrecked due to her.

My teeth barely bit off a grunt.
If I'd just stayed away, not saved her, not helped or touched or seen or smelled or... or... or...
A quiver of electric delight danced in my lower belly. It mixed with the last bit of my resolve.

If I had just never met Lola Cooper...

I wouldn't need to have her so badly.

Shuddering, the pressure built in my balls. My tight fist coerced me, demanding I crash over the edge of release. My muscles twitched, a spasm so strong it left me dazzled. As I sprawled there, sweat coating my flesh and sin tainting my thoughts, I had one final burst of clarity before toppling over into the tingling realm of orgasm.

I'm such a fucking idiot.

Crying out, muffling the sound with my pillow, I came all over my pumping fingers. The explosion was so violent I had to use my other palm to keep my sheets clean. Hot flashes thumped in my temples. The release was glorious, but it was missing something important.

Her.

In the backs of my eyelids, colors danced. Among the dots, I saw Lola's perfect face. She might not know what was in store for her, but I didn't care. Not anymore. All I wanted was her.

And I knew she wanted me.

I would do everything I could to make her mine. As long as she was in my band, there was security in knowing I had plenty of time to make it all happen.

Opening my eyes, I looked at the ceiling again. I imagined Lola, and I wondered if she was doing the same. Was I haunting her tonight, too?

When I fell asleep, I dreamed of sapphire eyes, bandaged elbows, and the first notes of No More Stars when played by someone who understood what the song really meant.

It was a song that began with a warning. If I'd done anything to Lola, any favor at all... I'd tried to warn her away from me. In every glare, in every brisk word, I'd shown her what was under my surface. What I was.

But it hadn't been enough. She'd gotten close to me whether she'd planned it or not.

Lola Cooper was going to be mine.

I just hoped she was ready.

Lola

I
didn't remember falling asleep.

I barely remembered waking up.

The voices outside my room were hushed but frantic, making it clear they were trying to keep their volume low. Cracking my eyes open, I regretted my decision instantly. “Fuck,” I hissed, rolling onto my side. Had someone been punching my skull all night?

Tenderly feeling my way up my neck, I pushed my face into the sweaty blankets.
No, not punched. I was tossed around by those asshole security guards.

Digging through the slowly clearing fog in my head was torturous. Alcohol and sneering dickheads were bad enough, but it was something else that invaded my brain.

Drezden.

Even when I first wake up, he's haunting me.
Grimacing, I pushed my face into the pillow harder.
Is that what I'm dealing with now? Instantly remembering his eyes, his smell, as soon as I regain consciousness?

Could I get no peace from that man?

Someone was shouting. Tugging the pillow off of my eyes, I dared to look around my tiny bunk. Light was struggling to break through the tinted window on the wall beside me. Through it I could see static buildings.
It must be early, we haven't started driving yet.
I was glad for that. Especially when I sat up and everything spun in my stomach.

Groaning, I held my forehead tight. My whole head felt like it was stuffed with bees. Hanging it between my knees, I traced the bandages on my elbows when they touched my bare thighs.

They reminded me of Drezden's fingers; callused and firm. How he'd held me still while he'd administered the burning medicine to my shallow cuts.

He was so tender, so insistent when he fixed me up.
Blushing furiously, my eyes darted to the curtain over my door. I recognized one of the angry voices out there as Drezden himself.

His throaty tone riddled me with goosebumps.
Demanding is more fitting word for him than tender. Like when he was on top of me in the bathtub, that...
Shaking my head cleared the cobwebs.
Stop. Don't think about that right now.

Maybe never.

As if I could help it.

Who could erase a moment like that? His heavy scent in my nose, his hard chest and wicked smile turning my insides into cotton candy—
No! Ugh, stop it Lola. Just stop.
Scowling at my weakness, I filled my chest with air. It took everything I had to get on my feet and not vomit.

Brittle as an elderly woman, I slid carefully into a tight blue shirt and the same jeans from yesterday. I hadn't packed much for the tour, but I hadn't expected to have to worry about it.

As a sweaty grunt moving gear for my brother's band, my clothes didn't matter.

As the new guitarist for the famous Four and a Half Headstones, well...
Maybe I can get Brenda to pick me up something.
Borrowing from her would be no joke; the manager wore things I'd never think about trying on. Her heels could murder me.

Sliding the curtain aside, I strained to listen to the still ongoing argument. It was hard to see much from my angle. Crisp and clean, Brenda's voice rang like a bell. “—it's the easiest way!” she cried, sounding like she was stomping in place. “Last night wouldn't have happened if they knew who she was, let me put her face out there!”

“The problem,” Drezden growled, “Is you hiring assholes who don't know how to do their job. Even if she
had
been some drunken fangirl, they roughed her up! That's not fucking acceptable!”

The rawness in his voice was decadent. It hit at a place inside of me so primal that I shut my eyes and bit my lip. There was no time to argue with myself over my inappropriate reactions. They were talking about last night. About
me.

Shoving into the hall, I stared at the front of the tour bus. Sunlight streamed through the open roof window, turning Brenda's hair into fiery gold. She was sitting on a leather seat, one heel occasionally kicking the base of the table. Her eyes, thick with makeup, jumped to me.

With his arms in a tight pretzel, Drezden's gaze widened. I didn't know what was glinting in his green depths, only that it set my skin aflame. Quickly he hid behind his indifferent squint. The sun highlighted every muscle on his bare shoulders, the black tank-top exposing him deliciously.

They both watched me, but Brenda spoke first. “Lola! You're awake, good. You can answer this for yourself—”

“She isn't doing it!” Drezden snapped, nostrils flaring.

“I'm not doing what?” My voice was scratchy. Clearing it, wishing for some water—and a toothbrush—I eyed them both warily. “Tell me what's going on.”

Brenda smoothed her long crimson hair. “Drez told me about last night.” My cheeks went pink as I wondered how much the singer had actually admitted to. “Don't worry,” she said suddenly, mistaking the source of my flash of panic. “No one got any photos or anything. Plus, I fired the assholes involved. We'll have new guys for the next stop, but...”

Leaning off the wall, Drezden took a step my way. “She wants you to do a photo shoot before the next show.”

“Oh!” Blinking at his sour frown, I looked to Brenda for an explanation. “And why is that a bad thing?” I'd never done a photo shoot before. Certainly it couldn't be that hard, let alone worth arguing over.

With a smug look at Drez, the red-head motioned me towards her. Wordlessly, I sat down on the other seat. “Lola, it's not a bad thing at all. It'll get your name out there, your face, and hype you up to the fans of the band. Clarifying that Johnny Muse is gone, you're in, it's all important. Plus, things like last night won't be an issue anymore.”

Drezden's palm came down, slapping the table between us. Jumping, I grabbed at my chest, willing my heart to calm down. “It's not the photo shoot that's the problem! It's the time it will take away from practice! Brenda, we have one fucking day before the show in Colorado, we need every minute we have to make sure Lola is ready.”

“And I
told
you,” she huffed, “That I can call ahead and squeeze in a chunk of time tonight! Schedule around it, it'll just be an hour at most.”

“An hour to take photos, yeah. What about the hour to set up the location, then the hour to prep her?”

Brenda rolled her eyes, lips going white.

Though my heart was still struggling to climb into my mouth, I looked up at Drezden. “Why can't we just do the shoot here on the bus? Then we won't lose all the time stopping and setting up or whatever.”