SailtotheMoon (3 page)

Tension radiated from him. Something was wrong, but she’d
been so overwhelmed to meet him that she hadn’t picked up on it before.
Besides, some reports said that Zazz lived on his nerves. Some said he was
always high on one thing or another. He didn’t seem high now, not if that
included a perception rarely seen when someone was intoxicated. He read people,
he noticed things. All the time.

“Okay,” she said on a sudden impulse. She should call
Kelsie, get in touch somehow. “I need to tell my friend.”

Zazz nodded. “Do you have a cell—a mobile?” His
self-deprecating smile touched her. “Too much time in America.”

She nodded. Dialing Kelsie’s number had no effect. She
probably couldn’t hear it, so Laura contented herself with sending a text,
telling her to get a cab home and she’d see her later. She put the phone away,
noting it was on its last bar of juice.

“Let’s go,” Zazz said, seizing her hand again. She liked the
way he did that, like friends or even lovers. No, she wouldn’t think that. She
didn’t know him well enough to tell if she’d seen desire or just friendliness
in his gaze. So many people must come on to him. She followed him out of the
room without question.

“In case you’re wondering,” Zazz said, “I never take my
phone onstage, or anything else. Shit, my wallet. Ah, what the fuck.”

“I’ll pay for the cab,” she said.

“No you fucking won’t. I asked you, remember? We’ll have to
stop by my dressing room.”

Laura found it hard to keep up with his long strides until
he stopped to wait for her. “Sorry. I want to get out of here. Back to the
hotel.”

“I heard you sometimes hit the clubs after the concerts. Do
impromptu performances.”

“Not tonight. Not here.”

That tension again. Just him, or something else? He stopped
at his dressing room barely long enough to collect his jacket and open the safe
in the wall, grabbing his wallet and a keycard.

She tried not to stare, but this room had evidence of hasty
occupation. Street clothes were strewn about, the contents of a makeup bag
spread across the wipe-clean tabletop in front of the mirror. Because of
course, Zazz wore makeup. Tonight only eyeliner and maybe a touch of blusher on
his high cheekbones. She’d seen pictures of him with symbols painted on his
face, vivid eyeshadow, even lipstick. Not so much recently though. Even his
hair was more subdued than it had been, navy blue instead of the bright pinks
and greens he’d used on other dates on the tour. She liked the grittier look.
It suited Manchester better.

He stuffed his pockets with his belongings, slung on his
jacket with that typical careless grace she’d seen onstage. Natural to him
then. “Come on, let’s go.”

Outside, cars waited, so they didn’t have to get a taxi
after all. Instead, they got into one of the sleek, black luxury cars, both in
the back. He reached for her hand again. The driver took off with only a terse,
“The hotel, please” to guide him. Fans gathered outside, but Laura and Zazz got
into the car so quickly, the fans wouldn’t be sure if it was one of the Murder
City Ravens who’d climbed into the vehicle or someone else. So they didn’t
impede them, although Laura did murmur that the autograph hunters would be
disappointed.

“They’ll live.” The car’s windows were darkened, so nobody
could see into the back. Zazz didn’t pull the privacy window closed, though,
for which Laura was glad. Now they were on their way, now she was actually
alone with him, she felt apprehensive, even a bit scared. She was glad he’d
told her where they were going, although she guessed Chick wouldn’t be too pleased.

“I didn’t see the person I came for,” she said. “I should
have seen Chick Fontaine after the press conference.”

Zazz shrugged. “You could always come back tomorrow night.
I’ll make sure Chick sees you. We’ll all be here, doing it all over again. Except
we won’t.”

“You never do the same show twice, do you?”

He shook his head. “How boring would that be? We have a
repertoire, a list of numbers we’ve prepared and rehearsed, and we go with
those. They’re in categories, like rockers, ballads, old numbers, new ones. We
want to put more new ones in, because we’re going into the studio soon to start
on the next album.” He grimaced. “It never stops.”

“I work a nine-to-five job that sometimes goes on a bit
longer. That never stops, either.”

“I don’t know how you do it.” His voice softened, became
more intimate. “I’m doing what I love and getting paid fucking well for it. How
many people can say that?”

She thought of her acoustic guitar propped in a corner of
her bedroom. She loved making music, even though hers didn’t compare with what
she’d heard tonight. “Not many. But we have compensations. Like being whisked
off to mystery locations by famous rock stars.”

He shouted with laughter. “I told you, we’re going to the
Buckingham. As for the famous rock star thing, I still don’t know how that
happened. I just did what I do, and it worked.” He showed no pseudo modesty
when he said that. He truly believed it. “Yeah. But believe me, Laura, there
are people as talented as we are who never got the breaks. It’s not all talent
and hard work.”

The hotel was across town, but traffic was fairly light and
they didn’t have to take the back roads to get there. They didn’t stop at the
front of the hotel, with its magnificent Victorian-Venetian façade, but drove
around to the back. She reached for the door handle, but Zazz stopped her. “No,
wait. Let him check first.”

The driver opened the car door. “Nobody in sight who
shouldn’t be here,” he said.

Then she understood. Fans. “Shit,” she murmured.

“Yeah. That’s the not-so-good part. We can usually move
around reasonably freely, if we’re careful. We’re not particularly noticeable.
Except for Riku, and he doesn’t care.”

She might have guessed that about the flamboyant
Japanese-American. He gave every impression of supreme confidence, if not
arrogance.

“I’m not sure I should—” she began, overcome by sudden
shyness and an awareness of who she was with and what she was doing.

He grabbed her hand, using it to haul her against him, then
wrapped his arms around her before she could get away. Once pressed against his
body she felt the unmistakable evidence of an arousal she had to assume was for
her, not the middle-aged male driver. Apart from him there was nobody else
around. “Oh yes you fucking should,” he said, before he kissed her.

A devouring, claiming kiss, the kiss of a man who knew what
he wanted and how to get it. She flung her arms around his neck, drawing him
down to meld their mouths more securely. Impossible to resist this. Their lips
separated after a kiss so deep and possessive, she’d never forget it. “Come
on,” he murmured, voice low and wicked. “Take a chance.”

She took it, nodding and giving him a shaky, “Okay.” One
night out of time with a rock star. One night to dream about.

Scratch that. One night with a man who turned her on like
crazy. He smiled at her. “I’m glad you said that.”

In a sudden movement she was learning as typical of him, he
grabbed her hand and towed her inside the small entrance that had empty food
boxes piled next to it. Sure enough, they entered by the kitchens. A few people
were still working there, no doubt providing food for the insomniacs. They
looked up as a laughing Zazz ran by with Laura but they didn’t approach them. Probably
told not to.

At the end of the kitchens they found a lift, and Zazz
inserted a plastic card. “Sneaking in the back way.”

The lift stopped and he withdrew the plastic card and
stepped out. Laura followed, doubt seizing her again, until Zazz turned back to
her, mischief gleaming in his eyes. “Want to see my room, or the whole thing?”

“Is anybody else here?” The thought of seeing the band in
their resplendent glory made her pause.

He shrugged. “One or two. This is our floor, the whole of
it.” He slid his arm around her waist and took her up the corridor, past a
series of cream-painted doors. His voice lowered. “It’s fucking amazing. This
time last year we were staying in moderate hotels, trying to rebuild Murder
City Ravens after the breakup. That was okay. But in some bands I’ve been in,
we’d book one room and then all sneak in, one by one. Couldn’t afford more than
one.”

“Riku?” She couldn’t imagine the flamboyant figure sneaking
in anywhere.

He laughed. “Oh yeah, him too. Here we are.”

He stopped before one of the doors, featureless except for a
gold number on it. The card that operated the lift also operated the lock. He
slid it through the slot and when the gentle
click
and green light told
them it had worked, he flung open the door and dragged her through it.

Laura had no time to look around because Zazz had her
against the door, his lips on hers. As eager as he, she opened her mouth to
accept and explore, tasting him. He tasted of mint, of beer, a mingled flavor
she’d always associate with Zazz. Lifting her hand, she tunneled her fingers
into the short strands of his hair, stiff with the gel he’d used to go onstage,
but she didn’t care. It occurred to her that he hadn’t even showered. The band
had done their conference straight after coming offstage. Donovan had even made
a joke once about the stink of sweat, and yes, he was right, Zazz wasn’t
odorless but all she could think of was freshening it up. She hadn’t bargained
for his devastating sex appeal that threatened to melt the skin off her bones.

He drew back suddenly, and when she opened her eyes she saw
concern in his. “I shouldn’t do this to you.”

“Don’t you do groupies like this?”

He shook his head. “Don’t use them.” He grimaced. “I don’t
want to name names, but—no. Just no. I don’t want to go where some of them went
before me. So no, I don’t. I’ve not exactly been celibate though.”

He didn’t say it, but she guessed girls like her. Not
groupies, exactly, but fans, or people he met at clubs. But she wanted to be
sure of one thing. “What’s my name?”

“Laura,” he said promptly. “Should I shower?” He glanced at
a closed door, presumably leading to the bathroom. “You know, I think I should.
And you must be a bit grubby, after sitting in that arena. They clean it with
hoses.”

“The floor in the arena was sticky,” she admitted.

He laughed. “There you go. Come on.”

He was off again, towing her to the bathroom where he drew
her through the door. “Still up for it?”

For answer, she put her hands on his shoulders and pushed
his leather jacket off, afraid to stop because then she might lose her nerve.
He let it drop with a heavy
thud
to the tiled floor, watching her with
eyes gone suddenly grave. “Now you.”

She shrugged off her jacket. It joined his on the floor. A
smile pushed at one corner of his mouth, then came to rest again as he swept
his T-shirt off his head. She followed suit. He growled. “Nice.”

She didn’t stop, but with fingers shaking from combined fear
and excitement, unhooked her bra and slid that off too. Now he did smile and
reached for her, but she shook her head, teasing him with the possibilities.
“And the rest. You’re right, I want that shower.”

Zazz had a joyous laugh, all ringing highlights, no shadows.
She heard the sardonic laugh he used onstage sometimes, but not this one. Just
for her, and she loved it.

Stripping off the rest of her clothes took no time, but some
courage. She’d rarely behaved so openly with a man, but it seemed right. He’d
expect it. He’d probably seen more nude women than he could count. Shit, some
of them took their tops off for him in the audience. He never turned a hair,
but this time she was gratified to see the light in his eyes deepen, his smile
turn sultry. He watched her while he unsnapped his low-riding black pants.
Finally, she saw that yes, he was going commando, as she’d suspected, and the
grooves slanting down from each hip framed a fully erect, magnificent cock.

So fucking good it made her mouth water. Not to mention her
pussy. She wanted to cover herself, so plain and ordinary, not even shaved. She
should have waxed more than her bikini line. Too late now, but it didn’t seem
to bother him. Not the way he was studying her over, all male and—fuck.

When she tried to take the step that would bring her to him,
so she could get close enough for him to stop staring like that, he held out a
hand, palm out in a
stop
gesture. “Let me see you. I don’t want to rush,
this first time.”

First time? Did he mean—no, he meant their first time
tonight. He’d make good use of her before they parted. Then she’d have to try
to contact Chick, make good with James.

James wasn’t here. Zazz was. The man giving her a detailed
visual examination. Nothing to do but follow suit. And wow, did he reward
careful scrutiny! His upper body was much more powerful than she’d thought, his
height and lean build giving the illusion of lankiness. He was tense with
muscle, his skin smooth and touchable, only a sprinkling of brown hair breaking
the surface. Long legs, narrow hips and oh, that cock.

She’d expected to see ink, since most rock singers were
covered in it. But he only had two—a tribal bracelet around his upper left arm
and a small figure over his right nipple. A black cat, like the one in the
French poster. She bet it tasted good and she could hardly wait to find out. “I
thought that was a mole or something,” she blurted. Zazz sometimes took his top
off onstage, but she’d been too busy concentrating on his groin to worry about
the dark mark over his nipple.

“Cute, eh? Can’t compare to Jace’s dragon though.” Jace’s
dragon started on one shoulder and finished somewhere around his buttocks. Only
his lovers knew, and they weren’t telling, including his fiancée.

Then he did reach for her, but didn’t pull her close until
she made the first move, the first step toward him.

Heat and strength powered through her as he turned to switch
on the shower. Unlike the one she’d glimpsed in his dressing room, this one was
large, the stall plenty big enough for two. More, if he wanted. But right now
she was here, and she’d take everything he had to offer. And she had him all to
herself.

He snatched a kiss before breaking away to put his hand
under the stream of water, testing the temperature. Then he held out his hand
to her and she took it, as if taking more than a shared shower. The fanciful
part of her thought it was as if he were leading the way toward an uncertain
future. Uncertain meant adventure, it could mean terror, failure as well, but
that prospect didn’t scare her witless anymore. Perhaps she could ask Zazz how
it was done.

No, that was fucking stupid. People found their own way.

He helped her into the shower. It was a walk-in, the floor
sloping away to the drain at the back, water already pouring into it. Hot
water. She shivered in pleasure as she felt the force of the jets, and then as
he stood behind her and slid his arms around her waist. His cock pressed hotly
into her lower back. “I could take you now, hard and fast, and send you home,”
he said. “Is that what you want? A dream fuck with a rock star?” He added a
derisory tone to the last two words, as if he didn’t believe them, or disliked
using them.

“What do
you
want?” she asked.

He chuckled. “Oh no, you don’t get off that easy. Tell me.
What would you want from this if you could have it?”

She didn’t allow herself to overthink her answer. Always
something she did to talk herself out of things. “A friend. Someone I can
connect with.” She dropped her gaze, staring at the water swirling around her
feet. “I feel apart sometimes. Like I don’t belong. And sometimes I say and do
things and they stare, as if I’d said something stupid. I probably have. I read
a lot.”

“What do you read?” He smoothed a strand of hair away from
her cheek in a gesture that felt almost tender. But his cock still pressed
insistently against her.

“Everything. Anything. Fiction, history, biography. I love
to read, it’s my escape, I guess. And listening to music.” She wouldn’t tell
him about the other, about making her own music. He might think it was too
needy, that she had an ulterior motive in coming with him tonight. And she
didn’t, she honestly didn’t.

He kissed her shoulder and she lifted her head, leaned back
against his chest. “I have two eReaders and I’ve packed them full,” he said. “I
read lots of stuff too. I can read during the long journeys.”

She felt privileged, him telling her something so personal.
He kissed her neck, added a nibble, sent shivers through her, sensitizing her
nerves. “I used to feel out of place too. I still do when I’m not with the
band. Music grounds me, it keeps me sane.” He gave a short laugh.