Snare (Falling Stars #3) (35 page)

The guilt creeps up my spine, making me shiver and wrap my arms around myself.

"You okay?" Liza asks, her hand touching my shoulder.

I shake my head.

"It's all my fault," I whisper.

"No," she coos, moving from Jackson's lap and kneeling in front of me.

"Yes," I nod. "I'm the reason he was there."

"It's not your fault," Red booms.

Sucking my bottom lip into my mouth, I close my eyes and take deep breaths. The tears want to win, but I won't let them.

Xavier

I could've lost her. That asshole would've taken her life. Why the hell did I just leave her in the room? Because my goddamn feelings were hurt. I'm fucking pathetic.

The sight of her on the floor, blood splatter on her face…my stomach turns. If Randy hadn't walked into that room…

Don't finish the thought.

But I do. It would've been Sid instead of him, and the guilt clawing at me for being relieved Randy took the bullet instead of her rages through my veins.

Even though the paramedics pronounced Paul dead at the scene, I'd needed to see him. Getting into the morgue turned out to be easier than I thought. Having fans on the local police force paid off for me.

It took so much restraint not to beat the shit out his body—something that had been so clear on my face—the two officers who accompanied me had to physically usher me out.

Now, walking into the waiting room and hearing her blame herself, I want to tear something or someone apart.

Jimmy, who I'd asked to watch over her, immediately gives up his spot.

I can feel her eyes on me, watching, but I can't look at her—the guilt is too great. Regret for leaving her in the dressing room alone. Remorse for the relief that she's not the one in surgery.

Bending forward, I place my elbows on my knees and bury my face in my hands.

Please, God, you've already taken one of us. Do you need Randy, too?

I part my fingers, glance to Corbin, and flinch. It's the same fucking empty glaze he wore for years after Ethan died.

Pressing the heel of my palms into my eyes, I growl.

"Christ, don't they know anything yet?" My question isn't directed at anyone in particular.

"No, they keep giving me the 'once we know something, we'll let you know' runaround," Red clips, pacing the room.

Liza's movement on the floor draws my attention. She scooted closer, now holding a shaking Sid.

My frustration, anger, and guilt merge to a head. I can feel them pulsing beneath my skin, ready to explode at any moment.

"Are you here for Randall Glenn?" A middle-aged woman in green scrubs stands just inside the doorway.

"Yes," Red, Chris, and I say at the same time.

"Is he alright?" Jack asks, standing.

The doctor pulls a white cap off her head and exhales heavily.

Fuck, this isn't good.

"I'm afraid Mr. Glenn's heart was enlarged. We are still running tests, but the drug use and his quitting cold turkey are possible causes. The injuries he suffered were just too much…" she trails off, taking a breath.

"No," Corbin snarls, making the doctor's eyes widen.

"I'm sorry, he didn't survive the surgery," she finishes.

It's like all the air is sucked from my lungs. Gripping the chair, I fight to breathe.

"Oh God," someone gasps.

"He can't," Sid cries, head shaking. "It's my fault, Liza," she exclaims.

The crash in the corner of the room makes everyone jump.

Corbin stands, chest heaving, hospital chair, and the small table turned over. His eyes find Sid and narrow. Hands fisted at his sides, he stalks toward her.

Instinctively, I push out of the chair and stand between him and her.

"Calm down, Corbin," I order, placing my hand on his chest.

With a sweep of his arm, he throws my arm away from him.

"Then fucking tell her it's not her fault," he screams in my face.

Fully expecting to defend her from him and not prepared for him to attack me, I'm stunned silent.

"She's been blaming herself since you abandoned her here." He brings his face nose to nose with mine. "Then you just sit here while she fucking falls apart. It's not her fault!"

He leans around me, finding Sid.

"It's not your fucking fault," he growls, moving his eyes back to me.

All the emotions that had been pulsing beneath my skin, explode on their new target.

Shoving him in the chest with both hands, I shout, "I know it's not her fault!"

"Fucking act like it," he yells, shoving back.

"Guys," Red steps in, attempting to separate us.

It takes Elliott and Jackson's help to succeed.

Red drags Corbin out of the room.

I turn to Sid. She sits with her hand covering her mouth, eyes wide and full of tears. I lean over her and take her face by the chin. Her hand falls away when I tilt her face to mine.

"No one blames you," I say.

Her head shakes.

"I blame me," she responds.

"Don't," I growl.

She slaps my hand away.

"You can't order me how to feel," she yells.

With two hands, she shoves me away and stands up.

I move to grab her into my arms and she flinches back.

"You don't have to lie to me," she snaps. "I can see it every time you look at me."

Spinning on her heels, she hurries out of the room.

I move to go after her, but Liza places a hand on my chest, stopping me.

"Let her go," she says. Our eyes meet, and she finishes, "I'm not sure what you feel, but even I can see the way you've been looking at her."

I open my mouth to argue, but she continues.

"Blame her, don't blame her, but figure it out," she warns before taking off after Sid.

I run my hands through my hair, groaning in frustration.

"I don't fucking blame her," I say to everyone left in the room.

Jackson claps me on the back before leaving the room. One by one, everyone exits.

Returning to the hotel, I don't expect Sid to be in our room, but it's where I find her, packing.

"Give me five minutes and I'll be gone," she says, not looking at me.

I toss the card key on the dresser and pull the too small t-shirt over my head.

"I don't want you to go," I say quietly.

She stills, but doesn't look at me.

"It's not blame you see on my face," I confess. "It's guilt—a ton of fucking guilt."

She twists at her waist, finally making eye contact with me.

The red swell around her eyes and flushed cheeks tell me she's been crying, hard.

She stays silent, so I continue.

"I shouldn't have left you in the dressing room—"

"You couldn't have known he—"

"Doesn't matter," I give a shrug and step closer, "I still left you there for him to find you."

Now, comes the biggest confession—one that may tear me in half to say out loud.

"I'm relieved…" I suck in a sharp breath, "that it was Randy and not you."

Tears slide down my face, matching the ones trailing down Sid's.

She stands and walks to me.

"I'm sorry," she whispers, cupping my face.

I cover her hand with mine.

"It's not your fault," I tell her again. "The relief I felt that things weren't the other way around…" I trail off, closing my eyes.

Her shaking body presses against mine.

Wrapping my free arm around her shoulders, I pull her close.

"If I'd lost you…" I try again, but can't get it all out.

I release her hand and gather her in both arms, inhaling her scent.

The reality that she's here, in my arms, breathing, sends a rush of adrenaline through my veins.

In jerky, rapid movements, I tear her shirt over her head, earning a gasp.

"What are—"

I grab her face and crush my mouth to hers.

No longer questioning, her tongue meets mine in a war of mouths.

I let go of her face and go to work on the button and zipper of her jeans. When they open, I push at the material.

Her hands meet mine, shoving them down enough that they fall to her feet. Then she undoes my pants, yanking them over my hips.

Our mouths part on gasps and I grab her shoulders, guiding her backward. Lifting her up on the dresser, her hands come to my shoulders. I push her legs apart, grip my cock, line up with her pussy, and thrust.

"Oh God," she yells, digging her nails into my skin.

Rearing back, I slam against her, over and over, in and out. The dresser shakes and knocks against the wall. The vase on the other end falls to the floor with a thud.

Palming the back of one leg, I lift it high and angle my hips, my thrusts hard and fast. I worry I'm hurting her and slow.

"Don't stop," she orders, using one leg to pull me close and tilting her hips against me.

I drop her leg and lean forward, planting my palms on each side of her hips. I pump faster, harder.

"Xavier," she cries, her pussy clenching and locking my dick deep inside.

On a long, guttural moan, I yank her against me and fuck through her orgasm until I reach my own.

It starts with the familiar tingle at the base of my spine, shooting straight to my balls and tightening them. Then, when they get so tight I can barely handle it, euphoria explodes through my body, pulsating straight up my cock and emptying inside her.

Panting, I drop my head to her chest and press a kiss to her breastbone.

"I love you," I whisper.

Her body tenses, then her hands run along the back of my shoulders.

"I love you, too," she whispers back.

Chapter Twenty-Nine
Xavier

"Enough," Sid groans into her pillow.

"I almost lost you," I argue, lifting her leg.

"You already used that, try something new." She peels my hand from her leg.

"You love me," I say, using her words against her.

"I hate you," she growls, trying to scoot to the edge of the bed.

Wrapping my arm around her waist, I trap her naked body against mine.

It's been two days since Paul. Two days of not leaving this hotel room.

We'd been scheduled to check out yesterday, but I extended our stay. Randy's loss would be with me for the rest of my life, but I wasn't ready to face the grieving process just yet.

I'd talked to Red, offering help, but he said things were being taken care of. Apparently, Randy has a cousin in Utah who is working with Red to arrange the funeral service. And after everything Sid went through, Red has been working with Chantel from the PR company to handle things with the tour.

It wasn't an easy decision, but Red canceled our next show in Vegas. Knowing everyone on the tour would want to be at the service and needed time to grieve, Red did the right thing. I wasn't convinced Corbin would be on board to finish out the tour, but he was the first to reach out to Red and confirm he'd be there for the L.A. show.

"That's just Sid talk for I love you," I tease, finding comfort in the familiar banter.

I slip my hand down her stomach and slide my finger between her legs.

"You're such an asshole," she gasps when I swirl her clit.

Using my chin and nose, I brush her hair from her shoulder.

"I'm your asshole," I say against her skin.

I push my knee between hers and use my leg to part her soft thighs. Rubbing her clit, I pull back my hips and slide my dick between her legs, coating myself in her wetness.

"Condom," she pants, dropping one into my face from over her shoulder. "You already fucked up once," she reminds me.

Yeah, we'd gotten carried away with the emotionally driven sex and I'd forgone the condom. Sid had panicked for a moment, cursing my disease-riddled dick. When I assured her I didn't have a venereal disease, she finally mentioned having some birth control implant. Relief had washed over me, knowing we didn't have to worry about pregnancy, but now that I'd had her bare, I wanted her like that each time.

In true Sid fashion, until she got the 'all clear' from a doctor, she wasn't risking my, again, disease-riddled dick.

Getting the condom on in record speed, I slide into her from behind.

I prop myself up on my right arm and lean over her shoulder to kiss her.

Keeping our mouths fused together, I pump in and out, her soft, round ass taking the slap of my hips. The sound almost sends me over the edge too soon.

I pause against her and she pulls her mouth from mine.

"Don't stop." She jerks her hips back.

The movement causes the sheet to slip and me to start driving into her again. The force sends the high thread cotton skittering across our skin, revealing her bare body.

The sight is enough to spark the familiar tightening of my balls.

Releasing her face, I reach between her legs and work her clit until she convulses against me. Her pussy clenches around my dick, pulling me under the orgasmic wave with her.

"I just put those away," Sid whines.

Sitting on the edge of the bed with her lotion tube held up to my nose, I shrug.

"You have a serious sniffing problem."

Walking over, she snatches the tube from my hands, recaps it, and tosses it in a zebra striped cosmetic bag.

"I like the way you smell," I confess, gripping her hips and moving her between my legs.

"We're not having sex again," she warns. "I'm pretty sure I'll never get the smell of latex out of my vagina."

I grin. She tugs on my beard.

"Come to L.A."

There, I finally said it.

Her face grows serious.

"I have to go home." She tries to remove my hands, unsuccessfully.

"I don't want to let you go," I admit.

I might as well just go all in.

"Actually, what I really want is for you to move to L.A."

"I'm thinking about it," she whispers.

Jerking her hips forward and down, I position her until she straddles me.

"What's stopping you?" I ask, already knowing some of her concerns.

"My parents, my apartment lease isn't up, and then Toy BoXXX still has—"

"You can visit your parents or have them visit you," I interrupt, offering a solution. It's my next suggestion that has me worried she'll run. "And, like you said before, keep the apartment. You can use it when you go back for business or family."

"That could work for a while, but I doubt Jack—"

"Move in with me," I blurt, and wait for her reaction.

Sid starts to push off my lap.

"Hear me out." I wrap my arms around her, keeping her on my lap. "For the past few weeks, we've been staying together."

She opens her mouth, but I cover it with my hand.

Her brow furrows.

"Let me finish," I order, removing my hand.

"My mother is going to base the business in her L.A. office. You should be near it and her—besides the fact that you should be near me. Plus, you'll be going back to Pennsylvania a couple times a year, at least, so it's not like you won't have your own place still."

What I don't mention is I will follow her ass to Pennsylvania if I have to, but she doesn't need that information at the moment.

"And, most importantly, you love me and don't want to be away from me," I finish with a smile.

It's a cheap attempt to make her say she loves me, but I want to hear it again. She's only said it the one time. While I don't doubt she meant it, I still find myself needing her to say it again.

"I hate you," she mumbles.

This isn't what I wanted, but it's close enough. I hate you in Sid-speak definitely means I love you. I should've realized before how much those three words meant when she would say them. I'd known they weren't said with real hatred, but I hadn't heard the love in them…until now.

"Is that a yes?" I squeeze her hips.

"It's not that easy," she says, not disagreeing.

So, I take it.

"Perfect, the girls will be thrilled."

I slap her ass and stand her on her feet.

"Wait, you can't just tell them I'm moving in," she panics. "I didn't agree to anything."

I collect the bags and cart them to the hotel room door.

"Xavier," she shouts after me, "I never said I'd move in with you."

I thank a man in a business suit for holding the elevator and Sid stomps on after me.

"Stop ignoring me, fuzz face." Her hand comes up and grips my beard.

"I'm all about getting rough, tiger, but I don't think this guy is into watching," I tease, shifting my eyes to the businessman doing his best to ignore us.

Her eyes move to him like she just realized he's on the elevator. Snapping her head back to me, she narrows her eyes.

"I hate you."

I grab the back of her head and plant a quick kiss on her mouth. "I hate you, too."

The corners of her mouth twitch, wanting to smile.

Sidra

Xavier seemed as reluctant to leave as I was to let him go.

Now, lying in bed, alone, I feel lost.

This is why relationships suck.

I roll over and bury my face in a pillow.

Fuck, it smells like his furry ass.

Flopping back over to the middle of the bed, I feel cold.

The alarm clock says one in the morning. Sighing, I cuddle up with the Xavier scented pillow and fall asleep.

The next couple days are a flurry of activity. My mom is in parental overprotection mode. Three news stations contact me about
my story
. My lawyer confirms all contracts have been signed, and, as of the first of May, Toy BoXXX
TM
will be a division of Cherry Popping Incorporated.

It's now just a little over twenty-four hours before I board a plane to attend Randy's funeral. Where we would have been at the Vegas concert this weekend, we are now going to be in L.A. for the memorial. I'd also planned to stay the week leading up to the final charity concert at The Staples Center in Los Angeles, and I'd be staying with Xavier.

Since his suggestion, I haven't been able to get it out of my head. So, staying in his home would be like a trial run for the real thing
—if
I decide to do it.

"What are you thinking so hard about?" my mom asks from my kitchen. "You aren't thinking about…you know?"

Mom still couldn't bring herself to say Paul's name or shooting. Unlike her, I found it much easier to talk about him by name now. And while loud banging noises made me jumpy, I could talk about the incident without getting too worked up.

"Moving to L.A.," I reveal.

She pauses and just stares, then a smile splits her face.

"I think it's a good idea," she nods.

"You do?" I furrow my brow.

"Yes," she reaffirms, walking around and joining me on the couch.

Mom reaches up and tucks hair behind my ear. The gesture sends me back to when I was little. Tears burn the back of my eyes and the tip of my nose tingles.

"Baby, all your father and I want is for you to be safe and happy." She lays her warm hand on my arm. "After everything that's happened…in your past, I think a new start would be great for you."

"I'm keeping my apartment," I tell her.

She raises one brow over her eye and I explain to her exactly what Xavier suggested.

She mulls over the information for a minute, then pats my arm.

"If you don't accept him, Sid, I really don't know what I'll do with you."

"What?" I laugh out the question.

"I'm not saying you have to move in with him," she clarifies. "That's completely up to you, but…Sidra, even your father, the romanceless man that he is, saw the way Xavier looks at you."

My heart thumps hard in my chest.

"And the little things he does, like help you button your coat, making sure you don't need anything, keeping an eye on where you are—but not in a stalker-ish way." She smiles at me.

I hadn't even realized those things, but now…she's right.

"Plus, that voice of his." She fans herself.

"Mom," I shout, smacking her leg.

"I'm your mother, Sidra. I'm not dead." She has the nerve to wink.

"Keep your vaginal activity to yourself," I mumble.

As soon as I land in L.A., thing one and thing two greet me in baggage claim. Their thin arms lock around my waist and faces bury against a boob. It's sweet and uncomfortable at the same time.

"Dad says you're going to move in with us," Cass blurts.

"Oh, did he?" I shift my eyes from her face to his.