RIPPED: A Rockstar Romance (Wreckage Book 2) Page 8

  He leaned forward, just a fraction of an inch but it was enough that I could feel the heat rising off of him. "That's a lie, ain't it love? You don't work for anyone. You're the one in charge."

  I swallowed and lifted my chin, trying to project an air of confidence I wasn't feeling. "I try to represent the band's best interests - "

  "You're the boss. You tell us what to do. I'm in your bathroom, half-naked and vulnerable now. Tell me what to do."

  "You wouldn't listen."

  "Try me."

  My heart beat faster and I wondered if he had been play-acting before, because he sure as hell didn't seem drunk any longer. His eyes were so, so dark, almost black in a way that reminded me of lying on my back at night and looking up, feeling like I could fall up into the sky. "Hold still," I said and it came out more like a whisper.

  He sat like a statue. I brushed the washcloth back down his jaw, washing away the small rivulet of dried blood that had collected there. I brushed it down again and he closed his eyes and let out a long, slow breath, and that's when I realized that I'd been holding mine and exhaled too. He opened his eyes when he heard me sigh, and a flicker of a smile twitched at the corner of his mouth. "See love?" he murmured. "I can follow directions just fine."

  I pressed my lips together. "You're a fast learner."

  "I have an inspiring teacher."

  "Wish you'd be this good at doing what you're told all the time."

  His eyes gleamed. "Aye, but you like the challenge, don't you love? Gets you excited."

  "Gets me angry," I corrected.

  He leaned forward a fraction of an inch. "What if I like you when you're angry? So I piss you off on purpose?"

  I pulled the washcloth back. "Then you must really like me."

  He nodded and let his eyes flutter closed."Aye," he said with a soft sigh. "I guess I must."

  This time it was my turn to hold perfectly still. "You wouldn't know what to do with me," I heard myself say. As if I was trying to talk him out of it. Convince him otherwise.

  But her opened his eyes again and this time there was no mistaking that light in his dark eyes. "I have a few ideas," he said slowly, letting his gaze drop down my body.

  I stood up. I have no idea why, but I think it was so he could see more of me. "Yeah?" I said, lifting my chin in challenge. "Tell me."

  He stood up too. Tall and dangerous, he seemed to take up the entire space. He lifted his hand and I flinched a little, but didn't pull away. Even thought he was invading my bubble. Even though we were crossing every boundary I'd try to set. When his fingers brushed my chin, tilting it upward, I closed my eyes rather than see how dark his were. "Thinking I'd rather show you," I heard him murmur.

  I opened my eyes again to see his lips parting. His breath was coming faster now. And so was mine. "Right here is fine," he went on. "Or we can move it over to the bed if you like to be comfortable."

  "You think I want you to fuck me?"

  "I think you need me to fuck you."

  Being this close to him was messing with my senses. I stepped back and took a deep breath to recover my dignity. And my resolve. Nice guys. I dated nice guys now. No more musicians. "I don't need anything from the likes of you," I reminded him. "That's for sure. You rockstars all think you're god's gift to women."

  He looked me dead in the eye. "I don't think I'm god's gift," he said. Not cocky. Just quietly confident. "I know."

  Something fluttered in my stomach and then clutched at my core. No guy had ever looked me in the eye with such self-possession before. So instead of shutting this conversation down, I was instead filled with curious. "So how would you do it?" I wondered.

  "What's that, love?"

  I went up on my tiptoes. "Fuck me."

  His eyes widened and then narrowed. "You want to know how I'd fuck you?"

  "I do." I gestured to the bandages. "I'm a planner you see. I want to make sure it'd be worth my time."

  He chuckled low and slow. "I think," he leaned forward until there were only a few millimeters of charged air between our lips. I fought to hold still and not close the distance between them, feeling like I was somehow getting drunk by osmosis. "I'd start like this."

  "This," I echoed, still frozen in place.

  His lip curled up. "You want to see if it'll be worth your while, love? How about we start here? Kiss me."

  I licked my lips. "Aren't you supposed to kiss me first?"

  "That's the second time I fuck you, love. When I pin you down and make you scream my name." His dark eyes darted across my face and whatever it was he saw there made him grin even wider. "The first time though, I'm gonna take my time. Let you figure out exactly what you like."

  "I know what I like."

  "Aye, I'm sure you do. And I'd let you take it, love. I'd push you to the very brink, take you to the edge of sanity."

  "You talk a good game."

  "Aye, I do. But I play it even better."

  Chapter Eighteen

  Jules

  Her tongue darted out, wetting her lips. "This all sounds great," she started to say.

  I was drunk on the way her lips shone. "Aye," I interrupted, nodding.

  "There's just one problem." She lifted her chin.

  The complicated scent of her swirled all around me. "What's that, love?" I asked, taking great lungfuls of it.

  She took a deliberate step backward. My eyes snapped back open as the tension that had been hissing and crackling between us sudden broke. "I don't like you," she reminded me coldly. "Like, at all."

  Stung, I tried to laugh it off. "Hatefucking is a thing, love."

  "Oh so you hate me now?"

  "Did I say that?"

  She narrowed her eyes. "You didn't have to."

  I shook my head, feeling like I had whiplash. "Nah love, I don't hate you," I sighed. I reached up and brushed my finger down her cheek again. Yeah, there it was. That little tilt into my touch. She didn't hate me at all and yet here we were still pretending. Suddenly irritated, I leaned in and whispered in her ear. "I don't hate you. But I do want to take you over my knee and spank your stubborn ass raw."

  For once she was speechless. And that was my cue to walk out her door.

  It wasn't the liquor that had me walking stiff-legged back down the hill to my cabin. No, I was so hard for her that it was hard to walk upright. Without boxers to cushion it, my cock pressed painfully against the zipper of my jeans. I stumbled, slamming into my door and fumbling at the card reader for several curse-filled moments before I finally crashed inside.

  I staggered to my bathroom, a carbon copy of the one I had just sat in with August. The one where she'd knelt on the floor in front of me with that mocking mouth of hers dripping with sass and filthy talk. She'd been right in my face, challenging me, daring me to touch her, to kiss her.

  And I'd come so fucking close to it. To just leaning in and closing that space between our lips, to slamming my mouth into hers.

  Just to shut her up.

  Just to stop her going on and on about how it was gonna be when I fucked her.

  Too much talking about fucking.

  Not enough actual fucking.

  I'd never wanted to fuck anymore more than I wanted to fuck August Waverly, right now.

  But she was still toying with me. Still pretending she hated me when it was clear that's all she wanted too.

  And she'd left me at the bar tonight.

  So I'd left her too.

  I did it because I wanted to get a rise out of her. I wanted to see that color leap up into her cheeks and watch the way her tits bounced when she huffed out her pissed off anger at me. I left because she was never more fuckable than when she was fuming with rage at me, and I thought I wanted to keep her that way.

  But now, as I closed my fist around my rock hard cock, I knew that this fucked up game we were playing couldn't last much longer. Dancing around and pretending this wasn't going to happen.

  It was.

  I was gonna fuck her. I was gon
na make her moan. I was gonna watch that smart mouth of hers go slack with shock as I buried my tongue in her pussy and I was going to make her scream my name in ecstasy rather than exasperation.

  I pumped my hips faster, fucking my hand and imagining it was her mouth that was closed so tightly around it. I could see her with her eyes closed, and her dark lashes sweeping shadows across her freckled cheeks. When I neared my breaking point, she'd pull back and try to say something smart, denying me, still trying to play this game. Then I'd push her back down on the bed and bury my face between her legs and she wouldn't have a single thing to say except how fucking good my tongue felt inside of her.

  "Fuuuck," I hissed, sagging against the wall. I came, hard, but it was over in a second and left me only wanting more.

  Wanting August.

  I staggered up the stairs and collapsed face first into my bed still fully clothed. Seconds before the welcome blackness took me, I remembered what August had said to me. "I don't like you. Like, at all."

  "That sounds like a challenge, love," I muttered against the comforter. And promptly fell asleep.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Jules

  I stood by the van with my hands shoved in my pockets. A lone bird twittered in the pines above me, singing its bloody head off.

  I knew exactly how it felt.

  This morning I'd had another fantastic wank courtesy of the memory of August's tits as she knelt on the bathroom floor last night, patching me up. Now I stood here, waiting for her, whistling back the the birds like bloody Mary Poppins.

  I had a clear head. I knew what I needed to do.

  I needed to get August naked as soon as possible.

  No easy task course, since she'd clearly stated that she hated my guts. But I'm a fucking rockstar. I make people love me for a living. I get in their heads and I manipulate their emotions.

  If I actually tried to get her to like me, how hard could it be?

  "What are you smiling about?" Ewan growled as he lumbered over to meet me. "No one has any bloody business smiling at this hour."

  I grinned even wider. "Mornin' mate! Or should I say top of the mornin' to you, you bloody leprechaun?"

  "I'm Scottish, you fucking asshole." Ewan was clutching his coffee mug for dear life. "The fuck is wrong with you this morning? You're in an awfully good mood. It's bloody suspicious." He glanced at Niall who was staggering towards us like a reanimated corpse. Then he looked up at he cut over my eye but thankfully said nothing about it.

  "Had myself a fantastic wank this morning," I declared. "So I'm tops."

  Ewan looked nauseous. Niall turned slightly green. "Just kidding, mates," I lied. This morning, in the shower, the memory of August's hands on me - the shape of her lips as the filthy words fell from them -had made me come so hard I almost blacked out against the tile walls.

  "August is the last one to get here?" Hudson said, panting a little from his jog to meet us. "That's weird."

  "Maybe she had a late night," Ewan ventured.

  I pressed my lips together to keep my grin from betraying me.

  "Yeah, maybe. With Eric," Niall singsonged.

  I clenched my fist but said nothing.

  Hudson shook his head. "No way," he declared vehemently. "Didn't you guys see her? She was bored as hell with that guy."

  "What if he took her back and tried to fuck her?" Niall added. "Can you imagine? God help him if he's not the perfect lay, she'd probably castrate him on the spot."

  "Oy," Ewan warned them and then glanced at me.

  I looked up. "What?"

  "Nothing."

  I bristled. "Don't censor yourselves just cause I'm around."

  "Nah mate, we shouldn't have been..."

  "Been what? Talking about August getting fucked?" I spat.

  "We know how you feel about her."

  "I don't feel anything for her except a pain right here," I said, pointing at my ass.

  "Well that's utter horseshite," Ewan laughed.

  "What is?" August had suddenly appeared.

  Ewan darted a stricken look at me, but Niall was unflappable. "This wake-up time," he lied smoothly. "You're a sadist, August."

  She smiled proudly, like that was a compliment. "All the better to get a jump on the day," she said, arching one eyebrow perfectly. "I think today's going to go a lot better, don't you? Now that we all know what the expectations are?"

  At this, she looked me directly in the eye.

  I nodded, outwardly obedient. Aye, love. I thought to myself. I know what the expectations are. I have the expectation of hearing your bratty little mouth screaming my name.

  We piled into the van and set off for the studio,. And while she was wrong about my expectations, she was right about today being a lot better. A subdued Jimmy cast one nervous look at August marching towards him, and let us do our own thing for most of the morning. We laid down a rough cut for a song Ewan had been wanting to record since our second album, and Niall figured out the bridge to for a new tune we'd so far only laid down the chorus for. We were relaxed and in sync with each other, and our playing was crisp and tight. August had called it, today was better by a long shot.

  When it came time for me record the solo part, I looked up at the sound booth. "This one's for you, love!" I called," ready to show her exactly what I was made of.

  She was smiling.

  But not at me.

  The fact that the booth was soundproof made it so I could only guess what she was saying to Eric as he handed her a cup of convenience store coffee. But I could see the way he was looking at her as he did it.

  No. Get away.

  She's mine.

  I fumbled and dropped one of my sticks on the floor. "You got that, mate?" Ewan asked. He did some fancy football-style footwork and kicked it back up into his hands. "Got it!" he crowed, and extended it to me.

  I didn't moved. Eric was still standing there. August nodded and waved a little, turning back to watch the recording, but he didn't seem to see that he'd been dismissed. He leaned against the wall and looked at me over the rim of his coffee cup. I cracked my knuckles and stood up. "Hey Jimmy!" I called as I strode over to the sound booth. "Let me hear that last playback, will you?"

  I opened the door of the studio and turned sharply to open the booth door. "Hey mate," I said to Eric, stepping deliberately into the confined space. "Pardon me, not much room." I shifted and leaned over the board, deliberately bumping into him.

  "Sorry," he muttered, pressing closer to the door.

  I grabbed the headset and nodded to Jimmy to start the playback, then shook my head and ripped them back off again. "Sorry mate, but there's just not enough room in here for spectators to be hanging around." I glanced significantly at August's coffee. "Can you step out real quick? Hey, be a good bloke and go get some coffee for me and my mates, yeah?" I turned to August. "It's gonna be a long night together, right love?"

  Chapter Twenty

  August

  Once I was finally inside my cabin, I slammed the door and stood there with my fists balled tight.

  That little power play Jules had pulled had made me see red. But what made me even more furious was that it worked. When Eric scuttled away with his tail between his legs, I wanted to slap Jules across the face. But when he'd actually returned with coffees for the whole band, I was ready to kill Jules on the spot. "Are you happy now?" I hissed to him. "After you won your little dick measuring contest?"

  He'd glanced at me over the top of his coffee cup. "Love," he drawled. "It was never a contest to begin with."

  I'd never felt so out of control before. I wanted fly at him and claw at his dark, mocking eyes. I wanted to close my hands around his throat and squeeze until his dark eyes bulged. I wanted to yank out his beautiful hair in giant handfuls and then let it fall through my fingers to the floor. I wanted to scream at the sky and set the whole fucking world on fire because then I could start over again and this time not let him have the upper hand. Not ever let him under my skin.<
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  Because now that he was there, I had no idea how I would ever get him out.

  My heart was somehow in my throat and sinking to my stomach at the same time. Anger was making me dizzy and superheated, and I could feet my veins pulsing with each drumming heartbeat.

  It sounded like someone was playing the bass drum in my head. Someone skilled, with dark eyes, long fingers and a silver ring on his thumb.

  My phone rang in my purse. I unclenched my fists and counted backwards from ten in case it was the label checking in.

  I sighed with relief when I saw it was my brother. "Hey," I said on a long exhale, as I sprinted up the stairs and out the balcony doors.

  "This connection is terrible," Leo complained. "Am I calling 1997?"

  I laughed, feeling more in control of myself already now that I'd heard from one of my brothers. "It's not that bad here," I told him. "Maybe more like 2007."

  Leo chuckled. "So I take it you're surviving?"

  I grinned. "I'm surviving. I found this one spot on my balcony where I get good reception," I told Leo as I leaned precariously over the railing. "So that's useful."

  "And the band?"

  Jules' mocking smile flickered through my brain. I batted it away like a buzzing mosquito, ignoring the little sideways slide of my heart. "They're getting acclimated," I said, keeping my voice as neutral as I could.

  "Uh oh."

  "What?"

  "Your voice."

  "What's wrong with my voice?"

  "Come on now," Leo prompted. "I know that voice. Who are you going to kill, August?"

  "No one."

  "Bullshit. Who's the poor guy?"

  "I'm not..." Then I paused because why the hell was I lying to my brother? He knew me better than anyone. "The drummer," I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose between two fingers.

  "Julian," Leo parroted back to tell me that he'd been listening.