Wild Flame (The Wild: A Rock Star Romance Book 2)

by Micalea Smeltzer

  The truth is the guys and I grew up like family. We went to school together practically from the start. As the oldest I was always a grade ahead of Cannon and Hollis, Fox being the youngest was two grades behind them. Despite the age differences we were inseparable from the start.

  The defining moment that brought us together was in first grade for me. A bunch of older kids were picking on a scrawny preschooler and I came to his defense. Two more backed me up. Those two being Cannon and Hollis, with Fox being the poor kid being made fun of.

  After that, we stuck together and nothing could separate us.

  I lean back in my chair, the front two legs coming off the floor, and cross my arms behind my head as Cannon takes the mic.

  He shakes his head as he sees the song.

  “Fucker,” he mouths at me.

  I wink.

  Much to my chagrin he sings Under the Sea in this low, gravely way that has all the girls swooning.

  Swooning they may be, but I’ll be the one having panties thrown at me.

  But only Cannon could make a Disney princess song sound like something that should be on the radio today.

  As he finishes I lean over to Kira and whisper, “My song is dedicated to you. Remember that when panties go flying.”

  She snorts, slapping a hand over her mouth so Coke doesn’t go spewing across the table.

  “That confident in yourself, huh?”

  I feign nonchalance. “When you’ve got it, you’ve got it. Why would I deny it?”

  I stand and slip through the crowd, hopping up on stage and taking the mic.

  I might sound like a dying whale when I sing, but I can still make all the girls scream my name.

  I nod at the guy working the machine that I’m ready and the opening music to Ginuwine’s Pony starts.

  I sing as best I can, but it’s my dance moves I’m ready to impress with.

  I roll my body and thrust my hips. I find Kira at the table in the back, covering her face with her shoulders shaking.

  Oh hell no. She isn’t going to laugh at me.

  I play to the crowd for a moment longer before I hop off the stage and make my way through the crowd to her.

  She lowers her hands and sees me coming. She immediately starts shaking her head no, and I nod my head yes.

  This is happening. My eyes say. Deal with it.

  I reach her and pull her chair out.

  “Rush!” she shrieks, her face flushed. “Don’t. Oh my God,” she cries when I begin my lap dance.

  “Oh my God,” she says again, around the song as I roll my hips into her like I’m fucking her. “You’re way too good at this. Were you a stripper in a past life?”

  I ignore her and continue moving to the music.

  I grind against her and she tries to hide her face, but I grab her chin in my free hand. This show is for her, and I want her to watch. This is almost as good as fucking her in a public place.

  Yeah, that’s my kink, and my naughty girl gets off on it too. She won’t admit it, which surprises me since she’s so open about sex, but apparently it’s one thing she won’t fess up to.

  But she fucking loved it when I fucked her in the empty ballroom of the hotel I’m staying at. She loved it even more when we nearly got caught.

  I kiss her, not a safe for public viewing kiss either, and she melts into me.

  She can protest, push against me all she wants, but she likes me despite what she tries to convince herself.

  I mean, I can’t help it if I’m an extremely likable and fuckable guy. It’s in my DNA. That shit is engrained. Not learned.

  As the song comes to a close I hurry back to the stage. Returning the mic, I bow, while all the ladies cheer and their boyfriends and husbands glower.

  They’re only jealous because they wouldn’t know how to give a woman a squirting orgasm if their fucking lives depended on it.

  Hopping down to an onslaught of applause, I toss a few winks here and there, and collapse back into my seat beside Kira.

  I lift my beer to our waitress at another table and indicate I want another.

  Kira shakes her head beside me.

  “That was…”

  “Panty-melting?” I supply. “I know.” I toss in a smirk for good measure.

  “It’s a good thing there’s only one of you. That’s all I’m saying.” She tries to hide a smile.

  “Why is that?” I ask, taking the beer the waitress brings me.

  “The world would erupt into chaos with more of you.”

  “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

  She snorts and it’s not an entirely unpleasant sound. “You would. I hope you never procreate.”

  “Aw.” I feign hurt. “Are you afraid of the dominance my spawn would reign on the world?”

  She shakes her head at me. “I’m afraid of the riots that would be bound to ensue.”

  “This has been fun,” Mia says, loudly enough that my attention is stolen from Kira.

  For the moment.

  “I don’t know why we don’t hang out as a group more often,” she says, genuinely meaning it, which is almost laughable. Every time it seems to turn into a disaster in some shape or form—like me turning a bar into a strip club. But at least all our shenanigans make for good memories.

  “Because your idea of fun is more closely associated with torture,” Cannon says lazily, sweeping his tattooed fingers.

  Mia huffs. “Fine, then you can plan the next group outing,” she challenges Cannon.

  He shrugs, picking up his drink in salute. “I accept that.”

  “Fuck, we’re all in trouble,” I groan, shaking my head. “He’s going to have us volunteering or some shit.”

  “Maybe you wouldn’t be such an asshole if you contributed to society in a meaningful way.”

  “I spread joy through my cock.”

  Cannon sighs like he’s so done with my shit. I mean, he’s still friends with me so clearly I’m not that much of a burden.

  “It is a thing of glory,” Kira admits, holding her hands up innocently in an I’m just saying gesture, her head tipped to the side with a tight-lipped smile.

  “See, I’m just doing my civic duty.” I lean back in my chair with a smirk. “Spreading the love.”

  “And spreading STDs with it,” Fox cackles with a disarming grin—I swear a woman at the next table sighs dreamily.

  I smack him on the back of the head. “I’ll have you know my junk is clean and perfectly groomed.”

  “Didn’t ask.” Fox raises his hands, wiggling his fingers. “But I’m sure the whole table is thrilled to hear about your man-scaping.”

  “I could give you some pointers.” I shake his shoulder in jest. “Maybe then you’d get a lady.”

  Fox crosses his arms over his chest.

  Beside me, Kira sneezes.

  My eyes zero in on her, concern making me forget entirely about Fox.

  “Do you want to go home?” I ask her, my tone now serious and my attention focused solely on her.

  “Yes.” She nods with the word, already grabbing her coat.

  I stand, pushing the chair back with my legs. I pull my wallet out and drop a few twenties on the table that more than covers our share and a tip.

  “Leaving so soon?” Hollis taunts with upturned lips.

  “Kira’s sick, I’m taking her home.”

  “Interesting,” he muses, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

  “What?” I narrow my eyes on him, willing that sparkle to leave.

  “Nothing,” he says in a tone that I know means something is definitely up.

  I grab my coat from the back of my seat and shrug into it.

  “See you losers later.” I give them the finger as I leave.

  I place a hand on Kira’s back and we push our way out of the restaurant, the place still just as packed, if not more so, as when we arrived.

  Outside I use the remote start to get my truck warm as we make our way through the slick parking lot to where the tru
ck waits. I keep my hand near her, but not touching, in case she slips and I need to grab her.

  When we reach it I open the passenger door for Kira and help her in. For once I don’t grope her ass. I know she doesn’t feel good and she’s likely to punch me in the face if I get handsy, and my face is far too handsome to risk it—not that she’d be likely to actually get a hit in.

  I have the reflexes of a ninja.

  Closing her door, I slide around the front of the truck and—

  My feet go out from under me as I slip on ice and hit the asphalt hard.

  Maybe reflexes of a ninja was a bit of a stretch.

  I pick myself up and glance in the tuck to find Kira laughing her ass off. Her laughter quickly turns into hacking coughs so I can’t be irritated with her for long.

  Dusting the cold as fuck snow off my ass I make it to driver’s side and get in.

  “I meant to do that,” I tell her, sounding dead serious.

  “Sure you did.”

  “So, we agree then? I meant to do it?”

  She reaches over and pats my arm mockingly. “Whatever makes you feel better.”

  I pout playfully like a wounded puppy dog.

  “Aw,” she croons. “Don’t be a baby about it. Do I need to kiss it and make it better.”

  I suppress a laugh. “As much as the thought of you literally kissing my ass amuses me to no end, you’re sick and I promised to take care of you.”

  “Can we get milkshakes?” she asks with a little more energy than she had before. “Ooh, a chocolate malt! There’s a Sonic close to here.”

  I put the car in drive. “Sure, whatever you want.”

  “Thanks.” She smiles and it’s genuine.

  “You’re welcome.”

  There aren’t many moments like this between us. Authentic moments where we aren’t joking, arguing, mocking the other, or fucking.

  Kira gives me directions and ten minutes later, less probably, I’m pulling in.

  I start to go through the drive-thru but she points to one of the bays. “Park there. Let’s both get one and sit here so we can enjoy it.”

  “Okay,” I agree, because it actually sounds kind of nice to sit with her a bit longer.

  I’m turning into a fucking sap.

  Sick Kira is way mellower. It’s nice, but kind of strange. I’m used to her barking orders at me, or whispering dirty things in my ear.

  But if she wants milkshakes, and for us to sit together and drink them, then that’s what I’ll do.

  I pull the truck into the nearest bay and keep the window up while I look at the ice cream menu, which is on the passenger side, so I basically end up in her lap. I might be leaning over more than necessary, but what she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.

  “I want a chocolate malt,” she demands again.

  I swing my eyes to her. “You established that.”

  She laughs, and then coughs. Groaning she says, “Just wanted to make sure you were paying attention.”

  I look back at the menu again and when I know what I want, fall back into my seat, and roll down the window. I shudder from the chill pouring in through the open window.

  I reach out and push the button.

  A moment later static crackles and a female voice says, “Welcome to Sonic, what can I get you?”

  “One small chocolate malt and a small strawberry cheesecake milkshake.”

  “I’m sorry, sir. This location doesn’t serve malts.”

  Kira snarls. “The fuck—I want a malt.”

  “She wants a chocolate malt,” I say to the speaker.

  A heavy sigh and then, “Sir, we don’t make them here. Therefore we don’t have the malt powder. Would a chocolate shake suffice?”

  Kira crosses her arms and huffs. “Fine. I will settle for a plain old chocolate milkshake.”

  “A small chocolate shake it is then,” I say.

  She gives me my total and I roll up the window while we wait. Sitting up I grab my wallet.

  “I’ll pay for it,” Kira defends, fumbling for her bag on the floor.

  “Don’t worry about. I got it.”

  “How do you always have it?” She scoffs in disbelief. “Surely you’re as broke as I am. It’s not like you guys have released an album yet.”

  I shrug.

  “Rush…?” she inquires.

  I clear my throat. “Inheritance,” I mumble.

  It’s the only answer she’ll get out of me. There’s no reason for me to go into all the dirty details about why I have an inheritance. I tried to refuse the money anyway. I didn’t want it, but it was left to me, along with a house I haven’t set foot in since the accident, and everything else inside of it.

  They died and I got everything they left behind when I only wanted them well and whole.

  “Inheritance?” she muses. “Why did—”

  “No, Kira,” I say roughly, raising my voice slightly. I’m normally always easy going and never anger, but this is one thing I don’t talk about with anyone. Not my friends who are practically family and definitely not her.

  She slinks back in her seat and I drop my head.

  “Fuck, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to … yell or frighten you, it’s just … personal.”

  “Right,” she says, looking out the passenger window and away from me. “And we don’t talk about personal things.”

  “Kira—” I begin but she cuts me off.

  “No, it’s okay. You don’t have to defend yourself. That’s our deal. I don’t tell you everything. We don’t owe each other explanations.”

  Before I can respond there’s a knock on my window and I roll it down, handing the girl cash and taking the shakes from her. I put them in the cup holder and Kira immediately grabs hers.

  “Here’s your change.”

  “Thanks,” I say to the girl, handing her a tip before rolling the window back up.

  Kira rolls hers down and tosses her cherry out. “I hate those things,” she mutters.

  “Me too,” I say, picking mine out and throwing it out her window before it’s sealed up.

  She gapes at me. “How did you make that? The window was nearly closed.”

  I shrug and pick up my strawberry cheesecake milkshake—what happened to plain old strawberry? What the fuck did it ever do to anybody?

  “I have magic hands,” I explain.

  She shakes her head. “Does anything serious ever leave your mouth?”

  I pretend to think. “Nope, not really.”

  She gives a small laugh and wraps her mouth around the straw. She sucks, and sucks some more. I chuckle.

  “Ugh,” she groans, releasing the straw. “It’s too hard.”

  “And that’s what she said.”

  “Rush,” she groans, knocking her head against the headrest.

  “Give it here.” I put my milkshake down and hold my hand out for hers.

  “What are you going to do?” she asks, cradling her milkshake close to her chest like she needs to protect it from me.

  “Do you trust me so little?” I pretend to be hurt.

  She sighs, her eyes rolling slightly, and hands it over.

  I take the lid off and stir it.

  “Maybe I didn’t want my whipped cream stirred in. Did you think of that?”

  I eye her. “Too late now, isn’t it?”

  “You’re insufferable.”

  “You’re the one that keeps coming back for more.”

  “You’re the one that sends dirty texts,” she retorts.

  “You’re the one who screams my name. ‘Oh, oh, Rush. Yes. More. Give it to me harder.’”

  “Just give me my shake back,” she snaps, snagging the Styrofoam cup and cradling it against her.

  I chuckle, licking some chocolate ice cream off my finger that spilled over.

  “Would you … like your top back?” I hold out the lid to her.

  Her mouth parts. “Jesus Christ, it’s like some ridiculous, no good talent you have for making everything sexual.”r />
  “I mean, it’s good for some things,” I reason, picking up my shake once more.

  “Like what?”

  “It gets me laid.” I shrug indifferently.

  “The ridiculous part is, I know you’re not lying.”

  “Didn’t work with you.”

  “No, your monster cock did that for you.”

  I choke on my shake. “What?”

  She smirks, pleased at herself with having surprised me for a change. “You know that first time I came up to you at the gym and then that night…” She trails off letting me fill in the blanks.

  “Yeah, I remember.”

  “Well, as I’m sure you’re aware those athletic shorts of yours leave little to the imagination. I had to see if you knew what to do with all of that.”

  “And do I?”

  “Oh, yes.”

  “God, I want to fuck you right here.”

  “Here?” She looks around significantly at the parking lot.

  “Like you pointed out earlier, I don’t care who sees.”

  Her eyes turn dangerous. “Why don’t you, then?” She challenges me to make a move.

  I sigh good-naturedly. “Because you’re sick, and you deserve to be taken care of, not have your body used. We’re leaving here and going to Wal-Mart,” I point across the way to the store sitting on the other side of the lot, “and I’m getting you everything you need to make you better.”

  “I’m still not sure I truly believe you’re going to take care of me.”

  “Hey, I already got you milkshake. That’s step one.”

  “Because I asked!” she protests.

  I laugh. “Okay, you’re right—but I did say I was going to make you tea, and tea is better for a cold than a milkshake. In fact,” I add in a low conspiratorial voice, “I’m fairly positive there is no nutritional value in a milkshake at all.”

  “Don’t mock my shake.” She juts out her full bottom lip and dammit if it isn’t adorable.

  “Speaking of tea—do you even own a teapot?”

  “Do I look like I own a teapot?” she counters.

  I pause, considering. “I’m going to take that as a no then.”

  “What are you? Secretly British?”

  I chuckle, and take another sip of my shake. “No, like I told you. My mom was into herbal remedies and shit.”

  “Was?” She raises a brown in inquiry.

  I look away from her.