Strike a Chord

by Salsbury, JB

  “She does,” Dixie chimes in. “Smartest person I know.”

  Elliot seems satisfied with Dixie’s recommendation and digs into her pocket. “I found this backstage and I asked Ethan what it was but he said”—she pulls out something silver inside a small Ziploc bag—“I have to ask you because you know stuff.”

  She holds up what looks like brown hair extension connected to—

  I gasp and quickly cover my mouth to school my expression so I don’t scare the little girl to death. It’s a sex toy. Specifically, a butt plug with a tail attached. I may have zero personal experience with sex and the toys that accompany the act, but I was raised on the road, surrounded by men and groupies. I’ve seen more sexually related items than a person three times my age.

  “Oh… wow, well… um…”

  Paul and Dixie are laughing under their breath—Dixie so hard she’s wheezing—while Elliot twirls the ponytail ‘round and ‘round.

  “Is it part of a toy?” she says while whirling the thing about. “I’m not supposed to touch this part.” She points at the silver plug inside the plastic bag.

  I look up to find Ethan’s face bright red and all his teeth showing while he laughs.

  “I think it’s a horse tail.” Elliot studies the long tail-like hair.

  I glare at Ethan, who salutes me with his middle finger. So this is payback for the glitter, huh? I squat down to Elliot’s level and smile at the sweet girl. “Does Ethan ride in your bus with you?”

  She whips the butt plug tail around and I lean away, narrowly dodging the hairs. “Yes. He snores loud.”

  I try to keep from smiling too big as little Elliot opens the door to my revenge plan. “Well, no wonder! He must’ve forgotten his own, um… mouth plug.” I nod toward the sex toy in her hand. “That’s what that is, see? It’s for adults only, so you can’t even try it, okay?”

  “Why not?”

  “Your mouth is too small and… it… contains a powerful no-snoring medicine that is very dangerous to children and tastes like Brussels sprouts.”

  Her brows pinch together. “Ew. I hate those.”

  “You’d be a great help to Ethan if the next time you hear him snoring, you put that in his mouth.” I point at the beveled rocket-shaped end. “This part goes between his teeth. If you can get it to rest on his tongue, all the better.”

  “What does the tail part do?”

  “It’ll tickle his face if he snores, waking him up enough to roll over.”

  “Should I just give it to him?”

  “No, you have to put it in for him when he snores. If he does it beforehand, he’ll most likely lose it in his bed and it’ll be no good to him.” I look over to see Ethan side-eyeing me. Yeah, I hope you’re watching, you son of a bitch. Prepare for the backfire. “Don’t tell him though, okay? He probably doesn’t even know he’s snoring.”

  “He doesn’t!” Her big eyes get even bigger. “He always says he doesn’t snore, but he does.”

  “Exactly. So put that back in your pocket and find a safe place for it in your bus where Ethan or any other adults won’t see it.”

  “Okay.” She shoves it back in her pocket.

  I ruffle her hair and stand back up as Ashleigh comes around the corner.

  “There you are.” Her eyes come to me. “Hey, Tommy, right?”

  “Yeah.” Why is she talking to me? And smiling.

  She looks at the band as they gear up to run through their sound check. “I saw what happened outside our bus yesterday.” When I don’t immediately respond, she continues. “I know what you probably think of him. A bad reputation is like a case of herpes—keeps resurfacing at the worst possible times.” She leans in close. “I should know.” She absently runs a hand over Elliot’s hair. “Don’t let his past cloud your opinion of him.”

  “I don’t know what you mean.” I do, but I really don’t want her to know I know.

  “Yeah, he’s playing it cool too. I get it.” She grabs Elliot’s hand. “Come on, let’s go get a milkshake.”

  As soon as she walks away, Paul scoots close until our shoulders are touching. “What did she say to you?”

  “She was asking how long sound check would run for.” I stare ahead to avoid him reading the surprise in my expression.

  “What about the kid and the butt plug? You think it’s safe to have her touching that thing?” he says, still chuckling.

  “I’m hoping it was unused. Something from the pick bin maybe?”

  “Maybe,” he says. “But if it’s not?”

  A small smile curls my lips. If it’s not? Even better.

  Chapter Nine

  Taylor

  “Where is she?”

  I hear Ethan’s angry growl from my hiding spot backstage at New York’s Madison Square Garden. I wasn’t sure Elliot would be able to pull off the butt plug prank, but when I saw Ethan stomping from his bus to the back of the arena, I had a feeling he was coming after me.

  What are they even doing here? I assumed with tonight off, the talent buses would go directly to the hotel.

  I ran inside to hide, thinking he’d give up his search for me after asking around. I’ve been slipping between corridors to the staging area, to the dressing room and he’s always only seconds behind me.

  I’m crouched behind a crate in a corridor when I hear a crewmember mumble, “Naw, man, I haven’t seen her.”

  Heavy footsteps grow louder as they approach my hiding spot. My stomach swirls with butterflies and I plan to dart out and go hide in my bus as soon as he passes—when suddenly his footsteps stop. I crouch lower, ball up, and will myself invisible until the crate is violently pulled away from the wall.

  “Are you fucking kidding me?” Ethan towers over me while I slowly uncurl and stand to my full height. “Do you know what I woke up to this morning, Tommy?”

  “I have a pretty good idea, yeah.” I roll my lips between my teeth to keep from smiling.

  He’s dressed in jeans and a wrinkled T-shirt with his wavy hair a mess around his face, leading me to believe he’s fresh out of bed. His eyes tighten into little slits. “Do you have any idea what it’s like to wake up with a fucking pony-play butt plug in your mouth?”

  A snort rips from my throat and I burst into laughter.

  He smiles, but it’s all teeth and promises retribution. “Get a good laugh. Go on, get it all out.”

  “I’m sorry….” I try to apologize again, but from the look on his face, the absolute humiliation and disgust in his eyes, I should’ve asked Elliot to get his wake up call on video. My stomach cramps I’m laughing so hard. “Did you taste it?”

  He pushes his big body into my space. I suck in a breath. My laughter fizzles and dies as I stare at him. He takes another step and backs me up so that I’m pinned between his wide chest and the concrete wall. My pulse pounds and my legs feel wobbly.

  “You think it’s funny?” His gaze fixes on my lips, lighting with fire as my smile fades. “Not so funny now that the joke’s on you,” he says in a low voice that I feel in very intimate places.

  “What’s that supposed to—”

  His mouth comes down hard against mine. I gasp in surprise and he takes advantage, dipping his tongue between my lips and pushing beyond my teeth to lick and ravage my mouth. I press my hands to his muscled stomach and prepare to shove him off when his hands cup my jaw and tilt to deepen the kiss. My fingers flex against his abs then curl into his shirt, grip the fabric hard, and I pull myself in closer. He growls into my mouth, sucks my bottom lip, and tugs it between his teeth. The act is primal; animalistic in a way that makes me dizzy. If not for my hold on his shirt, I fear I’d drop into a pile at his feet.

  He rips his mouth from mine and I catch a flicker of surprise in his eyes before I push up on my toes and chase down his mouth. My skin zaps to life when his big hand grasps my hip. His powerful fingers inch around my lower back, holding me to him with an unbreakable strength. I hold on tight as he curls over me, my body boneless from his kiss,
my back arching as he bends me backward until I’m helpless. He holds me up, controls my mouth, and owns me in this kiss.

  Now I get it.

  What all the fuss is about.

  When Paul kissed me, I walked away wiping slobber from my chin and wondering why people get so excited about something so awkward and messy. But kissing Ethan, there’s nothing awkward or messy about it. He doesn’t make me feel like a fumbling virgin. He makes me feel like a sexy, capable woman.

  The third time he pulls his mouth from mine, I let him. I expect him to let me go, set me on my feet, and walk away chuckling at how easy it was to seduce me. Instead he shocks me by wrapping his arms around me and resting his chin on the top of my baseball cap. My cheek pressed to his chest, I hear his heart beating almost as fast as mine, the organs pulsing together like a double bass kick.

  “That backfired,” he says softly, his voice heavy and rough. “I thought my mouth would make you sick, ya know, because of the whole butt plug thing.”

  There’s a question in his words, one I don’t know how to answer. Why didn’t his mouth make me sick? A wave of embarrassment and humiliation washes over me, heating my face and making me sweat.

  He meant for that kiss to be a revenge prank and I threw myself at him just like every other woman he comes into contact with. I shift and pull away to free myself from his arms.

  “I’m not sure what happened there.” That’s the most truth I’ve ever shared with Ethan. I’m clueless.

  He ducks to peek under the bill of my hat. “I can tell you exactly what happened there. We shared one hell of a kiss, Tom.” His brows pinch together. “That’s something I never thought I’d hear myself say sober.”

  I smile, his self-deprecating humor making me feel a little less stupid.

  “Hey.” He lifts my chin and swipes at my lower lip with his thumb before dropping his hand to his side. “Don’t beat yourself up for enjoying that kiss. I enjoyed the fuck out of it and I don’t feel even a little bad.”

  “Who says I enjoyed it?” My attempt at bravado falls short as Ethan smirks knowingly. I shrug, a last-ditch effort to act unaffected. “It was all right.”

  “Just all right, huh?”

  I frown and shrug again.

  “I’ve kissed a lot of women—”

  “As if I needed the reminder.”

  “I’m talking thousands of women—”

  “Am I supposed to be impressed?”

  He continues talking as if I haven’t said a single word. “Women either melt or tackle me when they’re into a kiss, and you, sweet Tommy, you did both.”

  Guffaw! “I did not tackle you!” My face warms as the lie slips easily from my lips. I melted. I for sure melted.

  He lifts the front of his T-shirt, showcasing an impressive six-pack. There, right around his belly button, just above a dusting of light brown hair that disappears beneath the fly of his sagging jeans, are four faint red marks.

  “I didn’t do that.” I know I did. I can still feel the resistance of his muscles against my fingertips.

  He drops his shirt. “You keep telling yourself that.”

  “I wi—” My walkie blares at my hip.

  “Tommy, where the fuck are you?” Paul’s voice is a wash of cold water.

  Ethan scowls at the device.

  “Prophet needs you at the loading dock. Tom, are you there—”

  I press the button and put it to my lips, avoiding Ethan’s judgmental glare. “I’m here. Tell him I’m on my way.”

  “Where have you been? You were supposed to be—”

  “Bathroom.” I push past Ethan and head toward the back of the arena.

  “Why not tell him the truth?” Ethan says from behind me.

  My feet freeze in their tracks.

  “Why not tell him you were with me?” There’s genuine curiosity in his voice, maybe even a little disappointment.

  I turn around and face the rock star. “Because I’m embarrassed.”

  He recoils as if my words were a kick to the nuts.

  “The last thing I want to be is just another chick you kissed.”

  He shoves his hands into his pockets, not taking his eyes from mine. “What do you want to be?”

  “I want to be left alone.”

  He frowns, and before he can talk me out of it, I walk away.

  Ethan

  She wants to be left alone.

  More specifically, she wants me to leave her alone.

  I may have been able to grant Tommy her one wish had she expressed it before. Before she crawled under my skin like a flesh-eating virus.

  Before that kiss.

  Ten hours have passed since we kissed and I can still taste her tongue and feel her delicate body in my arms, the sting of her short nails as they bit into my skin.

  She wants to be left alone? There is no possible way I can do that.

  I had no problem finding out which hotel room she was in. Only took one phone call to the manager of the Four Seasons, and ten minutes later, I’m in my baseball hat and sweatshirt, riding the elevator down to the third floor.

  Creeper mentioned all the crew was going out tonight, hitting the local strip clubs. Call it a wild guess, but something tells me Tommy wouldn’t be down for that kind of sightseeing.

  The elevator dings and I find her room easily enough. From inside, the faint sound of a television gives me hope that my sleuthing wasn’t all for nothing.

  I cover the peephole with my finger and knock three times. “Room service!”

  “What? I didn’t order room service!”

  I catch myself grinning at the sound of her voice, then tell myself to stop being a creepy asshole. I knock again. “Room service!”

  “Ugh… coming!” The door swings open, and there in the entryway stands a nearly naked Tommy. “What are you doing here?”

  “What are you wearing?”

  Our questions are asked in unison and we both wait for the other to answer. I’m in no fucking hurry to answer as I study the woman. I’ll wait her out all week if it means I get to look at her while I do. Elastic waistband shorts that look a few sizes too small and a white wife beater—I wonder if she knows I can see her dark nipples through the shirt. She’s not wearing that stupid baseball hat, and the top part of her hair is pulled back and up off her face. Big gray eyes framed in dark brows that taper into a thin nose, delicate jawline, and perfectly kissable lips.

  “Pajamas.” She props her hands on her hips. “It’s what most people wear at nine o’clock at night.” Her eyes narrow. “Where’s the food?”

  “What food?”

  “You said you were room service.”

  “Can I come in?”

  “Only if you tell me why you’re here?”

  I shove my hands into the pocket of my hoodie to keep from grabbing hold of her and pulling her face to my lips. “I’m bored.”

  “I’m sure there are thousands of women in the lobby who would be more than happy to keep you entertained.”

  I smirk, loving the jealous edge to her voice as she throws my words from earlier today back in my face. “I don’t want them. I want you.”

  Her cheeks flush pink, making my pulse throb. “I thought we covered this. I asked you to leave me alone.”

  “I can’t do that.”

  She drops her head back with a groan. “You’re impossible.”

  I stare at her neck, thinking one day I’m going to lick up that smooth skin and feel her shudder in my arms.

  “Fine, come in, but you’re friend-zoned, understand? No funny business.”

  I hold up a hand and swear an oath. “No funny business. I promise.”

  As I walk by her, I pick up the scent of the hotel's Bvlgari soap mixed with a smoky fragrance that’s uniquely Tommy. Not smoke, but woody, earthy, warm and dry.

  “Dixie went out with the guys,” she says, motioning to the other queen-sized bed in the room. “I take every opportunity I can to get a break from the crew.”

  I
sit at the foot of her bed, in front of the television. “This is a great movie.”

  She takes the chair by the window and folds her bare legs up, exposing a healthy slice of side ass for my viewing pleasure. “It just started. I like it so far.”

  “Stupid how everyone dies at the end though.”

  “Dude! Spoiler!”

  I shrug. “You’re welcome. Now you don’t have to watch it.”

  She snags the remote off the table and tosses it to me. “You might as well find something else to put on then. And now that you mentioned food, I really am hungry.” She reaches for the phone. “I’m going to order some food.”

  “I have a better idea.” I hit the power button on the remote, turning off the TV. “Do you have a bathing suit?”

  Tommy doesn’t strike me as the kind of woman who travels with bikinis.

  “Never mind.” I pull out my cell and fire off a text to my assistant. I stand and head for the door. “Slip on some shoes. Let’s go.”

  “No, I’m already in my pajamas for the night. I don’t want to go out.”

  “We’re not going out. Come on, trust me. It’ll be fun.”

  “I don’t want to have fun.”

  This fucking woman! I cross to her, pick her ass up off the chair, and cradle her in my arms like a child as I head for the door. She kicks and wiggles and slips from my grip.

  I set her on her feet. “Shoes. Let’s go.”

  She slips on a pair of black Vans, grabs her key card, and reaches for her sweatshirt. I snag her wrist. On one hand, I don’t want anyone else seeing her perky little tits through her top. On the other hand, if she covers up, I’ll miss the view.

  “You don’t need that.” I decide not to deprive myself of her innocent, accidental sexiness, and pull her out the door.

  “Where are we going?”

  I hit the elevator button, wondering if she’s aware that I’m still holding her hand. “You’ll see.”

  We step into the carriage and I punch the button for the fifty-first floor. I was hoping for a straight shot, but we end up stopping on the ninth floor, where two couples climb in with us. One of the guys does a quick double-take.

  I usually prefer to go unnoticed in public, but if he recognizes me, it’ll keep his eyes off Tommy’s chest. He mouths something to the woman he’s with and she looks back at me with the same knowing expression. I smile politely.