The shower door opens and Georgie steps back in, her arms wrapped around her waist. I pull her in front of me and allow the warmer water to flow over her. She’s silent as I wash her, exploring her body as I go along, bringing her to the edge of an orgasm again, and then leaving her without completion.
Finished, we get out. I wrap a towel around my waist, before scrubbing another through my wet hair, and placing it on my neck. Georgie stands meekly there, dripping water all over the floor.
“Why are you doing this?” she whispers.
I have no answers I’m willing, or able, to give, so I silence her with a glower before getting towels for her, and swathing her head in one and her body in another. I decide to get her dried and braid her hair, before I do anything else. She’s more than capable of doing it, but I’m trying to amend my mistakes.
I dig out a band T-shirt with long sleeves and help her into it, before covering her feet with a pair of my socks. Once I’m settled in bed, I turn my back to her. She has to feel the consequences of her lack of discipline.
A sound escapes her throat. She’s crying. I ignore her. When our time together ends, she has to know that she’s strong enough to get through anything in life without resorting to drugs.
Chapter Twenty One
Georgie
I’m falling into a dark, bottomless abyss. Every time I attempt to catch my breath and prevent my descent, the pull becomes greater. Mid-air, I twist and turn. At times, I’m moving at terminal velocity. Just as quickly, I’m floating, barely. I know I’m falling, though. Sickness is washing through me and my lungs are about to explode.
“Sloane!”
Hands grab me, but, they aren’t his. They belong to my mother, so I look toward those hands and scream. Mom is gray, swinging from a rope, her feet dangling. Her neck is broken and she’s dead. Isn’t she? She must be dead. Her body starts to spin and the hemp twists, irrevocably knotted.
Writhing around, I scream.
Mom isn’t dead, because her morbid hands reach for me again.
“What have you done, Georgiana?”
Her accusing tone is horrid. I’m no longer her Georgie. No longer her flesh-and-blood.
My freefall has suspended and I’m there with Mom. Both of us are dead, I think. Or not dead, and living in a frightening middle realm. Mom is broken. Visibly, so. Her neck lulls to the side in an ungodly position, and her legs are twitching, but she’s staring at me, her gaze boring into the deepest recesses of my soul, exposing my brokenness.
She screams and reaches for me, the talons that she once called hands digging into my jugular, and washing the blackness of my dream into a sea of red.
Another scream startles me to wakefulness. I bolt up, yanking the clothes off my body. I’m drenched in sweat and bathed in darkness. Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God. I hadn’t been dreaming. It was real. My mother is hanging from…from the air…and she’s killed me. My hands fly to my cheeks and swipe at the wetness. I can’t see but I know it must be blood. They roam to my neck and I scream again.
I’m dead. I’m dying. I’ve gone to hell.
Please, help me. Someone. Anyone.
I reach out, searching. Before she pulls me away, I want to see Sloane.
“Sloane!” I yell his name at the top of my lungs, but the darkness doesn’t abate. “Sloane, please.”
I jerk myself from…I don’t know who…Mom is gone. Where’d she go? She’s lying in wait for me, ready to pounce.
Another scream falls from my mouth. Suddenly, light bathes the room. The visions and apparitions slowly drift away, and awareness of my surroundings free me from my terror.
Kiln stands at the foot of the bed, hands clenched, staring at me. He’s wearing boxers, but it isn’t hiding his erection. My breasts are visible to him. I’ve torn off my T-Shirt and pushed the covers down to my waist because I’m overheated. Even now, sweat clings to me.
I draw my knees up and avert my eyes, silently giving him the control I know men want. Sloane said to hide from no one, but how can I not, when I want to collapse inside of myself?
He steps closer.
“Look at me.”
I don’t. I lay my cheek against my knees and tighten my arms around them. “Where’s Sloane?”
He doesn’t answer, so I lift my head and glare at him. That smirk is back.
“You don’t like me.”
Shrugging, he sits on the side of the bed, close to me. Too close to me. He always seems to wrestle with something when I’m around him.
“I don’t like Sloane,” he confesses.
This isn’t exactly news. It breaks my heart when I think of the way they all act around each other. Phoenix Rising isn’t the band I know and love. Whatever happened seems irreparable.
Kiln slides closer. I scoot back, until the headboard halts me. I really haven’t gone far. Worse, I have to lean close to him to reclaim the top sheet and comforter. I must’ve kicked them that far down during my nightmare.
His gaze drops to my breasts. I cover them with my hands.
“I’m sorry,” I blurt. “I-I shouldn’t have made out with you like I did. That was wrong of me.”
Desire darkens his eyes and his nostrils flare. I’m so scared he’s going to rape me. Trembles rock my being.
“Do you know what Sloane did to me?” he asks softly. “How he wrecked me?”
“No,” I push out.
He continues to consider me. His relationship with Sloane is much more complex than just money, much darker than just greed.
“Where’s Sloane?”
His smile is nasty. “Getting his dick sucked.”
My stomach flips at those words. I don’t even care at the satisfaction gleaming from Kiln’s eyes. I collapse onto my side.
“He’s making her come, too,” he adds. “Want to see?”
Sobs wrench from me, and I cry into the pillow. Despite my noise, I hear Kiln’s laughter. In his quest to destroy Sloane, he doesn’t care that he’s doing the same to me. I don’t know why he’d do this to me. I’ve never done anything to him.
He moves again. “Have a good night, Georgiana,” he murmurs from across the room, near the doorway. The light flicking off snaps me out of my pain and betrayal.
“Please. Please don’t leave me without any light.”
He doesn’t answer me. I think he’ll ignore me, but, a moment before he closes the door, he curses and allows the light to once again surround me.
Sloane
I couldn’t sleep, so I went for a walk, roaming deserted streets until the sun begins to rise, removing all memories of yesterday’s rainfall.
Long after Georgie’s sobs had died off and she’d fallen asleep, the thought that I’d dressed her and combed her hair kept me awake. I’d just had to leave her. Get away from her. Adam was having a party in his room. I’d intended to go, but…I couldn’t.
I’ll do Georgie no good by descending into debauchery. She usually sleeps through the night, so I doubt she would discover my actions. But who the fuck knows? Especially while Kiln circles, so, instead I head out. I’ve left lights on for her in case she awakens. I don’t want to imagine what she’ll do if she finds herself in the dark. Not trusting anyone, I’ve also locked the door tightly.
I’ve gotten myself to the opposite side of town, so by the time I get back to the hotel, it’s after nine. Inside the room, Sam and Georgie are sitting at a table, two empty plates pushed to the edge. He’s writing something on a notepad and Georgie is concentrating on the paper in front of her.
“Mr. Mason,” Sam greets with a smile and a nod.
To me, he’s sitting too close to her, but I grit my teeth and remain silent. No fucking way is he coming to Denver with us. I’ll find an older woman for her. That way, Georgie won’t feel threatened, and I won’t feel murderous.
“Georgie,” I say. She hasn’t lifted her head to me. At the sound of my voice, her jaw tightens. She shoves her fingers through her hair, the eraser on her pencil flirting with her lips.
“Good morning.”
Nothing.
Sam leans toward her and whispers something. She flushes. My blood pressure threatens to fuck me up with the quick rise, especially when whatever he told her achieves what my words didn’t. A response.
“Good morning.” Her glance flickers to me, then lowers again. If she doesn’t stop clenching her jaw, she’ll crack her fucking teeth.
“I have to get to Bauer High School,” I tell her. “The band’s making a special appearance for the students.” Jaeger thinks it’ll help our image, especially mine.
“Have fun.”
Oh, for fuck’s sake. “Excuse Georgie and I, Sam,” I say, as nice as possible, and nod to the door. “Write your cell on a sheet of paper. Either Georgie or I will call you when I’m finished with her.”
For a moment, he attempts to stare me down, but Georgie has thoroughly pissed me off. I’ll take it out on his ass if I have to.
He stands and holds out his hand until Georgie gives him the paper she’s been working on. A moment later, we’re alone. I give her a hard stare.
“What the fuck is this all about?”
She glances at the ceiling, and holds her throat before looking at me again. “What, Sloane?”
What? How about…”Why are you giving me such a shitty attitude?”
“The cold water you doused me in froze away my sweetness.” Her eyes widen in feigned shock. “I mean my hotness.”
It’s also cleaned up her mouth. She hasn’t spewed one cuss word at me.
She glares at me and I glare back. “If you’re waiting for an apology from me for what I did, you’re not getting it.”
Her lips tremble, and tears fill her eyes. “Of course not. Why do you have to get anything from me, when you have girls waiting to suck your di…” She swallows and sniffles. “Waiting to suck you off and…and let you do to them what you won’t do for me.”
“Doing the right thing and bypassing the orgy wins no points with you?” I bite out.
“Liar. Kiln told me where you were.”
“Kiln wasn’t supposed to be in this fucking room.”
She jumps to her feet and attempts to skirt around me, but I cut her off and grab her. Kiln and I are heading for a disastrous confrontation, but I push the thought to the back of my mind. She’s struggling in my arms. Pinning her against me is the only way to halt her. Her hair wraps around the both of us, as black as the feathers of a raven, and as shiny, offsetting her white skin and purple eyes.
I thumb her nipples. She stiffens, keeping her lips pressed tightly together, when I kiss her. Conceding for the moment, I slide my tongue over her lips.
“Do you taste anyone else on me?” I whisper. “Do you smell another woman, Georgie?”
She sniffs, glances at me, then lowers her lashes.
“No soap either, right?”
She nods, and relaxes a fraction. It’s enough for me to loosen my hold on her.
“Now, ask me where I’ve been. Before you believe assholes and jump to your own conclusions, ask me.”
I’ve laid down an order and she knows it. Despite also knowing I didn’t spend my time with another woman, she’s struggling to obey me. Finally, she licks her lips.
“Where were you?” she asks quietly.
“Walking through the city. I couldn’t sleep.”
She glances away. I think she’ll let the answer go. Instead, she tells me about her fucking nightmare.
I take her face between my hands and kiss her. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here for you, sweetheart.” And I hate that Kiln was. At least, he left the lights on for her…fuck. They shouldn’t have been off in the first fucking place. When I left, they were on. I thumb her lips. “Did you find my note?”
“You told me you were going for a walk?” she asks, surprised.
“No. At the time, I didn’t know where I was going. I did tell you I was leaving and I’d be back soon.”
She brushes her body against me and sighs, gripping my cock and fiddling with my zipper. I’m not going to fight her, or my desire for her this morning. She’s had a rough night and…so have I.
Assisting her in unbuckling my belt and taking care of my zipper, I grab her waist and back her to the wall, before lifting her into my arms. I shove her dress above her waist and push the seat of her panties aside, driving into her.
She’s soft and delicate around me. I want to savor her body and worship her with my hands and mouth for hours. Since I’m pressed for time, I suck her neck and massage her clit. Her mouth moves against mine as I hammer into her.
Her fingers tug at my hair. She throws her head back, coming for me. Groaning, I bury my nose against her neck and release inside of her.
Chapter Twenty Two
Georgie
We’re on the road another five days, but, finally, finally, Sloane and I are in the backseat of a Bentley, heading towards his house. I’m feeling slightly lightheaded. I think it has to do with the high altitude and thin air.
My head is resting in Sloane’s lap. He’s playing in my hair, crooning his latest song to me, the one I watched him record and bring to life. We’ve had sex a lot over the past few days, sometimes with condoms and sometimes without. When we get to his house, he says one of the first things we’ll do is make up a chart, and figure out my cycle, to pinpoint the days I’m ovulating. My period is pretty regular, so the rhythm method shouldn’t be a problem.
There’s only so many people Sloane can have Jaeger pay off to keep our secret. Not everyone can be bought, so we don’t want to bring any more outsiders in on our secret than necessary. It would take longer to vet a physician for me, than it would to just do it this way.
Our relationship would be a major story. No matter how much money is waved around, everyone wants their fifteen minutes of fame. Blabbing about Sloane and I would guarantee that.
I’m not sure why they feel as if Sam is trustworthy. Considering Sloane fired him, I’d lean more towards the side of the man bears watching.
The excuse of releasing my tutor was legitimate. Sloane said I’d done just as poorly on the tests Sam gave me after five days of studying, as I had on the pretests to see exactly where I was.
My academic failures played right into Sloane’s hands.
“It isn’t Sam’s fault I don’t pay a lot of attention to my lessons,” I’d said, in the tutor’s defense. “I’ve always hated school.”
“Tough. He’s being paid to make you like it.”
“No, he’s being paid because I’m required to go.”
“Point’s fucking useless. You should’ve scored better on the fucking tests.”
I’d rolled my eyes. “Sloane, I had all kinds of afterschool tutors and I barely passed the last three years.”
He’d looked appalled. “Don’t you want to go to college?”
“Not particularly,” I grumbled. “I want to travel and have fun.”
“There’s more to life than fucking traveling and partying.”
“Says the international rock star and famous partier.”
His eyes had narrowed. I knew he was about to bark an order at me, so I’d forestalled it by sitting on him and sinking onto his dick. Mission accomplished. He’d shut up.
“We’re here,” he says softly, snapping me to the present. He threads his fingers through my hair before pressing his mouth against mine.
Our kiss lingers. When he pulls away, I’m dazed. His lips are expert at whichever set of lips on me they are tasting. Releasing a dreamy sight, I lift my head. My eyes widen at the huge, red-bricked mansion in front of me.
Three steps up lead to the raised area and the front door. It’s too elegant to be a porch, and too Midwestern to be a veranda. Instead of attempting to name it, I follow Sloane into the house.
Despite the vastness of the entrance hall, the colors give it a homey feel. No intimidating crystal chandelier screams expensively exclusive. Seeing my awe, he smiles in satisfaction and guides me down a hallway painted a cheery yellow, wher
e he pauses.
“The receiving room.”
My eyes draw together and he shrugs.
“I’m just going by what the realtor and the decorator told me, sweetheart.”
I peep inside and wrinkle my nose at the sky blue walls and white furniture.
“I rarely use it, so don’t worry about it.”
“Couldn’t you change it?”
Shaking his head, he starts off down the hall again. “That’s where I fucking visit with my father, so it stays,” he says tersely.
It reminds me of what I’d read about his happy home life, as he’d grown up. Judging by his tone, the stories couldn’t be farther from the truth. I sigh. If I ever return home, I’m burning every article I’d ever saved about him. They’re all crap.
Framed portraits and artsy posters—also framed—of Phoenix Rising line the walls the further into the house we walk.
He opens another door and steps aside. “My office.”
It’s a standard home office with a desk, hutch, bookcases, and chairs. A door on the opposite side opens to a half bath. He has a sunroom, a living room, a breakfast room, and a dining room, that splits off in three different directions. One way goes to the breakfast room, another leads to a huge open space that I deem the den, and the final way brings us to the kitchen, with the stainless steel appliances that look brand new.
A paler yellow than the hallway color covers the walls, and blue and white accents makes it rather inviting.
“Do you cook?”
He grins. “I char.”
“You burn,” I correct with a giggle.
“Do you cook?”
He turns it around on me. I sniff. “I can boil stuff.”
“Stuff?” he repeats dubiously.
“Eggs. Pasta. Potatoes.”
“We’ll figure something out,” he promises with a sigh and rubs his brow. “My staff has been given paid leave while you’re my guest, so my cook isn’t here to prepare our meals.”
Phoenix Rising Rock Band: The Series Page 27
