“Jake.” Cassidy twisted out of his embrace. With one hand on his thigh and one on his stomach, she pushed up to her knees. “I heard your concert tonight. You know, deep down, as well as I do that Riptide’s a runaway success. Again.”
“Thanks. And…yeah.” There was no denying the truth. “This music, this sound, it feels as right as any of our best stuff.”
“Are you worried that Cam and Kylie will break up? That he'll make another bad decision? Yet again, about a woman that will have a ripple effect on Riptide?”
She couldn’t be further from the base of his fear. “Not at all. I'm afraid I'll make the bad decision. People depend on my family’s company, literally for their lives.”
“Those people don't need you,” she scoffed. “MCQ doesn’t need you. Riptide does.”
Cassidy might as well have been speaking Azerbaijani for all the sense it made. “What are you saying?”
“Anyone could run that pharmaceutical company. Probably better than you could, since you told me you’re just a figurehead. Riptide is a three-person band. You’re one of those people. An integral piece. It would never be the same without you. Cam and Jones need you.” Cassidy stood. “More to the point, you need them. To be happy. Fulfilled. Satisfied.”
“You make my band sound like a piece of pie.”
“Sort of. I mean, I see full well that you’re joking and trying to mock me rather than hunker down into the meaning of what I said. Nonetheless, pie? The filling, the crust, and the scoop of ice cream on top? It all works together a hundred times better than each layer by itself.”
The strap of her tank top slid off of her shoulder. Just that fast, his brain pulled a screeching U-ey. “Filling and ice cream make me think of other things. Very much non-Riptide things.” Things that were not at all complex. Jake surged to his feet, one arm reaching to pull her back to him.
Cassidy all but leapt for the door. One hand on the knob, she paused. “For the record, I’d very much like to have sex with you right now. We’re not going to, however. Because your brain clearly needs all its blood tonight while you work through what to do next. While you contemplate the possibility that you can’t be the freaking martyr/savior to two entirely different groups.”
With that, she blew him a kiss and slipped out.
No sex…and no pie. How was it that this night kept getting worse?
CHAPTER SEVEN
When Cassidy was twenty, she’d headlined at Wembley Stadium for the benefit concert in honor of the People’s Princess in front of 63,000 people. That was a single stop on a world tour that supported a cast and crew of nearly one hundred, twenty-two trucks, eleven buses and a llama.
While of course she delegated to the production manager, her personal manager, her agent, the head of wardrobe, the lead choreographer…Cassidy made sure to touch everything. No detail escaped her personal tweak or stamp of approval. Fans came to see her. The look, the sound, the brand, the swag, the set, the lights all had to reflect who she was.
And she didn’t want to let anyone down. Disappointing a single tween at her first live concert was a non-starter. Failing to make a supportive dad who’d brought his daughter smile and sway along simply wasn’t acceptable. Those people paid out good money to see her. To be part of an immersive experience. Cassidy owed them. She had to deliver on the promise.
She also knew that all those people who traveled with her and the ones toiling away in offices depended on her delivering. The responsibility was massive. Constant.
But…Cassidy looked across the aisle of the tour bus at the windows rimmed in blue and purple and red lights like a bachelorette limo. Lights Sarah had insisted on turning on even though it was barely dusk and, oh, they weren’t about to drink from penis straws. Sarah, in her cropped tank and cutoff shorts—both clearly a hack job from scissors in her hotel room—had the same dark hair and petite features as Cassidy. The resemblance to the woman curled up in the black, Ultrasuede recliner, however, stopped here.
Because her sister Sarah, at twenty? Cassidy wouldn’t entrust the responsibility of a pet turtle to her. Sure, that might be a harsh judgement after only half a day together. It might be the headache that pounded over her right eye…brought on by Sarah’s non-stop babble.
Or it could be the sinking suspicion that DNA might be the only thing she shared with her sister. Cassidy hadn’t expected an instant connection. After all, they hadn’t talked, hadn’t even seen each other in years. She’d left home when Sarah was just a toddler—and been banned from any further contact.
What she had expected—or at least hoped for—was an effort. To get to know each other. An effort to understand her new job as Cassidy’s personal assistant. An effort to impress, to do a good job.
Cassidy had thought this was the perfect timing to ease her sister into her life. She wasn’t officially on tour. Aside from Matt, her bodyguard, the rest of her entourage was enjoying a well-deserved break. She was relying on Riptide’s tour manager, Tony Saviola, to coordinate things. Aside from an actual vacation, these few weeks were as low-stress as Cassidy’s life ever got.
But Sarah didn’t want to do anything.
Except for complain.
“Why are we shoehorned into the Riptide tour buses?” Sarah whined. “Don't you have your own?”
“Not on this mini-tour. It’d be wasteful to get a big bus for myself for only a couple of stops.” Thank goodness the guys were all on the other bus. She’d die of embarrassment if they’d heard any diss against their generosity in sharing their space.
“What’s the point of being a rock star if you don’t use all the perks? Come on, Cass. You can afford it.”
“Just because I have money doesn't mean I don't watch it carefully.” Cassidy felt the leading edge of a lecture about to tumble from her lips. Sarah had literally stranded herself on another continent with her bad handling of money. And she thought she got to tell Cassidy how to spend hers?
But, in the nick of time, Cassidy remembered what it was like living with the endless restrictions of her family and their church. The last thing she wanted to do was give Sarah any reminder of that life.
This was her…what did the Amish call it? Her Rumspringa? Sarah’s chance to discover what life was like outside those rules and judgments. Cassidy was uniquely positioned to give her that chance, without the struggles she’d gone through herself when she ran away.
So, Cassidy took a deep breath and back-pedaled. “Sharing this bus with Riptide makes sense. I need to be close to Jake. Close to all the guys,” she quickly amended.
But Sarah pounced on her original slip of the tongue. “Jake? I mean, he’s pretty ripped, for his age. But why are you so focused on him?”
Oddly enough, Cassidy never noticed the six-year gap in their ages. Well, not since Jake had used it as an excuse to walk out on her all those years ago. His body was, indeed, ripped. The only way she noticed his age was in his greater experience in the business. Which brought her right back around to the point.
“I want to expand my fan base. I survived the transition from teen queen to adult pop star. It’s a bridge that few singers make across. But for true longevity in this business, I have to cross a lot more bridges. I have to reach everyone.”
Sarah leaned forward, looking interested. Her lips—covered in blue glitter lipstick—pursed to one side. “How? You can’t help it that not everyone likes pop music.”
“Exactly. I have to do more than what made me famous in order to stay famous. Stay relevant. I need to be a crossover artist.”
“Tell me you’re not going back to singing gospel music.”
Not for a million-dollar payday. It brought back too many bad memories. Great for some people, but never again for Cassidy. But it did give her an excuse to stick out her tongue and squinch up her face, and when Sarah mimicked her expression, they shared a laugh.
That was a first.
It gave her hope.
Cassidy swigged from her water bottle. A sentimental
souvenir from her first concert, it had her name in rainbow script surrounded by flowers. Cheesy, but it was a good luck charm she took everywhere. “That's why I sang on that country Christmas album last year. Why I recorded the theme song for that space cowboy movie. Riptide and their rock fans will be another bridge for me.”
“So now you’re going to sing rock?”
“Not all the time. But a toned-down version of it, yes. I won’t disappear at 25 like so many others have. I'm going to stick,” she said fiercely. Determination thrummed through her with an actual pulsing that pushed Cassidy up to pace as the air brakes squeaked them to a stop.
“You’re already a mega-star. I don’t get why you worry about working so hard.”
There. That was the problem. Sarah had read Cassidy’s schedule for the next week, read her own accompanying list of tasks, and complained that it sounded like too much work.
What was that old saying? You never worked a day in your life if you enjoyed what you did?
That was why Cassidy pushed so hard. Not for the money, the perks, the fame. Not to win awards. She loved the music, plain and simple. Being famous gave her a much better shot at continuing to do what she loved.
“I'm going to get even bigger,” she vowed. “Because I want to make music forever. There's no thrill like performing. Except for the thrill of hearing the notes in my head unfurl over the lyrics as I write them down. Everything fits, like a perfectly tailored couture dress sliding onto my body.”
“Cass, it’s just music. Which is everywhere. All the time.”
She ignored her buzzkill sister. Because there was nothing “just” about singing. Cassidy gripped tight to the safety bar that ran the length of the ceiling. “Oh, and the thrill of seeing an audience come alive for the music. Knowing that they feel what I do. Because I poured my heart and soul into what I share with them.”
Sarah twisted around to look out the window. “We’re at a truck stop. I’m going to switch to the other bus for awhile, so I can meet everyone.” She hurried to the steps before Kyoko, the driver, even got the door open. Kyoko shot her a sympathetic grimace before also going outside.
Cassidy grabbed the opposite handrail and let her body hang. So much for sharing her passion. Would it have killed Sarah to at least acknowledge what Cassidy said? She almost never delved that deep, opening up her soul and airing out her most private feelings.
What a letdown today had turned out to be.
“How did you do that?” a deep voice asked.
Cassidy whirled around. Jake’s body canted halfway out of the curtains across a sleeping bunk. Jake’s naked body—at the least the top half that she could see. “Do what?”
“Crawl inside my head and spit out exactly what I feel.”
Oh.
Maybe today wasn’t a total letdown after all.
Jake was a normal guy. He got turned on by pretty women. Pretty women who could hold their own in a sports conversation, even better. But he’d never been turned on before listening to a woman talk about music.
Wait.
He had.
Six years ago, at Coachella, that last night with Cassidy. They’d talked writing music, and singing, and how it was better than any high you could buy on a street corner. Hearing her echo what drove him, every day, fueled his lust faster than a strip tease.
After sleeping off a headache today, he’d awakened in his bunk feeling guilty at being stuck listening to the reunited sisters’ bumpy attempts to talk. But then, the conversation took a turn.
Cassidy went on a glorious rant. And his dick responded, immediately tenting both his boxer briefs and the thin black sheet. He stayed in the bunk, not wanting to scare her off by leading with his dick. But Jake had to let her know that he felt the same way.
“How much did you hear?” Cassidy asked softly.
Too much.
Enough to know that she had to be beating herself up about how shitty things were going with that little brat, Sarah.
“Enough to second everything you said about performing. That I do it to make myself happy, not to make money.” He’d been told by their agent never to say that in an interview. That the average fan wouldn’t understand. That a concert goer who plunked down hundreds of dollars for a ticket would be pissed and feel overcharged if they knew Jake was willing to perform for free.
But Cassidy got it.
She got him.
And that was the hottest fucking thing ever.
“You love playing and singing as much as I do,” she said, using the handrails to pull herself past the kitchen area to the sleeping quarters. “I remember. I mean, I hope that I verbalize it better now, but I remember us being on exactly the same page.”
“Yeah. It’s like breathing. Just as easy and just as necessary.”
Which was why his two-month, self-imposed exile from Riptide had been so fucking miserable. Jake felt like he hadn’t taken a full breath that whole time. But the minute he put his hands on the keyboard and looked over at Jones at his drum kit, he came alive again.
Now right in front of him, Cassidy still kept one hand up on the safety rail. The position arched her back in a way that swelled her breasts against the scoop neck of her red tank dress. Breasts pretty much right at his eye level.
Cassidy licked her lips—also bright red—and said, “It’s, um, weird to talk to someone who feels the same way about music. Weirdly great, I mean.”
And then she gifted him with an ear-to-ear smile of pure joy.
A smile that tipped Jake—and his self-control—over the edge.
“Not just great. Your passion’s the same as my passion. I call that fucking phenomenal. I call that something to celebrate.” He snaked out an arm and tumbled her across his body in the bunk.
That smile of hers didn’t diminish a bit. But it did turn…knowing. Sensuous. As she tangled her legs with his, Cassidy asked, “I thought you said we couldn't do this again?”
Shouldn’t was more to the point. But Jake didn’t care about what he should do anymore. He’d spent months doing that. Right now, all he wanted was to enjoy being happy. How could that be wrong?
He yanked the curtain shut. “Nobody can know.” Jake smiled up at her, trying for a look of innocence. Which probably wouldn’t work given his dick was pure steel against her belly. “But if nobody knows, it’s like it didn't happen at all, right?”
She threw back her head, laughing. “Logic for the win. We’re on exactly the same wavelength.”
“Get ready to ride that wave, baby.” Jake tipped her sideways, against the blacked-out window. “Just…fast. And quiet.”
Her milk-chocolate eyes melted. “I’ll take you however I can get you, Jake McQuinn.”
Wow.
If he hadn’t already been hard, her words alone would’ve gotten him there in a heartbeat. And his heart was beating triple time right now. He kicked out of his briefs. Had her out of her panties with a hooked thumb in the waist and a single wriggle.
Then he reached into the mesh pocket under the window. It was for phones, glasses…and because hell, they were rock stars after all, long strings of condoms. They almost never brought women onto the bus. It was their private space. But at least Jake always knew where he could restock his wallet.
The space was tight. He scanned the possible logistics, knowing from experience that he could barely do an ab curl without hitting his head on the upper bunk.
“Are you changing your mind?”
He rolled on the condom, shaking his head. “Hell, no. Let’s call it planning the stage setting. And I know exactly how I want you.”
“Only one way?” She stroked up her thigh, bringing the skirt of her dress up to her waist. “That sounds unimaginative.”
“We’ve got less than five minutes before Kyoko gets back on the bus. This can’t be a full concert. Just a single release.”
“My singles always go platinum. I expect the best, no matter how fast or quiet.”
“Baby, I don’t know any oth
er way.” God, it was fun flirting with her. But getting inside Cassidy would be even more fun.
Jake rolled her over until she was on her side, back against his chest. Then he lifted her leg up over his. He curled around her a little, settling her ass deeper against his crotch.
It was easy to slip inside her. Cassidy was already wet from their dirty talk. Her neck arched as he entered, all that smooth skin exposed as her hair fell away. Jake locked on the faint blue line threading down her throat and sucked and nibbled and flattened his tongue in fat strokes that had her squirming against him.
“Where can I touch you?” she asked frantically.
“Reach down,” he urged. It was all the instruction needed. A moment later, those slim, clever fingers were dancing across his balls while he kept up a steady thrusting. And Christ, Cassidy was good at teasing him. That light touch ratcheted him into the danger zone.
Jake reached around, without breaking off the kiss on her neck, to roll her nipple between his fingers. A strained, rasp of breath let him know how much she liked it—and how hard she was working to keep quiet.
“How do you do it?” she panted. “How do you get me there so fast?”
“Focus,” he said in a deep, serious tone that broke off into a laugh as she scraped her nails across his balls. “And I just try to make you feel as good as you make me feel.”
Her hand stilled. Her head cranked around as she locked her eyes on his. “I love that. I love how we do that for each other.”
“Baby, you can’t say sweet things like that. I’ll go over.”
“You’d better hurry, then, because I’m about to co—,” her word dissolved into a moaning exhalation as Cassidy rippled around him in tight waves. Two more fast pumps and he exploded.
Jake caressed long, slow circles around her stomach as they both caught their breath. He had maybe a minute left of guaranteed privacy. It might be another bad decision, but he knew what he wanted to do with that time.
The Other Side of Wrong Page 7
