by KC Enders
“Let’s go,” I whisper, my lips against the hollow of his throat.
His hum turns into a dark chuckle, full of mischief. “You cutting my dance short?” He slides a hand around the back of my neck, his thumb skating, tipping my chin up before drawing a line down the column of my throat.
Dear Jesus, the things—a simple sound, a touch—this man does to me.
I nod in reply, each slow bob of my head pressing me tighter against his hand.
“Let’s get the fuck out of here,” he rumbles, low and deep.
With long, purposeful strides, Nate leads me to the edge of the stage. He hops down and holds his hands out for me. And whether he sees the gesture in the same way as me or not, I take a leap of faith—literally and figuratively—and fall into him.
I trust this man with every piece of me.
We rush through the building, footfalls echoing up the aisles and through the lobby. We tumble into the back of his waiting car.
The short trip to the hotel is a mad flurry of kissing and nipping. Caresses and carnal need.
On the elevator, Nate pulls me back against him. The doors acting as mirrors, reflecting our images back at us.
He towers over me by almost a full head. His sun-bleached curls frame his face, blending into my coppery ones. The hard planes of him pressed against me, he slides a hand around me, settling it low on my belly. The other skims up my arm, across my breasts, and higher, sliding up until it rests against the base of my neck.
He applies pressure with both hands simultaneously, pulling me to him, pressing his hips against my ass, grinding his cock against me.
I’m completely his. One hundred percent at his mercy. And with the subtle squeeze of pressure at my neck, a zing of excitement rushes through me at the promise of dirty, naughty things to come.
The elevator dings and the doors part, spilling us into the tiny vestibule.
In our room, I shove him up against the wall. He’s caught off guard by the move but goes with it, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth.
I grasp his cock through the front of his chinos, squeezing and stroking his length. Taking the lead. Shifting the dynamic, the power, from him to me.
With my free hand, I pop the buttons of his shirt open, kissing, licking, and teasing his skin as I expose each inch of his sculpted torso. Pushing his shirt out of my way, I unbutton his pants and rip open the fly, freeing his erection.
Impatient, almost desperate, I shove his pants and boxer briefs down his hips. His chest rises and falls, like he’s gasping for breath after sprinting for miles.
I run my hand down the silky skin of his cock and sink to my knees, stroking him slowly, deliberately.
He twists his hands through my hair, gathering it into a ponytail so he can watch me, his lids lowered, heavy with lust. I take him into my mouth, sliding my lips down his shaft until the crown of his cock hits the back of my throat.
I lick the vein running up the length of him. Suck him deep, hollowing out my cheeks. I bob up and down on his steely length, and when I get to his crown, I run my tongue around the pronounced ridge and caress his balls until he can’t stand it anymore.
Nate reaches under my arms and pulls me up to standing. He takes my mouth, plunging his tongue in, tangling it with mine.
Breaking the kiss, he spins me and bends me forward, my hands braced against the wall. With absolutely no pretense, he pulls my panties to the side and thrusts into me, filling me completely.
Nate grasps me firmly, his hand wrapped around my hip, fingers pressing into my flesh. With the other, he grasps my shoulder, holding tight as his cock slides almost all the way out before thrusting into me again.
My muscles clench, my orgasm climbing and building. I tilt my head back, arching my back as the hand on my shoulder smooths across my collarbone, spanning my throat.
His long fingers squeeze me, applying light pressure. Just enough to hint at danger, to be exciting. And the sensation, the risk, the exhilaration rips the most spectacular, life-changing orgasm from me, and Nate growls his release, low and guttural.
“God, I love you,” he mumbles, the words muffled against the side of my head. “Never again,” he says, groaning as he pulls out of me.
I jerk free of his grasp, tension spurring my next move. Causing me to spin, plant a palm in the center of his chest, and shove him back. Putting space between us.
“What?” I hiss in disbelief.
He grasps my hand and holds it against his rapidly beating heart. Soft green eyes top the smirk slashed across his mouth. “Neither of us will ever again walk away from the other. This is it, Alex. This is forever. You’re my forever.”
He leans forward, capturing my lips in the softest kiss, slow and full of meaning, soothing my rough edges.
It takes nothing for the kiss to go from sweet and gentle to sensual, urgent. More.
Without letting go of me, Nate walks me into the bedroom of the suite, peeling my clothes from me one piece at a time. We tumble into bed, arms and legs tangled, and spend the rest of the night lost in each other until the early morning hours.
29
NOTHING MORE
NATE
Never.
Not once in my life did I think I’d be the owner of multiple houses, let alone be setting up a house in the Midwest. But as of today, I’m officially a Kansas City resident.
The offer I put in on the loft was cash and well over asking price. The sellers would have been idiots to balk at it.
There are definitely benefits to having the kind of fuck you money that gets a house bought the same day you see it without any of the bullshit that goes along with the process.
Inspections. Appraisals.
Fuck them all.
Alex’s eyes lit up the minute she saw this place, and there was no way I was going to walk away. No way I’d get my ass on a plane and fly back to California without knowing that the loft was hers.
I DocuSign the contract in the limo on the way back up to the rental in Hollywood Hills, making everything official.
Now, I just have to face these assholes.
Well, my friends and the asshole.
I have no doubt that Gavin and Ian will be supportive. Behind this decision one hundred percent.
I also don’t question that Kane will throw a fucking fit yet again. Try to twist shit to his benefit—always to his benefit.
“So, uh … so where have you been?” Rand asks, leaving his sentences hanging and half-unfinished.
Gavin walks in the room and flashes me a broad grin. He hands me a beer without even asking and clinks his bottle against mine. “How’s Alex? Did everything go okay? Did she get what she was looking for?”
A sly smile spreads across my face. Because it’s a damn fact that I gave her everything I had—over and over until we were both too exhausted to move. And then I gave her some more. And I will get to do it again and again and again.
“Yeah, man, thanks,” I tell Gavin. “She did. It’s an amazing opportunity for her.”
“Excellent. Fucking stellar for her.”
“Yep.” I nod and tilt the bottle of beer to my lips, draining half of it before lowering it again. “We talked, but really, there was no question.”
I drop the duffel from my shoulder and tuck it by the wall at the base of the stairs. “The minute I saw her face while she was onstage—the minute I saw the change in her posture, her bearing—I knew it was what she wanted.”
Ian jogs down the stairs. “Did she get it? She got it, right? Took the offer?” He pulls his phone from his pocket and mumbles a quiet, “Fuck,” under his breath before shutting the thing down and shoving it back in his pocket.
“Abso-fucking-lutely she did.” I look out toward the pool, movement drawing my attention. “She earned every bit of it. And let me tell you, the ballet company she’s in, the people she’s dancing with, it’s unbelievable.
“And I forgot how much I liked Kansas City. I forgot how nice it was to be in a city w
ith a slower pace but still have everything you need right there.”
“Something to be said for the Midwest, man,” Gavin agrees.
“Without a doubt. I can totally see myself settling in there.” I don’t miss the way Rand’s eyes go wide at that last statement.
“So, uh … what do you mean?” He shifts his attention from me to the pool deck beyond me and back again. “What do you mean, you can see yourself there? Are you …” he asks, stumbling over his words.
“Exactly that,” I tell him. “I can see myself living in Kansas City. Enough that I bought a place.”
“You what?” Rand bellows, eyes bulging out of his head.
I’d laugh, but honestly, this might send him over the edge. He could be stroking out for all I know.
The patio door opens.
“So, you’re leaving. Walking away from the band?” Kane looks way too fucking happy at the prospect of me being gone.
“Like hell.” Gavin drops his beer bottle to the counter so hard that foam bubbles and spills from the lip.
Ian just shakes his head and chuckles. “As if.”
Squaring his shoulders and pulling himself to his full height still has Kane tipping his head back to look me in the eye. It completely fucks with his attempt at intimidation.
“Changes everything.” He shrugs, working way too hard at trying to look unaffected. “The rest of us on the coasts, you in the middle of fucking nowhere—it’s not going to work. We should probably start looking around for a replacement. Someone—”
“It’s not going to change anything. I’m halfway between New York and California. It’s just a plane ride to wherever I need to be to make shit happen.”
I shift my weight—not to go after him because I don’t need to risk another fracture. But when he takes a step back, slotting some space between us, I grin a little. Unintended benefits: respect, even fear.
“Because I’m committed. I’m fucking committed to this. And if there’s something you want to tell me, if there’s something that’s changed and I need to make other plans, you’d better fucking spit it out now.” My focus is on Rand and Kane. “No more dancing around shit. Say it now, to my face, with no more of this bullshit.”
When neither one of them makes a move to speak, I glance to the side, meeting both Gavin and Ian in the eye. A subtle chin lift from each of them confirms what I already know.
That these guys have my back.
They support me.
They’re cool with the changes I’m laying out.
This is life; things progress and evolve.
And it’s not like any of us are confirmed bachelors. Hell, Gavin’s getting married soon. He and Gracyn have been planning their wedding from opposite coasts.
I know Ian wants more from life than just this. He wants a family someday. To have all the things as an adult that he didn’t have while growing up. To get married and have a wife. To be a dad to his kids when the time is right. Give them what he never had.
The wild card though? The wild card is always Kane. It always comes down to Kane fucking Newton.
The air hangs heavy, tension swirling through the room. I expect Rand to be the first to speak up, trying to smooth things over and stroke the massive ego that always seems to need tending. But it’s not him.
From the corner of the room, Gavin huffs a laugh through his nose, holding my stare for what feels like forever before shifting it to Kane. “No.” That one word is all he utters, relaxed as can be, like he doesn’t have a care in the world.
Ian matches Gavin’s unaffected attitude, sinking against the wall, arms folded across his chest. He flips his lip ring once, twice, and then issues his own, “No.”
“The fuck does that mean, no?” Kane stalks to the center of the room. Always the center of attention, always with no way to avoid him. He glances at Ian but focuses in on Gavin, holding his gaze. “Didn’t ask a yes or no question. Didn’t ask for a vote. We’re not having a vote on this. Think about it. We have to do what’s best for the band, what’s best for our careers. He wasn’t committed when we started this thing. He just went along to drown his sorrows, piss off his dad. That’s not commitment. He doesn’t care about you, about us. Not the way I do.”
No one says a word.
Kane looks around the room, meeting everyone’s eye, completely stone-cold serious, until he gets to me. The minute his eyes hit mine, his brows lower, and his gaze is filled with fire and vitriol. “You. You didn’t want this, didn’t need any of it. So, why the fuck are you even still here, huh? Why do you give a shit?” He takes a step toward me, hands clenched into fists, dark eyes wild. “Why don’t you just fucking leave?”
“That’s what the no is about.” Gavin pushes off the wall. “We started this thing together way before we decided to tour. If one of us goes, the whole thing crumbles.”
“Bullshit,” Kane says on a laugh. “He’s the fucking bassist. Any schmuck can do that. We can find a replacement by the end of the fucking week.” He shoves his hands into the pockets of his faded green shorts, like he has zero shits to give. “End of the day.”
What he’s saying isn’t entirely wrong. It’s not a hard instrument to play, not at its most basic form. Hell, Rand probably has someone lurking outside by the pool, ready to slide on in and take my place.
“You’re not hearing me, Kane.” Gavin pins him with a serious look. “We continue this together or not at all. If one of us wants to leave of their own accord, that’s different, but we are not running out our friends and trotting in subpar replacements who you think will just roll over for the chance to be here. Fuck no, we are not. Christ, what is your fucking problem? You act like a spoiled little shit most of the time, throwing tantrums if you don’t get your way. You storm off if you don’t think you’re getting enough attention or if the venue we’re playing stocks the wrong kind of gummy bears for you. And it’s not even for you. I swear to God, it’s just for your entertainment. I don’t know that I’ve ever seen you eat a fucking gummy bear.”
In the space of a heartbeat and an inspirational speech, we’ve gone from sticking together to fucking candy. This right here is the Kane fucking Newton effect.
Asshole.
Gavin shakes his head, frustration evident in the tight clench of his jaw.
That shake turns to a nod; the clenched jaw relaxes into a smile. A smile that would scare the shit out of me if it was pointed in my direction. Since it’s all Kane’s, I lean back into the wall behind me and allow myself to enjoy the show that’s about to play out. Hell, I could almost go for some gummy bears to put down while watching the inevitable fireworks.
“Rand,” Gavin barks, making Rand jump into motion.
“Yeah, uh … what do you, uh …”
“You’ve floated the idea of personal assistants for each of us in the past.”
Ian darts his gaze across the room, meeting mine with a knowing smile.
“Yeah, man. Yeah, anything you, uh, yeah. Tell me what you need, and I’ll make it happen.” Rand stumbles over his words less than normal, almost like he knows he’s got to step up and fix this shit or his meal ticket is going to fly away.
Kane seethes, his normally pale face shifting to an angry red in the blink of an eye. “No. Fucking no, not going to do this. I do not need a fucking assistant,” he yells. He’s so worked up that his perfectly coiffed hair is breaking free, his lip is sneered, and his hands are clenched tightly at his sides.
Boy is pissed.
“You’re right,” Gavin answers softly. Completely in control. If anyone in the world is capable of bending Kane and getting him in line, it’s Gavin. “You don’t need an assistant; you need a fucking babysitter. Rand, make that shit happen. We have songs to finish and tracks to lay down. Let’s get it.”
Gavin, Ian, and I file from the room and out to the pool house, where we’ve been working, the sound of silence at our backs. I can only guess at what’s going through Kane’s mind—hurt, betrayal, a hard dose of reality.<
br />
Once we’re settled into our usual spots, instruments in hand, I thank my friends—my brothers—for having my back.
“Shut the fuck up, man. Don’t go getting mushy on us,” Ian says on a laugh. “He’s needed his head knocked against the wall for a while now.”
Gavin laughs. “Truth. And honestly, he’ll be all over having all the attention from his own person.”
“God help them,” I say. “But we need to get this shit done. I need to get back to Kansas City as soon as fucking possible.”
30
SHINEDOWN
ALEXIS
I stand at the edge of the stage and do my best to calm my rapidly beating heart.
I’ve checked and arranged everything I’ll need and then rechecked it all again. The first performance is always the most difficult for me. And that’s without taking into consideration all the changes I’ve racked up over the past several months.
The move.
The change in companies.
The promotion to principal.
Nate and me.
I’m fine. It’s fine. Everything is fine. As good as it can possibly be.
The curtain is heavy as I carefully settle it back into place. My parents and sister are here, seated in the front left balcony. By some miracle, Charlie is directly behind them, sitting with Mademoiselle. And though all the seats are filled, every last one of them for this sold-out performance, the emptiness I feel from the one who’s not here weighs heavy in my heart.
“Everyone there?” Cari asks.
We stand together as the first resonant chords of the orchestra layer and build, calling the audience to attention.
After the initial posturing, we became friends. Good friends, if I’m honest.
She pushes up onto her toes three times and then drops down into a low squat, her ass practically hitting the floor. We all have our things, our rituals, prior to a performance.
“Everyone who can be, it looks like.” I push the dark velvet aside, scanning the audience one last time before taking my mark.
Nate wanted to be here. He tried everything to get out of the press junket for The UnBroken. He was pissed that Rand had scheduled something on opening night when Nate had made it abundantly clear that he was unavailable.
