by Murphy,Misti
“I do not.” I twist the band of my sleep shorts so they sit smoothly.
“Yeah, you do.” Again in unison. What is this? Have they had this conversation already?
I imagine Rush sitting on Eliza’s desk, flirting with her while they joke about crazy Maxi and her awkward ways.
I march toward them. “Keep your hands off.”
“But you’re not interested in him. And he’s gorgeous. Plus, he’s got that nice bit of research going on down there.” Her gaze drifts to his crotch.
“Research. That’s funny.” He tugs on his bottom lip, bending closer to her.
“Hello. That was my line. I said that. And you kissed me.”
“Yeah.” He drops from her desk and stands in front of me.
He really is gorgeous, damned beautiful. And a great kisser. “Maybe we could—”
“Sorry.” Crossing his arms, he shakes his head. “You just don’t do it for me. I’m not really interested. Besides you’re practically a virgin and you almost tore my face off with your mouth. You’re too needy, too…”
“Earth to Maxi.” He snaps his fingers in front of my face, gazing into my eyes. “There you are.”
“See, I told you,” Eliza says.
“Is it a medical condition or something?”
Darting for my phone, I take it off speaker and thump it so hard to my ear, it makes me grimace. “What do you need, Eliza?”
Rush takes my hand, squeezes it. “I have to go see my manager, and then hunt down Elvis. I’ll be back this afternoon.”
I nod, listening to Eliza while she prattles on about preferred questions for the article, and Elvis runs around screaming in my mind, his hands up, Rush shooting at him.
“I’m going to be working anyway,” I whisper.
“Right.” Furrowing his brow, he runs a tress of my hair over his fingers and then pushes it behind my ear before leaning closer. So close, I think he’s going to kiss me, but my knees hit the edge of the mattress, and I tumble.
“Go,” I mouth, shooing him with one hand while I try to concentrate on what Eliza is saying. That kiss last night. I mentally fan myself. But this is a job, and he’s a playboy who believes every crotch is his sandpit. Well, not mine. History doesn’t need to be repeated.
“So have you slept with him yet?” Eliza asks.
“What?”
“You know, have you let him stick his dick in your va-jay-jay?”
“Oh my God,” I sputter. “No. I-I’m more professional that that.”
“I’m not going to judge you,” she chuckles. “Heaven knows I would have. I just want the details. You know, the dirty low down on how he fucks.”
My skin feels hotter than the sun, my face burning. Especially considering I’m thinking about how hot it was when he pinned me to the side of the pool. When his leg was pressed against my core, and that kiss… I shake my head. I told him it had been a year since a man had touched me, and it has been, but not in the way he meant. Still, none of it should have happened. “I’m not going to fuck him,” I whisper. “It’s not going to happen.”
***
Elvis is flirting with me. The three of us are on board the jet, flying over who knows what part of the country, and Elvis, with his famous white jumpsuit and cowlick, has his lips pressed to my hand, crooning a little love me tender. I can’t help but giggle, though Rush doesn’t seem so impressed.
Sitting on the other side of the aisle, he leans forward, his hands clasped together while he rubs his thumbs over each other. “Come on, Joe, my man. She’s not here for your entertainment.”
“Such a beautiful girl isn’t anyone’s entertainment.” Elvis winks at me. “Stick with me, darlin’, I’ll sing to you every night.”
I press my fingers to my mouth to stifle another chuckle. “Is that so?”
“Yes, ma’am.” His lips slip to my wrist, then he glances up at me in concern. “Are you feeling alright?”
“Of course.”
“Are you sure?” Rush jumps up from his seat.
“It’s just that your pulse is going a little fast,” Elvis says, tapping two fingers on my wrist. “I think I should probably check.”
His hand caresses my throat as he leans in close enough for me to get a whiff of his cologne. Laughing, I push him away. “Oh, you’re good.”
“Knock it off, Joe.” Rush barks, his hands on his hips, his fingers outlining his package. Chest puffed up, and with a dangerous look in his eyes, he looks like some sadistic kind of rooster, scratching at the ground, ready to get into a cock fight.
“Bothering you, is it?” Joe smirks.
“No,” Rush grinds out between his teeth. “It’s bothering her.”
“Actually…”
Elvis gets up and moves into the aisle. I can just imagine Rush ripping off his shirt, buttons flying everywhere, then circling Elvis in a half-crouch, both of them goading each other as they engage in a wrestling match over me.
Climbing out of my seat, I push my way between them. “Elvis didn’t mean any harm, did you?”
“It was only a little fun.” He shrugs. “Didn’t think he was going to care this much.”
“I don’t.” Rush shrugs.
Except he’s scowling at me, not over my head at Elvis, but at me. And waves of what I can only assume is some kind of ill placed possession is pouring off him. We’ve barely kissed, hell we’ve barely talked in the couple days since that kiss, and I’ve reiterated time and time again that I’m not going to suddenly change my mind about falling onto his dick.
“I want to talk to you.” Rush grips my hand, yanking me toward the far end of the plane and the bedroom there.
Looking back at Elvis, I mouth an apology.
The door bangs shut as soon as Rush pulls me through it. Breathing heavy, he tangles his fingers in my hair and tugs my head back, forcing me to lock gazes with him. “Joe’s not the kind of guy you want to flirt with. He’ll think you’re interested, and he’ll run with it. The man is a hound when it comes to pussy.”
“Not so different from you then.” I snort.
“No. I mean yes. I’ve done things you disagree with, but I’m a different breed to men like Joe, like that asshole drummer you fell over yourself for. I don’t lead people on.”
“You’re jealous?” The idea takes me aback.
He chuckles humorlessly. “Jealous of men like that? Fuck, no.”
“I meant that it wasn’t you flirting with me.”
His eyes widen, his lips part. As if he hadn’t even considered it.
I guess it was quite a ridiculous notion. Again, my fantasy world is getting the better of me, imagining what it would be like to have someone like him actually get upset about another man’s attention. I put my hand on his to try and disentangle his hold on my hair. “Never mind. I’ll be warier of Elvis.”
“I’m not going to flirt with you.” Holding me against the wall, he growls. “No, sweet cheeks, you can forget about that.”
“I don’t want you to,” I bite back, trying to push at his chest, which is pressed to mine. My lungs feel constricted with him trapping me. It’s hard to breathe, especially when every lungful of air fills me with him, his sexy, male scent burning a trail into my core.
“Good.” Lifting me up, he grasps my ass, and pushes his hardness to my pelvis. I arch reflexively, a live wire of sensation surging through me. I’m in so much trouble, my body zings from his attention. “Because, I’m not going to fuck around.”
Oh my, he’s hilarious. “Isn’t that what you’re good at?”
“Nah.” He gets right in my face, his mouth hovering over mine, a predatory hunger in his eyes. Then his fingers move from my ass cheek to the lace of my panties. “I’m good with my hands.”
Catching my lip with his mouth, he sucks it between his teeth while he skates a finger under the elastic edge of my panties and touches my clit. A light flick of the pad of his digit against that most sensitive spot has my body flooding with arousal. His lips mashed
to mine, his tongue digging into my mouth with a groan, he rubs that hot, little spark of pleasure he’s created until it’s taking over all my senses. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I can’t believe I’m letting him do this to me, but desire drowns it out. The intimate touch makes me moan against his lips as it becomes all I can concentrate on.
“We’ve got months, beautiful.” He pulls his fingers away as I get close to the brink. An edge I haven’t been to visit in quite some time. A climax I would almost kill for.
“Months for you to wind your uptight self around my cock as often as you please. Once you work out it’s okay to take from me.” He puts me down, sliding me the length of his body so I feel every hard inch of muscle, including the one in his pants. “But I’m not going to flirt with you, I’m not going to pretend to stroke your ego, like that dick out there.”
Cupping my face, he stares at me, into me. It’s that whole ‘you’re the only person in the universe I see’ thing he does. My God, he’s beautiful, seriously gorgeous with those unique violet eyes and that lush mouth, dark hair flopping in his face.
“You’ll come when you’re ready to.” Yanking open the door, he stalks out of the bedroom.
Where did he learn that particular trick? I skate the tips of my fingers over my bottom lip. Why? Why do I have to like the bad boys, the assholes, the guys who aren’t right? It’s got to be genetics. It runs in our family. It destroyed my sister. It’s a streak I have to break for Sarah’s sake.
Chapter Ten
Rush
Jealous? Ha! Me, jealous of anyone? What a fucking ridiculous notion. I’ve got it all, everything. Fame, fortune, girls who are a lot more willing, hell, eager to go for the ride I’m offering than Maxi. I’m just trying to protect her from doing something stupid. The same way I would if it was my sister, Claire, or Chels. The look on her face when I summed up her dislike of guys like Joe sticks with me. I couldn’t rightly do anything else than set her straight about the difference between him and me.
She wants to play with a dick, she can fucking play with mine.
“Sorry man, I didn’t know she was yours,” Joe says, losing his Elvis persona, as I flop down on the couch.
“Not mine.” I growl. The day I want a woman for more than a good time I’ll be the first to know. “But you’re not fucking touching her either.”
“Got it.” He puts his hands up in surrender, smirking. “I’ll leave it alone.”
“Good.” I’m not completely sure why I’m bothered. She’s not family, not anyone. It has to be because I feel responsible for her while she’s here, since it was my brilliant idea to bring her along. Besides she’s fucking strange, with the way she disappears into her head, and her cute nervous rambling. Cute? Whatever. Only if cute means disagreeable but interesting.
The bedroom door shuts, and I sit up, scooting down as she comes back, so she can sit beside me, instead of over near Joe. “Maybe you should ask me another interview question.”
She gives me those wide eyes again, but she takes the hint. Popping down, she crosses her legs and clasps her hands to her knees, her elbows tucked into her sides. “Has there ever been a time in your rise to the top that you considered doing something else? Or have you always been this dedicated to getting what you want?”
“I don’t think it’s about dedication, or getting what I want.” Twisting, I perch a foot on the leather between us and yank my phone from my pocket, along with my ear buds. “Here.”
She takes the bud I offer her and, brushing her hair back, pops it in her ear while I bring up a song I picked up in Australia on one of my tours. Pushing the other into my own ear, I tell her, “I think this probably is the best way to sum up the answer.”
As she listens, I watch her face. The slow dawning of recognition, the softening of her expression as she falls into the music.
Her gaze flicks to mine. I don’t think I’ve seen her with her eyes so wide open before. I stare at the slight shine of wetness as her breathing deepens and she holds the bud more firmly to her ear.
“You know ‘I’m a Ghost’?”
Nodding, I brush my fingers against her arm. Why does this song, this sudden connection, make me want to pull her onto my lap and kiss the ever-loving fuck out of her? The song’s over a little too quickly, and she’s handing me back the ear bud. “I saw the Hilltop Hoods in concert once. I hope one day I’ll get to do a piece on them.”
“I met them. Great guys. Did a few tricks for them.” I put my phone away. “I built this life from almost nothing. I’ve poured every drop of blood, sweat, and tears into being the man people equate with magic.”
“But there has to have been hard times.”
“Of course. So many. But, I guess, when I’m in those moments, those fragments of time, I push even harder. Yes, I’m dedicated, but I don’t do it for me, I do it for the audience. If they ever turn their backs on me, if they stop inspiring me, that’s when I’ll be gone.”
“A ghost,” she whispers.
“Exactly.” Taking her hand, I squeeze it as I flip her palm up and draw my fingers along her lifeline. A butterfly appears as I lift my fingers, stretching its wings.
“I can’t imagine a day where the crowd doesn’t call for you.” She bounces her hand, and the butterfly flies up around her head.
“It’ll come.” I’m certain of that. Eventually, someone younger and better than I, with more determination, more drive, will take my place. “We all only get our allotted time under the blazing light of the sun.”
The co-pilot treads into the cabin to tell us we’ll be landing soon, and I excuse myself to call Mace. Maxi flips open that notebook of hers and starts jotting down notes, and Joe has his nose in an entertainment industry magazine. Still I give him a warning look as I make my way to the back of the cabin.
Maybe I was a little jealous after all.
***
Arms crossed, and leaning against Chelsea’s car, Mace grins as we disembark. Then he strides toward us, grabbing my hand and pulling me in for a chest bump and a smack to the back. “Took your fucking time.”
“In a hurry? You already married her once, dickhead.” I get this overwhelming sense of warmth toward my younger brother.
For a long time we weren’t friends, but four years of avoiding each other and all the petty shit that I pulled before that, which had us at loggerheads, is water under the bridge. Somehow, he found it in him to put that shit behind us when Chelsea and I finally came clean about what had and hadn’t happened between us.
“Doing it properly and all that.” He smirks. “Mom and dad arrived yesterday. They’re staying at Tommy’s, and Gem and Claire should be about to make my woman look like even more of an angel than she already is.” He beams, his chest puffed up.
Fuck, it’s good to see him so happy, and less surly. Marriage and fatherhood look good on him. “I can’t wait to meet my niece.”
“Soon, but maybe you should introduce me to Elvis here first.” He cocks a thumb at him, turning to take in Maxi on the other side of me. Then he smirks and holds out his hand to her, his blue eyes bright. “And who are you?”
“Max.” She steps forward. “I’m a friend of your brother’s.”
“This bastard has friends?” Both eyebrows lift in mock astonishment. “And pretty ones at that?”
Blushing, she drops his hand and glances at the ground. As if she doesn’t know she’s gorgeous.
“Maxi’s a journalist for an Australian magazine called Godiva. She’s doing a piece on me.”
“Wait.” This time he frowns, really staring at her. “What? You’ve never done an interview. Or at least, I would have thought Claire would have mentioned it.”
“Nope. First one. Only one.” Because somehow she’d managed to get me to decide that was what I needed to do. “Anyway, Elvis is Joe.”
“But you can call me The King,” he drawls, shaking Mace’s hand. “Now, where’s this happy event happening?”
“At home.” Mace leads us al
l to the car, and we pile in. Elvis in front because there’s no fucking way I’m going to give him an opportunity to get his flirt on, or worse get handsy with Maxi again.
It’s about fifteen minutes from the airport to Reverence, which is the next town over. The entire time, Mace is telling us about my niece, Mia, who is more beautiful than her momma, stubborner than her father, more sassy that Claire, and on and on. “Plus, she’s smiling.”
Maxi stares out the window at the passing scenery. Her phone is gripped tightly in her hand, her mouth turned down at the corners, this faraway look on her face, but not absent like I’ve seen at times. It’s more anguished.
“All good?” I ease back against the seat, bumping her shoulder with mine. It’s amazing how many different emotions this girl can go through in such a short period of time.
“Sorry? Yes.” She glances at her phone. “I need to make a call. That’s all.”
I’ve noticed she calls home at least twice a day, always talking to her mom, and asking about Sarah, and afterward she gets a little quiet, a little withdrawn. I kind of want to ask her about it, but her personal life is none of my business.
“We’ll drop you at my house, before we head over to Mace’s.” I push a little of her hair out of her face so I can see her eyes. “You can make your call there and settle in.”
“Thanks.”
“You’re welcome to join us,” Mace says. “It’s not a big fucking deal. It’s only family, and Elvis here.”
“Oh no. I wouldn’t want to impose.” She clutches her phone even tighter. “Besides, I have some work to do.”
“And you can meet everyone tomorrow,” I say. “Ask them all kinds of embarrassing things about me.”
“I doubt anyone could embarrass you.”
Mace hackles. “I’ve got stories for you, girly. You want embarrassing? There was that time when Rush got his dick caught—”
“Maybe not that story, asshole,” I mutter.
“Or the time you went skinny dipping and leaches attacked your—”
“Hey, fuck face, don’t forget I have stories on you, too.”
