Bad Rules_Wild Minds Novel

by Charlotte West

  “Bossy asshole,” I accused. Usually when I cussed at him, he either fucked me or stomped away.

  A muscle jumped in his jaw. I waited for the fucking or stomping to ensue. He stared at me, sizing me up with his glacier-blue eyes. My mouth parted. I felt a blush creep up my cheeks. He twirled a strand of my hair around his finger. “You don’t always get to be in charge, Lily.” I let out a little squeal as he turned us. I was flat on my back. Asher loomed over me. His hand moved to my neck, thumb brushing over my erratic pulse.

  “I like you in black,” he said.

  “Do you?” I went for an I-couldn’t-care-less tone.

  “Like the way it looks against your skin, dark and light.” He pressed his muscled body against mine, grinding his erection against the apex of my thighs.

  I pushed at his chest. “Let me up, Ash.” So I can run. So I can hide. Things had taken a serious turn. I didn’t like how heavy everything suddenly felt. Ash stilled. His weight settled on top of me. He rested his chin on my chest, regarding me thoughtfully.

  The pad of my thumb trailed along his cheekbone, then down his stubbled jawline. “Don’t look at me like that,” I said, unnerved by his stare.

  “Like what?” he asked, then bit the pad of my thumb.

  “Like you’re trying to figure out how best to handle me.”

  “Wasn’t thinking that at all,” he said. We both knew he was lying. He’d said once to me, “You’re a puzzle, Lily, and I don’t think you even know where all your pieces are.”

  I sought to diffuse the situation, steer us back into casual-relationship territory. “Let me up. Lie on your back. I’ll suck your cock.”

  Asher frowned and kept his body exactly where it was, though I could feel his hardness on my thigh. He must have been nearing a wicked case of blue balls. But he stayed. “We don’t kiss,” he said.

  “We kiss all the time,” I said, my tone defensive.

  “We kissed the first time we hooked up but not since then.”

  “I didn’t know you were keeping track.” I feigned interest in a water stain on the wall.

  He made a noncommittal sound. “You know what I think, Lily?”

  “I’m sure you’re going to tell me.”

  He reached down and squeezed my hip. “So cynical.” He paused. “It means bitter or jaded, contemptuous. That’s you, Lily. You believe most people’s actions are motivated primarily by base desires or selfishness.” I’d downloaded a word-of-the-day app on Ash’s phone (mine was at capacity with books). Sigh, such big problems, I had. Ash had entertained me with his stunning new vocabulary. You haven’t lived until you’ve heard a badass rocker use words like serendipitous or lollygag. Now, I cursed the app. He’d used it to pigeonhole me.

  “You don’t know me.” What a weak, childish thing to say.

  He made another sound like he’d expected me to say that. I hated being a foregone conclusion. Slowly he dragged his body up so his lips hovered above mine. “I think you’re scared of kissing me.”

  I scoffed. “Of course not, I’m a full-grown woman. I’m not afraid of anything.”

  A chin jut. “Then prove it.”

  Ah, a dare. I could never resist a dare. In high school, I was known as the queen of dares—a self-appointed title. But still. I wore my crown proudly. I’d never back down from a challenge.

  “It’s not that big of a deal, Lil,” he said. “If you’re too scared—”

  I cut him off with my lips. The kiss was quick, done in under a second. A peck, really. But a monumental shift occurred. It took me back to my childhood days, a place of innocence where every experience is a life-altering first.

  I squirmed, one last-ditch effort to get away, seal my heart against its inevitable fate. Asher pinned my hands above my head. “No,” he said, soft and firm.

  “Asher—”

  “Just shut up, Lily. For once in your life don’t think, just feel.” That was the problem. I was feeling too much. “You think you can do that?” He didn’t give me a chance to answer. He licked his lips and huffed out a breath. Then softly, and ever so sweetly, he kissed my bottom lip. He continued in this manner, slowly kissing the corner of my mouth, my upper lip, swiping at the seam with his tongue.

  Of its own volition, my head tilted, my lips parted. Our noses bumped. I savored each feeling, his stubble against my skin. The heat of his tongue as it slid against mine. My eyes fluttered closed.

  “No,” Ash ground out. I blinked. He was focused on me, eyes dazed, pupils dilated. He released my hands. His hand slid up my leg, strong fingers kneading my thigh. “Put your arms around me.” Again, I moved involuntarily. It was as if I was in some hypnotic haze, drunk on Asher Price. “There you go,” he said, his voice coaxing, soothing. “Smart Lily knows so many things, but there are some things you don’t.”

  I exhaled.

  He inhaled.

  His words pierced something inside of me, a secret longing I never knew I had: to love and be loved in return. There weren’t any declarations. It was too early for that. But it was there in the air, a promise that we shared something special.

  I don’t know what came over me, it was a combination of bitter and sweet, euphoria and sorrow—each emotion so overwhelming it could only manifest in tears. I never cried, and it caught me by surprise. I waited for Asher to laugh. But he didn’t. He did something so much worse. Gently, he covered his mouth with mine. My insides turned to mush.

  We kissed for a while, our tongues touching, rubbing against each other’s in the sweetest ecstasy. Then the kisses grew deeper, harder. I slid my hand around the back of his neck, keeping him close. I’d slept with plenty of men, but this was the first time I’d ever been intimate. And it would be my undoing. But I didn’t know that at the time. All I knew was Asher’s touch, which was like drawing poison from a wound, healing and hurting at the same time.

  The kisses grew more ravenous. The heat between us turned to a raging fever, an uncontrollable forest fire.

  He unbuttoned my shorts, sliding them down my legs and taking my panties with them. His hands parted my thighs.

  “What are you doing?” I knew what he was doing, but I liked the dirty talk, and Asher always delivered. Outside of the bedroom, he was a man of few words, but inside, it was as if a faucet was turned on. He said the filthiest things.

  “I’m going to own you,” he said, voice thick with emotion. I writhed. So wet, I was so wet. “I’m going to ruin you for other men.” With a deep growl, he palmed my heat. “Oh fuck, you’re soaked. You like kissing me, don’t you, sweetheart?”

  My only answer was to grind myself against his palm. I felt crazy with need, with want. He thumbed my clit. Two fingers entered me and stroked, drawing an illicit moan from my mouth. I clung to him like he was a lifeboat in a raging sea.

  I recalled his earlier words. “You don’t own me,” I breathed out.

  He chuckled, and it held just the barest hint of derision. “You’re right, sweetheart.” He licked my neck. “It’s the other way around, isn’t it? This is what you do to men. You own them.” I didn’t want it to be that way. I didn’t want one party in the relationship to mean more than the other. He went on, “You can have me, Lily. As long as we agree that all your pleasure comes from me. Your screams, your orgasms, all of it, comes from me.”

  “What are you saying?” I couldn’t make sense of his words. I was too distracted by his clever hands, his hot touch.

  “You and me, Lil. We’re exclusive.”

  “You want to be my permanent man friend?” Though something profound had taken place between us, I sought to keep him at a distance. Put him in a neat little box I could cart around and put away when necessary.

  “Call it whatever the fuck you want. But my dick is the only one inside you.”

  Such a romantic. How were we having this conversation when his fingers were inside me? But then I realized every move Asher made was calculated. He had a keen intelligence when it came to me. He knew exactly how to get ar
ound my walls.

  He hooked his fingers and rubbed my G-spot. I gasped. “Say yes, Lily,” he demanded.

  Agree? Never. At least not right now. “I don’t negotiate with terrorists.”

  “Smartass,” Ash swore. “Need to be inside you.” He withdrew, but only for a second. Then he was back on top of me, teeth tearing into a condom before he rolled it down his length. His chest heaved. The sweetness of before dissipated and in its place was white-hot lust. He kicked his hips, slamming his cock into me. In answer, I wrapped my legs around him. He dove ruthlessly, branding me. Unbearable pleasure built inside me. Light danced around my vision. The headboard banged against the wall with each thrust.

  I was so primed and ready that I orgasmed almost instantly. I came on a cry. Ash smiled savagely. He wasn’t done. Sometimes he wrung three or four orgasms out of me before finishing.

  “Fuck, I love your pussy.” He continued to thrust, his big, hot body pressing me into the mattress. The room grew hotter, sweat built, and our bodies became slick. This was primal. Biology. Sex heaven.

  He kissed me deep and long, his thrusts slowing. My fingers dug into his shoulders. My pussy drew tight again.

  “That’s it, sweetheart,” Asher urged. “Come for me again.” His hand held my thigh against him. What I had said earlier was a lie. Asher did own me. He had a part of me no other man ever had. And it scared the shit out of me. But instead of running, I decided to take a leap of faith. My heart wasn’t scarred too much yet, my soul wasn’t too jaded. That would come later. I wish I had known Asher was building me up to knock me down.

  “Asher,” I moaned.

  “So fucking hot hearing my name on your lips.” His face seemed to be carved from granite, etched in stone.

  Boom! I came again, clenching down on his cock. Asher was right behind me. When I came to, he was pulling out of me and discarding the condom.

  I turned my cheek and gazed out the window. The world seemed different somehow. The sun was setting, casting Moscow in an orange glow.

  “Hey,” Ash whispered. His big body hit the mattress. Sweat covered me from head to toe. I couldn’t muster the strength to get up and shower. My legs felt like noodles, all weak and wobbly. “Hey,” Ash said again. A single finger pressed against my chin, forcing my eyes from the window. “All right?” he asked. His hand skated down my arm until his fingers entwined with mine. My eyes widened. Holy fuck, we were holding hands. He squeezed my fingers. He chuckled. “Typical Lily. I can see your wheels turning. You ever turn it off?”

  My mind usually went a mile a minute. I’d tried yoga, meditation, nothing seemed to help—my thoughts had a bad habit of running away with me.

  “It’s going to be okay,” Ash promised, addressing my unspoken fear. It was amazing he could sense it, my skittishness, my inability to commit. He could read me, and that scared the shit out of me. “Do you trust me?” he asked.

  I took a moment to ponder his question. The truth was, I didn’t. I wanted to, but I couldn’t. My heart was hardened not because a man had broken it, but because my parents had. Love didn’t stay. Love didn’t last. All we had was this moment.

  He thumbed my lips. “That’s okay, sweetheart. Someday you will. Someday you’ll tell me what makes you tick.”

  I pulled the sheet up, presented my back to Asher, and curled into a ball. It was all I could do, assume the fetal position and hope I survived this man’s emotional onslaught.

  A big, beefy arm snaked around me. Asher held me tight. “Gonna hold you tonight.” Cuddling was not part of our arrangement. Despite sharing a hotel room, we usually kept to our separate sides of the bed, per my preference.

  But that night, Asher was done respecting my boundaries. I should’ve realized right then, he wanted my love, and if I wasn’t going to give it freely, he was going to take it. I elbowed him, a paltry effort to get him to move. He grunted but kept a firm hold. “And don’t do that starfish shit anymore,” he demanded. Ah, the starfish, it was a signature bedtime move of mine, extending every limb, taking up as much space as possible, my own version of manspreading. Too often women are conditioned to apologize first and make themselves small.

  We slept and for the first time ever, I considered a future with a man.

  I dared to dream.

  Now

  Addy’s father, the infamous Billy Wanks, insisted on a family dinner the night before the band left for Europe. Family consisted of all of Wild Minds, Billy’s bandmates—Chord, Jett, and Turner—plus Daisy, Addy’s former nanny and now stepmom (way less seedy than it sounds).

  We gathered at a swanky LA restaurant. Billy rented out the whole damn place and made the entire staff sign NDAs. Some time ago, Addy’s relationship with Warren had reached an ugly point. Unfortunately, they’d aired their dirty laundry during a family meal out in public. A waiter cashed in, selling all the sordid details to the paps. Addy’s secret marriage and heartache became front-page news.

  I’d spent the day helping Addy pack and get ready for the tour. She’d treated me to a massage in the afternoon. All this unintentionally worked toward my goal of avoiding Asher Price. In the unlikely event that he remembered my presence in his bedroom last night, I made myself scarce. So when Addy announced we’d be dining together, I greeted the news with all the enthusiasm of a cat held above water.

  “You’re going to be on tour together for two months. Can’t you at least find a way to get along?” she admonished in the limo.

  Traffic was a bitch. We were running late. Warren sat beside Addy, a ghost of a bruise still on his nose where Ash had punched him. His big hand alternated between rubbing his wife’s knee and belly. Kelly was also present. Every now and again, he stopped to listen to something in an earpiece. He was heading up Addy and Warren’s private security. The Scot took the job seriously.

  We arrived. News had leaked the two bands would be here. Fans lined the streets. At my look of stark terror, Addy gently suggested I get off before them down the block. Kelly arranged for a bodyguard to meet Addy and War outside and escorted me into the restaurant through the side door.

  “I don’t like crowds either,” he said, holding open the door.

  “I do it for Addy.”

  Kelly’s smile warmed. “You’re a good friend, lass.” Though I’d failed at choosing a career my parents approved of, I excelled in the art of best friendism. In fact, that’s what I wanted my tombstone to read: Lily Phillips-Thomas. Patriarchy smasher. Supreme best friend. Killed by a bear (or something else equally epic).

  Through the kitchen we went. Steam rose from pots and pans. Shallots and garlic spiced the air. Men in white jackets bustled around shouting at each other. We skirted around the fracas. Kelly knew where he was going, leading me with deft sureness. He’d scoped out the place beforehand. At least that’s what I imagined any good security guard would do.

  In the dining room, everyone had already gathered. Even Addy and War had beat us. Kelly and I were the last to arrive. It sort of looked like we were together. Not that anyone could possibly think that. Candles had been lit and the lighting was soft and yellow, keeping the otherwise-empty dining room from appearing too cavernous.

  Asher sat at the head of the table, legs splayed in a belligerent manner, drink close at hand. His eyes landed on Kelly and me, standing shoulder to shoulder. He gave me a grouchy look. Jesus, you smell like an ashtray and stale beer. You been out drinking again, man? Warren’s words from before replayed in my mind. My brow dipped in concern. When we’d been together, booze was a prominent part of our relationship. It went hand in hand with the rocker lifestyle. But had Asher reached a tipping point? Had the partying turned to an addiction? Ash sneered and held up the glass in a silent toast, then threw back the rest of his drink. I shook out of my reverie and cursed the lightness in my chest at seeing him. Who cared if the man drank himself into oblivion? Just another reason why I shouldn’t go near him. Ash was radioactive.

  Other than Asher, seats hadn’t been chosen yet. Everyone
shuffled around trying to find a spot. Kelly pulled out a chair for me a little too close to Asher for my liking, just two seats away. The Scotsman went to sit beside me. The chair flew from his grasp. The force could’ve only been delivered by a strong kick.

  “Derren’s sitting there,” said Ash. His bloodshot eyes blazed.

  My mouth parted.

  Ash lifted his chin to Derren.

  Derren prevaricated, smoothing a hand down his face. “Yeah, sorry man. I’m left-handed so I like to sit right in the middle.” Bullshit. Such utter bullshit.

  “No problem,” Kelly murmured, taking himself to the other end of the table. Addy had already plopped down next to me.

  By god, she was already on her second dinner roll. “I’m so huge already, but I’m so hungry,” she said around a mouthful of carbs.

  Billy, Addy’s dad and all-around biggest fan, smiled encouragingly. “Little bird, you’re radiant.”

  Warren leaned over and kissed his wife’s cheek. “It’s true, babe. And I’d fight any man who disagreed.”

  Addy grinned. “I guess I could eat one more roll then,” she said, third roll already in hand.

  Dinner commenced. In between courses, Ash shot me cranky looks. He downed three scotches before the salads arrived. Separate conversations started. I focused on Billy and Daisy, directly across from me, and Addy and Warren to my left.

  Daisy’s nose scrunched. “Oh, I need to go pump.” Daisy had a baby boy a year ago. Addy’s half brother. I’d met him earlier. The redheaded little devil had yanked on my hair, then tossed a mouthful of food at my chest. “He’s just going through a phase where he throws everything,” Daisy had explained, embarrassed. Yeah, a phase that required a priest and an exorcism. I’d wisely kept that thought to myself though.

  “Need any help, Flower?” Billy turned to his wife.

  “I’m fine.” She seemed anything but. Lines of strain appeared on her face.

  He leaned in. So did I. I was a hopeless eavesdropper. Why try to hide it? “You don’t have to do it anymore,” he murmured, stroking her cheek.