The guy’s smile faltered, just as an arm reached between us. A super-muscular arm with a black full-sleeve tattoo of a tree with long, gnarly roots. A large fist with a big silver skull ring on the middle finger set a drink on the table. It was a champagne glass filled with shimmering bubbly, a swirl of red liqueur at the bottom.
I looked up into Jude’s face. “From Jesse,” he said with a little more growl than was necessary. Fortunately, the growl didn’t seem to be for me.
I glanced at the blue-eyed guy, who’d leaned back, out of my space. Any trace of a smile was gone. He glanced from Jude to me, then nodded at me. “Take care, Katie.” He leaned in to say something to his friend, who was engrossed in conversation with Devi. Then he was gone.
Wow.
Dude repellent, maximum strength.
“Thanks,” I said to Jude, a little dubiously. I sipped the drink, which was amazing.
He nodded, and I caught the barest hint of a curl to one corner of his mouth. He handed an identical champagne cocktail to Devi, then headed back to his lookout spot by the railing.
And as I sat there sipping the drink Jesse had sent me, all I could think of was that dick pic. I fought against the temptation to pull out my phone and take another look.
Because apparently I, Katie Bloom, was a huge perv.
Fortunately the image was imprinted on my brain. That rock-hard cock straining in Jesse’s hand, the thick shaft filling his strong fist… and, yeah. It was fucking big.
I swallowed and sipped my drink, glancing guiltily around, but no one seemed to notice as I crossed my legs so I could squeeze my thighs together, the flesh between my legs throbbing with need. God, it had been too long. The mere thought of Jesse taking his cock out, wrapping his own hand around it…
Where the hell did he take that photo? The washroom?
Did he think about me when he was getting that hard?
Did he jerk off?
“What the fuck,” I heard Devi say, jolting me from my dirty thoughts.
I blinked the lust haze away as she settled into her seat next to me. The guy she’d been talking to was gone, probably to get her more drinks or something. Her red lips were parted in stunned horror. I turned to look at what she was staring at, but she grabbed my arm to stop me. “Don’t,” she hissed. “Look like you’re having fun.” Then she pasted on a brilliant Devi-smile and laughed.
“I am having fun.”
“Just do it!” she said through her smile.
“Okay. This party is freaking amazing. I swear I just saw that guy from The Walking Dead over there.”
“That wasn’t him,” Devi said distractedly, still smiling. “Met him at a party once. He’s a lot shorter.” She kept snatching furtive looks across the room and it was making me uneasy. She sipped her drink and tossed her hair as she smiled bigger, like I’d just said something amazing. “I can’t fucking believe it.”
“What the fuck is going on? Who’s over there?” I turned to look in the direction Devi was looking, over Dolly’s head.
Devi’s hand tightened on my arm. “Slowly!” she said. “And don’t make it obvious.”
“Okay.” I glanced around our table and the table next to us, pretending to peruse the faces of our companions. Then I glanced beyond, following the line of Devi’s furtive gaze, where Brody was standing talking to some guy—
“Don’t stare!” Devi said, and I spun back to her.
Because oh.
My.
God.
It was Josh.
My ex-fiancé, Josh.
CHAPTER NINE
* * *
Katie
I sipped my champagne cocktail and stared at him, trying to pretend I wasn’t staring at him.
Joshua Breckenridge, Jr.
It was him. Dressed in a bespoke suit, because that’s what he wore at all fucking times, even to a rock ’n’ roll party.
I slumped in my chair, trying to instantaneously vanish.
“Do not,” Devi hissed at me. “Sit up fucking straight.”
I sat up. “What the hell is he doing here?”
“I don’t know.” Devi set her drink down on the table. “Don’t worry, babe. I’m all over it.”
With that, she stood and sashayed her little butt straight over to Maggie. If anyone could get the goods, Devi would.
I finished my champagne and started into the cosmo, and Devi returned in record time. “He owns the fucking bar,” she said, sitting down. “Or daddy does. Whatever. Apparently they put in a bid to host this party and made Jesse’s management an offer they couldn’t refuse. How much do you want to bet he saw you in that video?” She flicked her chin at the big screens, which were now playing the “Dirty Like Me” video on a loop. Me and Jesse, larger than life. Going at it.
“Oh, God.”
“Don’t sweat it.” Devi squared her shoulders, a dark glint in her pretty eyes. “I’ll run interference all fucking night if that’s what it takes. He’s not getting near you.”
“I’ll be okay.” I was feeling kind of faint, actually. I drank some more, my thoughts starting to swim.
This couldn’t be happening.
I had no desire to see Josh. I hadn’t seen him in two years, since the moment he walked out on me at the altar. I knew I’d run into him again someday, somewhere… but here? Now?
As if this night wasn’t strange enough. This was probably the absolute worst place and time for this little reunion to happen.
I glanced over again. He was facing me, but didn’t seem to be looking at me. He had to know I was here, though. He had to have seen me.
It kinda pissed me off, actually, that he was acting like he hadn’t.
And it fucking depressed me that he looked so good.
Not Jesse Mayes good, but good.
“The guy thinks he owns the fucking world,” Devi said. “Well, screw him. You don’t belong to him.”
I clinked my glass to hers when she toasted me but sat in silence, letting that sink in.
She was right. I didn’t belong to Josh Breckenridge, Jr., but the truth was, I never had. Not if he was willing to walk out on me the way he did. And he was. He was so, so willing.
“Just leave it,” I told her. “He’s not coming over here. Not with all these guys around.” If I knew one thing about Josh, he wouldn’t risk getting shot down in front of all these VVIPs.
“He’d better not,” Devi huffed, settling back in her chair. “What a fucking creep. Do you think he wants you back?”
Jesus. The thought hadn’t even crossed my mind.
“No,” I said.
I tried to smile when I noticed Jude glancing over. Then I took a deep breath and tried to relax.
I had my cosmo, my lucky leather jacket, and I had Devi. I had frickin’ security.
All I really had to do was forget Josh’s existence, which I’d become fairly good at, and enjoy the music of Jesse Fucking Mayes while he performed in those hot leather pants.
I had no idea what Josh’s game was, but no way he would approach me with the likes of Jude standing watch.
My ex-fiancé was many things; brave wasn’t one of them.
* * *
One kick-ass rock show, many champagne cocktails and three encores later, darkness finally fell as Jesse left the stage.
I was so blown away I just stood there applauding for at least five minutes with my jaw hanging open.
I definitely wasn’t the only one.
The show had started with a couple of on-air DJ’s from a local morning show introducing Jesse and warming up the crowd with some jokes. They said some really nice things about Jesse and all the cool things he’d done for the local music scene and the community, like investing in a local music school, starting up a music camp for at-risk youth, and co-producing an album for an up-and-coming local band.
Then Zane and some local record producer came out and said more nice things about Jesse—when the crowd would stop screaming enough to let Zane speak. He laughed thro
ugh most of it and told everyone to calm the fuck down, which just made the crowd go wilder.
By the time Jesse, Raf, Letty and Pepper took the stage, it was to a storm of applause. They kicked off the show with a slightly sped-up version of the first single off Sunday Morning, “Come Lately,” which heated up the club, fast.
The rest of the show was like a slow descent into a simmering make out session.
They played about half the songs from the new album and a bunch of Dirty songs, Jesse Mayes style, which pretty much meant stripped down, slowed down and completely panty-peeling. I already knew a lot of Dirty’s songs, and I’d been listening to them on repeat since we shot the video. I could definitely say I was now hooked on the band. Hard not to be when you combined Zane’s dead-sexy voice, raw, throaty and powerful, and the band’s lusty, aggressive, drive-you-to-the-edge-of-an-orgasm sound, with some of the most heartrending, brilliantly poetic lyrics I’d ever heard. By the time the show climaxed with Jesse’s orgasm-inducing version of “Dirty Like Me,” there was no way there was a dry pair of panties in the place.
For the first encore, Dylan took over for Pepper on drums for a high-octane performance of one of Dirty’s greatest hits, “Down With You,” which completely blew the doors off the house. Then Zane joined Jesse on stage for an unplugged version of Dirty’s “Runaround.” The final song of the night was a stripped-down acoustic version of one of my favorite songs off Jesse’s new album, “Breaking Bitter,” featuring Jesse and a guitar alone on stage.
The thunder of the crowd kept on rolling as I stood there cheering, my hands sore from applauding, my throat getting hoarse from all the screaming. If I didn’t feel like I could call myself a legit fan of Jesse Mayes’ music before this night, there was no question I was one now. The man had thoroughly convinced me of his genius. I already knew his recorded music was amazing, but his live show was epic.
I had goose bumps.
I was sweating.
I was horny as hell.
I suddenly understood why chicks threw their underwear at dudes on stage. There was, in fact, at least one pair of panties that someone had tossed at Jesse at some point in the night, and Raf had hung on his mic stand. It was still dangling there in the single light that shone on stage, frilly and pink. The sight of it pretty much summed up Jesse’s effect on the crowd.
I was pretty sure everyone was hoping he’d just keep coming back out on stage to blow our minds again and again. But the club DJ signaled the definite end of the show, dropping The Killers’ “Somebody Told Me.” Devi headed down to the dance floor with some guy who’d glued himself to her side during Jesse’s set. The rest of Jesse’s group was staggered throughout the VIP room, talking, drinking, and generally making noise.
I excused myself from the table where I still sat with Dolly, figuring it was a good time to use the washroom. Jude had disappeared toward the end of Jesse’s set, no doubt to meet up with him backstage. I nodded at Flynn, thinking I should acknowledge him, since the man had watched my every move all night. It was clear to me by now, though no one had said so, that he’d been told to watch over me.
I headed down the hall off the VIP area where I saw the washroom sign, quickly. I wanted to be back at the table when Jesse arrived so I could congratulate him on the incredible show and be on hand if he needed me for any photo ops or whatever.
At the mirror over the sink, I took inventory; I figured I looked kinda killer in my red lace dress, which flattered my dark hair and my blue-green eyes—though they were kinda hazy from all the champagne. I was washing my hands, but my mind was on what I’d say to Jesse as I tried to put words to my thoughts about the show. So I didn’t quite register the door of the washroom opening behind me… until I glimpsed Josh in the mirror.
That’s right. My ex-fiancé, tall, blond and entitled, strolled into the ladies’ room.
Then he shut the door and flipped the lock.
“Hey, gorgeous,” he said. He sauntered over to one of the open cubicles in his expensive suit, stood with his back to me and undid his pants, and pissed in the toilet.
I stared, dumbfounded. “What the hell are you doing?”
I looked around; no urinals. I was definitely in the ladies’ room.
“Taking a piss,” he said. “And a moment of your time.”
As he shook himself off, I grabbed a paper towel to dry my hands, bent on getting the hell out of there. By the time I grabbed my purse and bolted for the door, he’d intercepted my path. His belt was still undone, but at least he’d put his dick away.
“Come on, babe,” he said, taking me by the shoulders. “You gotta talk to me sometime.”
I shrugged his hands off, avoiding his pale blue eyes; his hair was longer than it used to be and kept flopping into them. It was a good look on him. “Do I?” I crossed my arms over my chest, clutching my purse to my ribs.
“You won’t return my calls. What do you expect me to do?”
“I don’t know. Maybe not accost me in a bathroom?”
True, I hadn’t returned the calls he’d made to me after he walked out on our wedding. But the last one of those was over a year ago. And this was hardly the way to attempt a reunion.
He smoothed the blond strands out of his eyes and smirked at me. “Just want to remind you how good we are together, sweetheart.”
“Were,” I corrected, “and we were never that good.”
“No? I guess I remember it differently.”
“I guess you do. I remember being humiliated in front of everyone I love.” I tried to look at his face, but I couldn’t quite meet his eyes. I focused on his mouth, on that arrogant smirk. “Maybe you got a kick out of that, but I gotta tell you, it wasn’t so fun for me.” The anger was rising, but I swallowed it down. I would not lose my cool in front of him.
“I apologized for that like a hundred times.”
“Right. To my voicemail.”
“Because you wouldn’t return my calls.”
“What do you want me to say, Josh?” Finally, I drew myself up and looked him right in those pale blue eyes. The man looking back at me was the same Josh I remembered. Two years older, but for all I knew, two years more an asshole. “Call me old-fashioned, but I guess I figure when you walk out on your bride, apologizing is something better done face-to-face.”
“Hey, I’m here now.” He cocked his head, his tone softening, like that meant something. His fingers brushed a lock of my hair off my shoulder; the move sent a shiver down my spine. He shifted closer, his head bent to me, putting us pretty much nose-to-nose. “And like I tried to tell you, I regret what I did.”
“Do you?”
“Yeah, baby.”
“Uh-huh. And was that before or after you slept with one of my best friends?”
It was true. Not only had I lost my fiancé in the ordeal, I’d lost a friend. Several of them, actually; as it turned out, some people weren’t the friends I thought they were. When the line was drawn, Josh or me, a hell of a lot of them chose the beautiful rich boy.
Go figure.
“I should thank you, actually, for helping me to see who my real friends were, and who truly loved me. News flash, Josh: you weren’t one of them.”
I moved to get around him, but he blocked the door. “Aw, babe. Why’ve you gotta be like that? We could be so good together again.”
“I don’t think so.”
“You’ve just gotta give me a chance to make it up to you.”
Man. Some things really hadn’t changed. Still the entitled brat who thought he had a right to any fucking thing he wanted.
“No, actually. I don’t.”
I shoved past him and lunged for the door, threw back the lock and stormed into the hall, putting distance between us before I did something I’d feel bad about later, like slap that stupid spoiled smirk right off his face.
“Katherine, wait.” He followed me into the hall, grabbed me by my arm and yanked me around to face him. “If you just give me a chance to show you…” A
nd with that, he planted a kiss on me.
I gasped, stunned. He thrust his tongue into my open mouth. I didn’t even realize his hands had migrated to my waist until his fingers dug in, hard, and he crushed himself against me. I felt his belt buckle, still undone, and his erection, jabbing against my stomach in the red lace dress.
And it made me really fucking angry.
Because Josh Breckenridge, Jr. had forfeited any right to kiss me, or press his dick up against me, ever again, when he walked out on me.
I wrenched myself from his grasp and spun away, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand.
Josh was quick to put himself in my path, again. I had to stop short to avoid running into him.
“Come on, Kath,” he panted, “just think about it. We’ve got so much history.”
“Yeah, Josh,” I said, also panting, a torrent of emotions threatening to overwhelm me. “And that’s just what it is. History.”
I stalked past him, heart pounding, shoving his hand away as he made a grab for me again—and found Jesse Mayes standing in the hall, staring at us.
His hair was damp and clinging to his neck. He was still wearing his leather pants, but he’d changed his shirt to a distressed gray T-shirt that showed off the long, muscled lines of his tanned arms, the veins running up his forearms.
I swallowed, not knowing what to say. I looked from him to Josh, who’d come up behind me.
Jesse took a long look at me, and then at Josh, who wasn’t exactly being discreet about the fact that he was doing up his belt.
Fucking great.
Jesse flexed his right hand, then made a fist. His gaze locked on me. “You alright?”
“She’s great,” Josh answered for me. “Aren’t you, babe?”
I cringed. In all the years I’d known him, Josh had never had a sweet or sexy nickname for me. And now it was all baby this and gorgeous that. When we were together he called me Kath. Short for Katherine. Which I always hated. No one called me Katherine. Even my parents called me Katie.
I cringed even more when he swaggered on over to Jesse, offering up the same hand he’d just used to shake the piss off his dick for a manly handshake. “Joshua,” he said.
Rock Star Romance Ultimate Volume 2 Page 37
