The blonde giggles, placing her small hand on my chest. I tense up under her touch. If I’ve learned one thing about girls in L.A. it’s that they have no sense of decency. There is no such thing as self-respect or personal space here. Cold, emotionless Dax rears his ugly head, ready to put this girl in her place.
“Kate’s not in. I’m her roommate, Lila. She didn’t mention anyone stopping by.” Her tongue wets her lips in what is likely supposed to be a seductive move. Yeah, she’s fit and all, but my mind isn’t on her or what she could give me. I want to see Kate.
I let out a huge sigh. I can’t be a bastard to Kate’s flatmate. Instead, I gently remove Lila’s hand from where it still rests on my chest. “Do you have a marker pen? I want to leave my mobile number for her.”
“Hmmmm,” she taps her tooth with a pink polished fingernail. “Do I get your number too, big guy?”
The shock I feel at her blatant come on is tough to keep from showing on my face. My irritation must be obvious because Lila backs off, but only a little. Desire is still evident in her eyes. “Fine, fine,” she gives me an odd smile and waves her hand as if I’m already forgotten and she’s moved on to her next potential conquest. “Here.” Lila hands me a pen and paper. I scratch down my number and hand it back.
“Thanks. Please, it’s important. We’re mates from back home and I haven’t seen her in a while.” I try pleading to Lila’s sympathies, praying she’ll make sure Kate gets the number.
Lila’s hungry expression returns, “Sure you don’t want to come in for a few minutes?”
I go rigid, beginning to get more than merely annoyed by Kate’s pushy tart of a flatmate. “No, I’m quite sure. I have to meet my mates in a bit.”
Lila narrows her eyes into a sly glare. “Oh, well then, no problem…” she glances down at the paper in her hand, “Dax. I’ll make sure she gets it.”
I nod woodenly, wondering if she’ll actually give my number to Kate or if she’ll ‘lose’ it in a jealous bid to keep Kate away from the bloke who turned her down.
Fuck if I know. I’m more worried that if Lila does give Kate my number, Kate won’t use it. If Ellie, who was so obviously in love with Adam, could be so cold and heartless as to break up with him over the phone for no reason, I have no doubt in my mind that Kate might have shut me out for good as well.
After seeing Adam’s downward spiral after Ellie and the hurt in Kate’s eyes that night, I don’t know if I can live with that.
Kate
I fiddle with the edge of my textbook, worrying it until it tears off in my hand. This past summer, while traveling Europe with an international girl’s footy team, I was able to tuck Dax into a tight compartment in the back of my mind, forgetting everything about him. Well, not forgetting, exactly. The memory of Dax sits heavy on me every minute of every day. I remember every second I spent with him, his scent, the taste of his mouth taking mine, the feel of his rough hands on my skin.
Knowing we’re in the same city has made it all that more difficult to keep those memories locked away. Even the few dates I went on with Mateo haven’t lessened my fixation. I told him I needed to focus on school and the team and didn’t have time to date. He seemed to accept my need to stay as friends, but it’s still awkward to be around him.
It’s not healthy, the way I let thoughts of Dax dictate my actions even though I haven’t spoken to him in months. Dax is completely wrong for me—dangerous, heartless—he’d leave me broken with no one to help pick up the pieces.
Mateo is perfect. We have the same interests, the same goals, and he isn’t a cold, heartless bastard without any regard for anyone but himself. Yet when I’m with Mateo in a romantic setting I feel restless, like my skin is too tight, squeezing around my chest and making it hard to breathe.
Now, I have to face my fears.
After speaking with my mum last night, I found out Ellie’s dad died a few months back and her mum moved away from Hackney. Now I have no choice but to surprise the guys at one of their shows so I can talk to her. I can’t find Ellie on campus, the school won’t tell me where she’s living, and I have no way of contacting Adam. I’m well aware that the best way to find her is to find him. And wherever Adam is, Dax will be as well.
Chickening out on having to deal with Dax back in the U.K. after that horrible scene at the fight club was a mistake that now looms over me. It’s somehow grown into a much larger problem than it would have been had we discussed it immediately. Instead, I chose to shut him out completely, refusing to even speak to him or acknowledge his presence.
It wasn’t fair really. He wasn’t my boyfriend and didn’t owe me a thing. My heart however, just couldn’t take any more pain watching him shag girl after girl. I needed to distance myself so I could move on.
Unfortunately, time and distance haven’t helped at all.
Resigned, I log onto the shabby second-hand laptop my parents scraped together to purchase as a going away present, and go about finding where their next gig will be.
Tomorrow night at the Viper Room.
I figure I can borrow a friend’s I.D. and be at that club after the show.
Stupid U.S. and their drinking age of twenty-one.
Hopefully, I can deal with Adam and not have to see Dax. That’s nothing but wishful thinking and denial, I know. I try not to remember my time with Dax, good or bad, but I can’t help it. In a few short months, we went from hardly knowing one another to good friends, to nothing. I’m not about to lose Ellie because I’m afraid of dealing with Dax.
My best mate has been through so much and I wasn’t able to be there for her. I’ll be damned if I’m not going to be there for Ellie now, even if it means diving straight into shark infested waters and having my heart ripped right from my chest.
I nervously run a hand through my hair for the millionth time since leaving my flat to take the bus to the bar down off of Santa Monica Boulevard. Why I care what I look like, I don’t know. I shouldn’t care. It’s not healthy to still care. This whole sodding ten-year fixation on Dax fucking Davies isn’t healthy yet here I am, obsessing again.
My fake I.D. doesn’t even make the bouncer at the Viper Room blink. He simply glances at it and hands it back. When I walk into the crowded club, the first thing that hits me is the overwhelming excitement buzzing through the crowd. Sphere of Irony is the headlining act tonight and it’s late, so the band is already on stage. I hadn’t realized they were so popular, having been avoiding looking them up for fear of feeding my Dax addiction.
The band got to L.A. in April and it’s only September. Despite the small time frame, it seems they’ve got quite the following already. Girls in skimpy dresses and how-can-you-possibly-walk heels are everywhere, crowding around the stage area, their lustful eyes fixed on the guys as they play. The memory of Willa setting her sights set on Dax hits me smack in the face.
I shudder in revulsion.
See Kate? It’s better you didn’t get involved with him.
There’s no way I would have been able to handle this—the girls, the clubs, the crowd—all of them wanting a piece of Dax. It’s too far out of my comfort zone. Hell, I’m just a footy-playing tomboy, not a fuck-me heel wearing groupie.
Unfortunately, old habits die hard. I can’t keep my eyes off of the man I used to know. I’m drawn to the stage like a moth to a flame. He looks good, really really good. Dax’s large hands effortlessly move across the strings of his guitar, playing a song I recognize from back home. His dark blonde hair is thick and tousled, no longer in the near-military short cut he used to wear.
Unchanged are his huge muscles, his intimidating presence, that flicker of danger in his eyes… he looks just as threatening as always. Only, I know that this isn’t the real Dax. The real Dax is kind, thoughtful, and fiercely protective of anyone he cares about—if he lets you in, which, chances are he won’t. For a moment, I wish I could see through that false front he puts up to keep people away.
How can I miss someone so much, yet he was
never really mine?
Blessedly, the show ends and the band leaves the stage. Watching them brings back too many memories. Unfortunately, my own personal torture has just begun. I have to find Ellie. Without a doubt, I’ll willingly put my heart on the line for my best mate. I haven’t heard a word from her in four months and since my parents said her mum moved and changed her number, Adam is my only link. If that means coming face to face with Dax Davies, then so be it.
Elbowing my way through the crowd of tarted up groupies is easy with my football skills. I effortlessly slide up to the backstage area, which is protected by a large man, attempting to look intimidating. He doesn’t scare me. Not after dealing with Dax and his brother, Mr. Big and Creepy, at the fight club in Hackney.
“Pardon me, I’m a friend of the band from the U.K. Could you tell them I’m here?”
The man looks me up and down disinterestedly and scowls. He says nothing.
How rude. I’m not the most confident or beautiful girl, but you’re not keeping me from finding Ellie.
“Hello? I’m speaking to you. Can you get a message to one of the band? We went to school together and I’ve come to surprise them.”
He narrows his gaze, shooting me one of the most contemptuous looks I’ve ever seen. “Riiiiight. Friends. You think I was born yesterday, sweetcheeks? Hit the road.” The idiot shoves a thumb towards the exit.
Alrighty, now I’m good and aggro. I let out my inner bitch, the one that hardly gets a chance to see the light of day.
“Listen you uptight wanker, I’ve known Dax and Adam since primary school and I am going to speak with them!” I dig my finger into his stupid chest. “Let me in, it’s important!” I realize I’m making a scene, but I don’t care. I’m going to find my friend and this idiot isn’t going to stop me.
The bouncer puffs up his body and his face turns purple. Before he can kick me out or say something rude, someone shoves him aside.
“Kate?”
Dax’s dark eyes bore into mine from next to the increasingly hostile looking bouncer. They crinkle adorably in the corners when he breaks into an enormous grin.
Holy shit an actual reaction from the Iceman!
“Kate!”
Dax pulls me around the bouncer, Dax’s huge, muscular, six-foot plus frame towering over almost everyone around us, garnering admiring looks from both men and women alike. Dax snags my arm, yanking me into a massive hug and I swear, I hear him let out a sigh of relief once I’m in his arms. I can’t take the time to be shocked. I’m too happy to be surrounded by Dax. I inhale deeply, reveling in the fact that he smells exactly the same—spicy, delicious, and utterly masculine.
When he finally releases me from his tight embrace, Dax holds me at arm’s length, his fingers gripping my shoulders to keep me in place. He flicks his eyes up and down my figure, making me squirm from the intensity of his stare. Even though we’re surrounded by squealing groupies and a scowling bouncer, the moment is as intimate as if we were alone behind closed doors.
It seems as if he wants to say something, but before he does, his expression shuts down, back to stone-faced Dax. He stares, waiting for me to speak. No way do I want to have this reunion out here, so I try to get him to take us somewhere private. Pointing at the backstage door, my question comes out in a rush. “Can we go somewhere else?”
Dax glances around, finally taking note of the small crowd that has gathered. A blush pinks his cheeks as he lets me go, directing me to go backstage first. A blush! Cold, unemotional Dax Davies, the Iceman, blushed because of me! Boring, plain Kate Campbell. It’s both endearing and an enormous turn on to think I have that kind of power over him. That and the fact he completely ignored the squealing crowd of sluts have my feelings for Dax all jumbled up again.
“How have you been?” he asks, his eyes meeting mine for a fleeting moment before dropping to the floor again as he leads me backstage. There’s that blush again. He’s going to make it impossible for me to let him go, isn’t he? How can I possibly be expected to stay angry with someone that I’ve loved for as long as I can recall? Especially when his loud confidence and stony indifference has been replaced by this adorable, blushing man.
He leads me to a tiny room crammed full of electrical equipment. Dax shoves a few things off the battered old sofa and onto the floor, clearing a place for us to sit. I tremble, lowering myself to the cushion slowly. The air seems to have gotten scarce, my lungs having difficulty expanding in his proximity. There’s just enough left to force out a quick reply.
“I’ve been good. How about you, Dax?”
His downturned eyes flick up to mine, trapping me, owning me. Then again…he’s always owned me, heart and soul, hasn’t he? Even after that night at the fight club, I never really let go of Dax… of the dream of us being together someday.
Is someday now?
CHAPTER 6
Dax
Hell, Kate’s even more stunning than I remember. The sunny L.A. weather has done her well. Playing football has her tanned and toned from her head down to her feet, those killer legs of hers perfectly showcased by a criminally short skirt.
My heart has always been an empty shell, until Kate brought out the best in me. Being around her innocence, her radiance, then losing her had me thinking there was more to life than getting off and keeping everything inside.
Without her, I’m back to being a cold and heartless bastard. Any warmth I may have gained in the short time I knew her seeped out long ago. Today, having her right here in front me, the black hole in my chest feels as if it’s beginning to recede.
Kate never rang me after I stopped by her dormitory, not that I know if her crazy flatmate gave her my number. I had begun to think I’d never see her again. Unbelievably, I’ve got Kate sitting next to me, picking at a tiny hole in the hideous sofa backstage at the Viper Room, and I’m not sure what to say.
“You look gorgeous,” I blurt out, immediately wanting to punch myself for sounding so bloody desperate. One of the rules flicks through my head. One I have a hard time remembering when I’m around Kate.
Rule 2—Never let your emotions show.
Her wide green eyes find mine for the briefest of moments before they drop back down to the sofa.
Forcing myself to go against everything I was raised to believe, I stupidly put it out there. “I’m sorry, Kate. About—” I swallow thickly, having a hard time putting my feelings in words. “About what you saw. It…” Jesus, I sound like such a wanker. The urge to take what I want, to kiss her until she comes undone is nearly overpowering. Especially after a performance, when my libido is flying high. Having her here is pure torture.
Kate waves her hand dismissively. “It’s no big deal, Dax. Honestly.”
My heart, which just mere seconds ago was beginning to come to life after years of blackness, has crumbled and fallen in pieces down into my hollow insides at her effortless brush off.
“No big deal?” I snarl, my tone angrier than it should be. So she couldn’t care less that she saw my dad’s whore on her knees sucking me off? “Bullshit,” I challenge her. I know she cared. I saw it on her face. I fucking felt it in my shattered soul. You want to make me prove you cared?
Challenge accepted.
Kate’s face and neck are a brilliant shade of crimson—her emerald eyes narrow, flashing with fury. “Excuse me?”
Confident I’ve gotten it right and refusing to back down even if I’m wrong, I cross my arms over my chest. “I don’t believe you. It was a big deal to you. It was and most definitely still is a big deal to me.”
Her anger melts away at my very rare show of feelings. “Why do you care what I think? So you had your cock sucked by some slag. What difference does it make?” Kate’s voice is shaky, in fact, when I look down at her hands, now gripping her own knees, they’re shaking as well.
Feeling bold, or embarrassed, or maybe just tired of not being allowed to touch her or talk to her, I reach over and pull her into my arms, crushing my mouth against hers
. Kate is stunned at first, unresponding as my tongue demands entrance. Then, as if a switch is flipped, she comes alive, groaning and opening up to me, allowing me access to her hot, wet mouth, letting me relive that perfect kiss we had so many months ago.
Intense fire burns through me, blazing, stoking the instinctive craving for my post-fight/post-gig reward. Our lips move in tandem, sloppy and desperate. She tastes exactly how I recall, the sweet memory burned on my brain forever. I’m about to shift her into my lap so I can feel that perfect body rubbing against my rock hard length when she breaks the kiss.
“Stop.”
“What? Why?” I continue to nip at her mouth.
“No Dax. Stop.”
Reluctantly, I back off, slumping on the sofa. She looks gorgeous, her lips swollen and wet, her cheeks red, and her eyes filled with unmistakable lust.
“What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know if I can do this, Dax. I’m sorry. You’re not good for me.” She moves away, reaching her hands up to right her disheveled hair.
Fuck. She’s right, I’m not good for her, but I’m also a selfish bastard. Always have been. I need to fix this so I can have her near me. Inhaling deep, for the first time in my life I dive in headfirst.
“I want to make a go of this. With you.” I slide off the sofa, kneeling down between her legs, not willing to give up so easily. I’m stubborn. I get what I want and I want her.
Kate’s eyes are wide and unblinking as she thinks it over. “You, you want to make a go of it… with me?”
“Yes.”
She lets out a choked laugh. I reach into her lap, holding her hands in mine. “I can’t believe this,” she says. “I’ve always wanted you, but you never saw me. Never expressed any interest in me.”
I pull our intertwined hands to my lips, kissing them lightly. “I was an idiot. I’m interested now. What do you say?”
Strike: Dax Page 7
