The only person who had ever been able to handle me in a bad mood had washed her hands of me almost fourteen months ago.
And she was now standing less than a hundred feet from me, talking with Layla Thornton, Emmie, and some short-haired brunette who looked familiar but I didn’t care enough to try and place. My next breath didn’t come. It was trapped in my chest as I took in the sight of Marissa for the first time in what felt like a millennium.
Her long, glorious hair still hung past her waist, but it was styled in glossy waves. She was wearing more makeup than I’d ever seen on that beautiful face that haunted my dreams. A tiny diamond glinted from her nose and I clenched my jaw when I realized that she had gotten it pierced. It was a cute piercing on a chick, but on Marissa it pissed me off. I didn’t want her pierced or tatted up. Not my Marissa. She was too damn pure to defile her body with holes and ink.
Someone must have said something funny, because Marissa’s head suddenly was tossed back and she was laughing. It wasn’t the laugh I was used to, the one that was full of joy and life, but it was enough to make my chest burn and my dick twitch in response to that musical sound. Fuck, but I’d missed her so much. My heart and my head had been fighting a losing battle for the last year and I was still no closer to figuring out how to deal with the conflict inside of me.
I loved Marissa Bryant. Have loved her every day of her life. In the beginning it had been a brother-like love for the six-year-old little girl who had come to live with me and my parents after the death of Brock Bryant. She had been so lonely, so lost since the only parent she had ever known was gone. When she had attached herself to my seventeen-year-old self, I’d let her. When the farm had nearly gone under because my father hadn’t been able to keep up with the mortgage payments, I had joined the marines for the sign-on bonus just so I could help my parents keep a roof over Marissa’s head.
I’d spent four years in the marines, three of which were in Afghanistan, for her. When I’d gotten home and joined OtherWorld I hadn’t ever thought that the band would become what it was today. When Rich Branson had told us we had a shot at the big times, I hadn’t wanted to be a part of it. Marissa had been twelve and I’d wanted to stay close, to protect her, but thankfully I’d followed my friends into the lime light and OtherWorld really had become as huge as Rich had predicted. It was the money OtherWorld produced that had allowed Liam and me to pay for the expensive medical treatment that Marissa had needed when we found out she had had leukemia when she was fourteen. Our fame had gotten her the treatment and eventually found the bone marrow donor that had saved her life.
That girl had been my best friend and I’d been terrified that I was going to lose her as I’d watched her fade away into nothing after the intense chemo treatments that had killed off everything bad inside of her before the doctors had done the bone marrow transplant. She might have only been sixteen, but she had gotten me like no one else ever had. Not even my mother had touched my soul like Marissa had then. She still did.
It wasn’t until she was nineteen that my feelings had changed. One day I looked at Marissa and saw the same girl I’d always seen. The beautiful chick that could make me laugh when no one else could, with her kind blue eyes and slightly plump body. The next day? I’d seen the same chick, but just the sight of her had made me ache in a way I’d never ached before. I’d looked into her blue eyes, twinkling with merriment over something she was teasing me about, and had had a pain sharp and burning shoot through my chest, leaving me gasping for a breath that I still couldn’t fully take in.
Ever since that day I’d had an inner struggle. My heart constantly screaming at me that Marissa was mine; that she needed to be beside me, in my arms. It was my head that I’d been listening to, however. My head that screamed and yelled and demanded I listen every second of every day. Marissa was innocent, her soul pure and beautiful. But I wasn’t anywhere close to good enough for that girl. I’d done things in my life that would taint that pureness. I would infect her with my dirtiness, the evil that I’d seen and done while I was in the marines.
It was my heart that had overrode my head more than a year ago when I’d finally given in and kissed Marissa. A kiss wasn’t anything major, not when you considered the things I’ve done with other women. But when a kiss burns through you to your heart and makes something inside of you come alive for the first time in your existence, then a kiss is everything. Everything. One kiss had led to another, and kissing had turned into all kinds of hot and crazy. How I’d been able to contain myself and not take something I wasn’t good enough to have, I’ll never be able to figure out.
I’d been struggling more and more with my feelings for Marissa ever since Liam’s accident. As much as I babied and protected Marissa, she was pretty self-reliant and had never fallen apart over anything. Even when she was so sick, so close to death herself, she had been the strong one out of everyone. She’d stood strong while Liam had turned to harder and harder drugs to numb his pain. My mother had suffered a heart attack during those weeks that we couldn’t see Marissa, something my father had died from just before Marissa had gotten so sick. And me? I’d been a basket case. A scary, moody basket case because Marissa was perhaps the only real friend who I’ve ever known and I’d felt like I was losing her every time I’d gone to that stupid window and looked at her sleeping form.
When Liam had the car wreck and we all thought that he might not make it, Marissa had practically collapsed. I’d never seen her so distraught in my life, and it woke up all my protective instincts. I didn’t leave her side for days. When Liam finally woke up, and we went back to Liam’s apartment to crash, Marissa had climbed into bed with me and fallen asleep in my arms. If I hadn’t been so exhausted myself I would have stayed awake and savored the feeling of her in my arms, but after only a few hours of real sleep in over a week, I’d been unable to keep my eyes open when I was so at peace and the next thing I’d known it was morning.
We slept like that for several more days until we were positive that Liam was out of the woods. I wasn’t surprised when Marissa decided to sleep in her own bed again, but I was definitely disappointed. Which told me that I was getting too close. If I got addicted to having her in my arms, then it was only going to worsen and my need for her would turn into an obsession.
After returning to Tennessee, I attempted to distance myself from her, but that wasn’t easy. I hated being away from her for more than a few hours. When I wasn’t touring with OtherWorld, I spent my evenings with Marissa either watching movies or just talking before bed. Simple things that didn’t mean much to most folks, but meant the world to me and kept my head from exploding with images from my past. Marissa kept my demons quiet, soothed my pain and regret of things I’d done while in the marines.
In the end I ended up seeking her out more often than staying away, so much so that I ended up spending more time in her company than I would have normally. That should have told me I was getting weaker where she was concerned, but I’d ignored all signs.
The night of our first concert was where my heart overruled my head and let my natural instincts take over. Those instincts that told a man to take what was his, brand it, tell the world that it—she—was yours and yours alone…
The music was blaring throughout the club. It was just me and Axton in the VIP room. Zander was off hooking up, and Liam and Devlin had stayed on the bus. I kept thinking I should have stayed on the bus too, talked Marissa out of coming and made an early night of it. But she had wanted to come and since Devlin was staying on the bus there was no need for her to be there to watch out for Harris. If she was going to a club then I had to go. No way was I going to let her go out without me. Who would protect her from all those pricks that would want to seduce her?
Not long after we had arrived at the club, Marissa had talked Dallas into dancing with her and the two chicks had disappeared into the crowd downstairs. I’d wanted to object, but Marissa had been having fun and I didn’t want to ruin that for her. It wasn�
�t often Marissa got to hang out with other women, and I trusted Dallas. She was not only smoking hot, but able to take care of herself. She would protect Marissa if anything happened.
I was just finishing the last of my first beer when Marissa and Dallas walked into the VIP room. I hadn’t consciously kept tabs on how long they were gone, but I’d counted the songs and they’d been down there dancing to four. Axton put his phone away as soon as Dallas and Marissa sat down beside us on the huge couch. Natalie had arranged for our group to be the only ones in the VIP room that night so the room felt empty with just the four of us in there.
Marissa picked up her glass of white wine, taking a thirsty swallow before fanning her sweat-damp face. “That was fun.”
“You’ll have to ask my date.” I thought I heard Dallas say.
“What the fuck?”
I turned my head at Axton’s growl with a frown. Axton was normally the laid back one of the five of us, but when it came to Dallas he was anything but his normal self. She brought out a fierceness in the rock star that resembled my own for Marissa. Lucky bastard could act on his feelings though, while I was trapped in my own head with my feelings for my girl.
Dallas giggled and picked up Marissa’s hand. “I told you, she’s my girl tonight.” She lifted Marissa’s hand and nibbled on her fingers, wiggling her brow at Marissa suggestively.
She meant to tease Axton, which from the sound of his tortured groan, he was. But the sight of her sucking on Marissa’s finger, something I’d been fantasizing about just the night before when she had licked a smear of chocolate off her fingers made my jeans suddenly unbearably tight. Up until that moment I didn’t think my dick had ever been so hard in my entire life. The groan that escaped me was strangled from my throat and I clenched my jaw before another sound could escape.
Marissa giggled and pulled her hand away. “Go on, Dallas. Have fun. I’m going to sit here and try to talk Wroth into ordering me something a little stronger than wine.”
Axton stood, holding his hand out for Dallas, but his eyes were on mine. I put everything I had into that one look, practically begging my friend and bandmate not to leave me. I was almost to the point of no return from simply watching Dallas teasingly suck on Marissa’s fingers. How the fuck was I supposed to keep my hands off her if they left me?
The fucking bastard gave me a grimace that said he was sorry, but he wasn’t going to help me out. He tightened his hand around Dallas’s fingers and pulled her out the door. Leaving me trapped with the star of all my wet dreams for the last four years.
Fucking hell.
Marissa turned her smiling face up to me. “Well, how about it?”
My throbbing dick twitched against the material of my jeans. “How about what?” I choked out.
She laughed. “How about ordering me something stronger than wine? Dallas’s rum punch looked refreshing and I’m thirsty.”
The thing about Marissa was that she was a light weight when it came to alcohol. She didn’t do things that were going to mess with her decision making skills. Especially after watching what drugs had done to her brother. She drank a glass of wine every now and then but never more than one glass. “Rum is a hell of a lot stronger than wine, Mari.”
Her eyes lit up when I used that particular nickname that only I had ever called her. I knew she loved it when I called her that and only used it when I wanted her to give in to whatever I was trying to persuade her to do. Of course there were times that that name slipped out, but now was not one of those times. I needed her as sober as possible if I was going to keep my hands off her.
“I’m aware of that, Wroth,” she assured me with a smile. “But I want to relax a little more. And you’re here in case I do something stupid. I trust you.” She rested her head on my shoulder and gazed up at me from under her lashes. Those long, thick, dark lashes. Surrounding the bluest eyes the world had ever seen.
Did she know what she did to me? Did she even know that she could do this to me? Make my body ache and my chest burn with a need that was all consuming. Or was she completely clueless to how much I wanted her, how much I loved and adored her?
When the door opened I nearly jumped out of my skin, feeling like I was a kid caught by my mother about to make out with my first girl. Looking up I saw that it was a waiter, bringing in more bottles of beer and water. I snatched another beer off the man’s try before he had a chance to place them on the table in front of us.
“Can I get you anything else?” the man asked, glancing from me to Marissa. When his eyes landed on Marissa they lit up with interest that he quickly masked when I growled.
If Marissa heard my growl she didn’t let on. Instead she smiled up at the waiter. “I’ll have a rum punch, please.”
I sighed, knowing she was going to get what she wanted regardless. “Top shelf,” I told the waiter, making sure that Marissa would enjoy her drink as much as possible. If she was going to try rum, then it was going to be the best rum. Not that cheap ass shit that bars and clubs used unless you specified it.
“Right away,” the waiter promised with a smile.
As soon as the door closed behind the man, I turned to face Marissa. “Is that dress new?”
She glanced down at her mid-thigh length gray dress. It had some kind of glittery shit on it, but it didn’t rub off, thank fuck. I hated glitter. It got on everything and no matter how hard or long you rubbed, it never freaking came off. “I ordered it a few weeks ago. With all the clubs and after parties you guys do while on tour I figured I’d need some new things. Do you like it?”
Did I like it? I fucking hated it. The thing hugged her luscious curves like a glove. The top was low cut and whatever bra she was wearing pushed her beautiful tits up, making them look like they might spill out of her dress with one wrong move. The bottom ended at mid-thigh when she was standing, but with her sitting, it hiked up a good two inches. If she didn’t have her legs tightly closed I would have gotten an eyeful of what color her panties were.
I wasn’t used to seeing her in sexy clothes like this. She normally wore jeans and T-shirts on the farm. If we happened to have to attend something that required she dress up, Marissa always wore things that were demure, almost conservative. Wanting to hide her lusciousness rather than show it off. What the fuck was she doing showing it off now?
“Wroth?” She said my name with a small laugh that didn’t mask her hurt feelings.
I bit back a curse. Hurting Marissa was like hurting myself. I hated hurting her feelings, but it was more than obvious I’d done so when I hadn’t answered her right away. “It’s beautiful, Mari. But nowhere near as beautiful as you.”
Her eyes widened, as if she were surprised at my answer. “Really?”
Without thinking about what I was doing I lifted a hand and pushed a few strands of her long, glossy hair back behind her ear. “Really.”
Her hand caught mine and held it against her cheek for a moment. “You’re so sweet at times, Wroth Niall.” She grinned up at me, her eyes looking mischievous. “It’s kind of cute.”
“Are you saying I’m cute, Mari?” I took a long pull from the bottle of beer. It was some kind of imported shit, something I hated, but it tasted good enough.
Even in the dim lighting of the VIP room, I could still see the pink that filled her cheeks. “You’re a lot more than cute, Wroth. You know that you’re sexy as sin. Sometimes I hate how good you look.” She dropped my hand and glanced down at her nearly empty glass of wine. “I hate all those girls that chase you,” she mumbled as if she were talking to herself.
I suddenly felt as if I couldn’t breathe. Her words had been soft, but packed a punch so strong it had knocked the air from my lungs. The beer in my hand dropped to the floor beside the long couch with a crash, sending foamy liquid spraying across the carpeted floor. If it shattered I didn’t know, because I was too busy pulling her onto my lap.
Grabbing hold of her long, nearly black hair I jerked her head back so that I could get a better vie
w of those big blue eyes. “Repeat that,” I commanded in a voice that was hoarse with a desire that was suddenly consuming every fiber of my being.
I felt her tremble but knew instinctively that it wasn’t from fear. I have never given Marissa a reason to fear me. And I never would. Her eyes dilated, her tongue sneaking out to dampen her lips as she met my gaze brazenly. “I hate them,” she told me with a flare to her nose that suggested she was jealous just thinking about some other chick chasing after me.
“No reason to hate them, girl.” I wrapped her hair tighter, letting my gaze drift down her neck to the pulse beating rapidly at the base. It was faster than the tempo of the music that was vibrating the walls, keeping pace with the beat of my own heart that was pulsing in my dick. “None at all.”
“There are plenty,” Marissa snapped. “Especially when I see your hands on them. It makes me hate you just as much as I hate them.”
If my heart was racing a second ago it was completely stopped at those words. Marissa hating me just wasn’t something that I could handle. Ever. It made me crazy. Made the burning in my heart turn into an inferno. “Tell me not to touch them, Mari. Tell me and I won’t.”
Her eyes widened. “I don’t believe you.”
“Have I ever lied to you? Do you have any reason to not believe me?” My hand had wrapped her hair around my wrist until I was now cupping the back of her skull. I used my thumb to massage her scalp. “Tell me, Mari. Tell me.”
“Don’t touch them,” she whispered, losing some of her confidence. Long, dark, thick lashes lowered to hide those blue eyes from me. Hiding her thoughts from me. “Please don’t touch them, Wroth.”
“Okay,” I rasped. Pulling her head down, I nuzzled the side of her neck. “Anything you want, sweetheart. Anything at all. All you ever have to do is say the words.” She should have already known that. Hadn’t I proved to her that she meant everything to me? That all I wanted was her happiness?
“Kiss me,” she whispered so softly that at first I wasn’t sure I had heard her correctly.
The Rocker Who Cherishes Me Page 4
