Yep. She was pretty much screwed. The guy had an excess of heart-melting layers. Seeing him with those kids, especially with Luke, God, it was almost impossible not to swoon, knowing he’d be the one to catch her. But the press only cared about the surface, nothing deeper. Superficial bullshit sold magazines and newspapers, and boosted television ratings. It was her job to remedy the public ills plaguing him and the rest of Jimmy Sixx, which meant keeping salacious thoughts to a minimum.
“You know, managers get their own private rooms. I’ve never been ridden on a tour bus before.”
Sara let out a yelp as Eli’s low voice vibrated against her ear. “Oh my gosh! You scared the hell out of me!”
“Why are you out here by yourself? We’re not leaving for another half hour.”
“I know. I was just trying to clear my head a little before the craziness starts.” Yeah, that was it. Eradicate the carnal thoughts about a certain unattainable hot rocker before they compromised the ability to perform her job.
“So, what do you think? How about a quickie before we take off?” He wrapped his arms around her waist, the scent of his cologne swirling in the air around them. The spicy blend had never made her recoil before, but something about it now made her stomach roll.
“I don’t think it’s a good idea. Being here is such a big deal for a junior publicist. I have to make a good impression or word will get back to Jake and he’ll pull me off the tour. I’m sure we’ll have plenty of opportunities once things get rolling.” She snickered. “No pun intended.”
Eli let out a deep sigh and pulled away. “Fine, I get it.”
“Don’t be like that.” Sara bit the inside of her mouth. Lusting after another guy and making guiltless, bullshit excuses to avoid the one she was supposed to be with was just wrong. But somehow, the security of being with Eli wasn’t enough to sustain her emotional craving. She wanted what she couldn’t have, what she shouldn’t have, and it was dangerous with a capital D. “You know I can’t just run off and—”
The back door of City Center Arena swung open. Hordes of people spilled out, flanked by mounds of luggage and equipment. Eli stepped back, immediately morphing from horn-dog-boy-toy to commandeering-badass. Oh well, better he channel the excess testosterone into his job instead of her.
“Techs, you have ten minutes to get everything loaded onto the bus. Head straight to the next venue and start on the setup. PAs, I need copies of all the rider checklists before you board the buses. There had better not be a single item missing from the green rooms in Dallas. If Laney’s room smells of anything other than freesias, you’re all fired.” He turned toward Sara, his face now a mask of self-importance and control. “See you around.” All business. No hug, no peck on the cheek. And dammit, if she wasn’t a tiny bit relieved. As much as she hated to admit it, those weren’t the lips she wanted brushing against her skin.
A cursory glance confirmed Eli had taken solace with his charges, one of whom was tall, tanned, and drop-dead gorgeous, with a half-hooded gaze that held enough heat to melt glaciers. Laney Taylor, the lead singer of Smeared Lipstick. An unfamiliar pang jolted Sara. Strange. It wasn’t because of the way Eli was following her like a lovesick puppy with its tongue dragging on the concrete at her heels. Instead, flashbacks of the images plastered all over cyberspace flooded her mind. Laney and Daxton. Daxton and Laney. Laney, Daxton, and an unknown third party. Blech! Damned man-whore tendencies trumped everything else.
It wasn’t her job to care about who or what he did, only to keep it out of the public eye. He could keep a freaking harem in his palatial suite on wheels for all she cared. Her stomach clenched. Nope, still not convincing enough.
Sara watched Laney’s long, toned legs strut past and step onto the first bus in the line, a clingy black leather skirt barely covering her ass cheeks. No cellulite to be seen. Bitch. Eli almost tripped over himself trying to keep up. Sara stifled a snicker. Looked like he’d have his hands too full to worry about cornering her for hot tour bus sex.
“Sara.”
She twisted in the direction of the voice, already familiar with the condescending prick tone. “Hi, Merrick.”
“Why are you out here? There are about fifty things that need to be done inside before we leave.”
“What are you talking about? I’m a publicist, not your assistant. I’ve already taken care of everything that needs to be handled on my end. Aren’t there PAs to handle your fifty things?”
The corners of Merrick’s lips curled into a grimace. “If you’re here, you’ll do whatever the band requires. Right now, that includes getting their personal effects packed up and loaded onto the bus. If I were you, I’d get moving. And if you miss the bus, rest assured, you won’t have to worry about catching another one.”
What a freaking douchebag. She was there to make sure the guys kept their noses squeaky clean for the press. Period. Surely, he had plenty of other lackeys falling over themselves to tend to their every wish. “Listen, Merrick. I think there must be some misunderstanding. Jake made it clear that my responsibilities on this tour are limited to—”
He stepped closer, his dark eyes almost black. Unsettling. Evil. A chill snaked its way down her spine under his lewd stare. “That’s what you still don’t seem to understand. There are no limits, Sara.”
Determined fingers gripped Daxton’s backside, nails digging into the wet skin. She could lance the shit out of him for all he cared. His fingers tangled in her hair, his body thrusting deeper. Christ, her mouth was so hot and eager, so tight around him. She slurped like a champ, sucking his rock hard cock dry.
Fuck this.
He twisted the brass knob, letting out a groan as ice-cold water assaulted his back. Why should his balls be the only part of his anatomy that were blue? These sick and twisted fantasies about Sara were screwing with his head. Not being able to get off was becoming a major problem. Even imagining her on her knees, feasting on his dick, couldn’t do the job anymore.
Knowing she was so close, imagining what lay beneath those sexy clothes after her body had been pressed against him, fantasizing about fucking her senseless on the back of the tour bus… it was a wonder he’d been able to perform a single song that night. Something about her had him turned inside out. She permeated every waking thought; merely picturing her tight little ass could have him hard in seconds.
He covered his face and let out a loud groan. Why couldn’t he just rub one out like a normal fucking guy, for Christ’s sake? Or at least slam some backup singer looking to get ahead in her career? What was it about Sara that had his head in a million different places? Or rather, both his heads…
That smart mouth of hers should have been screaming his name right about then, but besides her tool of a boyfriend, and the conflict of interest bullshit surrounding her job, he knew he’d ruin her. She was a good girl, not someone he needed to pull into his own downward spiral. All the slutty clothes in the world couldn’t fool him. And he was bad, cold, empty, and void of everything she needed to find happiness. She knew it, too. That’s why she’d left him the other night.
He turned off the shower and headed into the main area of his green room to air dry. His iPhone pinged, most likely with a text from Merrick telling him to get his ass moving. He was one of the privileged few who were allowed to deliver an order. Not that the orders were ever executed upon request.
A rustling sound made Daxton’s brow furrow. His eyes adjusted to the dim glow of the wall sconces as he entered the room, now focused on the shapely ass bent over his duffel bag. Jean-clad, tight, begging to be grasped. Hmm…familiar.
“Looking for something?”
A high-pitched shriek pierced the air and the intruder spun around, long blonde hair fanning her face. His cock twitched. Of course, since it obviously only worked when Sara was around.
Her green eyes widened and she backed toward the door, her skinny boot heel catching in the shoulder strap of his bag. She gasped, grabbing onto the couch for leverage before planting face
-first onto the plush carpet. “Jesus! Do you always sneak up on people when you’re naked? Or am I the only privileged recipient of your sick and twisted peep show?”
He snickered and pulled on a pair of basketball shorts that were lying on a table. “I’m not used to finding unannounced visitors rummaging through my things. People usually knock before entering.”
She folded her arms, nostrils flaring, fiery gaze darting in every direction. “Your head of security let me in.”
“I’ll fire Sean later.”
“Don’t do that! It wasn’t his fault! I begged him because Merrick said I—”
“Relax, I was only kidding.” He flopped onto the sofa, his body molding to the soft buttery leather. God, would he love to pull her on top of him and watch her ride his aching cock until he was finally sated. “Why are you so edgy?”
“You’re supposed to be on the bus, and Merrick ordered me to come in here and pack your things to save time.” She bent over the bag, stuffing it with clothes. That tasty ass beckoned again. Basketball shorts probably weren’t the best choice to cover a half-hard on.
“Shouldn’t one of the PAs be packing up?”
“Yes! There are only about ten of them strutting around here like they own the damned arena, acting like entitled little bitches. But yet, here I am, bent over your sweaty pile of clothes.”
“I work hard on stage. Imagine what I can do when I’m only performing for one.”
She jumped up. “I’m your freaking publicist, for chrissakes! Comments like that are what got you into trouble in the first place!”
He pushed back his still-damp hair, a teasing smirk lifting his lips. “Actually, I think it was the sex videos, but sure, we’ll say it was the comments.”
She narrowed her eyes. “I can’t believe you’re mocking me right now, when it’s your career hanging by a string. What the heck?”
“Stop packing the bag.”
“I can’t,” she grumbled. “Merrick made it very clear that—”
“I’ll take care of Merrick. Really. Just stop. It’s not your job.”
Sara held a black t-shirt between two fingers, scrunched her nose, and dropped it onto the pile. “Thank you. But you seriously need to get your life in order.”
“I haven’t done another sex video since the last one got leaked.”
“You’ve missed multiple concert dates, been arrested for public intoxication and disorderly conduct three times in the past six months, and paraded more girls on and off your tour bus than there are days in a year.”
“Wow. And I managed to write and record some songs in there, too. Go me.”
Sara rolled her eyes. “This is serious.”
“Agreed.”
“Your reputation is in jeopardy.”
“That’s a little dramatic, don’t you think?”
“Are you or are you not in danger of having your recording contract pulled?”
“I’m not exactly a menace to society. Even bad press is still good press.”
“And based on events from the past few months, I can see why your former PR team has been fired. Maybe you should rethink that mantra.”
He stretched his arms overhead, not bothering to mask the self-satisfied smile lifting his lips as her eyes raked over him. “I’ll do whatever you want.”
Stunned into silence. That was a first. Seemed like she never had a shortage of things to say. “Um…yeah, well, we uh…still need to review the rest of my plan.”
“We could have done it the other night, but you chose to leave.”
She ran a hand through her shiny blonde locks, dragging her eyes away. “We both know that’s not why you asked me to stay.”
Damned moonlight. It had messed with his head, made him say stupid things. But it wasn’t just the moonlight. He’d opened up to her at a time when he was riddled with sadness. Her presence comforted him, filled the void, and he’d just wanted to hold on to those feelings for a bit longer; his reputation, however, always preceded him. No wonder she flew out of there so fast. “Maybe I just needed a friend.”
“Maybe I was afraid you needed more than I could give.” Her hand clenched the shoulder strap of his bag. “I’ll just take this up to the bus.”
He crossed the room in no more than three steps, covering her hand with his. Fuck, she smelled good, like the beach…sunshine, suntan lotion…her in a skimpy bikini or better yet, topless….
Her body stiffened against him. The duffel bag crashed to the floor.
“What if there were breakables in there? Are you going to be as careless with my tarnished reputation?” he breathed, her hair tickling the stubble lining his chin.
She twisted to face him, their lips only inches apart, fingers still entwined. A deep flush stained her cheeks. “I can’t possibly do any more damage to it.”
“You deserve more credit than that. Don’t sell yourself short.”
“Just so we’re clear on roles, Daxton. I’m not the instigator here.” She yanked her hand away and brushed past him, grasping the doorknob. “I’m the fixer.”
“…SHE JUST TOOK OFF…SOMETHING about a ghost…trying to hide…crazy shit.”
“…never arrested…just disappeared…no trace?”
Merrick’s voice floated into the hallway, but the other one was unfamiliar. He definitely wasn’t shooting the breeze with one of the guys. Daxton inched closer to the door. It was cracked open, but he could only grab snippets of the conversation.
“She doesn’t talk about it at all. Just wants to forget, I guess.”
Who was the she they were talking about? Daxton’s spine stiffened. What the hell about a ghost? Rage bubbled beneath the surface when Merrick’s gruff voice grew louder. Just the sound made him want to pound the guy into next year.
“Take care, man. Let me know if you have any questions. I’m always around.” Merrick appeared in the doorway, his eyes widening when they landed on Daxton. “Why the hell aren’t you on the bus, man? We’re about to take off.”
Eli followed Merrick out the door. “Hey, Dax! Thanks again, Merrick. See you tomorrow.”
Daxton nodded at Eli. If you can’t say anything nice…just think it. Fucking tool and his stupid hoodies. Converse. What a dick. He glared at Merrick, waiting for Eli to be out of earshot. “Since when do you order my publicist to pack bags?”
Merrick pushed past him. “Come on, she was just wandering around looking useless and clueless. Isn’t she here to learn the ropes? I was just trying to help.”
“Really. And your brand of grunt work is teaching her how to be a more effective publicist?”
“Let’s face it, she’s not going to be much use to you with the press. May as well have her fill in the gaps.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“The girl comes from some Podunk town in the middle of nowhere. What the hell does she know about damage control and negotiating with the tabloids?”
“We both agreed she’d be an asset on the tour. Remember? Or has your brain half-melted away from all the shit you’ve been snorting?” Daxton’s blood simmered as it coursed through his veins. “What the hell is your problem with her? You have a list of PAs that’ll fuck you six ways to Sunday if you so much as blink in their direction. Why don’t you leave Sara alone to do her job?”
Merrick’s eyes glazed over. They were guarded and unreadable, almost menacing. ”Since when are you her protector? Shouldn’t it be the other way around?”
“Leave her alone.”
“What makes her so special, Dax? Huh? The fact that you haven’t banged her yet?”
Daxton gritted his teeth. The blood rushing to his extremities was near boiling and ready to explode out of his ears like he was Old goddamned Faithful. “Stay the fuck away from her.”
“You worry about your job, rock star, and let me do mine.”
Approaching footsteps served as a warning to stand down. Keep your fists locked before your ass gets thrown in jail for pummeling your best friend.
“Something going on here?” Finn looked at Dax, then at Merrick.
“Nothing worth any more of my time.” Jaw set, Daxton raked a hand through his hair. “I’ll see you on the bus,” he grunted before stalking down the hallway.
This girl. Dammit, she wrecked him, to the point where he was ready to flatten Merrick over a sweaty t-shirt. Defending her integrity seemed to be his new cause. How ironic he didn’t give a crap about his own.
Talk about being blinded by lust. The sole image swimming in front of Sara’s eyes was the one she’d just barely escaped…tanned, muscular chest, dark, penetrating gaze, and a rod that could act as a third leg. Beads of perspiration popped up along the back of her neck, her body temperature climbing with each passing second. Arousal pooled between her legs from the fantasy alone. Jesus, what else could he do with that mouth besides croon into a microphone?
Her calves burned with each step, but nothing could extinguish the tingling sensations swirling deep within her core, not even the agony of her toes being pinched together. She and Daxton had been only inches apart, and he smelled so…mmm. Heady, musky, and delicious. Alluring. Dangerous. Wrong! This whole thing was wrong on so many levels. Forget that the guy was like a Ferris wheel operator loading new passengers, one after another after yet another, never stopping, only slowing down to switch out patrons.
Click, click, click. Her stiletto heels clicked along the concrete in the direction of the buses. It was a feeble attempt to put as much distance between them as possible, when all she really wanted to do was rush back to the green room, fling herself into his damp embrace, and yank off those flimsy basketball shorts.
Get away as fast as you can! She grabbed the itinerary, squinting at it in the darkness. Where the hell was her bus waiting? The one where she’d be surrounded by a bunch of noisy roadies and PAs, far away from Daxton and all the crazy erotic thoughts polluting her mind, like the one where she was on her back, writhing beneath him in a king-sized bed so fluffy and plush it felt like they were literally screwing on cloud nine? Yeah. All of those images needed to be eradicated, and a new memory chip was needed desperately; either that, or a lobotomy before breakfast.
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