Goddammit! He’d chosen Sara. Again. What the hell did he see in her? Skin-tight spandex, slut-ass clothes, no ability to assert herself. She couldn’t possibly satisfy him. She’d probably never even seen a dick before, much less sucked one. No, Daxton needed more. So much more…
The urge to yank Sara by the hair and claw out her stupid Bambi eyes was overpowering. But that would screw up the plan, tempting as it was. No, patience was a necessity. In the end, true love would always conquer all.
Daxton is mine. It’s only a matter of time until he realizes it, too.
SARA PACED THE MAIN AREA of the green room, her stomach in knots. Scrapes and scratches were nothing compared to her own inner turmoil stewing below the surface. Hearing Daxton’s words, laced with pain, seeing the dejection on his face…good God, it was heart wrenching and shocking to witness, considering how the world, including her, had judged so harshly without knowing him at all.
She drew in a deep breath, a futile attempt to calm her pulse. Stop thinking about his naked, soaped up body, and find the first-aid kit! A frantic tear through the room confirmed the only alcohol available was in glass bottles. And a few shots of whatever the heck it was might be necessary right then.
A loud ping sent her stumbling into the couch. Darn it. It was Kat, the record label’s social media director. Sara had barely exchanged two words with the woman since they started back up in Houston. Kat was a master at online damage control and spent most of her time on a mobile device of some sort. What the hell happened to Dax? Do you have a press conference scheduled?
Really? A flipping press conference? Jesus. The guy hadn’t even finished showering. The press really was relentless. The world just could not get enough of Daxton Cole, and any story was newsworthy, including a fall in an arena parking lot.
The running water stopped. Her stomach clenched. He was naked, alone, and wet. Sweet Lord, she was going straight to hell with the X-rated thoughts wallpapering her mind.
A loud crash followed by a string of expletives made her jump, yanking her from the private porno on permanent loop. “Dax?” She crept toward the bathroom door, chewing her lower lip. “Are you okay?”
“The word okay is relative.”
“Do you want me to get someone?”
He let out a deep sigh. “No, but can you help me? Don’t worry, I’m decent.”
Too bad. She rolled her eyes. What was wrong with her? The door creaked open. Daxton stood in front of the white pedestal sink, squeezing a deep red-stained towel around his left hand. Her eyes widened. “Oh my God! You’re bleeding. What happened?”
“Damned shelf collapsed and the jar of cotton shattered. I sliced my finger when I was picking up the pieces.”
She grabbed a box of Band-Aids from a nearby cabinet. The gash wasn’t deep. A few Band-Aids and a little Neosporin, and his hand was good as new.
“Thanks.”
“Maybe you need a new PA after all.” Tiny shards of glass were scattered across the tile floor. “Come on, I’ll help you get out of here. Let’s at least try to keep your feet intact.”
He let out a groan. “Can this day get any worse?”
“You’re still alive, so you haven’t exactly hit rock bottom yet. And I need to organize a press conference to announce your status to the world, according to Kat. Evidently, the Internet is already blowing up.” She slid an arm around his waist. “Be careful. If you slip, you’ll take us both down.”
“Would that be a terrible thing?”
Warmth spread throughout her core. Mmm, no. Not at all. His arm tightened around her. She tensed, twisting toward him. God, he smelled so good, soapy clean and manly. Good enough to lick. Oh shoot, what was happening? He was sad, upset, and needy. She couldn’t…wouldn’t be that girl; the stupid one who thought this might actually mean anything to him. But his dark-eyed gaze held her captive, rooted to the spot, and made her tingle in all the wrong places. Running was simply not an option.
“Sara…” He pulled her close, his pepperminty-scented breath tickling her cheeks. It was impossible to think; the sound of her thundering heart drowned out all conscious thought. His lips crushed against hers - demanding, hungry, desperate. They were so soft, so perfect, and better than she’d imagined. A delicious ache between her legs grew more intense with each passing second.
The sensations coursing through her could make her swoon on the spot and he’d barely touched her. No, this was wrong. So wrong, on way too many levels. They had to stop. She raised her hands, knowing she needed to push him away, but her body wouldn’t obey.
But, mmm, his devilish tongue had other ideas, more salacious ones that told a very carnal story in which she played a key role. It coiled around hers, devouring the fledgling doubts cropping up in her mind. Wrong, but so flipping good.
She ran her fingers through his damp hair, trailing them down his muscular arms, and over his perfectly chiseled torso - a god in every sense of the word.
“Dax! You in there?”
Sara swallowed a yelp, stumbling backward into a wall. Her breaths came in short gasps. “Shoot, what just…oh my God…I can’t believe—”
He silenced her by laying a finger over her mouth. “Q, I’ll be out in a minute.”
Silence. Sara’s heart almost stopped. If Merrick had come in and found her in here, her big shot would come to a screeching halt. He’d send her packing before lunch. A reluctant response followed. “Okay. See you in a few.”
Daxton tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “What’s wrong?”
Her eyes popped open wide. “Are you seriously asking me that? We just kissed, and you—”
“Really enjoyed it.” A smirk lifted the corners of those scrumptious lips. He leaned into her, evidence of his enjoyment grazing the inside of her thigh. “Didn’t you?”
“Does it matter? It was completely unprofessional. I shouldn’t have let it happen. You shouldn’t have done it!” She backed away, gnawing at her thumbnail. “Why did you do it?”
“Please tell me that’s a rhetorical question.”
“You didn’t mean it. You’re upset, you needed someone to comfort you, and I was here.“
“I don’t need anything, Sara.” His eyes frosted over. “Especially pity. If you have to ask why I kissed you, then I obviously made a mistake.”
A strangled sound made its way out of her mouth. “It was a mistake,” she whispered.
“Then maybe now’s a good time to walk away. So we don’t make any more.” Cold, detached, hollow. It was as if any emotion that had come bubbling to the surface receded when she didn’t fall back into his waiting arms. He yanked a t-shirt over his head, slipped on two different colored ankle socks, and slid his feet into a pair of sneakers, no longer acknowledging she was even in the room.
“You’re exactly what everyone else sees. I can’t believe I thought for a minute you might be different.” She was that pitiful girl, much as she hated to admit it. Caught in his complicated web, believing he might have the capacity to care after all. But he didn’t. And he never would. Life was a game to him, and he was on a perpetual quest to win at any cost, never considering there might be collateral damage along the way.
He pulled open the door, pausing long enough to stifle her with a glare that made her blood run cold. “Yeah, well, life is just full of disappointments, isn’t it?”
The door slammed, shaking the walls, and shattering her heart like the glass jar in the bathroom.
What had she done?
“WHY ARE YOU WASTING YOUR time with her? She can’t give you what you need.” Gia’s breathy voice made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end as he stormed into the desolate arena corridor.
Daxton gritted his teeth, his pride as bruised as his shins. “Mind your own business, Gia.”
Gia sidled toward him, puffing out her ample chest, her high heels clicking on the concrete. How she was able to breathe with those tits poured into such a tight top was beyond him. She ran her fingertips down his
arms, the sensation making his stomach roll. He wanted Sara’s hands on him, but she RSVP’d a big fat no to that party. Fuck! If he didn’t know better, he’d have thought he clocked his head on a rock out there in the parking lot. Inside out over a girl who wanted nothing to do with him, and unable to get hard for a chick who couldn’t get enough of him. “I know what you need. Let me give it to you. Forget the choir girl.” She backed him against the wall, her puckered lips poised to attack. They were deviously determined, and he was teetering on the brink of disgusted. She palmed his cock and…nothing.
He swatted her hand away. “Cut it out. I’m not in the mood. I have to get to sound check.”
“No, you don’t. They just switched the schedule and we’re up first. We have plenty of time. I need you, Dax. We’re so good together. I love the way your cock feels inside me.” She gripped his hand, forcing it under her obscenely short denim skirt. “Don’t you feel how wet you make me? You want that. I know you do.”
“Gia, stop.” He pulled away. The hallway was quiet, but for how long? The last thing he needed was for anyone to see him finger-fucking Gia in public. “It was fun, but now it’s over, okay?”
Gia’s eyes narrowed. She pushed against his chest with the force of her body weight, sending him stumbling backward. A sharp pain exploded down his leg. Damn, this girl had a lot of pent-up rage. “So, that’s it? You decided fucking me isn’t worth your time anymore, and now you’re done? I don’t get a say? I just have to accept being kicked to the curb?”
“You knew this was never going to turn into anything serious. We agreed to that before we started. Besides, I told you last time we were done.” His eyes darted up and down the hall. Still empty. He needed to get the hell away from Fatal Attraction and fast.
“You’re a real fucking piece of work, Daxton. You don’t give a shit about anyone but yourself.” She pounded her fists on his chest again and hissed at him. “You idiot. Don’t you have any idea who you’re dealing with? Or are you just too pretty to be smart?”
He grabbed her wrists and flipped her around so her back was pinned to the wall. “Let me make this very clear. We’re done. Stay the fuck away from me, Gia.”
Her eyes flashed with a malice that chilled the blood in his veins. “You can’t stop what’s meant to be, Dax. Remember that.”
DAMN HIM FOR LEAVING! HE just stalked out of the green room without so much as a backward glance, like the hard, unfeeling jackass he was reputed to be. And here Sara was in his wake, wondering, yet again, if she was doomed to be the girl collecting the jagged pieces of her life after yet another person had shattered it.
She pulled out a piece of grape Bubblicious from her running shorts and popped it into her mouth. It wasn’t a Popsicle, but it was her best option. Thank goodness for the tiny zippered pocket. Her supply was dwindling, and she needed that juicy grape flavor like a crackhead searching for a fix. Some people drank; she chewed and popped. Except this time, it couldn’t repair the gaping hole in her heart.
“Sara.”
She blinked back the tears pooling in her eyes. “Merrick, I’m sorry. I should have called you, but Dax--”
“Stop. I’m not here to argue.” He let out a sigh, averting his eyes. “I know I’ve been acting like a prick toward you.”
She furrowed her brow. “Okay, thanks for the acknowledgement.”
“Look, that’s just who I am, so don’t take it personally.” He folded his arms.
“Merrick, is this supposed to be an apology? Because I’m missing the part where you actually give a crap.”
He snickered. “I don’t do apologies. Remember? I’m a prick. I just wanted to let you know I’m going to leave you alone from now on. I’ll get the PAs to handle the laundry and packing, okay?”
It was hard not to laugh at the ridiculousness of their exchange, even though she was in the depths of despair at what she’d just lost. “Deal. Thanks.”
Merrick shrugged. “You need thick skin. Didn’t I tell you that way back in the beginning?”
“Yeah.” She forced a smile. “You did. My bad.”
“So, we’re good.” He held up his fist. “Pound it.”
“Really?”
“What? They don’t do it where you come from in Michigan?”
“Minnesota. And, no, they don’t.” She tapped his fist with her own. “But I guess there’s a first time for everything.”
“You’re a good kid. Now do me a solid and tell Dax to get off my ass.”
As if he’d ever speak to her again. “Sure,” she mumbled, the angst lancing her heart.
Merrick saluted her before walking toward the main arena. “Time for sound check. See you there.”
Sara wandered through the maze of corridors, edging past teams of roadies and techs rushing to set up the sound system on stage. It was time to ditch the sweaty clothes and get her head screwed back on before the now dreaded sound check. Bright sunshine assaulted her eyes once she ventured outside. The crowds had dissipated for the moment, but they’d be back, just like cockroaches. Darn it, she still needed to schedule that press conference before Kat had a coronary.
Sara pushed open the door to the bus, shoulders hunched. Her bunk barely qualified as a bedroom; heck, it hardly qualified as a bed. At least it boasted some degree of privacy with a dark curtain, so she could crumble like a display of dominoes in peace, free to lament for at least ten minutes before a quick shower preceded her newest challenge – how the hell to loosen the vise-like grip Daxton had on her heart.
Her hand froze as she pulled back the curtain, a strangled sob catching in her throat. A postcard sat atop the stark white bedspread. How ironic that the representation of something so deadly could sit innocently atop something so pure and innocuous. Her fingers closed around the card, throat tightening as she gazed at the glossy picture of Lake Hiawatha, crown jewel of Grand Falls, Minnesota. Her home. Her past. Her horror.
The lake looked so still, and so serene in the photo. So different than how she remembered it on that ominous night. Those waters were menacing, unforgiving…life-taking. The guilt she’d kept buried bubbled to the surface, threatening to erupt. Her ex-boyfriend Brian never had a chance, all because of her. Trembling fingers turned over the photo. Tears stung her eyes as the postcard fluttered to the floor.
You’ll never escape.
Breaths escaped her mouth in short, painful gasps. A loud crash from deep within the belly of the bus sent her stumbling backward. A shooting pain ripped through her neck muscles. Twisting her head was near impossible, but she had to get away. Somebody was out there; somebody who knew, and somebody who wanted to make her pay. She dug her phone out of her pocket, fingers trembling over the keyboard to call…who? Her parents, not that they’d bothered to return any of the desperate messages she’d already left. Jake? Eli? Daxton? And in all likelihood, nobody could help her. She was drowning with no lifeboat in sight.
Sara inhaled, a biting scent of marijuana permeating her senses. If she stayed on this bus a second longer, she’d be too baked to move. The air was so polluted with weed, her eyes burned with each panicked step toward the door. The bus was still dark, save for a thin stream of light coming from one of the other bunks. A clear escape path led her to fresh air. Roadies milled about, pushing equipment around the expansive lot. Photographers were perched alongside the tour buses, waiting for any glimpse at the headliners. Her eyes darted in every direction, painfully aware of everything around her, yet completely eluded her at the same time. There was no grim reaper lurking with a sickle. There were just…people. But people had put her in her current predicament.
She ran into the arena, pushing past the equipment teams and their huge setups. Heck, for all she knew, she could be running from one of them. Her mind was blank, but her legs propelled her toward the main arena stage. Jimmy Sixx was supposed to be in sound check. What a freaking hypocrite she was, wanting to kick Eli to the curb because she didn’t need anyone protecting her, and yet here she was, running toward
the one person who—
Screams drowned out the rest of the acidic thought. Her heart rate rocketed, beads of perspiration popping up on the back of her neck. She ran faster, her sneakers pounding on the concrete floor. Sean from security pushed past her and jumped onto the stage, the rest of the team in tow. She skidded to a stop in front of the stage, clapping a hand to her mouth to silence the gasp. Gia Lourdes lay still in a crumbled heap, trapped under a huge metal lighting fixture. Good God, that thing must have weighed at least a hundred pounds. Blood poured from the lacerations on Gia’s face and arms. Jesus, there was red everywhere.
Sara watched in stunned silence. The girls of Smeared Lipstick were in hysterics, especially Laney. Her words were barely discernible through the sobs. She’d fallen to the ground next to Gia, tears streaming down her face. The beefy security guards heaved the fixture off Gia’s limp body, while medics buzzed around, checking her vitals.
“Everybody stay back, please. Give them some room to work on her.”
The air was so thick; Sara could barely inhale. It wasn’t supposed to be Gia. She had a gut feeling that this accident was meant for her. Pain and suffering were meant for her. She was the one that was supposed to be at the sound check. When had the schedule changed? And why hadn’t she been told? Gia’s body was lifted onto a gurney and a path was cleared to the exit. Please let her be alive.
Hordes of medics, publicists, and band managers flanked all sides of the gurney, rushing to the waiting ambulances, guarding Gia from the relentless photogs camped outside the arena entrance. Sara’s feet were rooted to the spot, and even in the middle of a crowd, she felt more alone and afraid than she’d have ever imagined possible. A strong hand pressed onto her shoulder. She yelped, twisting away, only to feel a bandaged palm close around her wrist. Tears clouded her vision. Daxton’s familiar scent floated into the air, filling her with relief, security, and hope. She collapsed against his muscular chest, teeth chattering. “You were supposed to be up there. I was supposed to be up there. Gia is…she’s…oh my God, what if she doesn’t make it? This is my fault! It wasn’t supposed to be her. I’m so sorry, Dax, I should have never pushed you away, but I’m…I’m so scared.”
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