Wanderlust

by Roni Loren

  “I’m an idiot. I never should’ve walked away from you. Nothing has felt right since.”

  His voice wrapped around her like a soft wool blanket, and she closed her eyes, inhaling the words, the feeling behind them. “I love you, too, Lex. So damn much.”

  A breath whooshed out of him and then he was lifting her up and kissing her hard. Murmurs sounded around them. People were probably looking, but she didn’t care—let ’em look. She hooked her legs around him, her dress barely keeping her covered, and let herself sink into the kiss—hot lips and tongues crashing together, need vibrating through them, and his hold on her going so tight it felt like he’d never let go.

  He backed her into the bar and she gasped, breaking them both away from the kiss before it got too out of hand. He was panting, his eyes wild, when he looked down at her. “Maybe we should get out of here.”

  “I didn’t agree to such things, Mr. Logan. I only came to Vegas because I owed you a lap dance.”

  He curled his lip and let his gaze travel down to the neckline of her dress. “Oh, and don’t expect me to let you off the hook, you big cheater. I knew you were up to something that night.”

  “Maybe this time we can do it without an audience.”

  He grinned. “Definitely. I’m not sharing you with anyone.” He pulled her tighter against him, and his lips met hers in another bone-melting kiss.

  The bartender cleared his throat loudly. “Um, ma’am, do you need anything else?”

  She drew away from Lex’s kiss but didn’t break eye contact with him. “No, I don’t need anything else. I’ve got all I need.”

  Epilogue

  One year later . . .

  Aubrey’s mother swung her head left and right, taking in the motley group of people surrounding her. Her lips twitched into an uneasy smile. “They certainly do attract an interesting crowd.”

  “They’re harmless, Mom.” Aubrey bit her lip, trying not laugh. Her mother’s pale pink blouse and white capris created a pastel beacon among the black- and denim-clad fans around her. “And if it gets rowdy, I’ll protect you. I’m used to this.”

  Del shook her head. “I don’t know how you do this every night. Don’t you get tired of it?”

  Aubrey grinned. “Not at all. Each city is different. Each show has its own energy. But I don’t hang in the audience every night. I usually watch from side stage.”

  Her mother peered at the stage. “And why aren’t we doing that?”

  Aubrey laughed. “Because you said you wanted to see what I love so much about all this. Therefore, you need the full experience. Plus, this is the last show of the tour, and Lex asked me to be in the audience for it.”

  The tense lines in her mother’s face softened. “You really do love this young man, huh?”

  “I can’t even put it into words, Mom.” The last year on the road with Lex had been the happiest of her life. Seeing the world, working for herself, selling stories faster than she ever thought possible—all of it had been a dream come true. And now the chapter was ending, at least for a while. She gave a wistful sigh, wondering where they would go from here. Afraid to mar the wonderful time they were having on the road, she and Lex had both avoided talking about what would happen after the tour. The thought of not seeing him daily filled her chest with a hollow ache.

  Del grabbed her hand and squeezed. “I’m happy for you, honey. I really am.”

  Her mother’s sincerity sent a lump to Aubrey’s throat. “And Dad?”

  Del’s shoulder lifted in a half-shrug. “As hard-headed as ever, but I’ve seen the smile on his face when he gets one of your postcards. Give him time. He’ll come around. He’s not as hip as I am, you know,” she said, her face dead serious.

  Aubrey snorted. “Yes, Mom, you are so with it.”

  Her mother nodded, proud as a peacock. “I know.”

  ***

  Aubrey’s ears rang as the crowd screamed for more. Wanderlust’s final show had surpassed all of her expectations. The guys had left it all on the stage, throwing every ounce of passion into every note. All that remained was the two-song encore and the tour would be over. Thousands of feet in the arena started stomping along with the screams for the band to return to the stage. She glanced at her mother, who to her surprise, was hollering and clapping with the rest of the fans. Her mother turned her flushed face toward her. “Are they coming back?”

  Aubrey laughed and nodded. Maybe she would pick up a Wanderslut shirt for her after the show. Her mother was clearly a convert.

  The swell of voices heightened as the lights on stage started to blink again, and the smoke machines fired up. Aubrey’s front-row seat allowed her the advantage of seeing the darkened figures sneak back onto the stage under the cover of smoke. If not for the security guards in front of her, she could reach out and touch Lex’s shoe. She knew the drill, but when the drums started pounding, she couldn’t help but feel the excitement and energy course through her. Her own voice joined the chorus of “Wanderlust” chants.

  When the spotlights blasted on, her eyes immediately focused on Lex. Luscious and dark and pouring his soul into the song. Just like the first moment she’d laid eyes on him at that club. Only this time, he was hers, and she was his. Lex crouched at the edge of the stage and met her gaze. A smile peeked from behind the microphone. The girl to her right shoved in front of her to get closer to the stage.

  “Hey,” Aubrey said as the girl elbowed her.

  The woman turned her head and gave Aubrey a dismissive look. “He was singing to me, not you.”

  “I’m sure,” Aubrey yelled over the music then laughed. She was glad that the female audience members didn’t know who she was. They might rip her to pieces with their hot pink fingernails.

  The song ended and Lex moved to the center of the stage, motioning for the crowd to quiet. Of course, doing so was like asking a freight train to be silent. The deafening noise dropped a few notches on the Richter scale, but the energy still thrummed through the audience like a collective heartbeat.

  Lex held his hand above his eyes to shield them from the bright lights and scanned the arena. “The last time we were in New Orleans, the crowd was a bit smaller than this.” He grinned. “I can’t tell you how much we appreciate you guys supporting our second album. We never expected this kind of reception.”

  The fans cheered in response.

  “And I also want to compliment your city because da-yum,” he said, shaking his head. “This town has some of the sexiest women I’ve ever seen.”

  The pitch of the screams turned sharper and decidedly more feminine. Aubrey smirked. That line worked every time, in every city.

  “In fact,” Lex continued, “when I was here last, I took a body shot off a chick from the audience, who was goddamned spectacular.”

  Aubrey blushed and glanced toward her mother, but Del only quirked an eyebrow at her.

  “So, I was thinking,” Lex said, mischief creeping into his voice, “that I might try that again. Only this time, I need a girl who’s willing to take the body shot off of me.”

  Aubrey could barely hear him over the shrieking women in the crowd. The shrill voice of the girl in front of her was enough to make anyone’s ears bleed. She didn’t know what Lex was up to, but if he took some woman up there on stage and let her lick him—well, he was going to have a cold bed to sleep in on the bus. That was for damn sure.

  Lex prowled around the stage, smiling and nodding at the fans in the audience, but didn’t select anyone. When he reached the edge of center stage, he winked at her. “How about the smoking-hot brunette down there in the front row?”

  Aubrey laughed and pointed to her chest, mouthing an exaggerated, “Who me?”

  “Yes, you, gorgeous.”

  Her mother patted her on the shoulder as she was hoisted up by the security guard. Butterflies took root in her stomach and her hands st
arted to quiver. She hadn’t been onstage since that night in the club, and that had been a small venue. Being on stage in front of thousands, well, she hoped she didn’t pee her pants.

  When her feet were planted firmly on stage, Lex’s arm encircled her waist.

  “What are you doing?” she whispered, making sure to keep her mouth next to his ear and away from the microphone.

  “Reminiscing,” he whispered back. Then he spoke to the crowd, “Everyone say hi.” The crowd shouted their greeting in unison, and her knees weakened at the sight of so many faces. How Lex stayed so relaxed on stage every night was a wonder to her. He turned to her, but spoke into the microphone. “Okay, gorgeous. Do you know how to do one of these?”

  She smirked. “I think I remember.”

  “Great,” he said, peeling off his T-shirt. “Let’s do this.”

  The sight of his bare skin, glistening with sweat, set the crowd into a screaming frenzy again. Aubrey didn’t blame them. Even though she had nuzzled and tasted every inch of that skin, she hadn’t gotten tired of looking at it.

  Lex grabbed her hand and led her to a row of speakers in front of Jared’s raised drum platform. He sat on top of them and then stretched out. Jared waggled his eyebrows at her and she smiled.

  “Bring on the liquor,” Lex called.

  Sean was at her side in a matter of seconds, placing a tray next to her that contained all the accouterments that she would need.

  “Go easy on him,” Sean whispered. He stepped around her, almost taking her out with the handle of the guitar strapped around his neck. Lex handed him the microphone and Sean secured it in a mic stand above Lex’s head so that the audience could still hear him. Sean returned to his side of the stage, clapping his hands over his head and encouraging the crowd to join in.

  Trying to ignore the fact that her mother, along with thousands of other people, were watching her, Aubrey leaned down and dragged her tongue across Lex’s hard belly. A rush of warmth replaced her nervousness. She took the saltshaker and sprinkled it over him, the grains sticking to his damp skin.

  “Don’t forget the lime,” he said.

  She grabbed the wedge and tucked it in his mouth. A hint of something unfamiliar flashed in his eyes.

  The corner of Aubrey’s mouth lifted. Was he nervous? How was that even possible? “Ready?”

  He nodded.

  She lifted the shot of tequila and stared at the glass, knowing it was going to burn like hell, but closed her eyes and tilted it back. Before the singe of alcohol could hit her, she leaned over and licked the salt off Lex. After a moment to savor the taste, she turned to take the lime.

  But there was no lime.

  Hot alcohol lit up her throat as she stared at the sparkling circle clenched in Lex’s teeth. As her eyes widened, Lex reached out a hand and tucked the lime between her parted lips. She sucked it without even noticing the sourness. Her whole body turned to jelly.

  Lex removed the ring from his mouth and sat up.

  “Ladies and gentleman,” he said, the microphone broadcasting every word, “I’d like you to meet Aubrey, the love of my life.”

  The cheers barely registered over the sound of her own heart pounding in her ears. Lex took the lime from her mouth and eased her onto one of the speakers as he stood.

  “Babe, I’ve tried to write a song a hundred times to describe how I feel about you, but some things are just too big to be put into words. Sometimes action is what’s needed. So,” he said, dropping onto one knee, “I wanted to know how you feel about forever.”

  He held the diamond ring out to her, the light glinting off its facets.

  Tears filled her eyes and the crowd behind him blurred into a sea of colors and sound. Lex, her senseless fling, her rock star, wanted forever.

  He wanted it with her.

  Cries of “Say yes!” hit her ears, but all she could focus on was the beautiful man in front of her. She raised her shaking hand to him. “Forever works for me.”

  The smile he gave her damn near broke her into pieces. He slipped the ring onto her finger and gathered her against him. With the roar of the crowd egging them on and the glare of spotlights shining down, they kissed like they were the only ones in the arena.

  Keep reading for a sneak peek at Roni Loren’s new Loving on the Edge novel, Loving You Easy, coming from Berkley in September 2016.

  Prologue

  February 14

  Log-in time: 11:26 pm

  I know how to recognize dangerous men.

  My mother taught me from an early age what to zero in on. The way a man looked at you. The way he spoke. The way he tried to get you to do something or see his point of view. The way he made you feel when he came close to you, that visceral, bone-deep sense that there was danger present. Your instincts know, Cora. Don’t ignore them.

  It’d been a lot to teach an eight-year-old.

  I doubt Mom wanted me to have to face that kind of fear so early on, but when you’re a detective and there’s a killer on the loose with a vendetta against you, you do what you have to do. My mom never caught the killer, and I never forgot the lesson.

  So even though he’s only a form on a screen—a cartoon, really—I know the instant that he strides into the game what Master Dmitry is. I know what my body is trying to tell me even as I sit in the safety of my bedroom on the other side of a screen. Danger. Back away.

  But I don’t. I can’t.

  Dangerous men scare me. And I’m fascinated. After years of being mostly ignored, of failing at the dating game, of making high art of being put in the friend zone, I want to know what it’s like to be someone else. To not play it safe. To be desired.

  I use my wireless controller and have my character, Lenore, flip her hair to catch his attention. She’s so unlike me, Lenore. All flowing blonde locks and epic curves. Feminine with a capital F. She’s the girl the guys fantasize about. I want to be that girl for a little while. Feel what that’s like.

  He turns and faces me. His hair is long and the color of the deep ocean, pulled back with a leather band. He’s chosen to wear all black. Most of the dominants in the Hayven game wear the same, but somehow it looks more fitting for him, like he was made to only wear that color. He hasn’t designed his character to be overly muscled. He doesn’t look like a comic book superhero like most of the male players in Hayven, but he’s tall and broad and intimidating. Quietly powerful.

  “So, you’re Lenore.”

  The deep voice in my headset makes me jump. I know the sound is affected by the voice changer the game has. Hayven has layers of identity protection. That’s why I’ve chosen this game, why I can be someone else without worry. But still, the sound of him in my ear is enough to send goose bumps prickling my skin. I lick my lips, force the word out. “Yes.”

  He doesn’t correct me, tell me to call him sir. I like that. I like players who don’t make assumptions.

  He steps closer. We’re in the public part of the game. You can create whatever environment you want in the private spaces, but the main part of the game has zones—the park, the island, the city, the forest, and the main house. Right now we’re in the forest. A place with towering trees and limited moonlight. There’s a map in a small box in the corner of my screen where a few red dots glow, indicating other players are nearby, but I can’t see anyone. That’s why I was here. I was looking for others to watch. That’s what I do. Harmless fun. But with Dmitry moving toward me and the first-person style of the game, I feel like I’m suddenly alone with this man. Red Riding Hood to his Wolf. I’m looking through Lenore’s eyes and there’s nowhere to run.

  “You’re popular around here,” he says, that deep voice a stroke against my ear, the sound intimately close in my headset. Despite the name, there’s no accent.

  Popular. Ha. There’s a word that’s never been used to describe me before. Unless it was to designate most popular
girl to play against in a video game battle or most popular chick to invite to guy’s poker night. But I remind myself that he’s not talking about me. Tomboy. Proud geek girl. He’s talking about Lenore. Pretty, voluptuous Lenore. “I do all right.”

  The night sky is black behind him until a streak of lightning cuts across it, making the leaves of the digital trees turn to a thousand silhouettes. The gamemasters are brewing a storm, playing with the many toys at their disposal. Dmitry doesn’t appear to notice. If anything, he looks as if he’s called the lightning himself, his presence making everything feel electric. “Why do you think you’re so popular? Besides being beautiful. There are lots of beautiful women here.”

  Yeah, no shit. No one’s going to make an ugly avatar. Hello, beauty of video games. But I don’t know how to answer the question. I’m not sure why I get a lot of friends or attention in the game. Maybe it’s because I’m involved but mysterious. I’m a watcher, a tease, not a participator. “I’m here a lot. People get to know me.”

  His blue hair is blowing in the wind now, a few strands pulling free of the tieback. “You’re here on Valentine’s Day.”

  The words hit me like icy drops of rain, yanking me briefly out of the game world and back into reality. Like I need a reminder. Like the TV isn’t playing a marathon of every romantic movie ever made. Like the dudes at my shitty job didn’t spend the day incessantly talking about how they’re so getting laid tonight because they threw a box of chocolate or some flowers at a girl. Like the guy I’ve been sleeping with for three years didn’t balk when I asked him if he wanted to do something tonight.

  Why? It’s not like we’re dating, Cora. We’re just great FWB. You’re like a bro with a vagina. Sex without the drama of things like Valentine’s Day. Which made me realize a) I thought I had a boyfriend and didn’t; b) I’ve been sleeping with a guy who uses chat abbreviations in actual speech; and c) he actually said “bro with a vagina” like that was an okay thing to call me. I’m not sure which one disturbs me more. Probably that I let this “bro with a penis” in my bed. For three years. It’s too pathetic to even cry about. Okay, maybe I cried a little.