Rock My Christmas (FlameSmith in Love Book 1)

by Kitchell, Laura

  “Can’t say as I do.” Every nerve in his body screamed at him to run, but he held his seat. This served as his peace offering for being such a wanker to her. Anyhow, his hair had started annoying him.

  The scissors sliced on a metallic snick, and he held his breath. Snick. Snick. Her fingers measured, tugged, and combed. She shifted, and when her firm breasts brushed his arm, he opened his eyes. He released the pent breath and inhaled her clean scent.

  Snick. Snick.

  Bits of hair dropped past his face to his lap. The small pieces placated him, as well as her sure movements. He relaxed a bit.

  He liked the fragrance of her shampoo, which clung to her drying curls. She had lazy, sexy curls that fell in layers past her shoulders. Where moisture remained, her hair had an auburn hue, but where her curls had dried and gained body and bounce, it fairly glowed a rich, burnt orange. It felt like silk where it rested on his bare shoulder a minute while she trimmed his topmost length.

  As her fingernails grazed the back of his head, and then she gently pulled his hair straight before applying the blades, a quickening began in his groin. Luckily, the slide of cold steel along the skin of his neck provided enough danger to prevent an actual hard-on.

  “Don’t cut it too short. I have an image to uphold. I can’t very well go into the public eye looking like a complete nob.”

  “Trust me.” She moved in front of him, her eyes intent while she raked his hair from his crown to his hairline.

  “I’m incapable. Don’t ask it.”

  She went to the counter and squirted clear gel into her palm from a green tube. “You are capable. How are you going to give me work if you don’t trust me to do as you ask?”

  “That’s different.”

  Kendel worked the gel through his hair, and he closed his eyes. He liked yet feared her confidence. She could really screw him. Especially living here, she would continue to tempt him while witnessing first-hand his habits and idiosyncrasies.

  “Self-important?” he asked.

  “Excuse me?”

  “You’re excused. At my bedroom door, you called me famous and self-important.” His arousal pressed at the unrelenting material of his jeans, and he unsuccessfully willed it to abate.

  “I was angry, and you’d been mean since I got here yesterday.” She retreated a step, gave his hair a sideways swipe at his forehead, and offered a satisfied smile. “Now, that looks good.”

  “I’m not, you know. Self-important.”

  Her azure gaze met his eyes. “You’ll have to prove it. You’re first impression needs work, Burn.”

  “Perhaps.”

  “Have a look.”

  Slowly he stood then faced her vanity mirror. A dapper, fashionable reflection met his study. She’d cut his hair into a style that swept forward, formed a sort of stiff-looking short bang that partly went sideways and partly went up into a cool crest. He swiveled his head left and right, liking the shortness at the back. His hair still went to his collar, but it lay straight instead of curling.

  “What do you think?” Kendel came to his side and ran her fingers through the hair at the side, her soft fingers brushing the curve of his ear and renewing his arousal.

  In a too-throaty voice, he said, “It’s edgy. Clean. I like it.”

  “I’m so glad.” She flashed straight, white teeth at him in the mirror.

  He strode out, desperate to leave before he lost control and put his hands on her. Over his shoulder, he said, “Pick me up a bag of plain chocolates while you’re out.”

  * * *

  “You’re welcome,” Kendel called after Burn, but he didn’t respond.

  She glanced at the mess of trimmings on the floor and shook her head. He couldn’t say thank you? What was wrong with that man?

  After cleaning the bathroom, she borrowed a bicycle from Bill in the security office and used her phone app to map her way around. Luckily, she didn’t have far to go.

  She made her final stop at a convenience market several blocks from Ganon Square and chose a few bags of chocolate. She had no idea if he liked milk, dark, or bittersweet, and she couldn’t take the chance of making a wrong choice. With the sun beginning to set, she suspected she’d have no time to run more errands tonight.

  A man at the checkout ahead of her wore a camera around his neck. He glanced at her then at the badge hanging from her lanyard. “Which one do you work for?”

  A clerk stepped behind the counter and waved her to a second register. She placed the candy on the counter and handed over Burn’s credit card.

  The man leaned closer. “I can make it worth your while. You tell me where the band will be, and I’ll split the picture money with you.”

  Disgusted, she refused to give him the courtesy of an answer. She finished making her purchase and accepted her shopping bag from the clerk. She dropped it into the bag with the agent’s wrapped gift.

  As she moved past the photographer toward the exit, he grasped her by the elbow. “I’m serious.”

  She yanked free, appalled. “Seriously disturbed maybe. Don’t ever touch me, you slimy creep.”

  Outside, her hands shook as she slid the bag’s handles onto the bike’s handhold. Man, that guy had some balls. No wonder Burn couldn’t trust her yet. With paparazzi promising money to the stars’ employees, temptation waited everywhere.

  She returned the bicycle to Bill, offering him a smile and thank you, then hurried to the eighth floor. Both Dan and Burn looked sexy in black leather pants, leather boots, and silk shirts.

  The bass player stood in the kitchen, drinking a glass of water at the sink. “Have to hydrate before drinking champagne.”

  She wouldn’t know. Kendel pulled the sack of chocolates out of the department store bag as Burn came to her.

  “Did you get the gift?” he asked.

  “I’ll always do what you ask,” she promised, pulling the gold foil-encased box out and handing it to him. She used her thumb to reshape a wire in the red ribbon where the fancy bow had flattened a bit.

  “Damn.” Dan came from the kitchen with a cheap-looking green and red gift bag in hand. “Maybe Marty should take shopping lessons from you. I’m going to look like an ass walking into the party next to you.”

  “What is it?” Burn asked, weighing the present on a flat palm.

  “A sweater.”

  His gaze narrowed on her.

  “Don’t worry. It’s classy. You won’t be embarrassed.” She lifted the bag of chocolates. “Do you want me to put these in your room?”

  His features went tight, and he snatched the bag from her. “No! No. I’ll take care of it.”

  When he strode away, she arched her eyebrows at Dan.

  He only laughed. “Don’t ask. You don’t want to know.”

  Ah. One of these secrets he guarded so diligently. Did he have implements of S&M torture in there? Or maybe a poster of his celebrity crush? She cleared her throat. If his roommate said she didn’t want to know, she’d take his word.

  Then again, they were getting ready to leave her here. Alone.

  Chapter Four

  V grinned wickedly as Burn followed Dan into the back of their limo. “Your aide’s in love with you already? She must be a glutton for punishment.”

  Burn glanced at the elegant present he settled onto his lap as he closed the door. “You firmly establish what I’ve long suspected. That drugs have finally fried your brain.”

  When the limo headed for the gate, V unzipped his slacks and pulled his penis free. The brunette next to him went for it, her pretty face going to his crotch. The lead singer sucked a satisfied breath into his gaping mouth and rested his head on the seatback.

  Dan shrugged. “You wouldn’t say so if you saw them together.”

  “She hates me,” Burn admitted, glancing out the window as an unexpected twinge of regret stabbed his gut.

  “It’s true.” His flat mate chuckled. “It’s actually fun having Kendel around. She’s not afraid of him.”

&nb
sp; “God, yes!” V tangled fingers into the brown curls blanketing his thighs. He waved the other hand toward Burn’s head. “I like your new look. You get a new stylist?”

  “Kendel cut it.”

  The lead singer laughed. “She’s yours and you don’t even know it. You daft prick.” His eyes closed.

  “Spectacularly unfair. You have no clue, V. Why don’t you concentrate on getting your rocks off and shut the fuck up.” Burn’s stomach roiled.

  Why did he let his friend get to him? Kendel wasn’t even keen on him, much less in love with him. In fact, he couldn’t determine why she stayed. Perhaps V had hit on something. Was she a glutton for punishment? Was she a woman who thrived on abuse?

  He dismissed the idea. She stood up to him. Had put him in his place a couple times. She was nobody’s victim. Intrigued, he fingered the present’s ribbon. He shouldn’t think of her. She only worked for him. He’d push her one time too many, and she’d leave. She almost had after that shower ordeal. He squeezed his eyes closed.

  They stopped, and Dan went into an apartment building that appeared to have been built in the 1970’s. He returned with the blonde who’d spent last night at the condo. Offering him a beaming smile, she climbed in. Her large breasts nearly slipped from the silver lamé bodice on her form-fitting blue mini-dress. She squealed then giggled, pressing a tanned hand to her cleavage.

  V finished on a grunt, and the brunette sat up. She daintily wiped her bottom lip while sending Burn a suggestive smirk. He sniffed. There’d been a time, years ago, when he’d willingly share a beauty like her. Not now. Not after a woman of the same ilk had promised him love and forever then cleared his bank account and ran to France.

  The limo continued, and they collected their keyboardist, Air, and his live-in girlfriend at his place. Burn didn’t mind not having a date. He rarely did. Dates got ideas, like seeing each other afterward, and commitment, and meaningful conversation. Sod that.

  * * *

  After Kendel had everything except her bathroom items packed into her carry-on for the trip, she went and contemplated Burn’s closed door. He really shouldn’t have left her here. Curiosity flared like a fire in her brain.

  He probably kept his door locked. Of course, he did. Mr. Can’t Trust Women had a woman living in his home. He wouldn’t take the chance. Would he?

  She slowly reached for the knob but yanked her hand back before touching it. She wanted him to trust her, if only to realize that honorable women existed. If Dan’s warning had grounds, she suspected her face would give her away should she actually look in his room.

  Releasing a frustrated growl, she forced her back to his door. She wanted him to respect her, so she had to respect him. In her bedroom, she readied for bed then crawled beneath the covers. Her thoughts wouldn’t let her relax, however.

  “It doesn’t matter what’s in his room,” she told the ceiling. “It’s none of my business.”

  Still, she couldn’t rest. She left her bed and paced in her camisole and underwear, too warm without cause. She didn’t see a thermostat for the room, so she moved to the hallway, which felt ten degrees cooler. Hesitating, she wondered if walking around two men’s apartment in her panties crossed a line.

  It did. But considering the guys tended to stay out all night, and Burn apparently had no qualms wandering the place in an indecent state of undress, she went to the living room.

  The couch proved far more comfortable than it looked, so she stretched along its cushions and used the remote to search television shows. Nothing grabbed her attention.

  The remote indicated the television had direct streaming, so she investigated. They had a number of sources from which to choose, and she selected a movie service. She set a number of filters and smiled when Notting Hill appeared first on a list.

  She hit play, and while it ran through the lengthy opening credits, she padded to the kitchen and popped a bag of popcorn.

  Settling in for the movie, she sighed. She’d have to tread carefully because she could get used to such a life.

  No. She couldn’t think this way. These guys were part of a rock band. Nothing about famous musicians spelled security and steadiness. She didn’t want a transient life. She wanted nine to five. Holidays off. A dog and a backyard. Her husband home every night. She wanted exactly the opposite of her childhood.

  The movie started in earnest, and she sank into the world of close friends and new love. Every now and then, she remembered tomorrow’s trip to Korea, and she smiled at a flutter of excitement in her middle.

  “Do I smell popcorn?”

  “Burn!” Gasping, Kendel fumbled for the remote control and nearly toppled the snack bag. She stopped the movie then hit the power button. Grimacing, she got to her knees, using the couch back to hide her scantily clad bottom half. “Sorry. Yes. I couldn’t sleep.”

  He leaned a shoulder on the protruding corner where the entryway met the living room wall. Rubbing his eyes with the thumb and index finger of the same hand, he lowered his head and slouched.

  Concerned, she scooted off the sofa and went to him. She touched his arm. “Are you feeling okay?”

  He opened tired, slightly puffy eyes. His gaze traveled from her hand on his arm to where her camisole clung to her then to her underwear and bare legs.

  As if he’d scorched her, she jerked her fingers free of him. Her nipples hardened. Awareness shot deep into her belly. Mortified, she whispered, “My room was hot.”

  His gaze found and held hers. “Do you hate me?”

  She opened her mouth to deny it but closed her lips, afraid of what she might say. The truth could rear its ugly head, and she refused to give it a voice. She released a slow breath. “The jury’s still out.”

  He didn’t move or show any reaction.

  “Is there something I can get you? You don’t look well.”

  “I’m fine.”

  She had become accustomed to his serious, taciturn demeanor, but this quiet intensity unnerved her. “I’ll just go put on a robe.”

  “Don’t.”

  “I should.”

  “You look comfortable. Makes me wish I’d been the one watching a film in my knickers. I can’t remember the last time I did that.”

  She couldn’t comprehend his mood. “I would say go ahead, but you look really tired.”

  “Indeed. Suddenly I’m exhausted.” He sighed heavily.

  “Maybe you should go to bed.”

  He stared at her, but his gaze lacked its usual hostility. The awareness increased, creating a bittersweet arousal that edged her into a squirming discomfort. Why did she want him? He despised her. Yet she detected a vulnerability in his eyes she couldn’t ignore.

  She longed to return to her room and escape his scrutiny. He looked ready to drop, though. Was he high? Drunk? She couldn’t guess, but something told her if she left him, he’d collapse to suffer the night on the floor.

  She offered a tentative smile. “Did your agent like the sweater?”

  “I don’t know. I didn’t stay long enough to find out.” He sagged.

  “Why? Was it a boring party?”

  “Tonight, I’m afraid I was the boring party. I let V get in my head. Big mistake.” He slid two inches downward.

  Alarmed, Kendel took him by the arm. “Let’s get you to bed.”

  “No.”

  “You’re going to drop. I mean it, Burn.”

  “You can’t go in my room.” His last three words slurred.

  Her heart skipped a beat. “Whoa! Don’t pass out on me. I’m not equipped to deal with a wasted rock star.”

  His dark eyes softened as a hint of a smile skimmed his lips. “I’m not wasted. I’m knackered.”

  She could only gape. The man had instantly transformed from sexy, dangerous devil to charming, irresistible angel. God help her. “Can you make it to your room on your own?”

  “Absolutely,” he mouthed, his eyes closing. He leaned along the wall then stumbled a few steps into a run that appeared more
like a controlled crash in the making.

  “Wait. Burn!” She hurried after him, imagining him taking a face-dive that would leave him bruised and swollen for his overseas concerts.

  He reached for the doorframe of his room but missed. His fingers skated the wall then caught on the entrance to hers. He swung through the opening.

  “Burn!” She ran inside as he shed his shirt then flopped onto her bed. “You can’t sleep here.”

  He didn’t move. “It’s hot as Hades in here.”

  “I mean it. You have to go to your own room.”

  “Just for a minute,” he murmured. “One minute.”

  Helpless, she stood at the foot of her bed and eyed the beautiful man sprawled atop her rumpled covers. He went limp, and his breathing deepened into sleep’s steady pull and delayed release.

  “Damn it.”

  His slumber lulled her, and she resisted the weight settling upon her eyelids and limbs. She couldn’t join him in the bed, despite the temptation. Neither could she go to his room. She’d promised herself she wouldn’t. For a moment, she contemplated sleeping on the sofa.

  What if he got sick in the middle of the night? What if he needed help? Submitting to the blanket of somnolence that wrapped her in warm numbness, she shuffled to the closet nearest the bed and sank to the floor. She pressed her spine to the cool glass mirror, and it felt good. She’d never seen Burn so peaceful as he looked now, asleep.

  * * *

  Burn woke disoriented. Where was he? Then it came to him. He’d somehow crashed in Kendel’s room. Her lamp still cast a golden glow, but where had she gone?

  A moment of panic arrested him at the idea that she might’ve gone to his room. Then he lifted to his elbows.

  She sat on the carpet, her head on her knees and her hair cascading in large, silky-looking curls down her white calves.

  For the first time in years, he wanted a woman in his arms. To have her near. Against him. Her softness. Her sweet curves. Her comforting warmth and scent.

  “Kendel,” he whispered. Slipping from the bed, he let slumber keep a faint grip on him. “You’re going to be stiff, gorgeous. You’ll never make it twelve hours on an airplane if you hurt.”