Manhandled: A Rockstar Romantic Comedy (Hammered Book 2)

by Cari Quinn

  Fuck.

  Fuck.

  Fuck.

  I withdrew. I had to. A pale shaft of light highlighted the red marks on her hips and her swollen, battered slit.

  I’d done that. I couldn’t even lie to myself about trying to be gentle. I’d fucking lost it.

  Wet from me, from us. From both of us coming our damn brains out. The place I wanted to be back inside right now.

  Fuck.

  “Stop it.”

  My gaze dropped to the floor. To the twisted puddle of the piano cover and her rumpled jeans—her shoes scattered.

  My mind equally scattered.

  She hopped off her piano—harpsichord, whatever—and wobbled.

  I steadied her, and got an armful of nail gouges for my trouble. I drew in a sharp breath through my nose.

  “Stop it. Do not regret this, Quinn Alexander.”

  How could I?

  I should. God knows I should be calling my boss and reassigning someone to her immediately. But there was no way I’d walk away. No fucking way.

  At this point it wasn’t even because Noah asked me to take care of her. I couldn’t walk away from her. Not just because my dick was as compromised as my morals, but because the moment I’d slipped inside of her she’d become mine. No question, no way to avoid it.

  I was so beyond fucked.

  A door banged open and laughter echoed down the hall.

  “Get dressed.” I turned away from her and took care of the condom. I grabbed a rag from one of the trunks and rolled the condom inside, tucking it away into my jeans pocket before I zipped up.

  “Crap,” she muttered and snapped out her jeans. “Where the hell did my underwear go?”

  I dug out my phone and used my torch app. “Here.” I picked them up, but instead of handing them over, I jammed them into my blazer pocket.

  Her eyebrows snapped together. “Those are mine.”

  “They were on the dirty floor. You really gonna put them on?”

  “No, of course not.” She wiggled into her jeans and zipped them up with a wince.

  Was she reminded of the seam that I’d used to get her off the first time, or the fact that she was still soaking wet from my touch?

  I wanted to dig my hands into her jeans and see.

  Wow. I was so far gone, I was actually heading into Neanderthal territory.

  She twisted her fingers under her shirt and did this shimmy thing and her breasts settled back into the cups of her bra. I didn’t even remember pulling at the bra.

  I didn’t remember much of anything. Just the feel of her under my hands, on my cock, the searing heat of her as I slammed inside of her again and again.

  Those were the things that were clear.

  Not things like the piano cover hitting the floor, or that her instrument hadn’t been meant for such an…energetic session.

  More importantly, I hadn’t watched the doors.

  I’d been so insane for her that I came into a dark room without checking it out just so I could finally breathe around the wanting of her.

  Yeah, none of this was in the good category. And still I couldn’t regret it. Not with her. I grabbed her hand and dragged her behind me as I checked my gun to make sure it was secure. All I needed to do was drop it like some fresh recruit walking into basic training.

  “Warden, hold up.”

  She hopped while she pulled on her other shoe then collided into my back. She jerked back when her fingers brushed my holster. I held on tight and moved down to the west wing where the dressing rooms were.

  I backed her into the wall, caging her in as a group of people walked down a parallel hallway, Indie and Owen chatting about some of the people that had shown up backstage. Of course it had to be Indie.

  I turned the doorknob to get out of the line of fire, but it was locked. Of course it was. I couldn’t duck out, I just had to hope they wouldn’t notice us.

  Her breath was hot on my chest and she smelled of me, with that underlying trace of peaches. Always the goddamn peaches.

  Her fingers fisted into the hem of my shirt as the voices faded.

  I was damned in every way, but there was one thing I couldn’t lie about. I brushed my lips against her temple. “I’m not sorry.” I took her hand and led her out of the back, and back into the light of the party.

  I glanced down at her. Her lipstick was gone, her lips a raw pink from my kisses. More like clashes of intent between us—but kisses nonetheless. My stubble had created hatch marks on her neck and the collar of her shirt was stretched—again, from me.

  As we entered the room I looked around for Patrick. He was at the back door, arms crossed, shoulders busting at the seams of his jacket. I gave him the signal for leaving. He nodded so I steered Faith to the side door where I’d stashed the car for an easy escape.

  She was quiet for once, and I took full advantage. I loaded her into the car, and rounded to the driver side, turning toward the city where our hotel was. Mansfield was in the middle of nowhere, and traffic was nonexistent at this point of the night.

  I turned into the parking garage under the hotel, and pulled into one of the last of the available spots.

  She still hadn’t said a word. As much as I’d enjoyed the silence, I knew it probably wasn’t a good sign.

  “Ready?”

  “Hmm?” She looked up from her knotted fingers. “Yes, of course.”

  I assessed the garage and hustled her to the elevators. Most of the parking spots were filled thanks to the hour of the night. People were back from whatever touristy thing they’d done, or possibly even the Hammered show she’d played.

  It was quiet, and her heels clicked loudly on the cement. She walked fast, matching my longer pace with ease. When we got into the elevator, she moved into my space. Not leaning, but definitely touching me.

  Again, I was afraid I was missing some subtle clue, but for the life of me I couldn’t figure out what her angle was. When the doors opened, she waited beside me, following me out of the elevator when I moved for the door.

  I unearthed the keycard from my wallet as we got nearer to the door. A door opened across from us, and Zach peeked out. “Did you see Reed?”

  I frowned. “I didn’t notice him at the party.”

  “Pain in my ass,” he muttered and slammed the door.

  I looked down at Faith. “Is that…”

  “Usual for them.”

  “Hmm. Should I worry?”

  She shook her head. “Bats disappears a lot lately. We’re not his keeper, as long as he shows up for soundcheck and the concert, we’ve been giving him some space.”

  I held the door open for her and followed her into our suite. She lay her hand on my torso, her fingertips absently drifting down the line of my abs. “I need a shower.”

  I nodded. “Okay.”

  She reached her hand into my blazer pocket. “I’ll take these back now.”

  I covered her hand, staring her down.

  “Is there a fetish, I should know about?” Her lips tipped up at one corner. “You’re not going to raid my drawers, right?”

  “I’m only interested in the ones that smell like you.”

  She pressed her lips together, her gaze dropping to my mouth. “Not sure what to say about that one.”

  “It’s worrisome. You always have something to say.”

  Her eyes were heavy. “Someone may have tired me out. Not to mention that I had a very kickass show tonight.”

  “Get some rest. You get to do it all over again tomorrow.”

  She smiled brilliantly this time. “Yes, I do.”

  “Goodnight, Faith.”

  “Night, Warden.”

  I should be appreciative that she wasn’t pressing for something else. Round two—well, I guess technically round three if it came to that—but she walked to her room and closed the door.

  Out of sorts, and restless as hell, I checked my messages.

  Aidan’s resident hacker guru, Lucy, was no closer to finding anyth
ing. In fact, her emails were worded rather strongly in the negative column. A voicemail flag was showing on my phone.

  Noah.

  Did the universe know or something? Fate watching with a maniacal laugh?

  “You better be taking care of that bottle of sunshine. She’s probably giving you hell. The girl does not like rules. She may rail against the idea of structure, but she’s not stupid. Keep her in the loop and she won’t give you any trouble. I’ll check in next week.”

  I threw my phone on the desk and collapsed back in the chair. “Fuck.”

  No amount of Tai Chi was going to get me out of this one. I checked the room over and plugged my phone in to charge. Her room was silent—not even any music going.

  I strode into my bathroom and cranked the shower to boiling.

  I needed to get her scent of me so I could sleep. The bar of soap wasn’t too feminine. I flipped over the box. Cucumber. Why the hell was that a scent? Whatever it was, it wasn’t peaches. I soaped up my shaft and the hair above. The places that were alive with her.

  I tipped my head back, let the steam roll through my lungs, and clear my head. I dried off and tugged on a pair of boxer briefs. I couldn’t handle clothes tonight—my skin was still going haywire from her. Nearly a year since I touched a woman, no wonder I’d nearly dislocated her shoulders in reaction. I dropped onto my belly, my dick already twitching at the memory.

  Endlessly beautiful and so out of my damn league.

  I shoved my hands under a pillow and slowly unknotted each muscle in my arms, shoulders, back. I was trained to survive on little sleep, but I was also conditioned to sleep when I could.

  And right now, I had to shut it off or I’d be a fucking basketcase tomorrow. I stared at the small clock beside my bed. Hell, it was already tomorrow.

  Two in the damn morning.

  I don’t know when I drifted off, but my body came alive and alert at the same time.

  “Warden?”

  I rolled onto my back. A filmy gray wash of pre-dawn light filled the room. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. I just didn’t want to come in and risk another pinning.”

  I dropped my arm over my face. “What are you doing, Faith?”

  The sheet rustled and my bed dipped.

  “I’m here for round two.”

  “Jesus.”

  “The second one on the harpsichord didn’t count since you never actually pulled out me.”

  I groaned as her fingers slid up into the hem of my underwear. They were a tight fit to keep the line of my suits, but it didn’t seem to matter to her. Her head disappeared under the sheet and her hot breath fanned my cock.

  Her nails scored lightly over the tops of my thighs as she moved her her lips along my shaft.

  I pushed away my sheet. Her hair was tousled around her scrubbed clean face. She wasn’t wearing seduction wear. Just a white tank and tiny yellow and blue striped panties which were currently hugging her ass that was arched out of the blankets.

  She was going to kill me.

  I pushed her hair out of her face as she moved up my hip. She paused and redirected her efforts to my ribs. She’d been right there, her breath over my cock, and now she was moving away. I should have stopped her before, but now I could add frustration and morning wood denial to the day.

  Her lips brushed over the skin of my tattoo. She followed each letter with the tip of her nail. “What does it mean?”

  I beat down the urge to groan as she tangled her legs with mine and lay against my side. “Ranger thing.”

  “Latin, I’m guessing?” She swiped her thumb along my ribs.

  “Loosely translated, ‘of their own accord’.” Because we were always first in for the most dangerous missions. I’d been a paratrooper for a lot of years. So many missions included me getting dropped in the middle of chaos.

  Of course the 75th caused more chaos than we were ever dropped into. I’d gotten the tattoo with a bunch of men on a night out. Most of the guy got large tats on their arms and down their backs. I always knew I’d need to go out and find another career. Constant killing and danger would either kill me, or kill my spirit.

  But finally, it had been Lissa that made the decision for me. And the rebar in my shoulder. And the acrid smoke and screams that scarred more than just my shoulder.

  She stacked her hands on my chest. “Where’d you go?”

  “Doesn’t matter.”

  “Does it have to do with Lissa?”

  “Not really.” I shrugged. “Some.” I tucked her hair around her ear. “She doesn’t belong here.”

  She slid one hand up higher to where my heart thudded harder with each touch. “Is she in here?”

  I dragged her up higher until her knees straddled my chest. “Not like you think. I was never in love with Lissa.”

  She propped her hand on either side of my head. “But you loved her.”

  I cupped her face. “Faith, I didn’t love her like that. She was Noah’s.”

  She frowned. “Noah’s what?”

  “Noah’s who.” Resigned, I rolled up to a seated position and circled my arms around her waist. “His wife.”

  She tried to climb out of my arms, but I held her tight. “His what?”

  “We were Rangers together.”

  She nodded. “I know. I’ve seen pictures of you with Noah in the middle of the desert. I don’t know how you guys ever managed to parachute with so much on.”

  “Training.”

  “You say it like it wasn’t awful.”

  “It was awful. Dangerous, and grueling work. It mattered though. And when we had down time, we didn’t really know how to be with anyone else other than our troop.”

  She trailed her nails over my chest, and through the hair there. She frowned at the little scars that marred my pecs. Little silvery burn scars that never quite faded.

  Nothing like my back.

  I didn’t hide them, but I didn’t discuss them either. Why I felt the need to do it with her, I wasn’t sure. “Burns,” I said softly. “There was a fire on the base.” I laughed harshly. “So many jumps to my name, so many times that I’d been in the middle of a firefight—not a scratch.”

  Her nails gripped and climbed to my shoulders.

  “Noah was out on a jump. He was part of a specialized team.” I didn’t need to scare her with the details, nor could I tell her much of them. Especially Noah. Even I didn’t know what happened on half of his missions. “There are a lot of individualized teams within the unit. Lissa hated when he was gone without me there to have his back. So I stayed in their guest room when she got really bad. I knew how to distract her.”

  Her fingers coasted higher along the nape of my neck into the short hairs there. Her eyebrows snapped down.

  “Not that kind of distraction. She was Noah’s. Sweet and funny, but also the most innocent woman I’d ever known. She honestly couldn’t handle when Noah was on a job. It’s a tough life, and being a Ranger’s wife is probably right up there with being a SEAL’s wife.”

  She would have either had a breakdown, or divorced him. Intellectually, I knew that, but it didn’t change the fact that I’d watched her die. I hadn’t been able to help her.

  I’d let Noah down.

  One hand slid back down to where the scars on my chest. “The fire?”

  I sighed. “Base housing. Think townhouse, but not quite as nice.”

  “Nice to know our soldiers are so safe.”

  “Budgets, the never ending struggle. One of the main reasons so many of us go into the private sector.” I drew little circles on her lower back as the memories snuck in. “I woke to smoke. Thick and disorientating, but my training kicked in and I went on the offense. Get everyone out. I went looking for Lissa. The hallway was in flames—they said it was an electrical fire. There were no sirens, no help coming. I had to go get her.”

  I couldn’t leave her. It wasn’t an option. Self preservation was an afterthought in my line of work.

  “I
got her out of their bedroom. I got her into the living room, there were flames every which way I turned. The load bearing wall came down on us. I was pinned by a steel rod into the floor. I couldn’t get up. I couldn’t get to her.” The flames and the heat—so much heat and noise.

  Her cool hands came up to cup my face. “Hey.”

  “I couldn’t save her.”

  “You know it’s not your fault right?”

  “Sure—doesn’t make her any less dead. Didn’t make me any less alive because the wall actually saved me.”

  There were no screams from Lissa in my nightmares. The screams were mine. She’d already been gone before the flames had done their horrifying damage.

  Faith wrapped her arms around my neck and gripped my back. Her eyes were damp, starring her blonde lashes with tears for me. She frowned, and her touch went across my shoulder.

  She scooted around me and covered her mouth.

  “Faith, I’m fine. Maybe not fine enough to parachute anymore, but I’m fit and able to do my job.”

  She punched my arm. “I don’t care about that. I know you can shoot your damn gun.”

  I laughed. God, I didn’t think I’d ever be able to laugh with memories of Lissa lodged in my brain. “You’ve never seen me shoot my gun.”

  “If Noah trusts you to shoot, I know you can shoot. He was a sniper for God’s sake. He wouldn’t let just anyone take care of me.”

  I swiped my hand over my hair. “You know he’s a sniper?”

  “I figured it out.” She dashed away tears. “He wasn’t exactly happy about it, but he didn’t deny it. He won’t give us any details—Hunter either—I just know that I wouldn’t want to be on his bad side.”

  “Truth.” I pulled her around in front of me again. She knelt between my legs, her hair wild and her eyes bright. “Now that you know my ugly little secret, can you see why this isn’t a good idea?”

  “Why? Because you’ll worry about me? Would it change if we weren’t sleeping together? Would it magically make everything better if you put me back into that box you had me in before?”

  “Yes, dammit.”

  “No.” She linked her arms around my neck. “This thing between us? It’s going to be here whether you try and deny it or not. I don’t want to pretend I don’t want you.” She brushed her cheek against my dark scruff. “I’ve never felt like this before.”