Manhandled: A Rockstar Romantic Comedy (Hammered Book 2)

by Cari Quinn

  “Really? Tonight?”

  “It was just—well, one time.”

  “That’s all it takes. Just one time.”

  “There hasn’t been one peep out of this psycho. She probably crawled back into whatever hole she was in before.”

  “Because that’s how kidnappers work. You know this how?”

  I stood. “Wouldn’t she have done something by now?”

  “What if she’s been doing something this whole time?”

  “Like what?”

  “You don’t think it’s crazy you get a package from a fan every month?”

  “Not you too. You’ve got Devon all paranoid now. Did she put you up to this?”

  Quinn spun his phone onto the coffee table in front of me. “It starts with little things. A book you mentioned, a handmade thing scrapbook, a shirt you mentioned in an interview, a ring that made her think of you.”

  “I don’t know if they’re from a her. The packages are never signed.”

  He tapped the home button on his phone and slid it in front of me. “How about this.”

  I frowned and picked up his phone. There were a bunch of images in a gallery. I opened one. “It’s a setlist. So what? We throw them out into the crowd after shows. People like them as keepsakes of the show.” I handed him back the phone.

  “Look closer.”

  I sighed, then opened another and another file. The date was scrawled across the top, as was the venue. “Seattle, Spokane, Boise, Billings…These are in order.”

  “Notice anything else?”

  “That your screen is absurdly small.”

  “Magnify it, Faith.”

  My hand shook a little, but I tapped on the picture. My name was in the corner. Smudges of ink and dirt from taping it on the floor, but it was the perfect block letters in the margin with notes and arrows that dried my mouth. I opened them one by one. Every single one had notes about improving a song, changing one out, demands for longer solos.

  I placed the phone on the desk.

  “You don’t think this is a bit over the line?”

  I stood up. “Of course it is, but it’s not a threat.”

  His light blue eyes flashed. “I’d call it intent.”

  “If you brought it to a cop, what would they do?”

  “Nothing. Because the boxes come from mail centers all over Manhattan. They’re unmarked and unsigned.”

  I brushed by him to stand in front of the fireplace.

  He came up behind me and settled his hands on my shoulders. “I know you want to believe the best in people, but not everyone is harmless.”

  I lifted my eyes to meet his in the mirror. “Devon tried to show me these, but I put her off. Before you took over my life, I barely paid attention to the packages. I swear I have like five of them in my closet unopened.”

  His nostrils flared.

  “I just didn’t think—”

  “No, you didn’t.” He turned me around to face him. “I know you think it’s paranoia talking, but I really think this is the same person. It’s what my gut says.”

  “You can’t know that.”

  “I don’t. I just know that following my gut has saved me more times than I can count. I’m not going to ignore this, not when it comes to you. I need more proof, and I’m going to find this woman, but I need you to help me. I can’t do my job if you’re undermining the operation because you’re bored.”

  I winced. “It sounds so bad when you say it like that.”

  “You think I like being the bad guy? But you pay me to look at the shadows and the ugly parts of this world.”

  My father paid him. My chest constricted. Mustn’t forget that he was with me because he had to be. So much truth in one evening.

  The notes and presents from my fan had always been sweet. I’d even thanked him or her on our YouTube channel and showed off some of the items.

  I closed my eyes.

  Had I deepened the focus?

  “This is my fault.”

  “Absolutely not.” He cupped my face. “But that sweet nature of yours can make people believe anything is possible.”

  I sniffed and pulled out my phone. “I didn’t even think about it. I used to do video blogs all the time. Little things to thank the fans. We’ve been so busy I haven’t been able to do them much lately.” I kept scrolling and finally found it. “Here. My Secret Admirer.” I pushed my phone into his hand and crossed the room to pick up my wine again.

  I tipped back the glass and swallowed all of it, refilling my glass as my chirpy voice laughed through a video, gushing about the gifts I’d received so far.

  Had I inadvertently made this person believe they were even more important?

  “I’m sending this to Lucy to look at. Maybe she can look around at the code and see who’s visited the site. A repeat offender that can’t stop watching it maybe.”

  “Yeah, maybe.” I wandered to the window and watched the trees sway in the light breeze. Right now I actually missed my back patio, and my lemon trees.

  Even if glass had just as much fear attached to it as anything else these days. I never knew who was watching anymore. And if this super fan had been to all my shows lately, had she been watching me other times of the day?

  Had she seen me with Quinn?

  Would she hurt him?

  I pressed my forehead to the cool glass.

  “Faith?”

  I took a step back. “Yeah, yeah. I know—get away from the glass.”

  He came up behind me, his eyes so dark and intense. “No, actually you’re safe here. My house was one of the prototypes for the Carson glass I told you about.”

  “The glass that’s getting installed at my house soon?”

  “The same.”

  I shuddered. Safe. Not on display. I’d never really worried about it before. I’d spent most of my adult life in the spotlight—it had always been my normal. But it felt different now. Shadows felt darker, and the lights felt intrusive. I was able to ignore most of it on stage, but now that she might be at every show, I wasn’t sure how I was going to do this.

  He slid an arm around me and caught my hand, bringing it up to the glass. He spread his fingers between mine so we both touched the coolness. “I know I scared you tonight.”

  His warm skin seeped into mine. I didn’t realize just how cold I’d been until now. “Guess we’re even. I probably scared the hell out of you by disappearing.”

  “Understatement.” His other arm looped around my hip, his thumb brushing over my belly chain.

  I rolled my head against his chest. “I hate this, Quinn.”

  “I know, babe.”

  I couldn’t stop a smile. He used my name almost exclusively. He didn’t seem to be a nickname person like I was. But every once in awhile that one slipped out. Usually when he wasn’t quite awake. “Can we have that make up sex now?”

  “What if I’m still mad at you?”

  I covered his hand on my hip and slid it up to my breast. “Be mad later. Touch me now.”

  He flipped the cup of my bra up and plucked at my nipple. The glass was like a mirror with the night behind it and the soft light at our backs. “I’m not sure I have gentle in me yet.”

  I groaned as I watched the pink flush to a darker rose with every tug. His hand was large and tanned with little silvery scars hatching his fingers in odd little spots. A man’s hand. No part of him was soft.

  But I didn’t want the soft, or the sweet. Not really.

  I just wanted him.

  He watched us in the glass, his eyes hooded as he took my other hand and put it against the window. “Keep them there, Faith.”

  I shivered at his dominant tone. The fact that this voice could piss me off and turn me on was wrong on a number of levels. He left the bra flipped up, and my shirt shoved up against my neck. He dragged his lips and stubbled chin along my ribs to my spine and followed the dip to my ass as he crouched behind me.

  He traced the chain around my belly with his midd
le finger from each hand, then came back to the middle, under my navel, and flicked open the three buttons of my hip hugging jeans.

  His breath fanned along the cleft of my ass as he pulled them and my thong down and off.

  “I can smell the stage on you.” He nudged my legs apart and licked my inner thigh just under the curve of my cheek.

  I swallowed hard.

  He smoothed his palm over each cheek and opened me with his thumbs. “Peaches and Faith.”

  My breathing was shallow. My thighs shook as I waited for him to touch me. My heartbeat filled my brain, my heart had to be leaping out of my chest. He was crouched behind me, silent, waiting.

  “Quinn.”

  I was going mad.

  I stared at myself in the window. Lost. Wild. Trembling on the edge of something I was too afraid to name.

  A light, cool breeze kissed my overheated skin.

  Breath.

  His.

  On me.

  My fingertips went white around my lilac nail polish.

  Then finally there was his mouth. Tongue as harsh as sandpaper on my oversensitive skin. He went deeper, touched everything, and sipped.

  No—he drank.

  God, I was so wet. My face flushed red at the way my body reacted. I flooded his mouth, heard the groans as he teased and tormented. He drew his knuckle through my slick folds to my clit and circled endlessly, patiently, and relentlessly.

  My thigh shook as everything inside me clenched and released. We were alone, there was no one across the hall, no one on the other side of us. Thank fuck because I could hear the screams above the roar in my head. That couldn’t be good for the neighbors.

  I swear I didn’t care.

  I dropped my face between my outstretched arms, my hips raised to get away from his greedy mouth. I couldn’t take any more of it. Every atom felt as if it was going to fly apart. He didn’t stop. His tongue and fingers tormented and teased.

  Finally he stood behind me, is chin damp as he stared at me in the glass. He reached around me and yanked me back against him, driving two fingers into me as he jerked at his pants behind me.

  “Hurry.” I took one hand off the glass and he growled into my ear. I put my palm back on the cool window with a moan.

  I moaned when his fingers retreated. No. I needed him inside me. The telltale crinkle flooded my blood with euphoria.

  Yes. Yes, inside me.

  I must have said it out loud because his voice rang in my ears. “Fuck, yes.”

  Then he lifted me on my toes with the force of his thrust. I was so ready for him. I wanted this Quinn. The one that was a little too harsh, missing the gentle.

  “Harder,” I said.

  He slammed into me and my teeth rattled. So full. So much Quinn.

  So much mine.

  He drew my hands together on the window, lacing his fingers in between until we were twisted. His other arm held me steady, his fingertips circling, ever circling as he destroyed me.

  Branded me from the inside out.

  My nails dug into his fingers, into my own, my muscles clenched as I sobbed out his name.

  My forehead fell forward on our tangled fingers as I took each thrust. He was so much taller than me and the angle was tough on him, but he didn’t relent. I reached onto my toes as much as I could until my calves cramped and my spine buzzed for mercy.

  I didn’t want it though.

  God, I didn’t want mercy. I’d never felt this alive.

  Finally, I think he drew back and spun me around, wrapping my legs around him as we walked us toward the fireplace and the leather bench in front of it.

  “We have a thing for benches.”

  He laughed, his teeth and tongue scraping over my neck. He sat down with me astride him, fully seated inside me. “Oh, wow.” I rolled my hips and the veins in his neck bulged.

  There.

  He gritted his teeth and plunged deeper. Distraction threatened to take me under, back to the mindless place where I took and took. It was so easy to fall into that blackness of pleasure and letting my body just ride his storm.

  I wanted to be his storm.

  I wanted to watch him go blind for me.

  I tipped my hips forward. I cried out at how deep he was, how he filled every empty place inside of me. Places I didn’t know were there. I curled my arms around is neck, my fingers in his hair and rode him.

  Watched him as I took him again and again.

  I watched him lose it. His eyes icy blue eyes so fierce as he tried to hold out. His fingers gripped my hips as he pulsed inside of me. The groan wrenched out of him as I squeezed around him. As I watched him come for me.

  So beautifully savage.

  So much mine.

  31

  Quinn

  “Mercy.”

  I grinned as she crawled away from me on the bed. I’d rented out my house for so long I couldn’t actually remember the last time I’d slept in this bed.

  Of course we really hadn’t done any sleeping.

  I dragged her back under me and slipped my hand between the mattress and her slick thighs. Wet from me, wet from us, and so very wet from the string of orgasms I’d dragged out of her.

  Still it wasn’t enough.

  I’d hoped that if I made her scream my name all night I could get the overwhelmed feeling out of my chest.

  Sex I could do. I was good at figuring out what pleased a woman and going after it like a sidewinder missile. I knew exactly what to do for Faith. Watching her break for me was addictive.

  Breaking for her…yeah. Not so much.

  I’d made the rest of the night my mission to leave her in a trembling heap. Maybe then she’d think twice about ditching me for a fucking concert, too.

  I rolled us both to the side and dragged the head of my cock along her pussy. I looked down at us, her skin rose pink and swollen as she took me inside of her. I groaned, rolling my hips until my shaft scraped along her walls and I felt her quake.

  I drew my fingers down where we were joined. So wet for me.

  She reached up between us and anchored her hand in my hair. I stroked up and down her body. Belly to breast and up to her neck, then back around. I couldn’t stop touching her.

  I couldn’t let go.

  Finally all the times I’d denied myself to watch her go over had been one too many. She rolled into a ball, trapping my hand against her. As if that would stop me. I was high off the number of times she’d waffled between Warden and my name as I stroked her clit and thrust inside of her.

  She wrapped herself around my arm as I curled around her and finally let go. I buried my head into the back of her damp neck and breathed through the searing release. She fisted around me, her cries finally turning to hiccupping shudders.

  I held onto her, gentled my touch and kissed her neck, her jaw, her mouth. When I slid out of her, she twisted in my arms, her face in my neck, her body still tight.

  I stroked her back until she unfurled, until I heard her breathing ease and finally until she drifted off.

  I was so very fucked. I knew I was too close to her, but I couldn’t find the distance I needed. I wasn’t sure I’d ever be able to find it. That scared me most of all.

  What if I wasn’t enough for her?

  That last gift she’d received went beyond fan adulation. Profiling courses had been offered as part of the training with Aidan’s team. How to spot a threat and devise a way to protect our client was one thing, but there were a number of stalking cases that Roth Defense took care of in their bodyguard unit.

  I didn’t generally work those. My specialty was long term defense for dignitaries, and the elite rich. They often required the tactical background I had. I had no real defense for the psychology of obsession.

  Especially when each clue seemed to point closer to someone that’s focus was way beyond addiction and adoration. This fan going to every show told me they didn’t have a regular day job, but they also had to have the fiscal ability to travel and pay for tic
kets.

  I’d seen the prices for Hammered’s tickets. Not exactly on the cheap end of the spectrum. Sure they could pay for the cheaper lawn seats on the outdoor venues, but that wouldn’t get them near the front of the house where the setlist were.

  Especially since eighty percent of the physical copies had been labeled, Keys. Worrisome didn’t cover it.

  I held onto her as the night turned to the pearl gray of morning. I hated to wake her, but we needed to get back to the hotel and get ready to leave for the next city.

  The next few weeks were arrowing toward New York and my old stomping grounds. I managed to go home for most holidays, but an impromptu visit home was tempting.

  Faith would need to be with me.

  The idea of her meeting my folks was a little nerve racking. Especially since I had no way to turn off my feelings around her, and my mother was a damn hawk.

  She’d figure it out.

  But if I was in the area and I didn’t go home—well, there was no way I’d be forgiven. Ever.

  It was going to be a rough few weeks.

  Faith seemed to understand that she was going to be on a short leash, but I knew she wasn’t going to make it easy.

  Why would it be easy anyway?

  I pressed a kiss to her forehead and massaged the base of her skull.

  She groaned into my neck. “No.”

  “Time to go. Hell to catch when we get back.”

  She sighed. “I already have five angry texts on my phone from last night.”

  “Your people care about you.”

  “I know. I have learned my lesson. Mostly.”

  I propped myself on my elbow. “All the way.”

  “There will be whining.”

  “I figured.”

  She wrinkled her nose at me. “Those shows are how I broke the monotony of touring.”

  “Guess I’ll just have to find other ways to do that.”

  She dragged her sheet up and sat cross legged. “I’ll be holding you to that.”

  “Why don’t you make me playlists then. Your…what do you call it? Jukebox brain?”

  Faith grinned. “I get to play teacher?”

  I rolled out of bed and stood. “Don’t get so excited.”

  “Oh, no. This is awesome. I shall school you by genre.” She rolled onto her knees, holding the sheet over her breasts as she inched across the bed. She reached up and put her hands on my chest, her eyes sparkling as the sheet slipped.