Rock Me Two Times

by Dawn Ryder

  “‘Kiss me, Kate, we will be married o’ Sunday.’”

  She laughed as the line from The Taming of the Shrew rolled off his lips a second before he claimed her lips in a hard kiss. The crowd cheered, cameras snapped pictures, and Syon kissed her senseless.

  Yeah, completely senseless.

  Love?

  It was that too.

  * * *

  “Really?” Kate demanded. “Roadkill is getting first shot at our wedding pictures?”

  The three cameramen were pulling on their suits, obviously ill at ease in formal clothing. Around their necks were the very coveted press passes into her wedding. They were happily dashing around the perfectly manicured lawn of the church grounds, getting shots of the celebrities in attendance. Spring was just coming to England, making the two-hundred-year-old church look majestic.

  It had a bell tower with massive bells, flying buttresses holding up the ceiling, and stained-glass windows. The pews looked ancient but were gleaming from recent polish. Just stepping inside felt like a time-travel moment. She was sure she could feel the centuries of joy the building had played host to. The minister had put them through the wringer too, demanding three visits and premarital classes. But today, it was all worth it as he stood in his starched white vestment, ready to marry them.

  Everything she’d ever wanted from a fairy-tale wedding. Which just happened to fit in with the European tour dates.

  Syon started to turn to face her. She hissed at him through the open window of the bride’s dressing room. “Don’t peek! It’s bad luck to see the bride before the ceremony.”

  “You insisted I come over here,” he growled, but he leaned against the stone wall, looking away from her.

  “Because I want to know why Roadkill is here!” She felt like she was explaining something to a three-year-old.

  “Had to give them a horse trade,” Syon explained. “Some pictures more valuable than the ones they had of you.”

  “Oh.” Surprise held her silent for a moment.

  Syon took that moment to flip around and press a kiss against her lips. She squealed and slapped him on his shoulder.

  “Behave,” she scolded. But her tone lacked any true reprimand. She was so touched to hear he was championing her modesty.

  He flashed his teeth at her. “Never.” He backed up with his hands in the air. “I can promise you anything but that, sweet Kate.”

  Even dressed in a tux, he looked uncivilized.

  Just the way you like him…

  “What are you doing?” Percy exclaimed from inside the bride’s room. There was a huff and heavy footfalls as he charged toward the window.

  “You can’t see the bride before the wedding!”

  Syon grinned, unrepentant, as Ramsey came into sight. The rocker was wearing more clothing than Kate had ever seen him in.

  And he made it look good.

  But he was still rebelling, his dress shirt unbuttoned halfway down his chest.

  “Looking fine, Kate!”

  “Don’t make me come through this window,” Percy threatened in a tone that was way too playful. “I take my matron-of-honor duties seriously.”

  “Stop screeching like a scalded cat,” Steve said from across the room.

  Percy turned to look at his husband. “Does that mean I make good on my threats?”

  “No.” Steve picked up Kate’s veil. “He’s about to become a married man. So hands off.”

  “The other one isn’t.” Percy purred as he took a look at Ramsey.

  “But you are,” Steve said. “Now get over here and finish dressing the bride. That’s your job.”

  Percy smiled at her. “Oh, sweetie…you look divine, if I do say so myself.”

  Percy started to fuss, making sure the dress he’d made for her was perfect. His deep teal suit matched Steve’s perfectly. She was wearing antique lace that suited the church. A small demi-train, and a skirt that was just loose enough to flow when she walked. The silk Percy had chosen was a perfect complement to her red hair.

  “Well, if you have to get married to a man, at least you have a matron of honor I approve of.”

  Her mother was decked out in a gypsy-style skirt and tunic top. She’d kicked off her shoes by the door and was walking around barefoot, sporting a new pedicure for the occasion.

  “She’s not marrying a man; she is marrying the man,” Percy exclaimed. Steve reached over and slapped him on the shoulder.

  “Well, the man of those who aren’t taken,” Percy said warmly.

  Steve beamed at his husband.

  The church bells began to toll. Steve fluttered over to set her veil on her head as Kate sat down on a stool. Every butterfly in Great Britain was clearly in her belly. Her fingers began to tremble, and she was pretty sure she could feel the color draining from her face. There was a round of chuckles around her.

  “She’s ready,” Steve announced.

  Percy leaned over and giggled at the look on her face. “Oh yes, she’s ready.”

  Actually, she was.

  Kate stood up, feeling her insides clench with anticipation. Yup, that was exactly the way Syon had always affected her. Excitement was running through her like a live current, warming her from head to toe. She felt like she was making that climb to the crest of a roller coaster, the first drop just coming into view as she was led into the foyer where two altar boys waited to open the massive doors leading to the sanctuary. High above her head, the bells rang. The pipe organ was playing, and the hinges groaned as the doors were pulled open to let her see her groom waiting for her at the end of the aisle.

  Her mother had found her shoes and hat. She offered Kate her arm. “Ready?”

  “I sure am.”

  Her belly clenched as she took the plunge.

  Epic.

  Just epic.

  Read on for a sneak peek at book two in Dawn Ryder’s sizzling new Rock Band series

  Rock Steady

  The fog had come in to settle over the city of San Francisco. The locals put on their coats and stayed on the streets, casting off the chains of the workweek with excess. The local bars and clubs were in full swing even two full hours after midnight.

  “Where in the hell did you go?” Kate Braden propped her hands on to her hips and sent Ramsey a seething glare. “We’ve been shaking the trees for you.”

  Ramsey offered her a smile that was a shot of pure sin. He curled a hand around Kate’s hip and pulled her against his hard body while taking a moment to enjoy the display her corset top pushed her breasts into. “Would have surfaced sooner if I’d known you wanted me.”

  He purred out the word “wanted.”

  Ramsey looped an arm around her shoulders. A faint scent of scotch surrounded him, but it was a fine grade and only added to his dark-as-sin persona. He was wearing leather pants and a vest, as usual, but he fit with the crowd on the sidewalks of San Francisco. At least the crowd that was out at three thirty in the morning.

  He started to nuzzle her neck.

  “Hands off my wife there, Rams.”

  Syon Braden appeared, neatly lifting Ramsey’s hand off her hip. Syon slid in and took possession of her as Ramsey grinned.

  “What happened to Tia?” Syon asked his bandmate.

  Ramsey frowned. For a moment, his rocker image cracked, showing the very sharp mind of the man who lurked inside the Toxsin band member. It was only a momentary glimpse before Ramsey shrugged and offered them a bored expression, retreating into his bad-boy persona.

  “Guess she’s gone.” He kept his tone nonchalant. If Kate didn’t know him, she never would have guessed he cared at all about the girl in question. He shrugged again, his leather vest opening to display a peek at his six-pack abs.

  But it also showed her a flash of something else.

  Kate reached forward for the waistband of the leather pants he wore.

  “She might be your wife, but she can’t keep her hands off me…” Ramsey taunted Syon.

  Kate’s husband sh
ifted, trying to decide what she was doing. She moved the leather down just an inch and gasped.

  Syon cussed.

  The other two members of Toxsin found them and joined Syon.

  Kate moved the waistband a little more to get a better look at the new tattoo on Ramsey’s lower abdomen. “They’re…cherry blossoms…” Her voice was a horrified whisper.

  Ramsey frowned and looked down. He was sobering up quick, his expression turning deadly. “That bitch.”

  “Damn it, Ramsey…” Syon snapped. “You can’t slip the leash like that.” He peered at the delicate, blush-pink blossoms.

  “I wasn’t drunk when I went off with Tia,” Ramsey said.

  “Damned straight you weren’t,” Taz said. “I would have stayed on your butt if you were.”

  Ramsey was struggling to remember how he’d ended up with a tattoo. “I didn’t have that much.” His forehead was furrowed as he tried to concentrate. He popped open the button on his waistband and looked down.

  “Oh shit…” Drake said, his British accent emerging.

  “That’s bad,” Taz agreed.

  “We’ve got to do something,” Syon confirmed.

  Clearly tattooed on the singer’s body were two sprigs of pink cherry blossoms. They conflicted so badly with Ramsey’s dark, bad-boy persona, his bandmates stared at him for long moments as shock held them silent. It was a serious crash-and-burn moment.

  Kate pulled him closer to a street lamp, hoping the light might show it to be a temporary tattoo.

  No such luck.

  “You’re screwed.” Kate detected the faint red marks from the needle. There was a faint gloss from Vaseline, too.

  “We’re screwed,” Syon added. “We’ve got a show in forty-eight hours.”

  The members of Toxsin stuck together. Ramsey and Syon were tighter than most married couples. Kate had learned that firsthand when she’d met Syon and spent a season on tour with the band as their costumer.

  “It’s Toxsin!” someone yelled from across the street. There was a blare of a horn as the fangirls stepped right into traffic in their quest to connect with their music idols.

  Kate reached out and refashioned Ramsey’s pants to hide the tattoo.

  “I dreamed about this differently,” Ramsey drawled. “You took my pants off in my dreams. I remember that detail perfectly.”

  “Right now, they need to stay on.” She fastened up his vest while she was at it, but the garment wasn’t going to hide the top half of the second blossom.

  “We’ve got to get this fixed. Now,” Syon said. “That is going to show onstage, big time.”

  They might have been sporting long hair and leather, but all of them were dead serious as they recognized the potential for disaster the little feminine tattoo posed.

  As in…epic disaster.

  The tabloids would have a field day if even one fuzzy picture surfaced. Toxsin had just hit the Bay Area and had two days until show night. Ramsey was known for his guitar solos, and his lack of a shirt made sure his abs were on display.

  “I don’t think cover-up is going to do the job on that one,” Drake offered.

  “One little rub from the waistband of your pants and it would be all over cyberspace,” Kate added.

  “We need tattoo rescue. Like, now,” Taz added as he dug his phone out of his pocket and started searching the Internet. “The paparazzi gets a shot of that and we’re never going to live it down.”

  * * *

  “What do you think you’re going to prove?”

  Jewel tapped her fingers against the countertop and bit her lower lip. Her mom was just getting started.

  “Don’t you appreciate the education your father and I paid for?”

  “I do, Mom.” Jewel managed to keep her tone even and sweet. Really, it didn’t take much effort. At this point, she was well acquainted with her mother’s disdain for her current employment choice.

  But her skin wasn’t as thick as she’d like to think. The tone of her mother’s voice cut deep, slicing into the dream she was trying to live with the sharp blade of reality.

  Don’t hate the messenger…

  “Well, you wouldn’t know it by the way you’re playing around in that tattoo shop like some sort of orphan who didn’t have the benefit of a university education,” her mom said.

  “Are you open?”

  Jewel looked up and fumbled her phone. She was pretty sure her mouth was hanging open, but wasn’t completely sure because her brain decided to fry, leaving her staring at the decadent man prowling across the shop toward her.

  “Tell your mom you’ll call back. I need you right now.”

  Okay, fried wasn’t nearly hot enough a word to describe the sensation going through her. The guy in front of her was a god. Six and a quarter feet of raw muscle, with black eyes that looked like they’d been carved out of a moonless midnight sky. His shoulder-length hair was spiky and screamed nonconformity. But it was the flash of arrogance in his eyes that drove home just how raw he was.

  This guy took what he wanted and never apologized for any of his desires.

  It should have raised her hackles. Instead, it made her wet. And she wasn’t sure she liked it.

  Scratch that. She was sure she didn’t like it, because it felt like she was losing control.

  “Mom, I’ve…got someone in the shop.”

  Her voice had become raspy. She blinked, trying to scrape together some poise. The god grinned at her, sending a bolt of heat straight into her clit.

  Shit.

  The guy was sex-on-a-stick. And his leather pants made it clear he had quite a stick.

  “How can I help you?” she asked.

  “So, you’re open?” She realized the god had companions. One was an Asian man with short, spiky hair, black as a raven’s wing, with a flash of blue fire that made it look amazing; the other one’s blond hair fell to his shoulders.

  “Oh…sorry. I was talking to my mom…” Her tongue felt like it had gone lame. “When you walked in, that is. We’re always open.”

  And her night was suddenly looking up. “I’m Jewel. What are you gents looking for?”

  “Do you do tattoo rescue?” The blond one was talking now.

  “You can only go darker. So if it’s already black, your options are limited. But sure, I do rescues.”

  “Wait,” the Asian guy insisted. “Do you have a portfolio?”

  “Of course.” Jewel pulled a large book from underneath the counter.

  She was used to seeing leather and brawn in the shop, but there was a level of detail on all three of these guys that spoke of money. If those pants weren’t all custom-made, she’d pack it in and start sending out marketing résumés like her parents advised. She knew the difference between wannabes and genuine badasses.

  “I mean, nothing personal, but we can’t have this done by an amateur,” the Asian continued as he started flipping through the pages of her work.

  “Speak for yourself, Taz…” The dark-eyed one was leaning farther across the counter, making the air between them sizzle. “I’d like to get very personal with you.”

  His voice was like black velvet. It would be super easy to just let it rub all over her. She got the feeling she’d end up purring. There was a flash of something in his eyes, sending a tingle of apprehension through her.

  He knew exactly what sort of effect he was having on her.

  She bit her lower lip. His dark gaze dropped to the little nervous motion, his lips curving rakishly in response as he leaned on the counter, moving closer to her. He was too damned smooth, pushing on her comfort zone with an ease that was annoying but that she admired at the same time. He was arrogant but with a solid core of confidence that sent a shiver down her spine; part of her really wanted to put him to the test.

  Which wouldn’t help her pay the rent. She dug deep, trying to get a grip on her professionalism.

  “You might want to see these too.” She lifted another album from beneath the counter and handed i
t over. “These are my awards, and the back half is rescues, before and after shots.”

  The blond took it in a flash, leaving her once again staring at the dark-eyed god.

  “Maybe you should let me in on the…problem?”

  His grin grew into a huge smile that showed off gleaming white teeth. “Thought you’d never ask…”

  He straightened up, giving her another glimpse of just how tall he was before he popped the button on his pants. She was actually holding her breath as he worked the buttons on his fly.

  One…

  Two…

  Oh hell, the guy was chiseled.

  But the delicate pink blossoms hit her like a bucket of ice water. “Oh, that is just wrong.”

  Jewel came around the counter, her attention fixed on his lower belly. She sank to her knee to get eye level with the cheery tattoo. It was a sacrilege, like putting pink ribbons on the ears of a panther.

  “Hmmm…” The dark god made a soft sound under his breath and reached for her head. For a moment, she was caught in that second, waiting for his fingers to land on her.

  “Don’t be an idiot, Ramsey.” Taz smacked the hand away. “These pictures are good. We don’t need her getting pissed off because you get touchy.”

  “Looked to me like she wouldn’t mind me…touching.” There was challenge in his voice.

  Jewel straightened up, forcing herself to take a reality check. “Pissed off your girlfriend?” she asked pointedly.

  About the Author

  Dawn Ryder is the erotic romance pen name of a bestselling author of historical romances. She has been publishing her stories for over eight years to a growing and appreciative audience. She is commercially published in mass market and trade paper, and digi-first published with trade paper releases. She is hugely committed to her career as an author, as well as to other authors and to her readership. She resides in Southern California.

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