by Brooklyn Ann
All thoughts ceased as he went back to work on her hair. Her scalp tingled pleasurably at the sensual ministrations of his fingers sliding across her scalp and the nape of her neck. Kinley’s shoulders relaxed and it was all she could do not to lean back against his chest and moan in ecstasy.
Too soon it was over.
Quinn shifted on the bunk and pulled the covers back before getting into the bed. “Well, are you ready to turn in?” He sounded as nervous as she felt.
“I-I guess so.” She winced at her stammer. Though it was twice as wide as her old bunk in the back, Quinn’s bed seemed smaller.
Quickly, she climbed in next to Quinn, shaking so much from nervousness and excitement that the mattress springs squeaked. There was no way he didn’t feel it.
He sighed and brushed his hair out of his face. “There’s nothing to worry about, Kinley. I’m not going to try to mess around with you—and even if I would, I don’t fuck in public.”
Curt let out a high-pitched giggle. “Prudey McPrude…”
“Okay, there is something to worry about,” Quinn added, rolling his eyes. “From this end of the bus, you’ll probably end up seeing way more of Curt’s bare ass than you’d like.”
“Oh,” she said dryly, fluffing her pillow. “Joy.”
He chuckled and rolled over to face the wall, keeping his promise to behave like a gentleman.
Kinley lay stiff as a board, fighting the urge to snuggle up against him. Her mind raced like a marathon runner. He already said he wouldn’t touch me. He’s not interested. Besides, he’s right about not wanting a public display. Be cool and go the fuck to sleep.
Just as her eyelids finally grew heavy and she began to relax, Quinn rolled over and whispered, “Kinley?”
“Yeah?” She shivered at his nearness.
His voice radiated awkwardness. “If…um…if I have a natural reaction to this situation in my sleep, just push me away, okay?”
A natural reaction? Kinley frowned. What— Oh God, he means a boner.
“Okay,” she murmured. How the hell am I supposed to sleep after hearing that?
As his breathing smoothed out into the even rhythm of sleep, her mind resumed its skittering dialogue. What did he mean “a natural reaction”? Did he mean just because there’s a female next to him—or does he find me attractive? The giddy girl within reveled at the prospect, but she quashed that inner imp. This is just a job, she chanted silently, willing herself to relax. Must stay professional, must stay professional, must stay—
Suddenly, he rolled over. His arm came down around her waist and his hard length ground into her backside. Kinley bit her lip to hold back the moan. Unbidden, her hips squirmed to get him closer to the source of her hot desire. But just as quickly as it started, Quinn roused, muttered a sleepy apology, and rolled back to face the wall once more.
Kinley let out the deep breath she didn’t know she was holding. Her core throbbed in need to be filled. She bit her lip to keep a moan from escaping. Never before had she desired a man so much. But for all intents and purposes, she was lusting after her boss.
I am so screwed.
Chapter Eleven
Las Vegas was sunny, warm, and full of striking sights and buzzing activity. Kinley wanted to puke. Why the hell had she drunk so much last night? This hangover would only make tonight more difficult.
Choking down aspirin, antacid, and stale crackers abated the worst of her misery, yet nothing could touch the anxiety gnawing her gut.
After sharing such personal things with Quinn last night and then waking up in his arms, there was no way she would be able to view him as just a colleague. Not after feeling his hard chest against her back and his even harder—
She broke off the thought with a tremor of desire.
“Don’t worry, Kin,” Gaffer remarked as they arrived at the concert venue. “Everything’s going to be fine.”
She looked up sharply, heart in her throat. Does he know I’m crushing on Quinn? “What do you mean?” She struggled to sound casual.
“I mean, Quinn’s not gonna freak out if his guitar’s out of tune. No one gets it right the first time. He’ll just fix it before the show and give you a lecture.” He glanced around at the rest of the crew and lowered his voice. “God knows Phil’s had enough of those from him.”
It took all of her effort not to grin in relief. He’d been talking about her first day as guitar tech. Her grin faded as fresh anxiety about her new job sank in.
“What if I drop it?” If that happened, she’d probably be fired.
Gaffer chuckled. “Honey, if we thought for a second that you’d be clumsy with the gear, you wouldn’t have gotten the job. So buck up, and let’s get this sound check ready.”
Taking a deep breath, she followed him and the other roadies to where they were unloading the equipment. Phil brushed past her, giving her a pointed glare, but he mercifully continued on with his job—which used to be her job. She sighed and helped haul speaker cabinets so she could unload the guitars. Though she was delighted with the promotion, things were going to be awkward.
As if to cement the point, Jim waggled his eyebrows as they lifted the first speaker cabinet. “I heard you were snuggling with the Vox this morning.”
“Did you see how fucking small those bunks are?” She kept her voice level, praying she wasn’t blushing. “We were jammed in like sardines.”
The roadie winked. “Yeah, I bet it’s a reeeeeal tight fit.”
Kinley rolled her eyes but laughed with the rest of the crew. She hadn’t done anything with Quinn, and they all knew it. As long as she joked along with the rest of them, maybe they’d never suspect how badly she did want to do things with Quinn.
Once everything was loaded on the stage, she reverently opened Quinn’s guitar case. Please, God, don’t let me fuck this up. She hooked up the Stratocaster and repeated the prayer before closing her eyes and testing the strings. The second treble string seemed a little loose so she tightened it up slightly.
All thoughts and worries fled as the instrument took over her focus. Fully immersed, she didn’t notice Quinn leaning against the speaker cabinets until she finished adjusting the last pickup.
Shivers raced across her flesh at the heat in his gaze. He’d been looking at her differently since they’d bunked together. If he weren’t a drop-dead-sexy rock star with his pick of countless women, she’d almost dare to think it was a look of interest.
He slowly stalked toward her. She held her breath as he lifted his guitar and played a few chords, inspecting her work.
“It’s perfect.” His fingers brushed hers as he handed back the Stratocaster. “Thank you.”
“Uh-huh,” she mumbled, still reeling at the electric shock of his touch.
His lips curved in a decadent, mysterious smile as if they shared a secret. The memory of his body pressed against hers, brief as it was, flooded her senses. Heat and moisture pooled between her thighs. “Well, I, uh, better get back to the sidelines. H-have a good show.”
Quinn’s gaze raked across her once more before the stage lights dimmed and the crowd roared. Tony’s drums reverberated like thunder, heralding the opening of the set. The light crew worked their magic, bathing Viciöus in metal glory.
Her breath caught as she watched him. With his powerful voice, savage guitar riffs, and phenomenal stage presence, he was like a god among mortals. Shaking her head, she pulled herself from the hypnotic awe and surveyed the stage. She was there to manage problems, not ogle Quinn like a starstruck groupie.
Sure enough, Curt tripped over his guitar cord and unplugged his amp. Heart pounding with urgency, Kinley scrambled on stage, hunching over to be unobtrusive. Quinn continued to face the crowd and play as if nothing happened, though he backed up as if to shield her.
Unbidden, her gaze strayed to his backside. Damn, he had a nice ass. And she was mere inches away from squeezing it. Kinley clenched her fists, resisting temptation, and returned to the task at hand.
As she plugged the cord back in, Quinn turned her way…and smiled. Her heart turned over in her chest and it took a concerted effort to remember to breathe and get off the stage before the crowd noticed her.
“Good job, Kin,” Gaffer whispered. “You handled that like an old pro.”
“Thanks,” she muttered. A pro wouldn’t be swooning from the Vox’s smile—or thinking of groping his ass.
Somehow she managed to pull herself together in time to hand him his double-necked twelve-string in time for the encore.
The backstage meet and greet was a different story. After the gear was loaded back in the trucks, she had the dubious pleasure of watching a bunch of skanks gush all over Quinn while he signed their tits. A harsh, gravely noise reached her ears below the level of their squeals. She was grinding her teeth. He’s not mine. Why should I give a fuck?
Even worse was the fact that part of her wished she were in that line.
Before her face betrayed her outrage and confusion, she fled to the bus. The driver leaned against the vehicle, eyeing her indifferently as he smoked a cigar. Kinley went inside to the bunk she’d shared with Quinn. A tremor shook her core as she smelled his scent on the comforter. Last night he’d held her in his arms. The memory filled her with dizzying warmth. Maybe…
She shook her head, quashing the ridiculous hope that his actions meant something. He’d been drunk and probably acting out of habit. Acting like he would if a lucky groupie had been invited on the bus. The thought of groupies momentarily made her queasy.
Shaking her head, she pulled his acoustic from the overhead compartment. Might as well practice while she waited.
Just as she found her bliss in the music, the bus door swung open and the band and crew piled in.
Quinn plopped next to her on the bunk, his presence making her flesh tingle. “Hey, don’t stop. That sounds really good.”
Not daring to meet his gaze lest she fuck up a riff, she released her breath and continued playing. The bus rolled into motion, heading to a hotel. She nearly missed a note as the worry that had been plaguing since this morning once more reared its head. Where would she sleep tonight? Would she be alone up front in Gaffer’s bunk? How would the crew react to that?
Quinn answered the question as soon as she finished the song.
When the bus pulled up at the hotel, he grabbed his backpack. “Come on, Kinley. We got you a room.”
Her heart lodged in her throat. “But the crew sleeps in the bus,” she said lamely.
“From the way Phil’s been acting, I don’t want you alone with him. So get your bag and let’s go.” His voice forbade argument.
Kinley bristled at his dictatorial tone, even as she complied. “So what, you’re my boss now? I’d think this would be Gaffer’s decision.”
“It was.” A triumphant smirk curved his lips. “He says the crew has been easier to deal with since you’ve moved out of their quarters.” The smirk faded, replaced by an unreadable yet serious expression. “Anyway, there’s something I need to talk to you about.”
Something about his tone of voice tore the retort from her lips. “Okay.”
On shaking legs, she followed him into the hotel. Thankfully, no shrieking fans lay in wait in the lobby. At the desk, he collected two key cards.
So she wouldn’t be sharing a room with him.
Waves of alternating relief and regret washed over her. Kinley fought back the regret. Who did she think she was? Why the hell would Quinn want her when he could have anyone? Besides, getting involved with him would kill all the respect she’d earned from the band and crew.
As he beckoned her to follow him to his room, worry curdled in her belly. What exactly did he want to talk to talk to her about? Had she unknowingly fucked up?
The door closed behind them with an ominous click. Her anxiety magnified as Quinn flipped on the light and immediately turned to face her, green eyes intent.
“You have a crush on me, don’t you, Kinley?” His voice was low and silken.
The breath whooshed out of her body.
“What?” she managed to squeak. Oh God, did she say something in her sleep? Or did he catch her checking him out one too many times?
“I’ve been reading your blog. The early entries were especially interesting. Namely, the one about me.” He stalked closer to her, a mischievous smile playing across his lips as he quoted, “‘I wish he’d replace that microphone with my—’”
“Oh my God!” Face burning in humiliation, Kinley stepped back, reaching for the door.
The knob slipped in her sweating grasp. She longed to disappear on the spot. She’d forgotten about that old post—she never imagined he’d read it.
Quinn continued to stand there. That smile sent shivers down her spine.
“It was just your public image, you know?” she stammered, trying to give a logical and less embarrassing explanation. “I mean, you’re gorgeous and talented and charming. A girl would be crazy not to admire that. But it can’t be a real crush because I didn’t even know you.”
He raised a brow and stepped closer. “You know me now.”
“In a professional sense.” His presence sent electric heat pulsing through her, making it hard to speak. “Not in, you know, that way.”
He took one more step closer until only inches remained between their bodies. He raised his arms and placed his hands on the door, holding her captive. “That’s a shame, because there’s something I’ve been wondering since I first saw you.”
“W-what?” she whispered, melting from the heat radiating from his body.
“If you’d hit me if I did this.” He bent lower, and with intoxicating gentleness, brushed his lips across hers.
Desire flared through her body at the feather-light contact. Kinley arched forward, craving more. Unable to resist any longer, her hands sought him, splaying across his chest, reveling in his hot, hard, muscled form.
Quinn released the door and pulled her into his arms, deepening the kiss. His tongue teased the corners of her mouth, pleading for entry. Kinley was only too willing to oblige. Her fingers tangled in his thick, dark hair, a low moan escaping her as she opened for him. His hips gyrated against hers, his insistent hardness pressing to her core.
A knock sounded at the door.
Quinn dragged his mouth from hers with a groan, but didn’t release her. “What?”
Tony’s voice echoed through the wood. “Bleeding Vengeance is down at the party. Klement wants to hear what happened with Phil.”
“I’ll be down soon,” Quinn growled. His grip tightened on her in obvious reluctance to let her go.
As the drummer’s footsteps faded, Quinn sighed and released her. Kinley stumbled back against the door, gasping. For the longest time he stared at her with such savage hunger that chills rushed through her form.
Breath as ragged as hers, he finally spoke. “If you want to continue this discussion, come back here.” He pulled his spare key card from his pocket. “If not, you can go to your own room and I won’t bother you again.”
With a shaking hand, she took the card. The thin piece of electromagnetic plastic seemed to burn her.
In a seemingly offhand manner, he added, “You should come down, too.”
“Why?” All she wanted was to pull him back into her arms and finish what they started. Or at least retreat to her room and relive that kiss.
“Everyone’s going, so it would seem strange if you didn’t show up. And”—he leaned forward and lowered his voice to an intimate growl—“I would like a chance to try my powers of persuasion. I know this is unprofessional, but damn it, I want you. I think I want you more than any woman I’ve ever wanted in my life.”
Heart pounding, body trembling, and mind racing, Kinley could only nod. Before she completely lost her mind and threw herself back in his arms, she grabbed her bag and fled.
Once she found her own room, she bolted inside, slumping against the door and forcing herself to take deep breaths. Quinn Mayne, lead singer of Vici
öus, had just kissed her, had just invited her to return to his hotel room to continue a “discussion” that would end with her naked in his arms.
What if sleeping with Quinn undid all her efforts to be respected? What if she lost her position as guitar tech? What if she was demoted to groupie status?
But God, she wanted him. And he wanted her. A fresh bolt of heat pulsed between her thighs.
“This is a bad idea,” she whispered to herself.
Despite that fact, she found herself rifling through the depths of her backpack, pulling out her cleanest jeans and nicest shirt.
After a shower and meticulous shave, Kinley dried her hair, dressed, and went to work on her makeup. Her hands reached back to begin her usual braid. Shaking her head at her reflection, she dropped them. She’d wear her hair down tonight.
The woman in the mirror was a stranger, but she looked pretty damn good. Kinley nodded in approval and grabbed her phone, wallet, and Quinn’s keycard.
The moment she arrived at the party, Quinn’s gaze snapped to hers as if drawn there by a magnetic current. An alien, primitive satisfaction rose within her at his reaction.
His words echoed in her memory. I want you. I think I want you more than any woman I’ve ever wanted in my life.
As if to prove the point, he lifted a strawberry from the fruit tray. Still holding her gaze, his tongue darted out to caress the ripe fruit before his sensuous lips wrapped around it. Heat flooded her core and she bit back a moan of longing. Quinn gave her a knowing smile, licking berry juice from his fingers.
Quinn and Klement returned to their conversation, and Kinley retreated before her response to him became visible. Her lust was unprofessional, impractical, and could ruin everything she’d worked for these past few weeks. But every fiber of her being longed to feel that wicked mouth on her body.
Phil sneered as she passed by. “Holy shit, you actually are a female.”
Without glancing at him, Kinley gave him the finger and continued on to the beer cooler. Though her laptop case should have been lighter without her computer, the knowledge that Quinn’s keycard was inside made the bag seem dauntingly heavy.
