The Devil's Tattoo: A Rock Star Romance

by Amity Cross

  When a body shifted against mine, memories from the previous night came flooding back. Will’s arm was flung over my waist, and his legs were tangled through mine. Smiling, I traced the black panther on his forearm and settled my hand over his.

  “Hey,” he murmured, his arms tightening around me.

  “Hey.”

  “Did you sleep okay?”

  “Yeah.” I rolled over to face him, my fingers tracing his jaw, our legs tangling together.

  “I could get used to this.” He smiled sleepily, his hand running over my bare ass. His hair was wild from sleep, and I found my hand running through it, untangling his messy locks. Touching him was the most natural thing in the world now.

  “I feel like I already know you,” I whispered.

  He pressed his lips against my forehead, making me sigh. “So do I. I know how to make you come.” He silenced my gasp with a small kiss on the side of my mouth. “I know where you like my hands.” Another kiss. “But I don’t know your favorite color.”

  I laughed at his stupid statement. “Isn’t it obvious?”

  “No.”

  “It’s black, of course. It’s all I wear.”

  “Black isn’t a color,” he argued.

  “I’ll have you know that black is all colors mixed into one.”

  “Really?”

  “No idea.” I bit my lip in amusement.

  “No, really, do you have a favorite color?”

  “I guess if I had to do a color it’d be blue.”

  “When’s your birthday?” he asked like he was starting a game of twenty questions.

  “I don’t like birthdays,” I declared, screwing up my nose.

  “What? Not even for the presents?” he asked.

  “Nope.”

  “Well, mine’s in January. Mark it in your calendar because I love presents.”

  The fact that he was talking about us in future tense warmed my heart. “Just missed it. How old were you?”

  “Twenty-seven.”

  “So I’m dating a silver fox, then.”

  “Hey.” He squeezed my hip. “I’m not that old.”

  “Brothers and sisters?”

  He shook his head.

  “Me neither.”

  “Favorite movie?”

  “Oh, that’s a tough one. The Bourne Identity.”

  “Really?” he asked, surprised.

  “I like action movies. Yours?”

  “Fight Club.”

  “I liked the book.”

  His eyes crinkled in the corners as a smile crept onto his face.

  “What?” I asked, wondering what he found so amusing.

  “I told you we’d have more in common than music.”

  “When did you say that?”

  “I didn’t, but I can see it written all over your face.”

  “Am I that transparent?” I joked, biting my bottom lip.

  “No,” he replied as he ran a hand over my ass, down my thigh, and pulled my leg around his waist. “You’re guarded so much I have a hard time knowing what you want.”

  I pressed up against his chest, my hands running across his jaw and into his hair. Our lips brushed together, but neither of us moved to capture.

  “Did someone hurt you?” he asked with such sincerity. I knew he wasn’t talking about emotions. “Because I know about hurt, Zoe. I want to make it better.”

  I pulled away, my eyes searching his. Suddenly, I couldn’t see anything but his words. “What do you mean ‘you know about hurt’?”

  He frowned, his gaze falling away, and I knew he was holding something back, too.

  “Will?” I prodded.

  “I just want to take care of you.” He cupped my face with his hand like I was something delicate, and his lips found mine. He kissed me with such devotion and tenderness that any worry I had melted away. His hand left my face and brushed the length of my arm. “What’s the scar from?” he asked, running fingers along the length of it.

  I moved my arm between us, resting a palm over the tattoo on his chest so he couldn’t touch it. “I broke my arm.”

  “But…”

  “It didn’t heal properly, so I had to have surgery. I have a metal pin stuck in it. They love me at airport security.”

  He seemed to get that I was edging around the question, so he let it drop but not before sighing.

  “What?” I asked, scowling.

  “It’s not a very clean surgical scar.”

  “Well, that’s what happened.” I went to roll away from him, but a strong arm circled around my waist.

  “I didn’t mean anything by it, Zo,” he said. “You don’t have to tell me everything, but I’d hoped you would trust me enough to, anyway.”

  “Likewise.” I frowned, knowing how much of a lie that was. It wasn’t like I didn’t want to tell him the truth. It was more like I wasn’t ready yet. Maybe he was the same.

  His hand found mine, our fingers entwining.

  “I need to take a shower.” I slid out of bed, wrapping the top sheet around myself, but our fingers were still linked, and he pulled me back.

  “After last night, you’re embarrassed about me looking at you?” he asked with a grin.

  “Stop it,” I said with a small laugh.

  Before I could get up, he tugged the sheet away, and cold air caressed my skin. I watched as his gaze took in every inch of my exposed body, devouring.

  “You don’t have any reason to be embarrassed,” he said.

  “Well, in that case,” I declared, and to his amusement, I stood up and wandered into the bathroom completely naked.

  Turning on the shower, I smiled to myself. The feeling of contentment was so warm I didn’t want it to go away. I was more confident in myself than I’d ever been. I held my hand underneath the flow of water waiting for it to warm up, my skin prickling with goose bumps. The door eased open behind me, and I didn’t have to look up to know what Will wanted.

  His lips brushed against my ear, sending a shiver down my spine and into all the right places. “Did you really think I could stay in the other room knowing you were in here naked and rubbing soap all over yourself?”

  His hands ran down my waist and over my hips, and when his fingers found their way between my legs, I let out a gasp and fell back against his chest, my eyes closing.

  “Get in,” he ordered, guiding me into the shower. His dominance didn’t bother me one bit. I’d never been with a man who paid so much attention to me before.

  The warm water cascaded over our bodies, washing away evidence from last night, but Will was far from done. He was hard against my lower back, his fingers circling my clit, lips against my neck. A hand came up, cupping my breast, a nipple rolling between his thumb and forefinger. It was so overwhelming that a strangled moan escaped my lips, and my hands slid over his, pushing his fingers toward my opening.

  “You feel so good,” he murmured, slipping a finger inside and grinding his erection into my ass.

  As a second finger joined the first, I rolled my hips into his hand, his palm rubbing against my clit. “Will.”

  He moved his fingers in and out, circling is palm against me, and I felt another orgasm building inside. Letting my inhibitions go, my head fell back into the crook of his neck as a loud moan came from that deep place inside me that only Will seemed to inhabit.

  “Come for me, Zoe,” he murmured, nipping the edge of my jaw with his teeth. “Come for me.”

  Rolling with each thrust of his fingers had rubbed his erection into my ass, and I could feel the tension in his body against mine, but he didn’t stop to please himself. He worked me harder with his hand, faster until the spasms of another shattering orgasm washed over me, my insides clenching around his fingers. I cried out his name over and over, not caring what he thought, only feeling the pleasure he’d pulsed through my body again.

  Only when he pulled away, turning me around to face him, did I see the effect in his features. His eyes burned with fire, and that fire was fo
r me.

  “Fuck, Zoe.” He groaned and pressed me back into the cool tiles, his lips on mine and his erection against my stomach. His kiss was deep and full of lust as his tongue tasted every inch of mine.

  When he pulled away, he gazed at me with hooded eyes, his teeth tugging against his bottom lip.

  Remembering what he’d asked me last night, I reached out for him, my fingers wrapping around his hard length. “What do you want?” I asked, my voice low.

  He drew in a sharp hiss when I moved my hand up, a thumb circling his tip. His hips rolled forward, pushing my hand down again.

  “That,” he murmured, his forearms resting against the tiles either side of me, my back still hard against them.

  As I ran my hand up and down his length, he dropped his head against my shoulder, and my skin tingled with the gusts of his labored breathing.

  “Faster.” He lightly grazed my neck with his teeth, a deep moan rumbling into me. I worked him harder with my hand, squeezing gently as the water from the shower pounded over us. My other hand grasped his ass, fingernails biting into skin, and he thrust harder, growling in uninhibited pleasure.

  “Come for me,” I whispered into his ear, and with another thrust into my tight fingers, he came hard, spilling against my stomach in hot bursts.

  “God, Zoe.” He breathed hard against my cheek, his body sagging against mine. “I never knew it could feel like this.”

  “Neither did I,” I whispered, reveling in the feel of his naked body against mine. “Neither did I.”

  After breakfast at the motel buffet, Will decided he wanted to take me for a walk. It wasn’t a long walk on the beach as he jokingly put it but a long walk down the main drag of town instead. The ocean was a couple of hours drive to the south, and we had a show that night. Show trumped beach if you asked me.

  We walked hand in hand in the sunshine, our shoulders rammed together, and it was a miracle we didn’t bash into anything the way we kept looking at each other like lovesick teenagers.

  It was a Thursday morning, and the street was alive with traffic. Cafés were open, and people were sitting out on the street enjoying the sunshine with their fancy coffee and toasted focaccias. We passed a small greengrocer, and the smell of fresh fruit wafted out toward us as music from surrounding stores filtered out of their open doors and onto the street. I was so happy and content nothing could have come along then and destroyed it.

  “Stop,” I declared suddenly.

  We’d passed by the front of a music shop. Guitars were hanging in one window and drums in the other, but what caught my eye was something else hanging just inside. I squished my nose against the window to get a better look.

  “God, Zoe.” Will was laughing at me. “We can go inside, you know.” He grabbed my hand and pulled me away from the window, which now bore my nose print, and led me into the shop.

  The store had just opened and was quiet inside. Rows on rows of guitars hung to one side, stuffed full of acoustics, electrics, basses, even banjos, and ukuleles, but I had eyes for none of them. I went straight up to the wall just inside the window where I’d seen it.

  It was a blue starburst Fender with a metallic cobalt blue middle fading into black around the edges. It had a matte black scratch pad, and I knew it was a custom. I stroked my fingers along the neck, looking for the price tag. Custom Fenders equaled dollars. Big ones.

  “Hey,” the sales guy said, wandering up to us, obviously smelling potential big bucks. “She’s a beauty. Wanna give her a try?”

  “Go on,” Will said, nudging me forward. “I can see the lust in your eyes, and I’m jealous already.”

  I nodded. Looks meant nothing if it sounded like shit. The sales guy pulled out a small amp, took the guitar from the shelf, and plugged it in. I pulled the strap over my head and perched on a stool Will brought over.

  I played a few chords, and the sound, even though it was only plugged into a small amp, was divine. Ignoring the look on the sales guy’s face, I went through the opening bars of ‘Walls,’ wondering how it would sound. It had a different tone without effects on it, but it sounded good. So good, I would have killed to add it to my collection of two. I had my matte black Epiphone Les Paul and an Epiphone electric acoustic. I was a bit of a fan girl.

  “Wow,” the guy said. “How long have you been playing?”

  “About three years, I guess,” I replied absently, trying not to drool over the guitar.

  “Only three years?” he exclaimed. “Did you teach yourself, or did you get lessons?”

  “Myself.”

  “She’s a genius,” Will said, and I could hear the pride in his voice. I looked up to see him smiling down at me.

  The sales guy was still a little flabbergasted. I was sure he didn’t think I could play that well when we walked in. “It’s tagged at three eight, but I can cut it to three five.”

  Three and a half thousand? I’d never paid more than one and a half thousand for a guitar. That would put a serious dent in my savings, and since I didn’t like to ask for help, that money was my sense of security in case I got into a tough spot. I didn’t really need a new guitar, not right now, but it was so nice…

  “No,” I said reluctantly. “I can’t right now.”

  The guy’s face dropped a little, and I knew he was bummed at losing the sale. Will shrugged and squeezed my shoulder.

  “Can I ask you about some leads, mate?” he asked to deflect another sales pitch.

  “Sure. What are you after?”

  Will wandered off with the sales guy, and I unplugged the leads and set the guitar back into its holder on the shelf. Three and a half thousand. The band had been doing really well, but I was still tight with my money. My parents had brought me up to be careful with it, making me save half my pocket money as a kid. When I was fifteen, I’d gone out and gotten my first job at a fast-food joint, and I’d saved half my wages just like I had my pocket money. So spending that much on something frivolous, even though it was now my job in a way, kind of made me feel sick.

  As Will talked with the sales guy, I wandered through the other guitars, but nothing caught my eye, not like that Fender did. Damn, my tight pockets.

  “Ready?” Will asked, coming up behind me, a bag in his hand.

  “Sure.”

  “I’d prefer you look at me like that and not a guitar,” Will murmured into my ear as we left the store.

  “I already do,” I retorted.

  “I’m talking exclusively.”

  “Such a worry when you have to compete with an inanimate object.”

  He burst out laughing, tugging me toward him. “Zoe Granger, you’re beautiful, but I don’t think a guitar can get you off like I can.”

  I squirmed, suddenly conscious we were standing on a busy street. “You’ll just have to remind me later.”

  “Oh,” he said, his lips brushing against mine. “I intend to.”

  Chapter 17

  The next few days went by in a blur of giddy happiness. We played another show in country Victoria, then in South Australia, and one in the capital, Adelaide.

  Today, we had an eight-hour drive back home to Melbourne where we had two sold-out shows to close the tour. Even though it had all been such a roller coaster of highs and lows, I was sad to see it end. I knew there would be others, but nothing could compare to touring with The Stabs, not when it ended with Will Strickland in my bed and in my heart.

  With the promise of another long day on the bus, I stood in the car park, enjoying the sun on my shoulders and the coffee in my hand. It didn’t escape me what today was, but I attempted to forget as per usual. The last few had been miserable.

  “Happy birthday, hot legs,” Dee whispered into my ear.

  “God,” I complained, almost jumping out of my skin. “Say it a little louder why don’t you.”

  “I get why you didn’t want to celebrate before, but this year? Damn, Zo. You’ve got a hot best friend, a hot band, and a hotter boyfriend. I’d be asking for presents.
Big ones.”

  “Since when are you hot?” I joked.

  “Since always and forever. I have a butt that doesn’t quit.” He laughed, puffing out his chest and wiggled his ass. “Seriously, have you told Will it’s your…”

  I slapped a hand over his mouth before he could say the dreaded word, birthday. “No. I don’t do well being the center of attention.”

  “Bloody hell, then what have you been doing the last few months?”

  “That’s stage Zoe, Dee. She’s a different beast.” I remembered what Will had told me about being different on stage than I was off. Somewhere between then and now, they’d become the same person.

  “Whichever way you put it, you’re still a beast.”

  Laughing, I turned to climb onto the bus, but I suddenly realized we were alone. Simone and Dean were nowhere in sight, and by this time, they’d already be loading up the car. Even Bob was mysteriously absent from his spot in front of the bus where he was usually smoking a cigarette and downing a coffee. Nine people were mysteriously not where they should be.

  “Dee?”

  “Yes?” he asked, a smug look on his stupid face.

  “You didn’t.” I suddenly realized he’d been up to his usual meddling. He’d used our familiar arguing as a distraction.

  “I didn’t what?” He shrugged, a lopsided grin on his face.

  “I hate you so much right now.”

  “If I didn’t annoy you at least once a day, then my work wouldn’t be done.”

  I felt my face turn red, and I slapped a palm against my flaming cheeks as if it was going to cool me down.

  “C’mon,” Dee said, grabbing my hand. “Rip it off like a Band-Aid. It’ll make them happy.”

  As he pulled me up the stairs and onto the bus, everyone cheered. Then they let out wolf whistles and started singing ‘Happy Birthday,’ the dirty version, as I hid my flaming face in my hands.

  My past few birthdays had been pretty lonely affairs, passing without much of a blip on the radar, but this was too much. I suddenly felt embarrassed that all these people who I’d come to call friends and extended family were all looking at me, wanting to make this day special. It was totally surreal and unexpected.