by Dawn Ryder
She pulled her hand up, found the silver bar piercing his nipple, and twisted.
He snorted before lifting his hands in mock surrender. But it was only play, because there was nothing even close to submission in him. He was just enjoying her spunk.
Playing with his food.
The air felt cool as it rushed between them, frustrating her with just how much she wanted to be back against him. It was wrong, or had to be. Where was the modern woman who wanted to follow her dream quest into a future that involved art and being the captain of her own ship?
At the moment, she was a quivering mass of nerves, all because of the man standing in front of her.
“Let’s roll, Ramsey!” Brenton called up the stairs. “Portland awaits.”
Ramsey curled his lips back and flashed his teeth at her through a grin of victory. “Ready?”
She looked around the apartment, and it was just as depressing as always. Everything in it was threadbare, just holding on as it struggled to squeeze one more day out of life. She wanted more than that.
Ramsey was pulsing with life. She could feel it in the air between them. Like heat coming through a front door on a frozen winter day. Getting wrapped up in it was the only thing on her mind once she felt it.
“Ready,” she replied, turning her back on the apartment.
It was time to stretch her wings and see what was over the next hill. Ramsey stood there, looking like a massive challenge between her and the wide-open expanse of opportunity.
Well, no guts…no glory.
Chapter 3
Toxsin traveled in style.
The band also proved why it was topping the charts and selling out arenas. Beneath the spiked hair, leather, and party-animal personas were professionals.
The sedan Brenton had arrived in took them through the streets of San Francisco and back across the bay to the location of the concert. It was a very different scene by daylight. Two big rigs were being loaded. The members of the crew Ramsey had talked about all performed their duties like well-trained soldiers, moving pallets into the trucks while supervisors watched through mirrored shades with headphones on and microphones sitting in front of their lips.
There were also three huge motor homes. As in bus-sized.
“That’s the music coach.” Ramsey pointed at one. “Band members only. It’s a work zone.”
Kate Braden was standing near the door to the second coach. She looked up as Ramsey brought Jewel into the loading area. The afternoon sun lit up her head of red hair. She had on a leather corset top and a skirt that had her hallmark of superior leather workmanship. Jewel couldn’t help but admire them.
“It’s going to be nice having some female company,” Kate offered. “We can have corset parties.”
Ramsey made a low sound under his breath and smacked his lips. Jewel itched to ram her elbow into his side, but she wasn’t close enough to land the blow. She settled for a narrow-eyed look.
“Don’t mind him,” Kate said. “We used to keep him leashed, but he was costing us a fortune when he chewed through the leather.”
Ramsey leaned down and set his teeth into the side of Kate’s corset. She squealed and shoved at him. Her husband turned around from where he’d been conferring with a polo-shirted crew member.
“My wife”—Syon Braden stressed the word “wife”—“isn’t your chew toy, Rams.” He grinned.
“Yeah, yeah.” Ramsey flinched as Kate slapped his shoulder, but it was clear he was only playing along. “I hope you remember Jewel.”
Syon crossed the concrete with a stride just as untamed as the one Ramsey used. The singer was wearing a pair of worn jeans today. His hair was a mass of golden highlights that fell just below his shoulders. It wasn’t spiked-out today, his face free of makeup.
“I would never forget the girl who popped your cherry, Rams.”
Ramsey stuck his arm out and flipped his bandmate the bird as the crew in hearing range laughed. As soon as he was finished being profane, he reached down and clasped her wrist. The hold startled her, striking her as some sort of public declaration.
She wasn’t entirely sure she was ready for that.
“This is the lovebird nest.” Ramsey pointed at the bus-sized motor home. “Don’t come a-knockin’ when the motor home is a-rockin’…”
Kate rolled her eyes. Jewel offered him a dry look. “I’m getting the feeling personal boundaries are something you struggle with.”
He stepped to the side again and then forward, so her arm was pulled around his body and she was forced to move into him as he turned her in a small circle. “Hands-on.” He bit out the two words, oblivious to how many people were watching.
“I recall that.” Jewel stepped back. Her heart was racing, but there was a sour taste in her mouth. She didn’t like an audience. Ramsey didn’t miss it. He reversed course and tugged her along behind him toward the third RV. They climbed up into it. There was a separate compartment for the driver and a privacy wall.
“But hands-on is a problem for you,” Ramsey stated.
She turned back to face Ramsey and found him leaning against the wall between the living space and the driver’s cockpit. He was far from happy.
“I’m not changing to suit you,” he said.
She propped a hand on her hip. “I didn’t ask you to.”
His expression was tight. “You flinched out there.”
“Just because I’m not into public displays doesn’t mean I’m demanding you do anything,” she said. “It’s not like we’re in a relationship.”
“You want me to touch you.”
It was the truth.
And he was arrogant, which she latched onto. “That doesn’t mean I’m going to let you paw me whenever you get the urge. I do tats for a living. Every day I deal with hard-asses like you who think it’s permissible to grab a little sex with their ink. Well, let me explain something to you: my body, my choice. I don’t do casual sex.”
His expression had become unreadable. He was contemplating her; that much was clear from the glitter in his eyes.
Jewel made her position clear. “Feel free to tear up that contract if you don’t like it or somehow think you’ve contracted more than ink.”
She was disappointed. Like someone had punched her in the gut and she’d lost her wind. But she kept her chin level and sent him a determined look.
“The contract is binding. You signed, you stay,” he said, then turned and was down the stairs before his words registered.
He’d always used his physical strength to capture her. Now, she felt the constriction of the business side of his persona. She might have read through the contract quickly, but she’d caught the penalty clause if she left the tour before finishing the dragon tattoo.
It was only a month.
She snorted as she sat down on the couch that faced the stairs. The doorway was right there, but she’d be a fool to go through it. There was no way she could pay the penalty fee, and there was also the reality of not having anywhere to go. Ramsey could even bury her, refusing to name the artist who had done his ink. She’d be out in the cold and on her way home to her parents’ place inside of twenty-four hours.
Maybe she needed to do that.
Her pride rebelled, bristling and rearing its head as she felt her dream burning in her gut. She wanted to make it, which meant she needed to stick it out. She loved her parents, loved them enough to want to make them proud. Sure, they’d be proud of her if she went home, sent out resumes, and secured a job in an office building.
But she couldn’t shake off the feeling that she could be more. At least, more unique. More…herself. Her parents had given her that spirit too, along with a large enough dose of practicality, teaching her to take a moment to look at the big picture before making snap decisions. Well, signing that contract with Toxsin had been a hasty choice if ever there was one.
Was she sorry?
There was a full-length mirror mounted on the wall between the kitchen and the back
of the RV. Jewel took a moment to look at herself. Worn jeans hung sort of loosely off her hips, due to her budget being tighter since she’d graduated. Her tunic top had a few faded spots from stain remover. Her hair was longer now, having grown out over the summer. She had it in two chubby pigtails at the back of her head, her natural curl making it almost impossible to keep it neat. The kindest word to describe her hair was “disheveled.” But she most often thought of it as a brown mess. She’d chopped it short while at the university, to make life easier, a choice that had made doing tattoos a bit of a challenge until her hair grew out enough for her to keep it out of her face when she was leaning over a client. It was either a buzz cut or long enough to pull back.
Her attention dropped to her fingers. The nails were clipped short, ink staining a couple of her nail beds. There were numerous puncture marks that were also stained with ink from doing drawings in her sketchbook.
She wasn’t sorry she’d signed the contract. Even dream jobs came with requirements. Holding onto her personal standards was obviously going to be her problem. After all, it wasn’t really fair to blame Ramsey. He was sex on a stick, and she did want to eat him up. But she also wanted more, always had when it came to sex.
That was the reason she was still a virgin.
* * *
“Stop smirking,” Ramsey said.
Syon only raised a golden eyebrow at him before he went back to tuning his guitar. The music RV was built for the band to rehearse in. Drake was tinkering with his drum set sitting at the back end of the RV. Taz had taken over the right-hand side of the coach. Ramsey and Syon tended to stay close to each other. Today, Ramsey felt like he was crowded.
“I need the chick to finish my tattoo.”
“You need her for something, alright,” Syon replied.
“Is Kate on the rag or something?” Ramsey demanded before he let a squeal out of his guitar.
Syon stared at him the whole time, unimpressed. “Could ask you the same about Jewel,” he countered when the noise died down.
“I don’t need Jewel to get my kicks,” Ramsey shot back. “Just my ink.”
Taz snorted. Ramsey jerked his head around to glare at him. Taz wasn’t intimidated. He considered Ramsey with a cool demeanor. Ramsey laid into the strings on his instrument. His insides churned. His blood heated. He funneled it all into his music, his bandmates joining in as the miles began to fall behind them.
* * *
Portland was wet.
Jewel emerged from the RV to find it raining. California had been locked in the grip of a massive drought for the last few years. She smiled as the little drops hit her skin, skipping out into it while stretching her legs. She was full of energy, having curled up in one of the bunks in the RV and slept for most of the ride. There were puddles on the ground that she jumped into, making water splash up and onto her ankles. It was cold, but not enough to make her stop.
The drivers had pulled them up in the back of a massive resort-style hotel. Crew members already had the luggage bays on the underside of the RVs open as porters came out with rolling carts. Brenton was talking to a suited man who looked like a manager. Two more men stood waiting for commands as full luggage carts were pushed into the hotel lobby and toward the elevators.
* * *
“Thought you said you could get your kicks anywhere,” Taz said from inside the music coach. “So why are you watching her?”
“None of your fucking business,” Ramsey snapped. He headed down the steps of the coach and onto the ground. “I’m going to go get laid.”
Taz didn’t want to drop it though. “You better wise up. Before you mess up your chance with a quality girl.”
“Is that some sort of pearl of wisdom?” Ramsey turned on him. “Because I don’t fucking want it. You need to stop jerking off in the shower over a girl who doesn’t think you’re good enough for her little virginal snatch.”
Taz wasn’t intimidated. “Nailing everything that crosses your path hasn’t made you very happy either. Maybe you need to try a few shower jerk-offs and get an idea of why you’re so pissed off.”
Ramsey snorted in response.
Taz’s expression stayed steady, too knowing for Ramsey’s comfort. “No, what you are is uncertain,” Taz said. “That’s uncharted territory for you, and it scares you.”
“Bullshit,” Ramsey snapped. “I love my life.”
“It’s making you sick,” Taz responded. “You’re too proud to admit it. You’ve poisoned yourself with excess.”
* * *
The sound flesh made when it connected with other hard flesh was unique. Jewel raised her head, recognizing it instantly. The tattoo business was full of drama. That little fact led to fights more often than not. She turned around to see Ramsey fighting with the Asian member of Toxsin. The crew watched them from a distance as they swung at each other. She was fascinated by the fight, because it was proof of a few things she’d suspected about Ramsey.
He was trained.
Taz danced out of the way with practiced martial arts moves, and Ramsey followed up with some of his own. Syon and Drake were close, while Yoon kept Kate at a safe distance. She wasn’t happy about it either, her face as red as her hair.
Ramsey lunged at Taz again. This time they locked up, rolling into the shrubbery that surrounded the entrance to the hotel. Flowers went flying, along with huge amounts of mud. Ramsey was half out of his shirt, rolling through the landscaping with Taz going right along with him.
Dirt. It was sticking to the lotion on his tattoo. Her eyes widened, warning jolting through her.
“Get out of that dirt!” Jewel was in motion before her brain processed completely what she was charging into.
Syon turned and lunged at her. Ramsey jerked toward her. Syon tackled her to the ground, and there was a hard smack when Taz landed a blow on Ramsey because he was distracted. Pain went through her like a bolt of lightning as her head slammed into the asphalt. She blinked—she thought her vision had gone sparkly, but her eyes widened in horror when she realized it was camera flashes. The paparazzi snapped shots of Syon on top of her as the lead singer cursed and rolled away.
“What the fuck are you doing, Jewel?” Ramsey hissed at her. “Are you an idiot?”
“Me?” She blinked because her brain felt like it was stuck on hold. The rain was making the dirt stick to Ramsey, coating his bare torso. “You’re the dimwit! You’re going to get a massive infection!”
He was on his haunches but looked at the part of the tattoo above his waistband. Dirt covered a good bit of it. She struggled to get on her feet, her legs feeling clumsy as pain swirled around in her skull.
“That’s got to be cleaned out right now,” she declared to cover her lack of grace. Taz showed up from somewhere, she wasn’t exactly sure because she had been so focused on Ramsey. He scooped her up from beneath her arms and stood her on her feet.
“Thank you.” The polite response was misplaced but instinctual.
Brenton was suddenly sliding between her and Taz. Ramsey reached out and captured her wrist. The connection was explosive again. It should have been impossible to have such a reaction to bare skin, but when it came to Ramsey, it seemed she was hypersensitive.
Or maybe allergic was a better way to look at it. Reactions just flared up when she came into contact with the guy.
He’d pulled her through the doors while she was busy being dumbfounded by how his touch affected her.
She pulled back on his grip when her brain started working. He looked over his shoulder at her.
“I thought you said this needed cleaning?” he asked as he tugged her into an open elevator. The staff of the hotel held the door for him, clearly ignoring the fact that he’d just been fighting in their flower bed and was trailing chunks of dirt across the marble floors.
“I did,” she answered.
The doors shut, and the car jerked as it started taking them up. Ramsey leaned back against the handrail and rotated his neck until it popped.
>
He seemed to think everything was fine. She was left chewing on her lower lip as the elevator made it to the top of the hotel and the doors opened. He reached out and captured her wrist again.
“It isn’t necessary to pull me along,” she said.
He looked back at her, contemplating her for a long moment. There was a flash of something in his dark eyes before he released her wrist.
“Necessary…no.” He’d turned back toward her, and before she realized what he was about, he’d leaned over and put his shoulder into her midsection. One solid motion, and she was hanging over his shoulder as he started down the hall. “But I like it.”
There was a chirp. She looked around his body and saw him shoving a key card into his waistband before twisting the handle of a door and carrying her inside the suite.
“Ramsey…put me down,” she insisted.
He tossed her onto a sofa. She bounced before righting herself. He dragged a chair over from a dining room table and straddled it, his back to her.
“So…clean me.”
His pants were open.
That thought was white hot and completely distracting. It disabled her thought process as she caught the scent of his skin.
The man had musk.
“What are you waiting for?” He turned his head and looked over his shoulder at her. “You were so hot and ready a few minutes ago.”
“Well, you were acting like an idiot, so you’re lucky I was ready to do something to slap you back into reality.” She leaned forward and looked at the tattoo. His skin was healing well, but the lotion he’d put over it was caked with dirt.
“You got hurt,” he chastised her. “Taz and Syon are going to feel bad about that. You should have stayed back.”
“Have you ever seen an infected tattoo? You could end up in the hospital with a staph infection. It could scar,” she snapped. “You need to take a shower. It’s a massive mess now.”
“Okay.” His tone had changed, hinting at gloating. He stood up, swung his leg over the back of the chair, and kicked off his boots.
