by Dawn Ryder
And then, he dropped his pants.
Her mouth went dry, and she was pretty sure her heart was going to break through her chest wall because it was thumping so hard.
His ass was perfect.
And mouthwatering.
“Come on…Nurse Jewel,” he taunted her on his way into the bedroom section of the suite.
“Uh—”
He turned his head to look back at her and started to turn around.
“What are you doing?” She squeezed her eyes shut, only to hear him laughing.
The damned man was laughing so hard, the sound was bouncing off the walls. Her cheeks heated, but she kept her eyes shut.
“Aren’t I your…canvas?” he asked smoothly. “Come on, Jewel…dig deep. Find that professionalism you were so busy telling me about when we pulled out of the Bay Area.”
“I can,” she snapped back, losing the battle to keep her eyes closed. Part of her was really, really glad she did, too.
Magnificent.
He was raw, lean, sculpted, hard, and her tattoo fit him perfectly. She had placed the dragon to appear to be breathing fire onto his cock.
Now she knew it was spot-on.
“You’re being a turkey,” she accused him softly, trying desperately to ignore the pulse of need throbbing in her clit. His cock was huge, and even if she’d never tried one out, she’d seen her share of them in the tattoo business. Guys and gals had fascinations with getting their bikini lines inked but what was sending her into overdrive was the confidence he displayed. A confident man was sexy, no matter how you sliced it.
“And you’re being…chicken, but hey, leave if you can’t handle finishing what you started,” he said.
Direct hit.
She bristled and braced her hands on her hips. Honestly, she should walk away, but her pride reared its head. “I can handle anything you dish out.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Shower is that way.” He gestured behind him with his thumb.
He turned and walked across what was a premium suite, the likes of which she’d seen only in magazines and on television shows. It passed in a blur, because she was focused on the fact that somehow, she was following Ramsey into a shower. He was buck naked, and she was doing it to prove a point.
Whatever that was. Honestly, she was pretty sure thinking was overrated.
The bathroom boasted a huge walk-in shower tiled with stone from floor to ceiling. There was a double-long seat at the far side of it, and three shower heads. He flipped on the water as she fumbled with the selection of soaps and body washes displayed artfully on the vanity top.
“You might want to strip down,” he said.
Said the pirate to his captive maiden…
“So not happening.” She pulled open the wrapper on a bar of soap. Her brain was working again, at least until she turned and looked toward Ramsey, in nothing but his gorgeous skin.
He flashed her a smile from inside the shower. A menacing, challenging curving of his lips. Damn, but the man was so devil-may-care, and it was sexy. As well as tempting.
She suddenly understood the core concept of bra burning. It was about grabbing freedom with both hands and flinging the rule book aside. Utter abandonment of all the rules society surrounded her with, confined her with as it tried to mold her into what it wanted her to be.
If ever she’d encountered a man who made her believe he’d be worth the trip down guilt lane when reality caught up with her, Ramsey was it.
He lifted his hand and crooked his finger at her. “I’m ready for you to have your way with me, Jewel.”
“I’ll bet.”
“Sure you don’t want to take your clothes off?” he asked.
“Real sure,” she responded a little too breathlessly for her comfort. She was really, really sure it would be a bad idea.
“Won’t hurt my reputation any to have you leave my room…wet.” He opened his eyes and caught her looking at him. The water must have been cold, because his nipples were puckered, but it didn’t seem to affect his cock. The thing was still standing straight up.
“You have a one-track mind.” She busied herself with taking her shoes off, trying to scrape together some composure before getting close enough to touch him.
“With you…yeah.”
She snorted. “Damned if you didn’t manage to make that sound like it’s my fault. You’re the kid in the candy store, remember?”
Steam started to rise from the water, surrounding him in wispy fingers of vapor. “Maybe I’m waiting for someone who won’t take my shit.”
“Maybe you’re just trying to get me to say something that will give you a reason to be pissed off at me,” she said. “Sure sounds like you’re looking for justification.”
“You’re the one projecting expectations onto me,” he said. All hints of teasing were gone, leaving her facing that person inside him whom she’d gotten only a few glimpses of.
She crossed into the shower, able to do it because he had his shields lowered. The water soaked into her clothing, making her realize it had been foolish to leave it on, because when wet, the fabric molded to her body.
“I’m really not judging you, Ramsey.” She moved behind him and started to gently wash the tattoo.
“So why the constant brush-off?” he asked. “I know I turn you on.”
“You do,” she agreed.
He made a soft male sound that bounced around the stone-tiled interior of the shower.
“I already told you…” Touching him was practically euphoric. It was like they were standing in a bubble, removed from the rest of the world and its rules. He was naked, and she might as well have been. It was surreal and more intimate than any experience of her life.
“Told me what?” he asked.
“That I like the way I think about you. The way I see you, or saw you, on stage.” Her voice lowered, because she realized she was confessing something very private. The dirt washed away, leaving the dragon clean.
He turned and cupped her chin. “That’s what I mean…you’re projecting onto me.”
She shrugged but smiled. “Can’t help it. That’s how I see you.”
“It’s how you want to see me.”
She nodded, feeling the bite of defeat. He didn’t like her view of him. “Don’t worry about it. There are plenty of people who don’t like the way I think.”
“I didn’t say I didn’t like it,” he growled. “That’s the problem.”
She started to pull away, but he caught her by the wet waistband of her jeans. He held her fast as he pressed his mouth down on top of hers. It was ludicrous and wild, the water raining down on them as he kissed her until she was completely breathless. There were just so many things about the moment that were contrary to logic. It felt like the world was off balance, and the only thing left to do was reach for him. Ramsey was solid, something to cling to while she reeled. Like a kid sitting in a tire swing, twisting up the rope and letting go, twirling around and around and around for the joy of the ride while they battled the urge to throw up.
He felt amazing too. Once she’d given in and locked her hands on his shoulders, she was in complete bliss. Her fingertips became amazingly sensitive, letting her know exactly how smooth and hot his skin was. How hard the ridges of muscle on his chest and shoulders were. Time felt like it had stopped, because she was able to feel every tiny second as she traced his shoulders, fingering the definition of each muscle before moving across more smooth flesh to the next ridge.
“I like the picture you have of me,” he said, his tone husky and torn. He cupped the back of her skull and angled her head so their gazes met. “But I didn’t choose to be that man.”
The conflict in his dark eyes was extreme. It touched something in her heart. She wanted to hold him, felt like he needed it. She rose up onto her toes and kissed him, just a soft pressing of her lips against his, before he stiffened and pulled his head back.
But the effect was colossal. He jerked, stepping away from her as he s
hook his head. What sent a shiver down her spine was the conflict in his eyes. His expression tightened, sealing his feelings behind a facade. The one he gave to the world.
“The crew will have brought your luggage up by now. Might as well strip and shower before you come out.” Then he was gone, leaving her behind in the shower. She leaned against the tile wall, feeling lonelier than she ever had in her life.
And there was nothing overly dramatic about that thought either.
It was plain fact.
A harsh one.
* * *
Brenton was surprised to see her. He covered it well, fishing out an envelope with her key card in it. Her cheeks heated as she took it and made some vague, polite response before hightailing it down the hallway and around the corner to seek out her room. Her exit was less than unnoticed, because she was dragging her luggage. The crew had delivered them to Ramsey’s suite, just as he’d said they would.
Her face burned, and she ended up banging her forehead against the wall a few times once she made it to the sanctuary of her room.
Presumptuous.
The entire lot of them.
Well, you’re the one who wants to see him in a different light…
Yeah, that was where she needed to focus her energy. On getting her thinking ironed out. Ramsey was an animal, a prowling, prey-seeking man-animal.
But he wasn’t happy.
Like it’s any of your concern? He doesn’t seem to want saving.
She huffed at herself and walked farther into the room. It was a little nicer than she’d expected. There was a small sitting area with a comfy-looking chair and love seat clustered around a coffee table. Through a doorway, there was a king-size bed with a small mountain of pillows. The bathroom was nice too, but she only stayed in it long enough to take off her wet clothing and pull on the robe that hung on a hook. Her imagination was humming, ideas forming inside her brain. She opened her bag and pulling out her sketchbook. What she needed to focus on was using the time she had to work up new art. Normally when she was drawing, her mind was absorbed with her forming creation.
Today her thoughts kept shifting away from the paper.
Okay, it did bother her, the fact that he wasn’t happy. The man was a musical genius. He moved his fans with his work. It seemed so unfair that he wasn’t happy.
Well, he was making his own choices.
That much was for sure, and so was the fact that she wasn’t his choice tonight.
She refused to wallow in self-pity, so she laid her pad aside. Actually, if she did, it was going to be a mandatory self ass-kicking time. After all, the suite was a major step up from her loft apartment. There was a minibar and a room service menu. She took her time selecting something from the mini-fridge, because it had been a really long time since she’d seen a full refrigerator.
She needed to savor the moment, because her time with Toxsin was going to be limited.
That was the way it had to be.
* * *
“Are you done being a dick?” Syon asked when Ramsey wandered into his suite.
Ramsey scowled at Syon, but his bandmate didn’t back down. Syon was set up in the corner of the suite, near the windows that showed them a view of the downtown Portland area. Syon had his guitar and laptop there. The screen displayed the music Syon had just been playing on the guitar. Ramsey plugged his guitar into the system while ignoring the question hanging in the air.
“Taz—”
“And I are fine,” Ramsey said, cutting Syon off. Ramsey started fingering the strings, but the music wasn’t flowing.
“And Jewel?” Syon wouldn’t relent.
“What about her?” Ramsey made his string squeal. “She took care of what she’s here for, and can’t do the rest of the work for a few weeks. I only brought her along as a convenience for me.”
“I’m pretty sure we all figured that out,” Syon said.
Ramsey sent him a hard look. “I’m not screwing her.”
“Obviously her idea.”
“What the fuck does it matter?” Ramsey demanded. “I don’t need any chick who has ideas about relationships. That’s how I ended up with cherry blossoms on my skin.”
“That answers my question,” Syon said.
“How so?” Ramsey asked. He reached over to hit the pause button on the laptop when Syon aimed his attention at the screen instead of answering. Syon sent him a narrow-eyed look.
“Lumping Jewel into the same category as Tia tells me you aren’t finished being a dick,” Syon answered.
“So what are you getting at?” Ramsey demanded. “Because you’re playing house, I need to settle down now? I’m a dick if I don’t? Is that it?”
Syon shook his head. “You’re a dick for being pissed at the girl for not seeing you as a sex toy.”
Syon punched the enter key and laid into his strings. The notes appeared on the screen as he played. Ramsey joined in, but his attention wasn’t on the music, and it showed in electronic black and white. His timing sucked, the computer program displaying his efficiency rating.
“Guess you’ll be glad to know there’s plenty of work to keep Jewel busy and away from you.”
Ramsey looked at Syon. “What kind of work?”
Syon reset the program. “Seems word is already out that she’s on the bus with us. Kendra called and said they’ve got scores of requests for appointments with her.”
“She’s not here to do tattoos for other people.” The words were past his lips before he realized how possessive he sounded.
“Seems to me it would keep her out of your path,” Syon said. “A few of those requests come from our VIP box ticket holders. Kendra thinks it would be a boost for publicity if we gave away a session or two with her. We are paying her a salary.”
Ramsey fingered his strings, feeling like the lump in his throat was going to gag him. The idea of Jewel being requested by their box ticket holders irritated him. The boxes went to men with enough money to hire a private jet on show day. Sometimes the boxes held trophy wives or spoiled kids of billionaires. A lot of the time, there were business tycoons who used the concert as time to hook up in wild abandonment under the cover of going to a concert.
He didn’t want Jewel near them.
As soon as the thought passed his mind, he grinned. Seeing Jewel hold her own against those balding, pudgy bastards, who thought they owned the world, would make his day.
She’d do it, too. Keep them in their place or refuse to share her art with them. She had grit and spunk. A spirit that wasn’t going to surrender to being shackled, no matter how hard life became as a result.
He fucking loved that about her.
And it scared the shit out of him, too.
He transmitted his emotions into his music as he thought, tipping his head back as he dissolved into the notes. Syon backed him up, letting him take the lead. It was like letting a piece of himself be ripped off his chest. It stung, and that just made him feel more alive.
Like Jewel did.
The thought refused to be pushed aside. It sat on his mind, lingering as he and Syon played. Sometime in the early hours of the morning, Kate appeared, her hair clipped on top of her head as she came in from checking on their wardrobe. She cast a look toward her husband, one that Ramsey was certain warmed Syon. The connection between the two was palpable. Syon set his guitar down and followed her into the other side of the suite, where their bedroom was.
It was far from the first time he’d watched them retire for the night.
Tonight, it was different.
He ignored the sensation, refusing to name it as he wandered down the hallway. Drake was entertaining. Music spilled out of his suite, mixed with the sound of laughter. There was a top lying on the floor of the hallway, making it clear Drake was partying.
His cock didn’t even stir.
Ramsey gritted his teeth and made his way to his suite. It was huge, as well as decked out. The cost for one night equaled Jewel’s monthly rent on the armpit lo
ft. There had been times when he’d just enjoyed the extravagance, for the sake of knowing he could afford it. Tonight, he felt hollow. Like a rich kid with a pile of toys and no one to play with.
Syon was right; he wasn’t happy.
Normally, he ignored it. Popped the top off a beer and numbed his wits enough to enjoy being played with by the fans who wanted to score with Ramsey of Toxsin. Tonight, he fell asleep, convinced he could smell the scent of Jewel’s hair lingering in the bedroom. His cock stirred at that, keeping him from true oblivion.
* * *
Before noon was considered early on a concert tour. The top floor of the Hyatt wasn’t really stirring when Ramsey reached over and plucked his cell phone off the bedside table. He was tired but not really sleeping. He slipped his fingertip across the screen to unlock it. The display filled with emails, but he tapped on an alert that had come in. He kept tabs on his name being used on the Internet. Even if most of it was wildly exaggerated gossip, he wanted to know who was talking trash about him. It made life so much more interesting when those same people tried to kiss up to him in person. They were just trying to use him to get their twenty seconds of fame and they’d never think twice about playing him for a fool if he didn’t watch his back. So yeah, he wanted to know who was talking smack about him. Becoming famous had taught him to be very careful about whom he considered a friend.
And that really stank.
The normal websites appeared. Road Kill was boasting a fuzzy photo of his new tattoo. He scrolled through the images of him on stage, sitting up when he found one of him fighting with Taz. What snared his complete attention was the headline attached to it.
The romance is over for Syon of Toxsin… Band members brawling in Portland over lead singer’s infidelity.
There was a full-color shot of Syon on top of Jewel.
He reached over, grabbed the hotel phone, punched in Jewel’s room number. It rang and rang before going to voice mail.
“Shit.” He dropped the phone and tried her cell from his. Her voice mail picked up.
Ramsey rolled out of bed, landing on his feet as he typed in a line of commands on his phone. He cursed again when the tracking chip on Jewel’s phone came back as nonfunctioning.
