by Jess Dee
“Oh, fuck, Eve.” Zachary lost it. The beat vanished as he surged up one final time and roared.
She watched, almost transfixed, as he came, every muscle in his body rippling with his release, a study in perfect male beauty.
And then she couldn’t watch anymore, couldn’t focus. The beat took her, sending her over the edge. She came in an exquisite rush of music and pleasure. Came as Zachary emptied himself inside her.
Came to the sound of violins playing and drums crashing.
And when it was over, and the last notes of the song had finally filtered away, she collapsed on top of him, their rapid panting the only sound that filled the now silent, sated room.
Chapter Seven
The persistent, annoying ringing of her phone woke her.
“’Lo?” Her voice was hoarse and raspy, but seriously, what did the caller expect, forcing her out of her dream world like that?
“Evie!” The shrill scream had her bolting upright.
“What? What’s wrong?”
“Oh, my God. You kissed him. You kissed Jonah Speed!”
The words hit home, jerking her fully awake. “Bree?”
She looked around, orienting herself. Hotel room. 7:43 a.m. Early. Way too early for someone who’d found her bed less than three hours ago.
“Details, Eve. I want every detail, right now. And don’t leave out one thing. Not even one word of any conversation you had with him. Holy shit. My little sister kissed Jonah Speed.”
Eve dragged a stunned hand over her eye and down her cheek. “What the…? Wait, Bree, how do you know?” Nothing like a little early morning madness from Briana to get her heart racing like the devil.
“How do I know? How do I know? The whole world freaking knows. It’s only in every newspaper in Queensland. In color. Full-color photos of you and Jonah Speed, pashing your little hearts out.”
She gasped. “In the newspaper?”
Bree was silent for a long second. When she spoke again her voice was more serious. “Uh-huh. In print and online. The Courier Mail, the Australian, news.com.au, smh.com.au.”
Eve shoved a hand through her wild hair. A knot of panic and unease built in her belly.
“Bree, take this one step at a time and tell me what you’re talking about. In detail.”
The air was perfumed with roses, but their sweet scent did nothing to settle her.
Roses. From Jonah. No…from Zachary. Her heart lurched.
“Okay, so I’m fast asleep, it’s still too early to wake Hannah, and Anthony walks in, newspaper in hand, and shakes me awake, right? ‘You’re gonna wanna see this, Bree,’ he says to me. ‘See what?’ I ask. His answer? ‘Your sister, getting hot and heavy with the drummer from Speed—for all the world to see’.” Bree stopped and took a breath. “And seriously, Evie, there you were. On page one and three of the Courier!”
Eve’s stomach sank. Shit. The pictures. The flashes going off. Hundreds of them. She’d forgotten about them in the aftermath of Zachary’s kiss. What with her vision and the talking and Zachary making love to her, she hadn’t even given the photos another thought.
Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid.
Jonah had kissed her at the after party in a room crammed full of people, for all and sundry to see—and photograph.
Damn it. Maybe she should have poked Zachary in the eye after all.
Both eyes.
The last thing she wanted or needed was to be in the public eye again. Eve’s specialization was backstage theatrics, in masking the real person, not displaying herself to the whole world.
“S-so it’s in the Courier Mail?” she asked shakily.
“Uh-huh. But…that’s not all. After looking at the articles, I grabbed my iPad and searched news.com.au, and sheesh, Evie, you should see the headlines there. International rock stars Speeding through our Aussie women.”
Eve dropped her head in her hands with a loud groan.
“So it’s true? You really did kiss Jonah Speed?”
Kiss, fuck, make love to… Yeah, it was all true. Not that she said any of that out loud. “You’ve seen the pictures, Bree. You tell me.”
“Uh…”
“Uh…?”
“Not just pictures.”
“What?”
“There’s a video too. That’s how I knew for sure it was you. Someone caught the two of you in a full-on lip lock. Mouths, lips, tongues, hands tangled in hair, the whole caboodle. And after, when Jonah breaks the kiss, there’s a full frontal, of you, looking up at him.”
“Shit.” It was nothing but a whisper.
“It’s not all bad, Evie. You look stunning. I mean seriously gorgeous kind of stunning.”
Eve snorted her disbelief. If anyone knew exactly how Eve looked it was her sister. Not that Bree thought Eve was ugly. Not by a long shot. But she did see the scars for what they were: a permanent reminder of a terrible tragedy.
Although she didn’t agree with Eve, Bree had always understood her reluctance to show her real face in public. As a result, it was Bree who’d persuaded her to explore her talents with a makeup brush, who’d encourage her to experiment with different brands, colors and techniques until finally Eve had felt confident enough to be seen in public.
“Jonah also looks hot,” Bree went on, ignoring the derisive snort. “Seriously, fire-raging, inferno-burning hot. And the look’s not because he’s the hottest man on earth—which is an undisputed fact, by the way. It’s because he’s looking at you as though he’d like to eat you for freaking breakfast. His lips are swollen and pouty, his cheeks are flushed, his eyes heavy-lidded. Jeez, Eve, he looks like you’ve just given him a BJ.”
“Bree!”
“Did you?”
“Did I what?”
“Give him a BJ?”
“At a freaking after party? In front of all those people? Are you nuts?”
“Not at the party. He hauled you away from there. Ran with you. Anything could have happened then. Anything. Including a BJ.”
“Jeez, Bree. For heaven’s sake, think logically about this. I didn’t give him a BJ.” She bit her lip. At least that she could say with all honesty. Because whatever else had happened last night, the one thing that hadn’t was a blowjob.
Bree clicked her tongue. “Well, why not? Seriously, from the look on his face you could have given him anything. Anything at all, and he would have grabbed it gratefully. What stopped you?”
Eve sighed. Nothing. But she wasn’t ready to share those details yet. Not even with her sister, with whom she shared everything. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
“When have I ever not believed you?”
She closed her eyes and lay back down on her pillow. “He held my hand, Bree. Took it in his as he raced us down the passageway.”
“What?”
“Yep. I made it about thirty meters before the vision hit.”
“Oh, shit.” Bree’s entire attitude changed. “Evie, I’m so sorry.”
Eve didn’t respond.
“Was it bad? A big one? Or just a passing flicker of conversation?”
“It was big, Bree. Huge. I got a huge chunk of his past. Something I never should have been privy to.”
Her sister’s sharp intake of breath told Eve she understood. “How did he take it?”
“You know, he was super nice about it. Understanding too. He carried me back to his suite and took care of me while the dizziness passed.”
And my oh my, how he’d taken care of her. He’d taken care of every single inch of her. Several times.
“He sounds like a nice guy.”
“He is. Really, really nice. Like nothing I’d ever imagined a rock star to be.” But then she’d had no idea how she’d imagined a rock star to be. Aloof, remote, arrogant. Or maybe overly confident and very sure of his abilities to seduce women.
Because, face it. Jonah Speed need only breathe and every woman in the room was instantly seduced.
“Bree?”
“Yeah?�
��
“He gave me flowers.” She melted at the memory.
“After your vision?”
“Before. After the concert last night.”
“I assume you’d met him before then? In Sydney?”
“Nope. I hadn’t. Then last night he just walked up to me and gave me two roses he’d picked up onstage.” Once again she struck by the craziness of his actions. Why on earth had he homed in on her? Been attracted to her? Her, of all people?
Bree squealed.
Eve quickly filled her in on the dead-and-fresh-rose saga.
“Oh, my God.” Bree’s voice was full of wonder. “Evie, is Jonah Speed falling for you?” Then she coughed. “Or…is he just trying to get my little sister into bed?”
Eve opened her mouth to answer and realized she didn’t know how.
There was no way on earth Jonah—Zachary—could be falling for her. First off, he was Jonah Speed, and world-famous rock stars—world-famous anyones for that matter—just didn’t fall for Eve Andrews.
And even if he did like her, and Eve got a very strong impression that he did, a lot, he still had his red-haired woman to look forward to.
Which logically meant that Zachary only liked Eve enough to get her into bed. And how bad a thing could that be, since Eve liked Zachary more than enough to climb into bed with him?
A mutual “like session”. That’s what she and Zachary had going on. With a ridiculously hot flare of attraction thrown into the pot. And some fantastic sex. Like off-the-charts fantastic sex.
“Can I just say I don’t know and leave it at that for now, Bree?”
“Of course you can, hon. Just tell me one thing. Are you falling for him?” Before Eve could answer, she rushed on. “Because if you are, you had better be careful. He’s a rock star. And not a very private one at that. Criminy, he’s infamous for the number of women he’s slept with. I think he even has a child somewhere back in the States, from one of his many lovers.”
What?
Zachary was a father? Why hadn’t he told her?
Why would he tell her? It had nothing to do with her, nothing to do with anything she’d seen in her vision last night. Nothing to do with anything they’d done together.
“He has a child?”
“There was a huge scandal, a few months back. Didn’t you see it? Some woman claiming Jonah had knocked her up then refused to acknowledge the baby when she came to him for child support.”
Eve frowned. “Hasn’t that story been told about almost every famous person? From Arnold Schwarzenegger to Justin Bieber? Tiger Woods to Mick Jagger?”
“Probably. I just don’t want you to get hurt, Evie.”
What Bree didn’t say, but then she didn’t need to, was the obvious “you’ve been hurt enough already”.
“I’ll be careful. I promise. Listen, I have to go. We’re leaving for the Gold Coast in a few hours and I’ve done nothing to prepare.”
“Okay, I won’t hold you up. Just promise you’ll be careful with him. He plays in a whole different league than you.”
“I know. I know. I will be. Promise.” She changed the subject. “I packed everything I need for the party, by the way. I think Hannah will love my new princess look.”
“Brilliant. She’s so excited about turning four. She can’t wait for her princess aunty to charm all her friends.”
“I’ll do my best. Promise.”
“’Course you will. See you tomorrow.”
“Love you.”
“You too.”
Eve clicked the end button and padded over to the bathroom to shower, wishing her photo had never made headline news.
She paused to stare in the mirror. The cameras hadn’t filmed the real her. Like Zachary, the images hadn’t picked up on the scars on her face which stood out now in stark relief, a lattice of red lines crisscrossed over her left cheek.
Zachary found her attractive and Bree had said she’d looked stunning in the video.
Eve’s laughter filled the bathroom, a hollow, humorless sound. Obviously neither of them was seeing her now. Because the reflection that stared back at Eve was in no way attractive. It was disfigured by thirty-seven hideous marks.
The umpteen scar reduction treatments had allowed her to fully cover those scars with her makeup. But when the foundation came off, there was no hiding the blemishes.
She almost threw herself into the shower. The sooner she washed, the sooner she could arm herself with her protective makeup. Because there was no chance, none at all, that Zachary—or the rest of the world for that matter—would be seeing her without that mask.
Chapter Eight
“I wish you’d stayed the night.” Zachary’d barely shut Eve’s door when he grabbed her by the waist, pulling her against him. “Still say we both would have slept better if you’d been with me.”
Without waiting for her reply he dropped his head and kissed her. Took her mouth with his as he’d been aching to do since he woke up.
“Mmm,” she said dreamily when they drew apart. “Good morning to you too.”
“Morning, Tiny.” He loosened his hold but only enough so he could step back to admire her gorgeous body. The lapels of her thick terrycloth robe had parted slightly at the front, revealing her pert breasts.
Zachary took a moment to enjoy the visual feast. “Perfect,” he murmured before dragging his gaze back to meet hers.
She jumped, startled. “What the…?” Her mouth fell open and she gaped up at him. “Zachary?” She touched his eyebrow, ran her finger around his eye.
“Ah. Yeah.” She’d noticed his eye color. He shrugged, liking her touch—shocked though it may be. “Maybe I should have said something last night.”
“Maybe. Brown? Is this your real color?”
“It is. The green comes compliments of colored contacts. We all wear them when we’re Speed.”
“You, Jamie and Jordan?”
“Yeah. Me, Jamie and Jordan. Actually, me, Nathan and Seth.”
“Their real names?”
“Uh-huh.”
“So, false names, false eye color. Does it help?”
“With what?”
“Distancing your real selves from the general public.”
Smart woman. The exact reason they’d chosen contacts and stage names. “It does. To a degree.” Nathan had suggested the lenses. Zachary had recommended the color. It was his way of incorporating his future into his present.
“I like your eyes brown.” She hadn’t stopped staring at them. “They’re…softer, warmer. Make you more approachable. And…”
“And?”
“And brown looks good on you.” She shivered and pressed herself against him. “Like really good.”
Zachary growled. “If I’d known you’d like my real color better than the green, I’d have trashed the lenses before you left earlier. Maybe then you wouldn’t have gone.”
“I would have been real tempted to stay,” she confessed. “But, as I said, there was the whole sleep issue, Mr. Pace. We both needed it.”
“I needed you more than I needed sleep.” He grinned at her choice of name. “Ya know, you and I have done it. Had sex,” he added with a stage whisper. “It’s okay to drop the ‘mister’ bit.”
“Okay then…Pace.” She frowned. “Pacey.” She nodded this time.
“Pacey?”
“It’s either Pacey, Speedo or Zacko. And, well, no to Speedo. Just…no. And whacko Zacko sounds too familiar. So Pacey it is.”
“And Zac won’t work?”
“You don’t strike me as a Zac.”
He’d never been a Zac. Had always preferred Zachary.
“Besides, you’re in Australia now. We have to give you an Australian name.”
“And Pacey’s Australian?”
“Sure. In the same way sucking dingo balls is.”
“You Aussies are crazy.”
She grinned. “You’ll learn to love us.”
Zachary suspected she was right. In fact, he might
already be just a little in love with her.
He took her mouth in another kiss, this one leaving him panting and aroused. When he pulled away, she melted against him. Melted into him. And lifted her head to kiss him again. A sweet, delicious kiss he felt all the way down to his toes.
She had him aroused and utterly charmed.
Eve smiled when it was over, her lips more pink than red.
No lipstick? The rest of her face was perfectly made up. Hmm, did he prefer the cherry-red look he hadn’t been able to resist last night, or the natural pink of her flesh, which made him want to spread her before him and explore other pink parts of her?
Zachary couldn’t choose. Didn’t try. They both made him hot.
“Zachary?”
“Yeah?”
“Are you a father?”
He stumbled backward, still holding Eve, and had to dance around ungracefully to find his balance. “Jesus. There’s a question you don’t hear every time you kiss a girl.” He dropped his arms and took a step back.
“Shit.” She flushed and smacked her forehead. “That so didn’t come out like I meant it to. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked like that. Shouldn’t put you on the spot. In fact, I shouldn’t have asked at all.”
The woman seemed to have a flair for putting him on the spot. “Why did you?” He already knew the answer though. She’d heard the rumors. Hell, the whole world had heard the rumors.
That didn’t stop the unease from creeping up his spine.
“I…my sister mentioned it this morning.”
“You discussed me with your sister?” Zachary stiffened.
Experience had taught him to be wary. Rumors spread, fast and furious. A quick call to family or friend was all it took for the press to get involved. And when the press got involved private situations became public fodder—most of the time exaggerated beyond recognition.
On the other hand, who was he to criticize a woman for talking to her sister? Didn’t he talk to his brothers about shit that happened in his life? Maybe he should view her conversation as a compliment.
A part of him would feel complimented, he acknowledged, if she hadn’t mentioned the damn baby shit.
“She phoned me to discuss the papers. We spoke.”
