“Murder who?” Gwen asked as she and Corrie came to join us.
“Killian,” I answered. “He’s taken to playing immature, nasty pranks on their new assistant.”
Gwen’s eyes went big as she turned to Gina. “He’s pranking you? That asshole! Don’t worry, babe, I’ll totally help you bury his body.”
Thankfully all plans of homicide were put on the back burner when the four members of Civil Corruption came sauntering out of the dressing area. People all around began to scramble as the guy directing the video went over to them and started gesturing wildly while he gave them instructions.
There were two areas where they were going to film. The first was set up like something out of an apocalyptic doomsday movie, complete with dilapidated buildings and a cracked, crumbling road like a bomb had been dropped right in the middle of the city. The second was an outdoor area, an empty, barren desert with fire barrels set up strategically. In both scenes, the guys would be playing just like they would on a stage, complete with Garret’s drum kit, Declan’s microphone stand, and all the other instruments.
Declan glanced over in our direction, quickly catching my eye, and shot me a wink that sent my panties up in flames. God, he looked unbelievably hot. Of course, they all did, but he stood out from the rest, that was for damn sure.
Their clothes were tattered and torn, and it looked like dirt or oil had been smudged all over. Each was in tight, ragged jeans covered in holes and plain white T-shirts with carefully placed tears in the fabric that stretched across their muscles. I had no idea what the director was planning, but from the looks of all four guys, the women were going to go crazy over the video.
“What’s going on with you two?” Gwen asked, pulling me from my perusal of Declan’s fine body.
“Hmm?” I replied, trying not to blush at being caught staring. “Nothing’s going on. Why do you ask?”
“Maybe because you’re staring him down like he’s a T-bone and you’re a hungry dog?” Corrine spoke on a laugh.
“Yeah, and you’ve basically roomed with him the entire trip,” Gina continued, adding fuel to the fire. “Either something’s up, or someone seriously needs to lose their job. Three cities, three hotels, and they’ve all managed to screw up your reservation?”
Their skepticism was evident, and I could feel Lyla’s penetrating gaze boring into my skin. I hadn’t shared anything about Declan and me with her since that first night, and I knew she was going to start demanding answers very soon.
“Quiet on the set!” someone shouted, effectively ending our conversation, thank god.
Everyone started fluttering around. The guys headed into the bomb area set and got ready, and the rest of the girls and I grew silent so we could watch. I’d never been a part of this process before, and I was giddy with anticipation to see how everything turned out.
The director called for action, and Garrett started banging out a beat with his drumsticks. They’d dub the music later, but for the time being the guys were playing live and unplugged. Mace and Declan strummed their guitars in fluid synchronicity, and Killian’s bass rumbled through the area. As soon as Declan stepped up to the microphone and opened his mouth to sing, rain started pouring down on them from the ceiling.
I was so enraptured by how the drenched T-shirt conformed to Declan’s chest and abs that I barely paid attention to the lyrics he was growling out in that decadent voice of his, which was just fine with me. That was until two women on the crew started whispering just a few feet away from us.
“You know, I heard he wrote this song about an ex-girlfriend. Apparently she was a real bitch.”
“And a dumb one too,” the other girl replied in a hushed voice. “I mean, what chick’s gonna willingly walk away from all that? Who gives a shit what he did wrong?”
“Right?”
My stomach tangled in knots as the two of them continued ripping apart my intelligence and overall character. The words to the song finally started to penetrate, and I went from feeling turned on and happy to downright miserable in the blink of an eye. The past had just reared its ugly head and bitten me right in the ass. There was no escaping it no matter how hard I tried.
I felt Lyla press in close to my side. “Ignore them,” she whispered in my ear. “They’re stupid bitches who don’t know what the hell they’re talking about.”
The smile I gave her was pathetic at best. “I’m good,” I lied. Truth was I was the furthest thing from good there was.
Lyla gave me a sympathetic look and turned back to watch the show while I wallowed silently. I was just about to excuse myself for an extended bathroom break when two arms closed around me from behind and lifted me clear off the ground.
“Surprise, babycakes.”
As soon as my feet hit the floor, I spun around in sheer excitement. “Camden?”
“The one and only. You miss me?”
I threw myself at him, wrapping him in the biggest, tightest hug I could manage. “So much,” I sighed happily. “You have no idea.”
Leave it to my best friend to have an uncanny ability to pop up right when I needed him most.
Chapter Thirty-One
Declan
When that asshole put his hands on her, I nearly fucked up the entire shoot by storming off the set and beating the motherfucker to death with my guitar.
“Cut!” the director yelled, bringing everything to a screeching halt. “Declan, what the hell, man? You were killing it, and then all of a sudden you locked up tighter than a virgin on her wedding night.”
Camden Knight got swept up by some chicks on set going nuts at his presence, and Tate turned her concerned gaze to me. “You okay?” she mouthed, but I was too pissed to issue her any kind of response.
“Sorry,” I mumbled, turning to the prick in the director’s chair. “Let’s just get this shit done.”
“Okay. Take it from the bridge. And… action!”
The rain started again, and my fingers glided along the fret and picked at the strings instinctually. The lyrics were gritty and crude, and I ground them out into the mic between clenched teeth as I stared Tate down. She shifted in place with a nervous energy as she watched me pour every angry, jealous feeling I had coursing through me into that song.
“Cut! That was fucking perfect!” the director shouted a while later with so much excitement I could’ve sworn he’d just creamed his pants. “Let’s get ready for the desert shot.”
We headed back to the dressing area, a private, closed-off space away from the hustling crowds on the set. I dreaded the thought of having to sit another hour in that uncomfortable chair while women fussed over my appearance, spending an ungodly amount of time styling my hair to look like I’d just rolled out of bed.
“That scene looked fantastic,” the woman in charge of making it look like I’d been stranded in a desert for weeks crooned as she applied makeup to my face and arms. The next scene called for us to be shirtless, and there was another girl standing by to slather my chest and stomach with baby oil. She seemed positively giddy with anticipation. Meanwhile, I was in Hell. In the past, I’d have taken one or both or them into a bathroom and fucked them each to within an inch of their lives. Now I just wanted to get out of there so I could get to my girl and demand some answers. “You looked so hot. I can’t wait to see how the video turns out.”
“Thanks,” I grunted in response, careful not to make eye contact.
“You know,” she continued, undeterred, “if you’re free after this, I know of a great little pub a few blocks from here. It’s quiet and has the best—”
“He’s busy. Sorry,” Tatum’s snarky voice called out, gaining the attention of everyone in the room.
“Oh. Well, uh, that’s too bad,” Makeup Chick muttered quietly.
“Yeah, it is,” Tate continued, a fake, pissy smile plastered on her face. “Can you all give us a minute please? I need to speak with my… client. In private.”
“Yeah, I’ll bet she does,” Kill chuckled as
he and the rest of the guys climbed from their chairs and started out of the room.
“Oh, and you,” she snapped, stopping Killian in his tracks and leveling him with a vicious glare. “Any more pranks on Gina and I swear to God, I’ll make you wish you’d never been born. We clear?”
Kill’s eyes went wide. “Jesus, Tater tot. I think I liked you better before you were our manager.”
“And I liked you better before you decided to start making my friend miserable. Knock it off. She’s a good assistant, and I need her if I have any hopes of keeping you big babies in line during the tour.”
“Fine,” he grumbled sullenly, like a kid who’d just been dressed down by his mother. “I’ll stop.”
With that the room emptied, leaving me and Tate alone with nothing but my uncontrollable jealousy between us.
“I don’t like that girl,” she mumbled under her breath as she watched the woman who’d been doing my makeup scamper away.
“She was just doing her job,” I replied in a flat, emotionless tone, keeping my ass planted in that godforsaken chair.
“She was all over you,” Tate returned, closing a few feet of distance between us. “It was unprofessional.”
“All over me?” I hissed, my jaw ticking. “You mean like that stupid fucker Camden was all over you a goddamn half hour ago?”
Her head jerked back in surprise at my brusque tone. “That’s why you seemed so mad out there? Because of Camden?” she asked, like it was the most unimaginable thing she’d ever heard.
Shooting out of my seat, I started toward her, each step more menacing than the one before. “You let him put his goddamn hands all over you,” I snarled. “No one has the fucking right to touch that body but me. No one.”
That fierce redheaded fire of hers started bubbling to the surface. “He’s a friend, Declan,” she snapped. “That’s all. And you’ve got no right to be pissed off at me for hugging a friend when you were the one out there singing about what a heartless bitch I am!”
“It’s just a fucking song! Christ, I wrote the damn thing before we got back together!”
She crossed her arms over her chest and scowled. “Doesn’t change the fact that your next Billboard hit is going to be an epic middle finger at me. Do you have any idea what some of those women out there were saying?”
“Who cares?” I shouted, throwing my hands up in agitation as I turned away and started pacing. “They’re clueless bitches who don’t know what the hell they’re talking about. Why do you give a shit what they’re saying?”
“You think it’s that easy?” Tate’s voice was heavy with exasperation. “It’s not just a few people’s opinions I care about. When that song hits the airwaves, it’ll be entire freaking countries picking each and every word apart! That’s what I care about. After we broke up, and you started putting out songs bashing my character, I couldn’t have cared less because we weren’t a part of each other’s lives. But now?” She gave her head a weary shake. “Now people are going to start digging. You keep saying the past is behind us, but this is pulling it front and center all over again.” She raked her fingers through her hair, the stark fear on her face twisting my stomach into knots. “I don’t think—”
I rushed her, cupping her face as desperation took hold of me. “No,” I grunted violently. “Don’t say it. Don’t even fucking think it.”
“Declan,” she sighed, wrapping her fingers around my wrists. “You don’t even know what I was about to say.”
“You were gonna say you don’t think you can do this.” I knew I was right when she attempted to drop her head and hide her eyes, and something primal and instinctual roared to life inside of me, lacing my blood with adrenaline. Grabbing her hand, I pulled her into the tiny bathroom near our curtained-off area and slammed the door shut.
“You aren’t leaving me,” I ordered, pinning her against the wall with my body.
“Declan,” she gasped, her mouth hanging open in shock at my sudden feral behavior.
Slamming my lips against hers, I cut off any more of her protests. My tongue demanded entrance between her lips, and when she finally parted them I dove in, soaking up her sweet taste as my hands roamed all over her body, squeezing and clenching, grabbing fistfuls of her clothing in desperation to get at her skin.
“Declan, there are people right outside. We can’t,” she panted, her head falling back against the wall with a heavy thud while I feasted on the sensitive flesh of her neck.
“We fucking can,” I grunted, ripping her jeans open and tearing them and her panties down her thighs. “I can sink myself inside of you any time and any place I want,” I continued as she took my cock from my pant and fisted it. “Because you’re mine.” Grabbing the back of her knee, I threw her leg over my hip and sank into her pussy. It had only been hours since the last time I had her, yet it felt like a lifetime.
Her mouth fell open, and I slapped my hand over it before she could scream the place down. “You belong to me,” I grunted as I fucked her, my dick soaked with her wetness. Christ in Heaven. Every goddamn time. “This.” I slammed in and ground my cock deep, rubbing against her clit in the process. “Is mine.”
She shook my hand from her mouth and pleaded, “Deck, baby. Faster.”
“Say it. Say your pussy’s mine.”
“It’s yours.”
I pulled out and drove back in once. “And this is mine.” Cupping her jaw, I rubbed the pad of my index finger against her bottom lip before slipping it past her teeth. She gave the digit a suck, twirling her tongue around the tip like a good girl.
“Yours,” she answered when I pulled it out.
Still holding her leg up, I wrapped my other arm around her waist, prodding at that tight hole with the finger she’d just sucked on. “And this, baby, this is all mine.” I buried my finger in to the first knuckle, catching her sharp cry of pleasure with my mouth. I kissed her through each wave of her orgasm until the way her cunt squeezed me became too much to handle and I fell headlong after her.
I dropped my forehead against hers, slowly lowering her leg to the ground and removing my finger from her ass, but keeping my cock firmly planted inside her, as we both came down. “And this,” I continued, gently placing my palm between her breasts, right above her heart. “This is mine too. I broke it once before, but I swear to fucking God, baby. I’ll never do it again.”
She sniffled, her eyes growing glassy with unshed tears. “If everything I am is yours, does that mean everything you are is mine?”
Trailing my fingers along her temple, I tangled them in her hair and squeezed my eyes shut. “I’ve been yours since you pulled up on that bike when you were seven years old and kicked me in the shin for insulting you.”
A giggle burst past her lips, and I lifted my head so I had the perfect view to glory in her beauty as she laughed.
After a minute of laughter, she finally sighed and grew serious. “Camden’s just a friend, Deck. I swear,” she said on a whisper.
Letting out a huffed breath, I pulled out and began sliding my jeans back into place. She did the same as I grumbled, “Can’t fucking stand how he touches you. It drives me out of my goddamn mind. I want to break every fucking bone in his hand. At least when you walk back out there to him it’ll be my cum dripping from inside you.”
Tatum’s hand came down on my arm, stopping my jerky motions as I dressed and forcing my attention back to her concern-riddled face. “There is nothing romantic between Camden and me. I need you to get that. And I need you to accept it, because he’s important to me. I can’t lose him, and I refuse to pick between you two.” The tears had returned, but this time I knew they were full of sadness and worry. “Please,” she begged. “Please understand that.”
“Okay,” I answered immediately, taking her in my arms and holding tight. I couldn’t stand the look in her eyes, that hollow, endless fear that I was going to put her in an impossible position. I’d have given a lung to take that away from her. “I get it. And I swear I’ll
try and do better about accepting the guy. It’s just….” I pulled my head back and looked down at her so she could see the sincerity I prayed was written all over my face. “He had you during those years you shut me out. It makes me crazy. I’m a jealous guy, but I’ll get my shit together, baby. And I’ll never make you choose.”
Her whole body sagged in relief as she rested her forehead on my bare chest. “Thank you,” she whispered. “Thank you so much. That means more than you’ll ever know.” She lifted on her toes and placed one last kiss on my lips. “Now let’s get this freaking shoot done. I want to go home.”
“You got it, baby.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
Tatum
There were only a couple more weeks until the concert, and while nerves had taken residency in my belly like a horde of hummingbirds, I was getting more and more excited. I’d never traveled anywhere outside of the States, and with Gwen, Corrie, and Gina with me, I was counting on having the adventure of a lifetime.
But first I had the opportunity to get in some quality one-on-one time with two of my best friends in the whole world. Lyla was crashing with me for a few more days, and Camden was in Seattle until the following afternoon, when he had to leave for another show.
We’d all gotten back from LA earlier that day, and I’d immediately booked it home to do some much-needed laundry and try to shake off the exhaustion from the past several days of constant travel.
Camden let out a loud whistle the moment he crossed the threshold into my apartment. “Wow, babe. This place is swank. I see working with those Neanderthals comes with some serious perks.”
“Those Neanderthals are my friends, Cam, just like you, so lay off the insults, would you?”
He twisted his face into a fake repentant expression, giving me hangdog eyes and poking out his bottom lip in a pout. “Yes, ma’am.” I rolled my eyes while Lyla laughed, drawing Camden’s focus to her. “And you, missy,” he started, crooking his finger at her. “Come give ol’ Camden a hug.”
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