Red almost takes off my dick when she loses her balance, falling backward onto her ass.
“Oh my God!” a high-pitched voice squeaks from down the hall. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t think … uh …”
Red’s face is about the color of her hair, struck from getting caught in the act. I wouldn’t think a girl who is so willing to give a blowjob in the middle of a hallway would care, but turns out there is some shred of dignity in her after all.
“Do you mind?” I ask casually, gripping my swollen cock in my hand as I try putting myself back into my jeans.
“Excuse me?” the girl snaps, boldly stepping forward. When she steps into the light, everything pauses.
“Unfuckingbelievable,”Ashton snips in disgust, crossing her arms over her chest. She looks completely different than the first time I saw her two days ago.
Rather than the leather she wore last time, she is sporting a white sundress with some sort of pattern stitched into the bottom. It came mid-thigh, showing off her toned legs. I bet she worked out to have the kind of muscle that her cowboy boots seem to emphasize. When I trail back up her body, I notice how her crossed arms push her breasts together so they’re better displayed in the V-neck of her dress.
“You just escape from the set of Footloose? You do realize we’re in a club, right? This isn’t some line-dancing class.” I focus on buttoning and zipping my jeans up, although the aching bulge protests from the imprisonment.
“And you realize this is a club, right? Not your hotel room where you can get off anywhere you like.”
I shrug, not bothered by her clear distaste for my nightly adventure. “Unfortunately, you showed up before I actually got off. Going to get a bad case of blue balls unless one of you ladies would like to finish the job.” My eyes stay on Ashton as I suggest it, waiting for her reaction.
Just as I assumed, her face contorts in pure disgust. Chuckling to myself, I absorb the little win, proud to have made her look like that.
Red finally gets up, pulling her skirt down as she looks at Ashton. Her red lips formed an O in recognition, and I can’t help but grin knowing where they just were.
She steps forward, hands flattening out her wrinkled tank top. “Wow, you’re Ashton King. I’m a big fan of your music!”
The way Ashton’s brows quirk up as she stares at her made it hard to contain my laughter. It’s reasonable, considering Red went from embarrassed to starstruck in two seconds flat despite Ashton catching her deep-throating me just moments ago.
“Well … thanks,” Ashton murmurs, staying civil as Red warily passes her and goes back to the dance floor.
I prop myself up against the wall, noticing her narrowed eyes. Whatever makeup she wore made the color of her green eyes look fierce like a tiger ready to pounce.
It’s hot.
“You got something to say, princess?”
“Don’t call me that.”
“What do you want me to call you?”
“My name.”
My head cocks to the side. “I can think of a few fun ways to call out your name.”
She holds up her hand. “Stop right there. I don’t need to hear the stupid shit you’re about to say. We’re never sleeping together.”
I push off the wall, stalking toward her. “You say that now, but just wait. Now that we’re going to work together, you’re bound to change your mind.”
I stop in front of her, the tips of our shoes touching. Her eyes are distant as they lock with mine, giving nothing away. That asshole of an ex that everybody is talking about must have done a number on her to be this closed off.
“Ever hear of personal space?” she quips.
I grin, noting how she hasn’t stepped back.
“Don’t think about making a move, pretty boy,” she warns, voice clipped. I can tell she means it, but I can’t stop myself. There’s something about pushing her that gets me off.
I reach out to move a strand of her perfectly curled hair behind her ear, but before I make contact, she drives her knee straight between my legs.
“Fuck!” I yell, dropping to my knees, cupping myself. I’m bent over when I hear heels running toward us.
“Jesus, what happened?” a new girl questions frantically.
I squint at the girl, inspecting the similarities between her and Ashton. They’re both wearing the same dresses, although the new girl’s is a little shorter and she has on stilettos instead of cowboy boots, and whereas Ashton’s hair is curled, this girl’s is straight.
The girl peers between me to Ashton. “Ash, why is Dylan Hilton holding his dick on the floor like somebody just kicked it?”
“I didn’t kick it,” she defends. “I kneed it. There’s a difference.”
Her friend stares at her like she’s crazy.
I wince as I stand up, rubbing myself as I study them. Eye-level they don’t look that similar like I originally thought. The new girl’s eyes are a weird shade of brown, almost amber-gold unlike the green eyes Ashton has, and Ashton’s face is heart-shaped and innocent, unlike her friend’s sharp edges. It’s the kind of sculpted face that you see on a screen, perfected for the camera.
“He was trying to touch me,” Ashton adds, shrugging like it explains everything.
“I was fucking with you,” I deadpan. “Has anyone told you that you’re uptight? Loosen up, would you?”
Her eyes narrow at me. “Do you want me to knee you in the balls again, pretty boy?”
“Pretty boy?” her friend repeats. “You already have a nickname for him?” The way she says it is too excited, which makes Ashton glare at her next.
“I call her princess, but she doesn’t seem to like it,” I inform her friend.
She snorts. “Yeah, that definitely doesn’t fit. A for effort though, buddy.”
Buddy. Can’t say many women call me that.
Before I can properly scope her out, Ashton snaps her fingers in front of my face. “Stop checking her out. You just had some random chick going down on you for Christ’s sake!”
Her friend chokes out a laugh. “Um, what the hell did I miss?”
Ash rolls her eyes. “I was heading to the bathroom when I found some moron on her knees in front of him. Right in the hallway!”
My face screws up. “Well, the bathroom seemed unsanitary. Would you want to do that in a place where people piss?”
She gapes at me in disbelief. Taking a step forward despite her friend giving her a warning look, she levels with me. “I wouldn’t do that anywhere except my own home. I have more class than the girls you hook up with.”
I cock my head, studying her hard features. She’s determined to stay closed off. Pissed off with the world over everything. I want to believe it’s because of more than just her old boyfriend, because the familiarity of a broken soul behind those sea-green eyes is caused by more than just one measly man.
“Sounds like your ex-lover didn’t keep things very exciting outside the bedroom then, sweetheart,” I muse, flicking the piece of hair she wouldn’t let me touch earlier.
Her widening eyes make me laugh louder than I had before, especially when her cheeks turn a rosy shade of pink. Even her friend is trying to hide her snickers from me, turning away so Ashton wouldn’t see her wavering lips.
“That is … I can’t believe … you’re—” She shakes her head, too flustered to complete her sentence.
“I’m what?” I press in amusement, leaning forward into her personal space.
I swear she hisses at me, which only hikes up the curves of my lips.
“You’re crude for one,” she announces as if I don’t already know that. In fact, it makes me roll my eyes. I notice her hands balling into tight fists at her sides, and the irritation growing based on her nostrils flaring.
“That all?”
Her friend laughs. “As much as this back and forth is entertaining, you really don’t want to mess with Ash, Dylan.”
Ash.
The name fit her. Like she was built from the ashe
s of a damaging fire. Maybe one day she would rise from them, if she’s lucky enough to see past whatever is holding her down—spoiling her soul from the soot.
Not all of us are that lucky.
“I’d hate to have the claws come out,” I relent, winking at her friend. “I didn’t catch your name.”
She grins. “I didn’t give it to you.” She loops her arm around Ash’s tense one. “Come on, babe. I think you’ve had enough fun for tonight.”
They start walking away, not another look back.
“I’ll see you around, princess,” I call after them, shoving my hands back into my pockets.
She raises her arm up, middle finger waving at me as they disappear around the corner.
I chuckle, leaning my shoulder against the wall. I’m still not for collaborating with Ashton King, but something tells me that working with the feisty wildcat is going to be ten times more interesting than I thought possible.
But the black pit growing inside of me warned me away from playing with the fire I wanted nothing more than to touch. To burn for. And as long as my own self-destruction was growing, I’d become my own piles of ashes long before I’d ever see her reborn from hers.
Ashton
I give myself one last look-over in the mirror, smoothing out the white blouse that’s under my favorite denim jacket. I opt for a pair of black leggings since the meeting with Tom Bennington and the band isn’t supposed to be formal.
Yet, I find myself straightening out my naturally wavy hair, right before pulling out my favorite Passion Fruit pink lipstick and applying a layer on my thick lips.
“You look hot,” Teagan says from the doorway, grinning as she gives me a once-over. “Did you fail to mention you had a date after the meeting, or are you looking like that for a certain guitarist?”
I turn to her, hands on my hips, and narrow my eyes. “You think I’d go out on a date in this? This is practically what I write music in when I’m by myself.”
Her eyes linger on my painted-up face. “Funny, I seem to remember you wearing sweatpants and an old T-shirt whenever you write music. And you definitely never put makeup on.”
“What’s wrong with makeup?” I challenge.
She puts her hands up. “Nothing at all. I just think it’s cute how you’re acting like you’re not dressing up for Dylan.”
“I’m not—”
“You straightened your hair, Ash. You hate straightening your hair. In fact, whenever I ask you if I can do your hair you spend at least ten minutes complaining about what you could be doing instead of letting me straighten it.”
Knowing she isn’t going to let this go, I relent. “Think what you want. There’s nothing wrong with dressing up a little for a meeting. I can’t exactly show up in my pajamas, now can I? I’m meeting their manager and going over the contract set in place for this collaboration.”
She shrugs, but the knowing smile is still carved into her naked lips. Since it’s her day off, she’s sporting her usual leggings and Teag, no makeup, and frizzy hair. We always stay causal whenever we’re lounging around the house.
“All I’m saying is that last night was intense between you. I’ve never seen you so flustered with a guy before. It was cute.”
Cute?
My nose scrunches. “Cute, Teag? Really? He was infuriating! And seriously, who lets a girl go down on him out in the open? It’s disrespectful!”
She rolls her eyes. “It’s LA, babe. He’s not the first person to do it, and he won’t be the last.”
I stare dubiously at her. “You don’t think that’s sick?”
“I wouldn’t do it, but I won’t judge anybody who does. The guy is cocky, I’ll give you that. But so is Rhys, babe. Most guys like that are. They know they’re hot and can get anything they want. And based on the way Dylan was taunting you, you’re what he wants.”
“Well he isn’t getting me.”
A warm smile softens her face, but there’s doubt etched into it that I choose to ignore. “That’s up to you then. But there was some serious sexual tension in that hallway, and it wasn’t between him and his blower.”
My jaw drops. “There was not sexual tension between us!”
“Oh there so was. I’ve got a talent for that kind of thing. If I didn’t pull you away, he so would have kissed you. And you would have let him.”
I deadpan, “Are you forgetting I kneed him in the balls when he tried touching me?”
“I always thought the hard-to-get angle worked wonders on men,” she muses.
“I’m not playing any game, Teagan. So can you just stop? Plus, you think there’s sexual tension everywhere.”
“Not everywhere.”
“What about when I asked you to come with me to my Uncle Eddy’s funeral? Remember what you said about Betty Hamden and her neighbor, Earl?”
“They were totally ready to get it on right there in the funeral home!” she argues.
Unbelievable.
“She’s like half his age.”
“There are little blue pills he could take if she really thought that was going to be issue, Ash. Believe me, they probably had sex right after the service.”
I cringe, not wanting to picture that.
As I’m busying myself by pulling on my boots, Teagan says, “Not that I’m sure you care, but word has it Dylan’s favorite color is red. Too bad you didn’t use that Ruby Slipper lipstick I bought you for your birthday last year.”
I grab one of the decorative pillows from the chair and throw at her. She laughs and dodges it, nearly getting hit in the boobs.
“Fine, fine, I’m shutting up.” She puts her hands up in surrender and backs out, but the glint her eyes tells me she’s just getting started.
My eyes go over to my makeup, seeing the red lipstick she’s talking about.
What are you thinking?
Dylan doesn’t deserve anything from me. Not my effort or my thoughts. His head is too far up his own ass to see anything other than himself.
I walk over to the mirror and grab a makeup remover from the package, wiping away any effort that the weak side of me put into my appearance.
I don’t have anything to prove to Dylan or anybody but myself. Hopefully one day I’ll see it and believe it, too.
My grandma used to tell me that you could tell a person’s character within the first five minutes of knowing them. Whether they’re good or bad, what their intentions are, if they’re hiding something.
She was always the type of woman who knew how to read people and figure out if they’re worth trusting. Me? I was never able to catch on that easily.
You trust too easily.
I never thought that was a bad thing until I grew up and saw how many people took advantage of that.
“I love that you see the good in people, baby, but that will be your downfall,” Grandma once told me.
I missed hearing the advice she and Grandpa gave me growing up. After my parents’ accident, I had no clue if I’d ever get the kind of advice that children got from their parents. But my grandparents had plenty to share with me over the years, and I’d never forget that.
I just wish I could be like them—let go of the weak side of me that wanted to let everybody in. I had to force myself to believe that there was more bad in people than good. To be cautious. Distant. Anything to protect myself.
“Ms. King,” Tom Bennington greets, shaking my hand. His warm smile creates crows feet at the corner of his eyes, as he guides me to sit back down at the end of the oak table.
Tom isn’t that old, but the discoloration of his hair and glazed eyes tells me that the job is getting to him. Or maybe it’s the musicians he represents. Relentless stayed on the press’ good side up until a year or so ago, and everything that led them in the media is because of Dylan.
I never made it my business whenever a headline came out that flawed their name, because I know everybody makes mistakes. But when they continue to make them, you start wondering how much they appreciate what they
have.
Dylan is the type of rockstar that has everything to lose, but he’s too blinded by what he’s gained from the stardom to even think about the consequences.
“It’s been a while since I’ve seen you,” Tom reminisces, taking a seat next to me.
Tom and I had only crossed paths a few times since he’s friends with my manager. Or, rather, he used to sleep with Meagan. Either way, we’d see each other at certain events that I’d show up at.
“Last time was, what? Four years ago?”
He smiles, swiping his palm across his jaw, drifting into memory. “Country Music Awards in Nashville. You presented the top female artist award to Carrie Underwood I believe.”
The memory comes back to me, my heart picking up speed like the adrenaline I felt when I stepped onto the stage in front of over 20,000 people for the first time. My stylist had me in a sequin fringed knee-length beige dress, something I wore long before Taylor Swift seemed to make it her trademark back before she went pop. I had on a pair of white cowboy boots, neutral tone makeup, and curly hair layered so it was styled up out of my face.
That night is one of my favorite moments to look back on whenever life becomes too much. Remembering where I started compared to now makes me see how much I’ve accomplished.
“My hands were shaking,” I admit, thinking back to holding the award before passing it to Carrie. Even she could see my fingers trembling as she took it from me, but the assuring smile she casted my way made me feel a little better.
“You were just starting out. A lot of the people I represent were nervous during their first shows, too.”
My eyes flick to his, curiosity lingering in the back of my mind. “Even Relentless?”
He leans back, his hands resting casually in his lap. “Sure, even them. Any human would be nervous when they’re put in a situation they’ve never been in. Even the cockiest of them all who act like they don’t give a shit are terrified when they start off.”
I snort in disbelief. “Dylan? No way.”
The Moments We Share Page 4
