Revenge: The Complete Series (Erotic Rock Star Suspense Romance)

by Mimi Strong

  Finally, I lose it and yell, “Shut up!” I swear at them and keep yelling for them to shut up.

  I know I shouldn’t engage them, but I couldn’t stand it anymore.

  A lens appears in front of my face and a man says, “That’s right, Jessica. Get angry. Let me have it, honey lips. Talk dirty to me, because I’ve been a bad boy.”

  I fight hard to keep from telling him exactly what I think.

  We keep trying to push through the crowd, but I don’t even know what direction to go. I feel a tug on my dress box.

  A gruff voice demands, “Show us what’s in the box. Show us everything, honey lips.”

  “Leave me alone!” The box crumples as I try to push through the crowd. I break free, and I can finally move. Amanda and Riley are up ahead, waving for me to hurry.

  I start to run.

  These blue shoes aren’t the prettiest things, but they’ve got solid soles and they’re great for running.

  My heart hammers in my chest as I dash down the sidewalk.

  The paparazzi chase after me.

  In my head, I know they’re not trying to hurt me, physically. They just want me to do something stupid. But my body and mind are in a panic. The threat feels very real. Fear is powerful.

  I run as fast as I can, my shoes pounding on the sidewalk.

  A horn blows, and a blue Maserati GranTurismo roars past me and turns left.

  The car disappears from my sight. There’s a screech of tires.

  The screech stops, and all is silent for an instant, and then there’s the crunch of metal on metal.

  I’m so shocked, I stop running.

  My heart is pounding, my blood rushing in my ears. I listen for more sounds. Was that Dylan’s car crashing?

  The crowd of photographers catch up and surround me. I feel the dress box being pulled from my hands.

  A moment ago, I cared about the dress, and about getting away from the photographers.

  Now I don’t care about any of that.

  I need to get to my friends, and Dylan. I need to make sure none of them were hurt.

  The photographers won’t get out of my way, so I ball my hands up into fists and fight my way free.

  I run down the sidewalk and turn the corner.

  Someone big and wide is running toward me. He’s looking down at his camera and doesn’t see me.

  He slams into me like a brick wall.

  I can’t breathe. I fall backward and land hard. Everything hurts.

  Chapter Six

  I wake up in a room that smells of antiseptic.

  There are green curtains on every side.

  If I’m in a hospital, something serious has happened. Panic floods my body with adrenaline. My heart pounds like a drum.

  I sit up quickly, and my head feels like it’s being shot by needles.

  I clench my jaw and wait for the pain to subside.

  I’m dressed in my regular shirt and skirt. My shoes are off, and I’m lying on top of the sheets on a narrow hospital bed.

  Groaning, I push myself over to the edge of the bed and start looking around for my shoes.

  My head feels fuzzy, but I remember what happened.

  After I slammed into the guy, I fell and scraped up my elbow pretty bad on the sidewalk. The big guy was fine, barely felt it. He knelt down to check on me, making a dumb joke about an SUV hitting a tiny car.

  I tried to get up, saying I was tougher than I look. Then things in my memory are fuzzy. My elbow was bleeding like crazy, and the sight of the blood must have sent me into shock.

  I know I kept trying to find Riley and Amanda, or Dylan, but I must have seemed like a crazy person to the bystanders who stopped to help me. I kept yelling about the car accident I’d heard, and people told me to calm down, and that I hadn’t been hit by a car.

  My memory is patchy from that point. There was a ride in an ambulance. I do remember getting a sedative here at the hospital, once they determined I didn’t have a concussion. It was a little pill, and they gave me orange juice.

  I lick my dry lips. My elbow is all bandaged. I want to see the damage, but then again, I don’t.

  A familiar voice on the other side of the curtain makes my heart jump again, only this time in a good way.

  Dylan’s outside the curtains talking to a doctor or nurse.

  “Hello?” I call out.

  “Sounds like she’s awake,” a woman says. “Go ahead and check on your fiancée, Mr. Wolf. The paperwork’s all done.”

  The curtain parts and Dylan walks in. When he sees that I’m awake, his face lights up.

  “You scared me,” he says.

  I look him over for signs of injury. He looks okay.

  “Dylan,” I say, my voice croaking. “Where are the girls?”

  “Sent home. Don’t worry, they’re fine.” He looks at my bandaged elbow. “Unlike you, my little broken doll.”

  “I heard your car crash,” I say.

  “The Maserati? No way. You heard a paparazzi hit a delivery truck.” He points to his knuckles. “I’d have some bruises here if one of them hit my car.” He frowns. “That big guy who slammed into you was lucky I didn’t catch him.”

  I don’t know if he’s joking or not, but I’m not laughing.

  “Dylan, please don’t ever punch anyone on my account.”

  “You’re one to talk. You gave a few black eyes to the paparazzi, all by yourself.”

  “No, I didn’t.”

  “Check out your knuckles.”

  I look down at my right hand. I do have red skin over my knuckles, along with abrasions.

  Dylan’s laughing, but I’m not. I just shake my head.

  “What’s wrong?” Dylan grabs my bruised hand, cupping my fingers in his palms. Everything hurts. Everything’s ruined.

  “My dress. It got stolen. It was the perfect dress, and now it’s gone. It was really expensive, too.”

  He rubs my bruised hand between his. “Don’t worry about that dress. We’ll get you another one. A better one.”

  I close my eyes, and I hear the voices again. My hands get sweaty. I can feel them all crowding in. They’re relentless. They’ll never stop, and it’s just going to get worse.

  I pull my hand away from Dylan and clench it into a fist. “If I find out which one stole the dress… I don’t know. Dylan, I don’t know what I’d do.”

  “This is just celebrity stuff, Jess. It’s not personal.”

  “But it’s getting worse, isn’t it? They weren’t like this before we got engaged. It started right after the news hit. And there’s no point to it.”

  “This is all normal,” he says.

  I shake my head and try to remember if my life in L.A. has ever been normal.

  The press became part of my life after I moved in with Dylan. Then, when we got engaged, they were so grabby about the ring. I tried going out without the ring, and that only made things worse.

  I gasp and check my ring finger. To my relief, the ring is still there. It could have easily been stolen after I got knocked down.

  “I can’t take it getting worse,” I whisper.

  “It’s not been too bad lately,” Dylan says. “You’re stressed. Maybe you’ve been working too hard. I’ll talk to Chet about getting you some time off.”

  At the mention of Dylan talking to my boss, the needles in my head get worse.

  “No,” I croak, my voice still thick from the sedative. “Work is the only thing that keeps me sane.”

  Dylan frowns, his jaw determined. “And life with me is insane?” He sounds hurt.

  I’m still sitting on the edge of the hospital bed. Doctors and nurses are going about their business on the other side of the curtain. This isn’t a very secure place to have a private conversation.

  I reach for his hands and pull him close to me. I stare up into his brown eyes and whisper, “Insane or not, I need to be with you.”

  “I need you, too.” He rests his hands on my thighs, and gets a sly smile. “That’s why I�
��m going to marry you. We’re going to have the most gorgeous kids.”

  “Kids?” This is news to me. I lean back.

  This mention of kids doesn’t hit me quite as hard as that giant SUV of a man who ran into me, but I’m speechless.

  Chapter Seven

  “Babies?” I whisper.

  “Sure, eventually,” he says. “Some girls who’ll get your good looks, and some boys, too. Hopefully they get your looks too, not my hideous face.”

  I stare at his handsome face and smile. He’s about as far from hideous as a guy can be. He’s on at least two different magazine covers this month.

  Dylan’s voice gets husky. “We’ll start with just one of course.”

  I lick my lips again. My mouth is dry, and I don’t think it’s from the sedative.

  “Or we could start with a dog,” I say. “A small one.”

  Dylan laughs, which sends a pleasant vibration all through my body. I’d do anything to make him laugh. How can I make him laugh more? For a moment, I imagine him holding our baby in his arms, laughing at her as she grabs his nose.

  This image in my head is so crisp, I have to shake my head to clear it.

  He leans forward and kisses me on my forehead, then my cheek, then along my jaw line. His hand caresses my thigh as his lips work their way to my mouth. All my worries lift away at his comforting touch.

  I almost forget there’s only a green curtain between us and the world. I’m perched on the edge of the bed, and my skirt hikes up, flashing him with my panties. I loop my legs around his body to pull him closer to me.

  He growls and comes in close, grinding against my body, his lips hot on my mouth and then my neck.

  Our bodies fit so perfectly together, as always.

  All my aches and pains disappear. I arch my back as he reaches under my hips and pulls me tight against him. He leans forward, daring me to go further. The curtain is closed all around us. I turn my head and glance at the pillow on the hospital bed.

  Sex, right here? No, I’m being crazy.

  He keeps grinding against me, and now his hands are like fire on my back and sides. I run my hands across his muscular chest. He’s been seeing a personal trainer, and he’s stronger and sexier than ever. I glance over his shoulder at the green curtain. The hospital staff sound busy with other things, but they could come through that curtain any moment.

  Dylan nibbles my earlobe. He moves down and sucks at a pressure point on my neck. My pulse crackles. The rest of the world disappears. It’s only us here.

  I slide my hand down his abdominal muscles and over his jeans. He’s hard for me. Now I’m not even thinking. Just moving.

  I unbutton his jeans. He pulls back from me long enough to grab my panties and yank them off. Grinning, he tucks them in his pocket.

  I lean forward to kiss him as I ease down his zipper. The jeans are tight, but I push the front down along with his underwear. His whole body shudders at my delicate touch. I wrap my fingers around his length. He sighs into my mouth. His whole body is rigid with tension.

  I delicately massage and tease him with one hand. All my aches and pains are gone, replaced by a hunger.

  He kisses me ferociously, devouring me. I glance over his shoulder at the curtain.

  We shouldn’t.

  If the press catches us, it will be the scandal of the month. Maybe of the whole year. But the press isn’t in here. Just hospital staff.

  He stops kissing me and looks down into my eyes. I stare up, into those gorgeous brown eyes. I’d do anything for him.

  He grabs my knees and spreads my legs wide. My skirt rides up to my waist.

  I open my mouth to say we shouldn’t, but he quiets me with his lips.

  And then he’s inside me, the force lifting my body from the thin mattress. I moan softly into his mouth. He drives himself deeper.

  He eases back, like he’s having second thoughts.

  We’re both breathing heavily, the air around us hot and electric.

  He pulls back halfway.

  “Don’t stop,” I whisper.

  “Are you begging?” he growls.

  I’ve never felt this hot inside. I wrap my arms around his shoulders and whimper in desperation.

  He grins at my pleading, and then he grabs hold of my hips. He digs his fingertips in. I almost cry out from the pleasure of his touch.

  He eases back, teases his way out, then pushes in all at once.

  He pumps his hips, lifting my body with his, filling me.

  My senses are so heightened, I immediately start to climax.

  My feet curl and my legs tighten around his waist. The pleasure is too intense. I’m panting, and I can barely stay quiet.

  He feels me clutching inside, and soon he’s lost as well. He thrusts into me, his arms tense and holding me tight. He moves his mouth over to my ear and moans, just loud enough for me to hear him.

  I feel him pulse with pleasure inside me. Just as he’s finishing, I catch a second wind and flex my legs around him, giving him a playful bounce. I could keep going and going.

  He groans again and lifts me right off the bed. Now I’m completely supported by only his body.

  I have to quickly bite his shoulder to keep from squealing.

  He holds me like this for a moment, and we’re motionless.

  Then slowly, quietly, he gently pulls out and sets me on my feet.

  On the other side of the curtain, nurses and doctors give their orders, completely unaware.

  Chapter Eight

  It’s dark when we drive home from the hospital.

  I haven’t eaten anything since the orange juice, hours ago, so we go to a McDonald’s Drive Thru. I can’t stop laughing at how funny it is to order McNuggets from a Maserati GranTurismo.

  It does make me feel better, though.

  We munch on fries as we drive to the house.

  “Hey, Dylan.” I hold up my container of fries and make a cheesy grin. “How’s this for a US Weekly feature? Stars — They’re Just Like Us! They eat fries!”

  He chuckles. “Why do people want to see that stuff?”

  “Stars stuffing their faces?” I take another sip of my shake and look out the window at the passing lights. “I don’t know. I guess they’re curious.”

  “You’re too nice, Jess. You always think the best of people.”

  “You don’t think your fans are curious?”

  We’re stopped at a red light. He revs the engine. The light turns green and he punches the gas. The tires squeal as we leave the traffic behind.

  “They love and hate celebrities,” he says. “They love us, but they also want to tear us down.”

  “Why?”

  “Humans are destructive, because we crave novelty. You have to tear the old ones down to make room for new celebrities.”

  “Hmm.” I fish out the last loose fries from the bag. I eat the fries and lick the salt off my fingertips.

  Dylan doesn’t expand on people tearing down celebrities, and I don’t want to ask. Sometimes these late-night conversations get dark, and they just go nowhere.

  I can tell he’s worried about something. I wish I could pop open his head and look inside, but I have to trust him that he’ll eventually tell me.

  At the house, Dylan gets worried about me falling on the walkway steps.

  I tell him he’s being silly, but he scoops me up in his arms.

  He carries me to the house, like I’m something precious he needs to protect. I relax and let him carry me. It’s nice to be in his arms, anyway. We both have busy schedules, so I appreciate when he takes the time to be romantic.

  We walk through our beautiful house, past our wall of favorite photos. There’s a picture of me and Riley as kids, hung next to one of Dylan as a little boy. He and Riley both have the same rebellious look in their eyes.

  He carries me down the hallway, stepping sideways so my feet don’t hit the walls.

  Inside our bedroom, he lays me on the bed and whispers, “Wait here.”
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  I stare at the ceiling. It’s been such a crazy day. I want to tell him about the visit from Nick Clark at the office, but talking seems like too much effort.

  I close my eyes. I’m not sleepy at all. The memory of being swarmed by paparazzi rushes back to me. My hands close into fists. I haven’t been this angry in a long time. I think about my beautiful dress—that I barely owned for five minutes.

  I’m still fuming a few minutes later, when Dylan comes back into the room. I open my eyes and look up at him. He stares into me, and I can see the love in his eyes.

  The day washes away. We’re here together, and the other stuff doesn’t matter.

  I’m still on my back, where he left me.

  He pulls his shirt off, stretching his arms up to show off his muscular body. My eyes widen in response. He grins when he catches me staring.

  I can hear the water in the bathroom running.

  “Are you ready for a bath?” he asks.

  “No. I still have my clothes on.”

  He smiles and shakes his head. Sometimes we play silly games, but I’m not yet sure what this one is about.

  “Do you want me to undress you?” he asks.

  “You don’t have to. I’ll just get in the tub like this.”

  I start to sit up, but he pushes me back, shaking his head again.

  He starts by pulling off my shoes. Next is my skirt. He wiggles the fabric and turns it around so he can unfasten it. He slowly slides my skirt down my hips and off.

  I like this game.

  He unbuttons my blouse and lays the material on either side of me, like he’s unwrapping a gift.

  We were just together at the hospital, an hour ago, but his tenderness fires me up instantly.

  His fingers trace along the line of my ribs until they get to the front clasp of my bra. With a flick, it’s undone and the two sides spring open, freeing my breasts. His eyes light up with longing. I look down at his jeans and see the affect my body is having on him.

  He smiles hungrily, looking like a wolf. He bends over me and places light kisses from my breasts to my underwear. I wriggle as he pulls my panties off.

  He lifts me up from the bed. My blouse and bra fall away, and I’m naked in his arms, except for the bandage on my elbow. My arm was aching, but it feels better now.