Chris slanted his head to the side and lowered it, eager to comply with her unspoken request. His lips covered hers again, and he groaned from the sheer pleasure of it. Never had the feel of just a woman’s lips totally unraveled him like this. He was so turned on, his whole body was shaking. He wanted to taste her. His nipped at her bottom lip, coaxing her to open her mouth, and his tongue entered. Stroking gently, he felt the heat of her like a brand, and tasted her unique wild flavor. After that, all rational thought completely scattered and instinct took over. He began exploring her mouth in a primitive pattern as old as time.
When Chris pulled out of the kiss, some indefinable amount of time later, everything had changed for him. Nothing was the same anymore. She was the one for him. He cradled her flushed face in his hands. He wanted more but somehow found the will to refrain. He rested his forehead against hers, rubbing his hand in a soothing pattern on her back.
Sara took a shaky step back from him on legs that embarrassingly wobbled. She was scared to death by the intensity of the way he’d been able to make her feel, from just one kiss.
Chris took an instinctive step toward her. When she backed further out of reach, a puzzled look crossed his face.
She turned away, moving to the opposite side of the room, and stood with her back to him for a moment, needing some space. She lifted an unsteady hand to rub the back of her neck, trying to think. Don’t let him know how bad he got to me. Play it uber cool, she told herself, steadying her breathing.
Spying a black t-shirt hanging over the back of the desk chair, she picked it up and turned back around. Face forced into an even mask, she tossed it to him. “Good thing you had this on under that hideous shirt. It’ll give you something to wear back.”
“Ok, Sara,” he said uncertainly, shrugging his shirt back on. “I’ll take you back in a minute, but first there are things that need to be said…”
“What things? We kissed. Shit happens.” Her voice sounded high and panicked even to her own ears.
Chris’ eyes narrowed. Was she going to casually dismiss what had happened between them just now? What the hell was this hot and cold routine? It was starting to piss him off. “Sara…”
“Don’t,” she snapped like a whip. “I can’t do this with you right now… Please Chris, the concert’s starting in fifteen minutes and I need to be there for Sam.”
“Fine.” He gave her a measured look. “For now.”
“Come on, man,” Dwight said impatiently from backstage. “We’re on in less than five minutes.”
JR nodded, bending down to get one more kiss. He whispered something in Sam’s ear before he walked off with Dwight.
Sam’s eyes widened. What? She felt like the rug had been pulled out from underneath her. Mouth agape, she watched him jog to catch up to Dwight. The BS bassist clapped him on the back before they walked away side by side. How dare he drop a bombshell like that and not give her a chance to respond? Her hands were actually shaking.
Just before JR stepped on stage, he glanced back at her, giving her a lopsided smile. Oh my goodness, did John Raymond really just say that he was in love with her? “Holy shoot!” she exclaimed as a huge smile spread across her face. Pulling out her cell phone, she ducked behind the velvet curtain and immediately texted her sister.
Sam: Need 2 talk ASAP! Her cell buzzed with an almost instantaneous reply.
Sara: ME2! CU after the show.
After her text, Sam left the backstage area and hurried to take her seat. Scooting down the row to take her place, she didn’t miss the disapproving glare Beth shot her way. So she was a little late. The house lights started to dim. Ok, maybe she had cut that a little close. She twisted around, trying to catch a quick glimpse of Sara before the room went completely dark. She spotted her just to the left, only a couple of rows back, taking her seat next to Chris Alex. Sam raised a brow as she saw Chris drape an arm around the back of her sister’s chair. It looked like they had just gotten back. Where had they been all this time? Heck yeah, they needed to talk.
The house lights and stage went completely dark. Then a lone spotlight illuminated JR as he began to lay down a heavy beat. Strobes flashed as Avery stepped out from behind the black curtain to meet Marcus at center stage. He reached for her, but she leaned away, just out of reach. She winked at him and smiled at the audience. The crowd roared their approval. Marcus stepped up to the lead microphone, eyes still on Avery. Suddenly, all the lights came up as Brutal Strength launched into the rocking tune “B Jezebel.”
For Sam, the spotlight stayed on JR. She didn’t notice anyone else. Frenetic yet fluid, he flailed away on the drums like a madman, a modern day Keith Moon. His sticks spun like twin rotor blades on a Chinook helicopter, and his knees pumped up and down, pistons pounding out the rhythm.
Clearly being a drummer is a total body workout, she mused. No wonder he was so buff. Her lips curved up at the decadent direction of her thoughts. JR’s upper torso was bare, corded with lean muscle, and covered in a sheen of perspiration. His lower body was hidden behind the drums, but she knew that he wore his usual Diesels. Her heart fluttered in her chest as she continued to watch him. She’d never seen anyone attack the drum set with the voracity that he did. He was a master.
Cheers and whistles from the crowd reached a deafening level by the time the band finished with the ballad, “Mother’s Gift.” Beth grabbed Sam’s hand as the audience stood calling for an encore. “Follow me. Now the real work’s about to begin.”
After a couple of hours of back stage smiling, schmoozing, and handing out CD’s and promotional packets to various media representatives, Sam understood what Beth had meant. She flopped back in her chair, exhausted. She had wanted to talk to John all evening, but hadn’t been able to get anywhere near him.
Finally, the crowd started to thin out. Looking up from her table, she noticed that there were only a few people milling around backstage now. Carter Besille, a popular talk show host and a Ken doll come to life, was across the room interviewing JR. No doubt Marcus had refused to talk to Besille, given their history.
Sam sighed, bummed at having to wait a little longer. She returned her attention to gathering the leftover packets. Suddenly, a hand touched her shoulder. When she glanced up, Danny leaned in and kissed her cheek, lingering an uncomfortable amount of time in her personal space. “Danny,” she sputtered, pulling back reflexively.
“Just wanted to congratulate you on a job well done tonight,” he said, standing there awkwardly and staring.
“Thanks,” she managed.
“No problem. Anyways, see you around I guess.”
As Danny walked away, she noticed JR moving to intercept him. By the look of displeasure on his face it appeared that he had seen the whole thing. The two men exchanged words with JR doing most of the talking. Then Danny shook his head and skulked off. JR turned and approached her table.
“Hey,” he said, smiling his lazy grin. He grabbed her up in his arms and spun her before setting her down on the tabletop.
She smiled shyly up at him.
“Just so you know, you’re mine.” JR played with an errant curl. “I told that misfit to keep his hands and lips off of you.”
“Huh…What? Who?” Sam stammered, distracted by the play of tight muscles rippling across his naked chest. “I can’t think when you have your shirt off, John.”
“Look all you want, baby.” He put his hands in his back pockets and stuck his chest out, making an exaggerated pose. “I’m all yours.”
Her resulting giggle was abruptly stifled when he captured her hands and trapped them against his bare chest. Her heart pounded in a furious rhythm. He tugged her closer, tucked a curl behind her ear, and leaned down. Sam placed her fingers over his lips. “Stop,” she said breathlessly. “Wait. Just a second. I have something to tell you and I’ve been waiting all night to say it.”
“Ok, woman. Make it quick. Your lips are waiting.” He wiggled his eyebrows at her.
“I love you, too,
” she said softly.
Forget the drums, he had mastered her.
Sara glanced over her shoulder, breathing a sigh of relief. She’d managed to shake Chris in the chaos of the after party. Things were getting too out of control with him. Scanning the backstage area, she located her sister wrapped up with JR in the far corner, the soft light from the exit sign illuminating their faces. “Hey y’all,” she said in greeting and the two jumped apart. “Nice work JR.”
Sam blushed.
“I mean on the drums,” Sara clarified with a smile.
“Thanks,” JR told her before leaning down and brushing his lips lightly against Sam’s cheek. “See you tomorrow. Think about it, ok?”
As soon as he walked away, Sara put her hands on her hips. “Ok. What’s going on, Sam?” she asked, noting the besotted expression on her sweet sister’s face.
“Uh-uh. No way.” Sam turned back to her sister, eyes unglazing. “You first. I saw you leave earlier with Chris, and when you came back in, much, much later, he had on a different shirt! Spill it, Sara Jo!”
Sara shook her head. “It’s not what you think. Did you see him in that urban cowboy fiasco? I had pity on him and took him back to the apartment to change. The press would have had a field day with him the way he was dressed.”
“Why would you even care?” Sam gently goaded her. “I thought you didn’t like him.”
“I don’t. Not really.” She turned away from her sister’s searching gaze.
“You could have fooled me.” Sam wasn’t about to let it go. “Why are you being so evasive? There’s more, isn’t there? What happened with him? Tell me.”
Looking her in the eyes, Sara pressed her lips together before confessing, “Alright. He kissed me.”
“Like at Soho?”
“Better than Soho. The man has some definite skills.”
“I thought you said he kissed like a grandpa.”
Sara’s lip curved up. She got a mischievous glint in her eye. “I lied.”
“Obviously, but why?”
“Enough of the grand inquisition. What’s your news, Munchkin?”
“JR told me he loves me.” Sam exhaled slowly.
“Tell me something I don’t already know.”
“I told him I love him, too.”
“Again, obvious.”
Sam giggled. “He wants me to fly out to Vancouver Island tomorrow to meet his mom.”
Sara tensed. “Things that serious already between you two?”
“What do you mean?” Sam gave her sister a bewildered look.
“Sam.” Sara pulled gently on one of Sam’s curls. “A guy doesn’t usually take you to meet his parents unless he’s getting ready to pop the question.”
“No way.” Sam shook her head in disbelief. “He just wants to show me where he grew up.”
“Ok, alright. I didn’t mean to spook you, Sam. But, just in case he did ask, what would you say?”
With only a slight hesitation, Sam replied easily, “I’d say, yes.”
Jaw set, Danny entered his modest hotel room and threw his coat down on the faded floral bedspread. He began pacing back and forth. The anger that always simmered just below the surface boiled over. A string of profanity streamed from his lips. He hated JR.
The way that douchebag had gotten in his face tonight had been the final straw. After all it wasn’t like he’d been making a real move on that young intern with the nice rack. It’d just been harmless flirting. JR had a lot of nerve going all territorial on him when he’d probably be tired of her in a week. The dude never appreciated anything he had anyway. And he’d always been like that.
If JR was the star of his own solar system, then Danny was Pluto. So far removed from the center that he was almost unnoticeable. Inconsequential. Insignificant. JR’s little bitch.
Growing up in the same small town, he’d had to suffer watching that spoiled doctor’s kid get everything. All the things Danny wanted and deserved. What really galled him was how easily everything came to the guy. He cruised effortlessly through high school-tall, handsome, flashing those perfect teeth at the in crowd that orbited and revered him.
Meanwhile Danny had to duck and dodge through the asteroid belt of adolescence. Years of orthodontics and speech therapy had corrected his overbite and stuttering, but of course that wasn’t nearly enough to earn him a spot in JR’s universe.
When it came to Danny’s real passion, playing the drums, JR outshone him the most. While hours of daily practice had earned him a coveted drum corps spot, Richie Rich Raymond won first chair going away, all on innate talent. Still, Danny was good and he knew it. That’s why he thought he had a gambler’s chance when the Anthony brothers had held an open audition for their band. He’d been so confident that day. He’d nailed it, too. But then, JR showed up, and once again, Danny was eclipsed.
And while JR and Brutal Strength rocketed into the stratosphere, Danny remained earthbound. He clawed and scraped his way up in the music industry, always on the road and never with enough money or recognition. That ten grand bet had been trivial to Raymond, but it wasn’t chump change to Danny.
Even now that he was in Chris Alex’s band he still felt like he was getting the crumbs while arrogant assholes like Raymond dined on the caviar. His visage darkened. Well, if there was anything…anything at all that he could do to screw with that prick, he’d consider it cosmic karma, medicine for his soul.
“Duty time,” the uniformed cell block supervisor barked from his position on the floor. He slapped his side handle baton against a muscled thigh. “Hop to it, Daniels, Jiminez, Smith, Reynolds.”
Hearing the command, Pace Daniels swore under his breath as he left his six by eight foot cell. It was so small he sometimes felt like the walls were closing in on him. He dutifully fell in line behind the other inmates. His fists clenched involuntarily as they made their way past the long row of cages identical to his. He was sick to death of this hell hole.
The atrocities that he’d seen taking place behind these walls…well, there’d been a time or two he’d longed for the freedom death would bring. Dark and demented souls ruled with iron hard fists and contraband weapons. Demons in orange jump suits, they wouldn’t hesitate to take you out if you had the misfortune to get on their bad side. A favorite pastime was inflicting pain on one another. Every day was a struggle to survive, never knowing when the next attack would come. The Texas State Penitentiary at Huntsville was a godforsaken Gehenna.
He took the basket of cleaning supplies from the storage closet, studying his hands as he went about his daily janitorial chores. They were calloused from time and toil, as hard and strong as the rest of him. Manual labor and exercise were all he had to fill the wasted days of the last seventeen years. It had been a monotonous existence. The bastards had given him the maximum, twenty years in this pit, for what he’d done. Only the crime of passion defense had spared him a life sentence. Unlike his hands, though, his prison record had been virtually spotless. So far he’d been denied parole, but he was coming up for consideration again in two more days, and given his behavior and time served, he felt really good about his chances.
Back in his cell later that evening, he gazed at the newspaper clippings and magazine articles that he’d collected over the years. He scowled at the latest picture. There she was in all her glory. The same sassy smile and grey eyes. The same whoring way. She was exactly like her momma.
Just two more days. Come hell or high water, he was getting out this time. His lip curled and his eyes narrowed to slits. He ran a finger across her face. He barely suppressed a gleeful laugh. He was so close. Gonzalo assured him everything was in place, everything he needed. He’d have his pound of flesh. The day of reckoning was coming. Just two more fucking days.
Unplugging her cell from the charger the next morning, Sara saw that she’d missed three text messages and four calls from Chris. Scrolling through the texts showed that they were all variations on the same theme. Listening to the one voicemail se
nt her scurrying to finish up her cup of coffee so she could jump in the shower. The doorbell buzzed, making her jump. Uh, oh. Too late.
Muttering curses under her breath, she went to open the apartment door. Chris leaned one arm against the doorframe, giving her the once over before his face slowly broke into that sexy smile of his.
“Chris, what a surprise,” Sara said, shifting uncomfortably under his gaze and feeling awkward in her comfy robe and striped socks. “Come on in,” she told him sarcastically, tossing her hair over her shoulder and leaving the door open for him. It irritated her that he looked so chipper and handsome this early in the morning fully dressed in a long-sleeve black button-down and tight jeans.
“You look like crap,” he told her.
“Thanks, so much. Figure flattery will get you somewhere, huh?” she snapped.
“I’m just kidding, babe.” If he told her what he was really thinking, she’d slap him. Her robe was white terry cloth and short, barely concealing the top of her thighs, leaving her long tanned legs on glorious display. And her hair was all tousled like she’d just had a romp in the hay. His imagination went wild and his throat went dry.
“Do I need to wipe that silly grin off your face then?”
He winked. “Sounds like a challenge.”
“Do you want it to be?”
“Hell, yes,” he replied instantly in a low husky voice. He moved even with her, so close she could feel the heat radiating off his frame. This time it was Sara who had difficulty swallowing.
“Where’s Sam?” he asked, tucking his hands in his pockets. Instead of all over her like he wanted. That would have to wait.
“Still sleeping, like most people are at this time of the day.”
He shrugged, pulling out one of the dining room chairs, turning it around, and straddling it. Watching the maneuver brought an image to mind that made her blush. The direction her thoughts took when he was around. It was ridiculous.
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