by Alyson Hale
Kyri’s mom works with mine; it’s how we first met. The first thing I remember is playing with our dolls together in a small room in the back of the salon while our moms worked. Now we have to start “adulting” and thinking about the future. It sucks. I wish I could go back to those innocent days and figure out what the fuck I want to do with my life before I get back here again.
While I’m sifting through unappealing job options, I see an ad on the side of my screen for a cosmetology school. My stomach turns into a rock. My GPA might be just high enough to get me into that school, but what if it’s not? I hate rejection. It’s why I always told guys what I wanted up front before we had sex; no awkward confrontation to deal with.
“Letting go, moving on. Face your fears and you’ve won,” I whisper to myself. Shaking a little, I click on the ad and go to the online application. I’ll never know unless I try. It’s time to put myself out there and see if life decides to throw me a damn bone.
After I’m done filling out applications for various schools and jobs, I take a break, feeling happy with myself. I faced my fears and gave myself a chance, which is more than I expected from this day. I think I’ve earned myself a Facebook break.
The first thing on my news feed is a series of selfies Kyri took with Jace. I smile as my eyes fill up with tears. She’s found the one. You can just tell. It’s clear who’s the lucky one here, and it’s obviously not me. She’ll go on to be a famous writer and rock star’s wife and probably forget all about me in a few years. I’ll still be here in this bedroom, trying to decide what to do with my life.
As I scroll down, I remember the moment I decided I had to get out of Georgia this summer.
***
After I was done watching a montage video of cats sliding around on slick hardwood floors, laughing my ass off, I noticed something on the side of my screen. On the trending news reports, there was one about Atlanta, Georgia. I clicked on the link and read the headline—
Two Convicted Rapists Escape State Prison
The rest of the headline faded into a blur as roaring started in my head. I knew I shouldn’t look at the names, it was only going to freak me out, but I had to know. I clicked on the link as my body trembled from head to toe.
After I saw the names, I had to make a mad dash to the bathroom. My stomach heaved, and I leaned over the toilet as stomach acid burned its way up my throat. I hadn’t eaten much that day, but it all came up along with some of the wine I drank the night before.
Mom heard me retching into the toilet and ran up the stairs. “Alex! Are you okay?”
Sobbing, I leaned back and reached for some toilet paper to wipe my mouth. Mom took it from me, holding me as she wiped the vomit from my lips. I let her cradle my head against her shoulder as I cried.
“Mom…he’s free. He got out of prison.”
Her body went rigid. “What?”
“He escaped prison. I just read the article.”
Mom left me in the bathroom and ran into my room to read the article. After standing up and swishing some mouthwash, I followed her and found her gripping my laptop, seething.
“Goddamn it. We have to move. We’ve got to get you out of here,” she gritted out. I could see from the tendons popping out of her neck that she was livid.
“No, Mom, you can’t leave the salon. I’ll go. I’ll just get out of town for a little while.”
I watched as tears welled up in her eyes. “No, I can’t let you go by yourself. What if he finds you?”
“Then I’ll go somewhere he can never find me. I’ve got money saved up. I can just go ahead and take my trip to Europe like I’ve been planning. It will be like a vacation. Hopefully they’ll catch him before I get back.”
***
She reluctantly agreed to let me go. I hated leaving her behind—she was just as much a target as I was—but since nothing happened to her while I was gone, I figured it must be safe to return.
Besides, Europe didn’t turn out to be any safer for me anyway. But Mom doesn’t know that yet, and I don’t plan on telling her. Rather than go through the whole “healing” process all over again, I’d rather just pretend it didn’t happen and move on with my life.
Letting go, moving on.
Everything that happened before this moment is staying in the past.
Chapter 10
Damien
I let a few days pass before confronting Alexandrea’s best friend. Kyri works at the Blarney Stone as a waitress, so I’ve seen her several times by the time I’m ready to ask about Alexandrea. Good old Blarney has become our favorite hangout, mostly because of Jace. He spends all night making googly eyes at his girl, and then at the end of the night, they leave together. Personally, I love having the competition out of the way. Getting a girl’s attention—more specifically, the girl I want—will be a lot easier without Mr. Popular luring her in for the kill.
Plenty of girls have flirted with me over the past few nights, flaunting their assets. I won’t say I haven’t looked, but when I look I see nothing but old news. Alexandrea has ruined me for other women, something I never thought would happen in a million years. I make it look like I’m enjoying their company so the boys won’t get suspicious, but truthfully I feel like telling all these over-inflated, broken squeaky toys who keep rubbing up against me that they can all go to hell.
I wait until thirty minutes before closing to enter the pub on that night. Settling on a bar stool, I wait for my informant to turn around, chuckling at her weary sigh. As Kyri stands in front of me, flipping her long, curly red locks over her shoulder, she glares at me and barks out, “What do you want?”
I give her my most appealing smirk. “Now darling, is that how they taught you to treat paying customers?”
She arches one eyebrow, regarding me with utter disdain. This redheaded force of nature hasn’t been impressed with me since the moment she met me. Ever since she laid eyes on him, she’s only had eyes for Hawthorne. “I think we’ve gotten far enough into this relationship to dispense with the formalities by now. What can I get you? It’s last call.”
“Actually, I’m just looking for some information today. Do you have a minute?”
Sighing again, Kyri places one hand on her hip and gestures around the empty restaurant with the other. “I’m all yours.”
I give her a teasing grin just to make her squirm.
“Not that way.”
“Fair enough. I’m here to ask about your friend, Alexandrea.”
Her green eyes open wide. “Really?”
“Yes. We had a great time the other night, but she didn’t leave me with any contact information.”
Kyri takes a wet beer mug from the side of the sink and dries it with a towel as she studies me. “And what do you intend to do with this info? Did she leave something of hers with you?”
I scoff. “What are you, her keeper?”
With a fire in her eyes, Kyri leans down on the bar in front of me. “Not her keeper, her best and most trusted friend. Alex has been through hell you can’t even imagine with men. If she didn’t leave her contact info with you, I’m assuming that means she didn’t want to. There’s no way I’m ever going to betray her trust by letting you get that information behind her back. You can take that to the bank.”
Gulping hard, I pull back from the bar. This pushback wasn’t something I was expecting, but I’m not going to let it stop me. My intentions with Alexandrea might not be entirely “honorable,” but shit, I’d never hurt her. The thought of anyone hurting that woman makes a growl start in my stomach and my fists ball at my sides.
“Kyri, I swear I’m not going to hurt her. I just want to talk to her and ask her out properly. Please.”
Sighing, she shakes her head. “Look, if it was any other friend, I might help you out, but Alex means everything to me and I trust her judgment.” She gives me a hard look and shoos me away. “Now if you’re not going to order a drink, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”
I let my hea
d rest on my fists, releasing a deep, frustrated sigh. “I guess I could use some whiskey.”
Kyri nods. “Coming right up.”
She turns around to retrieve a glass, and I rest my head on the bar. I already downed a couple glasses before I came here, trying to get my nerve up. This is ridiculous. I’m helpless over one girl. Her pussy must be fucking magic. Either that, or I have an unexpected fetish for being a sub in bed.
“You all right?” Kyri looks over at me as she pours my drink.
“Exhausted,” I tell her honestly.
“Ah, yes, the time difference.” She passes my whiskey down the bar. “I’ve already had this talk with Jace. It must be like six-thirty in the morning for you right now.”
“Well, it does help that I slept in until twelve your time here.” I rub my left temple, accepting the drink. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. You’ll get used to it, I’m sure. I hear you all might be doing a tour here in the Americas so you’ll have plenty of time.”
“Damn right.” I smile around my glass, feeling lighter from the alcohol already.
Kyri squints her eyes at me. “You love touring, don’t you?”
I shrug. “It’s the only life I’ve ever known.”
Over the next half hour, I have two more drinks and Kyri learns about my life on the road. As I explain to her how my uncle made it work with two boys in a trailer, her body language is receptive, like she’s very interested in what I have to tell her. I know this because I’ve studied women’s body language for years now, gauging whether or not a woman is interested based on how she’s carrying herself. I know the female body inside and out. Kyri cares about what I’m saying because she sees a future with Jace. Having a woman on the road wouldn’t be so bad, especially if she knows how to cook. I’d be done getting burned on portable grills forever.
“So you’ve never even had a chance to have a relationship,” Kyri states as she wipes off the bar in front of me with a wet rag.
I nod. “It’s true. I’ve never wanted one, either, but your friend seems to have changed that.”
Her eyes soften. She doesn’t say anything else as I finish my last drink. I tell her to add my drinks to my now-massive tab, and we tell each other good night. It isn’t until I’m halfway to the front door of the pub that I hear her calling out to me. Her voice echoes off the high ceiling.
“Damien!”
I turn around slowly. “Yeah?”
A half-smile tugs at her lips. “I hope she finds you.”
I mirror her smile as I nod and head out of the pub. Winning the best friend’s approval is a step in the right direction. I may not know where my Alexandrea is, but I have a feeling a woman like her can’t be that hard to find. She’d stand out even in a crowd of ten thousand people.
Chapter 11
Alex
I groan when a ding from my cell phone wakes me up. Without even opening my eyes, I scramble for my phone on my nightstand with my left hand, still planted face-down in my soft down pillow. When I’ve got a grip on it, I lift my head and squint through the morning light to look at a text from Kyri.
Kyri: Call me ASAP
My heartrate picks up as I unlock my phone with the fingerprint sensor and sit up rod-straight in the bed. Kyri’s never awake this early, especially after working a late shift at the pub. She must have something urgent to talk to me about.
I tap on her contact, and the phone only rings once. Her voice is hushed, like she’s afraid she’ll wake someone.
“Hey, girl.”
“Hey. Did you need to talk to me about something?”
“Well…you’re never going to guess where I am.”
“Where?”
She hesitates for a moment, then sighs. “Nashville.”
“What? Why?”
“I found out who the Filthy Bangers’ manager is. My father.”
“What?” I shout into the room, and my own voice almost deafens me.
“Yeah. Jace has been working with my father this whole time to try to convince me to come on the road with them. I was so mad when I found out that I took off in my car. Where I was going didn’t really matter, I just wanted to get away from him. The thing is, Jace followed me here, and I kind of fell back into his arms again…” A sob catches in her throat. “I’m so stupid.”
“No, you’re not. You’re in love. I’ve seen the way he looks at you, Ky. He loves you too.”
There’s a pause, and then she asks, “Do you really think so?”
“Yeah. I mean, I don’t know what happened with him and your dad, but I do know he’s not faking his feelings for you. Maybe it was all just an unfortunate coincidence. There’s a chance you could work this out. You just need to talk to him.”
“Okay…” The word ends in a tone of mischief.
“What was that?”
“Well, maybe we can work this out, but…I kinda want to make Jace pay for what he did to me first. Is that wrong?”
I feel a grin working at my lips. I’ve never seen this devious side of Kyri, and it’s fun to watch it emerge. “Go get him, sis.” We giggle together, and I’m about to tell her goodbye when she says—
“Oh, by the way, I forgot to tell you something. Damien asked about you yesterday.”
My heart lurches. Or maybe it’s my stomach. I’m not sure. “He did?”
“Yeah. He wanted your number. I told him if you didn’t leave your number with him, you didn’t want him to have it, so he still doesn’t have your contact info.”
Oddly, I feel disappointed instead of relieved. I know Kyri always has my back, and I appreciate her sticking up for me, but something about Damien has kept him in the back of my mind all week while I was applying to schools and jobs. This boy has a hold on me. I know it’s best if we stay apart, but I do ache to feel his magic tongue on my pussy again.
“Thanks, Ky. I appreciate you looking out for me.”
“Any time.” She clears her throat softly. “For what it’s worth, he seems really into you.”
Inwardly, I yell at the butterflies in my stomach to stop dancing. “Well of course he is. I’m fabulous.”
A loud guffaw bursts from Kyri’s throat, and then I hear her muffle her laughter with her hand. “I’d better go,” she whispers.
“Okay. Good luck!”
“Thanks. You too.” She hangs up, and I’m left shaking my head at the phone, smiling from ear to ear.
That dumb fool asked about me. He went behind my back to try and contact me. I should be pissed off, but I kinda like that I got to him the way he got to me. The boys I have sex with usually end up asking for a second round, and I always shoot them down. However, if Damien managed to hunt me down, I might not say no to another wild night in the sack. This time I wouldn’t cuff him to the bed. I want to see that big, stony body unleashed, grinding on top of me with his amazing silver eyes darkened to pitch black.
Moaning, I set the phone down on the nightstand again, and my hand moves down to rub my hungry spot. I push my pussy lips aside and curl circles around my clit with my middle finger.
“Damien…” His name escapes my lips as I imagine him thrusting in and out of me. Every inch of his body is burned into mine, permanently. I can almost feel him hovering over me, lowering his heavy frame to claim a kiss from my lips.
My orgasm is rushing up on me, but I try to keep it at bay as long as possible, drawing out the pleasure that’s building in my core. Finally, it explodes, and I shout his name into the open room, panting heavily. Wave after wave of ecstasy crashes over me. Once I’m down from my peak, my nipples stay hard, signaling another orgasm waiting in the wings. I rub furiously and let another climax overtake me, whimpering his name as if his cock is inside me, tearing me apart.
My chest heaves as I mop up my gush with my panties. I don’t realize it until I try to wipe the sweat from my brow, but tears are streaming down my face. The sensations were so intense they made my eyes water. I’ve never been with a man who could make me fee
l this way, let alone gotten off like this just to the mere thought of him.
Avoiding the cocky god of a guitarist who quite literally rocked my world in bed might be harder than I thought it would be. My reality has been turned upside down. I’m not in control anymore. The mere fantasy of him possesses my body, making me helpless at the thought of him.
I turn to my side, sighing for a different reason. He might want me as much as I want him, but that doesn’t change the fact that he’ll be bored of me after a few rounds and go back to the horde of groupies he probably has. This is a recipe for disaster. It’s best if I just go back to pretending that night never happened.
Chapter 12
Damien
It’s late in the evening when I hear a car motor entering the park where we’re staying. Slipping my guitar pick between my teeth, I set my sleek, red electric beauty down on its stand, then pull out the pick and wedge it underneath the strings. My libido is insatiable now that I’m starved for sex for the first time in my adult life, so I’ve channeled all my nervous energy into practicing new riffs and chords. All day I’ve been ripping up the strings. I’m surprised they’re not fraying and popping off.
Every time I try to give a woman my attention, Alexandrea’s face pops into my head. I can’t shake her out of it, even while I’m listening to some blonde bimbo going on and on about her lesbian phase in her freshman year at university. Nothing works, and it’s about to drive me fucking mad. I’ve always had an addictive personality—sex, drugs, alcohol, music, the stage—but now every ounce of my capacity for addiction is fixated on a woman who doesn’t want me. It’s my own personal hell, and I want out of it. If she called me, I would drop everything and run to her, then I’d claim her as my own so she could never torture me like this again.
