Snare (Falling Stars #3)

by Sadie Grubor

  I don't know what to say, so I just blink.

  Cass groans, covering her face.

  "In fact," she looks over at Liza and drops her voice, "she's super pretty, but I definitely want boobs like yours." Her eyes drop to my chest.

  "Oh my God," Cass moans, her face now turning dark pink.

  "Yeah, well…" I stumble over my words, "don't let your dad hear that."

  "I'd never," Lyra gasps. "He's a guy, he just doesn't understand."

  Unable to hold it back, laughter bubbles up and out of my mouth.

  "I'll make sure to get out there and watch your performance," I tell them as I walk out of the room.

  Funny, Xavier twists me inside out, but his daughters make me feel like a goddamn rock star. I definitely like them more than I like him. The ginger-bearded ass crack.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Sidra

  Hours later, the bands are finished on stage and meeting with the charity representatives. I'm wrapping up everything so I can get the hell out of here.

  "What's going on?" Liza's question makes me jump.

  "Christ, don't sneak up on me," I breathe, hand over my rapid beating heart.

  "Spill it," she orders.

  So, I tell her while multi-tasking with the website, comments, and posting thank you videos. By the time I'm sharing the last behind-the-scenes photo, I've caught Liza up on Xavier's weird change.

  Surprising me, she falls into a fit of laughter.

  "What's so damn funny?" I snap. "I didn't do a damn thing for him to be mad about."

  "Oh my God," she pants, "just the fact," she gasps, "that you are worried," she gasps again. "You are soooooo falling for him."

  "Am not!" I argue.

  "You so are," she laughs out. "I never thought I'd see the day that my hump-him-and-dump-him cousin would become a one-man kind of woman."

  "Bite your tongue, hussy!" I throw a crumpled post-it note, hitting her in the arm.

  "Me thinks she doth protests too much," she quotes, taunting.

  "Whatever," I grumble, hating that deep down, in the crazy girl area, she's right. "Is your car here? I'm going to the hotel with you."

  "Isn't your stuff at his house?" she asks, no longer laughing.

  "Yep, but I'll send someone to get it later."

  I close up my laptop and collect all my devices into my bag.

  "Sid, you should probably talk to him," she advises.

  "Nope." I sling my bag over my shoulder. "So, tell the graffiti giant he's going to have blue balls tonight, 'cause I'm sleeping over."

  Grinning wide, I wrap my arm in hers and drag her to the venue exit.

  Jack slides into the car, closing the door behind him. His eyes instantly land on me.

  "Oh, fuck no," he shouts.

  "She's coming to the hotel with us," Liza says.

  "No, she's not," Jack argues.

  Liza crosses her arms over her chest and scowls.

  "Uh-uh," he shakes his head and reopens the car door, "don't give me that look."

  "I can't believe you're being such a jerk." Liza's bottom lip quivers.

  Now, I feel like a jerk.

  "Don't worry about it," I interrupt. "I'll get a taxi to the hotel."

  I scoot toward the door, but Liza puts her hand out, stopping me.

  Remember that mama bear I told you about? Yeah, she's in the zone and I'm not even going to poke her right now—even if I probably deserve it.

  "The only person getting out of this car is him," she grounds out, jaw clenched and fire in her eyes.

  "You weren't just inside helping Xavier look for her," he argues, pointing at me.

  I blink at this information.

  "Why is he looking for me? He's done his best to avoid me," I disclose.

  "Fuck," Jack groans, rubbing his palms over his eyes, "I don't want to get in the middle of you two."

  "Then close the door and you won't be between me—"

  "Not you," Jack cuts Liza off. "Her," he points at me with his long, inked finger, "and Xavier." He motions toward the building. "You've never seen the angry Xavier beast," Jack leans toward Liza. "I have. Then, I have to worry about my dick getting the Christmas ornament treatment if I piss her off again." He extends his finger in my direction. "No fucking thank you."

  "I don't care," Liza bites out. "Sid, you're—"

  "Going to get your ass out of the car." Xavier's voice is unmistakably angry.

  Dropping my head on a heavy exhale, I slide over to the door, and mumble, "Jackson?"

  "Yeah," he answers, meeting my eyes.

  "You're dead to me." I point to my eyes and then at him. "Merry fucking Christmas," I say, dropping my eyes to his crotch before climbing out.

  As I straighten out of the car, Xavier's arms come to both sides, caging me against it.

  His nostrils flaring, chest heaving, and eyes hard and narrowed on mine, I find myself pissed off, but also aroused.

  Why does pissing him off make me so hot?

  "You're really going to order me out of the car just to pin me to it?" I snap.

  "We need to talk," he growls, deep and low, sending fuck-him-against-the-car vibes straight to Xena.

  "I have no idea why you are so pissed off, but whatever it is, it's your problem." I poke a finger at his chest.

  Pushing off the car, he points to another one waiting behind Jack and Liza's.

  Oh no, he is not ordering me around.

  Stepping closer, I press my chest against his body and push up on my toes.

  "You and your orders can go fuck themselves, dickhole," I shout.

  I turn to my left and get two steps away before his arms band around me from behind.

  "You want to do this here?" he asks, the question a threat. "Fine."

  He turns me to face him, but his hands stay locked on my arms.

  Uncomfortable with the public manhandling, I try to pull out of his grip.

  "I thought we had a mutual understanding that it's just you and me," he growls low.

  "What are you talking about?" I stop struggling for a minute.

  "I saw you and Jimmy's moment back there," his head jerks toward the building, "and if I'm fucking you, I think you could, at least, let me know who else is too."

  There's an instant flash of regret on his face, but it's too late.

  "I agree." My response surprises him. "If I were fucking someone else, you should be told. You wouldn't want to stick your face where someone else's dick has been."

  Too far? Probably. Do I give two shits? Nope. I give no shits and no fucks.

  "Christ, Sid, if you're fucking Jimmy, too, I just want to know. I'm not okay with sharing."

  "Whoa, wait," Jimmy starts to interject, but I put my hand up, silencing him.

  The weight of so many stares is becoming too much. Knowing even more ears are privy to this conversation, my skin burns with embarrassment.

  "You're an asshole," I shout.

  Finally pulling out of his hold, I take three steps back.

  "So, tell me about my exploits with Jimmy, 'cause I'm fascinated by what your imagination's come up with," I quip, every word exaggerated.

  I turn to Jimmy and continue, "And you'll have to let me know how accurate he is."

  Sliding my eyes back to Xavier, I growl, "Since I've never had the experience." Then, I shrug and lean toward him. "But maybe, after this, I'll be persuaded."

  "Fuck, Xavier, there's nothing going on," Jimmy confesses.

  Snapping my head toward him, I narrow my eyes.

  "Sorry, Sid, I've known him too long to let this shit hang," he apologizes and walks up to Xavier. Clamping a hand to his shoulder, he says, "She's doing some less than legal research for me." With a pat, he walks away from us.

  "Fuck," Xavier breathes.

  "You," I finish for him.

  His large hand grabs my bicep and he drags me back into The Fillmore.

  "Manhandling," I accuse, but stumble along behind him.

  Any other gu
y, and he would taste his balls right now. Fucking Xavier, I want to be pissed, angry, and hate, but him… My chest constricts at the thought of ditching his ginger ass and skips a beat for considering hating him. I even rethink glitter bombing him. Why? Because I'm sure I'll want to jump his dick the moment he flares a nostril and I will not have glitter-clit.

  Treacherous fucking organ!

  He finds an empty room and pulls me inside, closing the door behind us.

  "Why be private now?" I snap.

  Xavier releases my arm and rubs the back of his neck.

  I face him, arms crossed over my chest.

  "When I saw you walk away with him…" he lets the words drift off.

  I say nothing.

  "Then he had his arms around you in the hall. My jealousy was irrational and I'm sorry."

  His eyes meet mine, now soft, a silent plea to forgive him.

  "I'm not used to getting jealous. It's been a long fucking time." There's an intensity to his words, like he's trying to say something else.

  "Not my fault or problem," I retort.

  "You're right," he agrees.

  "You're an asshole," I add.

  "Yeah, I am."

  "What you did out there," I point at the door, "in front of everyone…" I clench my jaw, unable to finish.

  "I know," he concedes, stepping closer.

  My heart flutters and stomach tingles. I tamper that shit down and narrow my eyes.

  Goddamn it, I don't know how to fight like this.

  "Stop agreeing with me," I snap, "It makes it hard to be mad at you!"

  "I don't want you to be mad at me." His words sound like an oath.

  "Fuck," I groan.

  "I acted like an asshole, a jealous asshole," he begins.

  "A jealous inflamed asshole," I correct.

  He has the nerve to fucking grin.

  "A jealous inflamed asshole," he repeats, then adds, "I went a bit crazy."

  "And every time you see me around another guy, hug or whatever, you're going to go all 'me, Sasquatch, you Sid'?" I shake my head. "No thanks."

  Liar, liar, panties on fire. Apeshit jealous Xavier has you so worked up, you've pictured riding him—twice.

  "I'm not perfect and can't control if I get jealous," he admits.

  I open my mouth, but he puts a hand up.

  "But I can promise not to stew on it and go crazy." He moves even closer.

  Our eyes lock and the heat of his body penetrates through my clothes.

  The moment he's against me, full frontal contact, the heat races straight between my thighs.

  Struggling with the urge to claw out his eyes, kick him in the balls, and angry fuck him, I clench my hands at my side.

  "I hate you," I grumble.

  Oh, how I hate him. I hate what he did, how he affects me, and the way he makes me feel shit I don't want to.

  "I know," he whispers, his warm, calloused hand slipping around my neck and into my hair.

  Reaching up, I grip the cotton against his chest.

  Fisting the hair at the back of my head, he brings his mouth an inch from mine.

  "You're turning me inside out," his words wash over my face, "and I hate you for it."

  The admission goes straight to my heart, making it gallop in my chest.

  In the stupidest dumb girl decision ever I pull on his shirt and push up on my toes.

  "Shut up, you're better when you don't talk." I accentuate the words with a lick to his lip.

  The force of his mouth crashing on mine sends us stumbling back and slamming into a wall.

  His hands go to my ass, squeezing.

  Frantically grabbing at the fly of his jeans, I yank and jerk his body to get them open. The moment the zipper is lowered, I slip my hand inside.

  I break away from the kiss, and pant, "No underwear?"

  "Gets in the way," he responds.

  One of his hands moves from my ass to hip, sliding up my body until he can brush my hair over my shoulder. Tugging the collar of my shirt away, his mouth latches on to my neck.

  Pushing his hips against my hand, I wrap my fingers around him and stroke.

  "Back pocket," he growls into my skin.

  Getting into his pocket, I find the condom, bring the packet between my teeth, tear it open, and spit the piece of foil at him.

  That's for pissing me off.

  "Always so prepared?" I ask, reaching down and slipping the condom over his length.

  "You've set the precedence for fucking in dressing rooms," he retorts, running his teeth over my collarbone.

  I moan and shove the denim down his hips.

  Xavier's hand returns to my ass, clasping. He lifts and I wrap my legs around his waist.

  A wave of nervousness tampers my lust.

  I have to be too heavy.

  "Put me on the table," I pant, knowing I saw one when we came in.

  "Shut up and put me inside you." The flex of his fingers digging into my flesh accentuate his demand.

  I comply, moving the crotch of my underwear—no hooks this time—and lining him up. The moment I do, he slams home and I grab his shoulders.

  "Yes," I cry.

  "Fuck," he growls, head dropping to my neck.

  And then, he fucks me. Hard, fast, unforgiving, the force of his thrust smacks my lower back against the wall—not enough to really hurt, but enough for me to feel the urgency and emotion behind his moves.

  "I hate you," I repeat, meaning the complete opposite, even if I won't admit it to myself.

  "I hate you, too," he grunts, gripping my ass harder.

  Later, I'll think about how momentous this all is. How, deep down, in the depths of my inner girl, I've accepted the way I feel about him.

  Xavier

  The house is quiet by the time we arrive from the venue. Most of my family having returned right after the concert, they didn't bear witness to my temper tonight.

  Christ, I sat on that jealousy all fucking night until I exploded.

  Sitting on the edge of my bed, I put my head in my hands.

  I'm a grown ass man acting like a fucking boy.

  Rubbing my face and scratching my beard, I drop back on the mattress and close my eyes.

  If I'd been myself, thinking straight, I would've just walked down that hall and found out what was going on. Instead…I turned into a fucking idiot.

  Realizing I'm falling for a woman who would probably punch me in the nuts for uttering the word love to her is still a shock to my system. There's no way in hell I can tell her now. Not after tonight. She'd think I was using it to earn her forgiveness, but what I wouldn't give to say it out loud.

  What the fuck is wrong with you?

  The bathroom door opens and I angle my head. A cloud of steam rushes out into the room. Sitting up, I watch her emerge like a mythological creature. Wet hair framing her flushed face, sleep clothes clinging to her damp skin, and barefoot—it's a sight I could really get used to.

  It's her silence that's driving me to fucking insanity.

  No witty comments, insults, name calling—I get nothing. She's lost in her own head and I want to know what's going on in there.

  She pads across the wood floor, pulls the covers back on the side I now consider hers, and slips beneath them. Her back to me, she whispers, "Night."

  I want to grab her, shake her, make her say something—anything.

  Instead, I climb from the bed and drag my ass to the bathroom.

  When I emerge, freshly showered, my heart drops.

  She's gone.

  I stalk toward the bed, calming when I realize she's buried under a mound of blankets. Only her hair visible, I run my fingers through the damp strands. Closing my eyes, I bend at the waist and kiss her blanket-covered head.

  Knowing I won't be able to sleep, I yank on a pair of sweat shorts and go downstairs.

  With a bottle of tequila in hand, I poke at the fire pit, trying to get it going.

  The click of the glass patio door pulls my attention
from the fire.

  "Everything okay?" my father asks, sitting on the plush patio furniture.

  "Yep," I quip, taking a pull from the tequila.

  "Want to talk about it?" he offers, removing the bottle out of my hand and drinking.

  "Don't really want to tell anyone else how big of an asshole I am," I admit.

  "Ah," he murmurs, handing the bottle back.

  "Yep," I repeat.

  "Sid kick you out of the room?"

  "No."

  "Is she angry?"

  "I don't know."

  "Ah," he nods, "silent treatment."

  My eyes move from the fire to his face.

  "By the way, that means she's pissed off," he says with a small smile.

  "It's not even that," the words flow like I'm in a damn confessional, "I can handle anger, yelling, or silence. This is…she's a zombie. Sid is anything but quiet and zoned out."

  Dad tilts his head, and says, "Hmmm."

  "That's all you've got?" I toss the fire poker into the grass.

  "What do you want, Xavier? I'm not an expert on women or Sid," he responds.

  "How do you not get jealous?" My eyes bore into him, hoping my dad has the magic answer.

  "So, it's jealousy." He almost looks happy. "This, I might be able to help with."

  "I need you to tell me how you don't get jealous or how you, of all people, control it," I beg.

  "What makes you think I don't get jealous?" he asks, a look of surprise on his face.

  "You watched and filmed mom having sex with other men for years," I explain. "Not once have I seen you lash out."

  "Sex is…well, was, her job. She was an entertainer. I knew that when I met her and when I married her. Kind of hard to be angry when we were both in the same industry."

  "See?"

  "Son, you don't see." He settles back into his chair. "What you children haven't seen, because we kept it that way, was our struggle to stay married when you all left the house."

  "What?" I choke.

  "It's true. Your mother and I struggle just like every other couple. We aren't an exception, but…" he smiles, "we are dedicated to each other."

  "You guys almost split up?" I ask, not really wanting the answer.

  Looking into the fire, he shakes his head.

  "It was never on the table," his eyes come to mine, "for me."

  "So, Mom…"

  "Your mother got tired of my jealousy and told me she would leave me."