“You sure?” He slowed his plunges.
“I’m sure.” She tightened her thighs to get him moving faster. “And just to prove it, I’m not going to last long like this, Ryder.” The pulses from her nipples vibrated through her, snapping off brain cells in preparation for her climax. She let out a cry.
“Cutie.” He rearranged himself, giving his hips more room to thrust, moving one hand to the soft apex between her legs and finding her little bud, tight and waiting.
Brooke cried out once again as he touched her clit then circled it with his fingertip. More brain cells flickered off as she reached for her release. The fullness of him deep inside her, the wicked tweaks of her nipples, the rhythm of his finger on the point of her sweet release…
“Yes!” She yelled and flew, the lights of the city spinning and whirling past her as she fought to keep her eyes open through her orgasm. Her body tightened and heated as he jackhammered into her, his own grunts feeding the intensity of her climax.
“Brooke, aw girl…” He stiffened and his movements became jerky, his shaft inside her thickened, sending her even further into a wild tailspin over the city. The ride lasted for nearly a minute, manic and perfect, his body pumping pleasure into her that echoed over and over through her.
He slowed his thrusts as she slowly eased back into her body, her mind replaying the crazy ride it had just experienced. “Coming in for a landing.” Her words were breathy through her panting.
They both laughed, slow and replete. “Ryder.” She pressed her hot cheek to the glass. “You weren’t kidding about sending me soaring.”
He sucked in huge breaths. “That was one hell of a ride.” He eased himself out of her, turning her, holding her in his arms and carrying her to the couch. They lay on their sides facing each other on the wide leather with her tucked against the back of the couch, panting and shaking.
“You’ve got a lot of wild ideas, Ryder Landry.” She snuggled even closer and kissed his chin.
“You have no idea, cutie.” He brushed her hair from her face and placed a quick kiss on her forehead. “Warm enough?”
Tucked between him and the butter-soft leather of the couch, she was … “Perfect.”
He moaned and slid his hand along her side. “You are.”
Brooke froze, then forced herself to breathe. It was just something he said to every one of his sleepover guests, right? She couldn’t read anything more into it. As his breathing became slow and rhythmic, she lay awake, her thoughts spinning like a ballerina.
Chapter Eleven
Ryder woke as the sun lit the living room of his hotel suite. He lay on the leather couch. Alone? He sat up, looking around. Brooke? Had she left?
He heard water running, the sound coming from the bathroom inside the bedroom. He plopped back down. Torn. He’d almost hoped she’d left. That was his thing, right? One night with a woman, then they were through. It had worked for him this long. There was no reason to do anything different, was there?
Brooke.
She was different. Something compelled him to get to know her better. An urge that went opposite of the course he’d set for his life. What the hell was she doing to him?
The water stopped running.
He sat up again and wandered into the bedroom. She came out of the bathroom with a blue towel wrapped around her hair, and another around her body. “Hi.” She glanced down at his naked body. “Do you always look so good in the morning?”
He had to look like hell, with his hair rumpled, his eyes puffy, and his cock…definitely not sporting any morning wood after all his introspective psychobabble out on the couch. “You’re just full of happy BS this morning.” He walked up to her, kissed her quickly on the lips, then strode past her into the bathroom. He closed the door, needing a little privacy.
After showering and shaving, making himself look more presentable, he stepped out of the bathroom, a towel around his hips. The bedroom was empty. His heart sank for a few seconds as he grabbed some clean clothes hung up for him in the closet. He never had this reaction the morning after, especially following a satisfying night with a woman. Fighting back the urge to rush into the other room to see if she was still here, he dressed in jeans and a red T-shirt then wandered barefoot out to the living room.
Brooke sat cross-legged on the couch they’d shared last night, wearing jeans and a pink blouse. She must have gone down to her own room for clothes. Her braided hair hung down the middle of her back. Smiling at him, she held her phone to her stomach. “Before I go…” After swallowing, she took a breath. “There’s something I have to tell you.”
His stomach clenched. The woman did not look happy. “Give me a couple minutes to wake up.” He didn’t want to do this on an empty stomach. He padded into the kitchen and yanked open the refrigerator doors. They’d stocked his favorite breakfast sandwich; bacon, egg, and cheese on a biscuit, and he grabbed two and held them up. “Hungry?”
“Um, no.” She shook her head, her brows drawn down. “Thanks, though.”
“Sure.” He slid the sandwiches onto a plate, microwaved them for a few seconds, then grabbed a bottle of juice and hauled everything into the living room and plopped down onto a chair facing the couch. “So, what’s your big news?” He bit into a sandwich and chewed, watching her face.
Emotions ran across her pretty features before she finally opened her mouth. “There’s something I didn’t tell you about the song. The one for your mother.”
He sat completely still, the biscuit a dry lump in his mouth.
“I sold it.” She bit her lip, then puffed out a breath. “Just a few days before I heard your version on the radio, I sold it.”
Son of a bitch. He swallowed his mouthful of food. “To who?” He’d just have to figure out how to buy it back from them.
“Let me explain why I didn’t tell you right away.” She held up a hand, as if that would stop him from getting the information he wanted.
“Who?” He stood, his hands fisting at his sides. “Give me their name.”
Her mouth dropped open as she looked up at him. “If I could just explain first, I’d—”
“Brooke, seriously, just tell me who.” He said the words slow and calm, the exact opposite of the yelling he really wanted to do.
“Hope O’Malley.”
“Okay.” He looked around the room. He could fix this. He knew Hope, and she’d be reasonable once she heard the story. He went to get his phone but stopped next to Brooke. “So, why today? Why are you telling me this now?”
“Hope is in town for the awards tonight.” Brooke shrugged and attempted a smile, but it just didn’t work. “She’s actually here in the hotel, and I just thought, since fate brought both of you to the exact same place at the exact same time, this had to be Providence letting me know it was time to tell you.”
Ryder closed his eyes for a second. All this fate mumbo jumbo with Brooke. It went against his down-to-earth beliefs.
Brooke held up her phone. “I’ve been talking with her about this since I heard my song on the radio, in your voice, and we’ve—”
“I don’t get it, Brooke. Why wait? Why the hell didn’t you tell me this before?” He stormed around the room, pacing to calm his nerves.
“I was hoping we’d find McCrae, get this all sorted out first before I told you, then…” She shrugged.
“Then what?” Ryder tossed up his hands and let them drop. “What difference would that make to anything you’re telling me today?”
Her lips quivered.
Damn, he was acting like an ass. He sat in the chair he’d just vacated and watched her face carefully, looking for signs of deceit. “Hope knows what happened, right? That I own the song rightfully? That I’ve released it, and am not going to give up my rights to it?”
“Well, I don’t really think she’s completely on board with that.” Brooke showed him the face of her phone. “She wants to get together to discuss it later, if you—”
“Right now.” Ryder stood
and shoved the rest of his sandwich in his mouth. “What room?” Pieces of biscuit flew out.
“Ah, well, I’ll see if…” She sighed and typed on her phone. A few seconds later, a jingle announced a reply coming back. “She says she’s still in her pajamas, so give her ten minutes.”
Ryder opened the container of juice, drank it down, and walked into the kitchen. “Yeah, okay.” He finished his other sandwich as he walked into the bedroom. He pulled a pair of socks out of a dresser drawer and sat on the bed to pull them on. Why wouldn’t Brooke have told him everything right away? What the hell else had she withheld from him?
How well did he really know her? Could this story about her stepbrother be some kind of a game she played? To get to him? “Shit.” He’d done exactly the opposite of what his agent and Steele had told him to do. Keep her the hell out of his bed.
He pulled on a pair of boots and grabbed his wallet, phone, and room keycard. As he walked back into the living room, he spotted Brooke standing at the windows looking out at the sunrise glowing over the city. She had her arms crossed tightly across her front.
With a sigh, he walked to her, standing next to her. “We’ll get this figured out.”
She looked up at him, her eyes as sad as an abandoned puppy’s. “I’m sorry. Now that I look back on it, I should have told you the whole story right away.”
“Yeah. That would have been good.” He wasn’t going to let her off the hook easily. She’d kept pertinent information from him, data that could seriously impact his career. She damned well would know he didn’t appreciate it. “Any other song, it wouldn’t have been as critical, but a song for my mother…” He let the rest of it hang.
She turned away and lifted a hand to swipe at her cheeks. “You’re right. I really screwed up by keeping it from you.”
Strangely, he believed she was truly sorry. “Okay. Let’s go see if we can get this fixed.” Hell, he’d kept info from her, too. Who was he to be acting so self-righteous?
****
Ryder knocked on the door of room 1731, and in seconds, Hope pulled it open and stood in the doorway. “Ryder.” She grabbed him for a hug.
Hope’s chestnut brown hair hung to just past her shoulders, and as she released him, she blinked at him with her big, round brown eyes. She wore no makeup, but didn’t need it with her long, thick lashes. “You look like hell, boy.” Her slow southern drawl matched her caramel coloring.
Behind him, Brooke let out a half-laugh.
Hope reached for Brooke, her full red lips parting in a grin as she pulled Brooke into her arms. “I’m so glad we got this all out in the open, girl.” She tugged at both their arms. “Come in, we need to get this sorted out.”
The suite looked about half as big as Ryder’s, but had a few more doors leading off of the living room area.
“Have a seat, I’m making coffee.” Hope skittered into the kitchen, her black yoga pants and sleeveless green shirt looking suspiciously like pajamas.
“I’m good without coffee.” Ryder paced to the windows. “I’d like to get right to business, if that’s okay.”
Brooke sat in a chair, looking pale.
“I’m waiting for my reinforcements.” Hope dumped coffee grounds into the machine. “They’re gonna want coffee, for sure.”
“Reinforcements?” Ryder looked at Brooke.
Her eyes opened wide, and she lifted her shoulders as she plopped down on a side chair.
“Reinforcements.” The high female voice came from a partially-open door on the left side of the room. Then the door swung open, and Summer Campbell walked out, pulling her California-blonde hair into a short ponytail. “Hi, Ryder.” She winked one of her sky-blue eyes at him, and moved in for a hug. At just a little over Brooke’s height, she had to reach to get her thin arms around him. Her slender body felt too breakable in his arms.
“Summer. I didn’t know you were going to be here.” He released her and glanced at her jeans and tank top, her small breasts barely making a dent in the fabric.
“The three of us are doing a medley of one of the hall-of-famer’s songs tonight.” Her voice flowed with a California surfer accent. She looked past him. “You must be Brooke.” She headed right for her with her hand out in greeting.
Ryder jerked. “The three of you?” Shit. The three that traveled in a pack…God help him if Dixie was here, too. He looked at the last closed door off the room.
Summer sat on the couch close to Brooke and the two of them talked quietly while Hope clattered around in the kitchen. “Do you want anything else, Ryder? Beside coffee?”
“No, thanks.” He paced along the windows, waiting for the inevitable, bracing himself for a battering.
“Ryder Landry.” The voice, smoky and set with a hard Texas twang, came from behind him. Dixie Magnusson strode out of her room in shorts and a threadbare shirt, evidently not caring to change out of her pajamas. Nearly six feet tall, she posed with her hands on her hips, giving Ryder a glare.
“Dixie.” There’d be no hugs. They’d had a quick fling when they were new in the business and touring as the opening acts for a big-name artist. She’d wanted more, he’d ducked out and never called her.
Her hair had grown quite a bit since those days, and now the thick, wavy ginger locks hung well past her hips.
“Eyes up here, pervert.” She pointed to her green eyes.
Yeah, he’d gotten caught checking out her hips, damn it. He looked toward the kitchen.
Hope stood grinning, evidently enjoying the show.
“Is there somewhere we can talk?” He gave Hope a pointed look.
She walked out of the kitchen. “Anything we discuss can be said in front of Dixie and Summer.” She plopped down on a chair next to Brooke. “They’re up-to-date on the whole situation, including your race across America trying to locate Brooke’s stepbrother.”
Dixie sat on the opposite end of the couch from Summer, leaving either the spot between them open, or he’d have to drag over a chair from the dining room. He dragged a chair.
He gestured toward Brooke, figuring she should be the one to get this started, since it was her mess to begin with, and Lord help him if he got the women riled up any more by taking the lead here.
She wet her lips with her tongue, the gesture seeming nervous. “I just let Ryder know this morning that I’d sold the—”
“Oh, this morning?” Dixie crossed her long leg over the other one and tapped air with her foot. She directed her glare at Ryder. “Isn’t that convenient.”
He ignored her. “Go ahead, Brooke.” The sideways reprimand only served to get Dixie’s foot tapping faster.
“I just told him that I’d sold the song to you, Hope. And that I’d done it just before I heard Ryder’s version on the radio.”
Hope nodded. “I understand. And I wish you luck finding your stepbrother, but legally, I own the song.”
Ryder cleared his throat. “I’m gonna have to disagree. Since I purchased the song prior to her selling it to you, I’d be the legal owner.”
“But he stole it from her.” Summer frowned at him.
“According to my attorney—” Ryder paused to let the women grumble and cuss and disagree with him. When they quieted, he looked right at Brooke. “Since the song was never copyrighted prior to its being sold, there’s no definitive way to prove who held the rights to sell it.”
Brooke’s face paled as lines formed between her eyebrows. She stared at him, her expression wounded, like he’d struck her. He could almost feel guilty, but she’d sprung a honker on him this morning, so this was his honker for her.
The women sat in silence. The coffeepot beeped in the kitchen. Hope stood slowly and walked to the coffee pot. She came back with a tray bearing the pot, cups, cream, sugar, and spoons. She set it on the coffee table, but no one moved.
“What do we do now?” Hope stood by the couch, looking at Ryder.
He glanced at Brooke, who now looked close to tears. She sucked in an unsteady breath. “I
guess I give you your money back.” She glanced at Hope. “And I pray that you don’t sue me.”
Hope took her chair next to Brooke. “Don’t be silly. There’ll be no suing.” She patted Brooke’s hand, then turned to face him. “Ryder, what does your attorney say?”
“I haven’t talked to him about this new situation.” He stood and poured a cup of coffee, handing it to Brooke.
She accepted it with a nod.
He glanced at Hope, who nodded, then at Summer and Dixie, who both nodded yes. After everyone had a cup, including himself, he sat and sipped for a few moments. He didn’t care for the taste of coffee, but he needed the caffeine to get his brain working. “I’ll go call him right now, but I’d guess he’d tell us to find McCrae and sort this out before we do anything else.”
Brooke’s lips curved into a hopeful smile, but one that didn’t reach her eyes. “I appreciate your saying that, but the fact is, you’re right, Ryder. I never copyrighted the song. I always waited until I sold first, which in retrospect, was probably not a great idea.” She set down her cup, her hand shaking. “Which was stupid. I live literally blocks from the US Copyright offices…” She sank back in her chair and closed her eyes.
He glanced at Hope, who had a frown on her lips. He nodded and gave her a half-smile, telling her without words that he’d figure out a way to make this work for everyone.
“Brooke, he’s only saying that because you’re sleeping with him.” Dixie set down her cup with a loud smack. “Wait until he doesn’t want—”
“Dixie!” Hope snapped her fingers, pointing to her friend. “If you can’t control it, you’re not welcome at this meeting.”
The woman snorted and stood, flinging her long hair over her shoulder. “Meeting? This is more like a train wreck about to happen. And nobody can stop it.” She stared at Brooke. “Just a warning, lady. There’ll be no phone call from him later.” She trounced out of the room and slammed her bedroom door.
“Sorry.” Hope shrugged her brows. “I didn’t know her animosity went that deep.”
Rough Ryder Page 10
