Hers To Love: Bad Boys and Bands

by Adele Hart

  Hers to Love

  Bad Boys and Bands

  Adele Hart

  Copyright © 2018 by Adele Hart

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Contents

  Also by Adele Hart

  Foreword

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Epilogue One

  Epilogue Two

  Also by Adele Hart

  My Toy Boy-Sneak Peek

  About the Author

  Also by Adele Hart

  Alphas and Virgins Titles

  Thrill Me

  Tempt Me

  Take Me

  Choose Me

  Kiss Me

  Devour Me

  Make Me Titles

  Make Me Yours

  Make Me Crazy

  Make Me Wet

  Make Me Wild

  Make Me Happy

  Make Me Love You

  Hot Heroes Titles

  My Toy Boy

  My Cocky Cowboy

  My Naughty Professor

  Bad Boys and Good Girls

  Slow, Hard Puck

  Fast, Hard Ride

  Long, Hard Pass

  Bad Boys and Bands

  Your to Love

  Hers to Love

  Naughty Royal Romance

  The Prince’s Bride

  Boxsets

  Alphas and Virgins Volume One

  Alphas and Virgins Volume Two

  Make Me Volume One

  Make Me Volume Two

  Deliciously Dirty

  Guilty Pleasures

  My Hot Hero

  Hard

  Foreword

  Hey Girl,

  Have you ever been to a concert, dancing to the beat with your arms in the air, waving them around like you just don’t care? Then suddenly, you had the urge to toss your panties on the stage and spend the rest of the night commando? Oh, you’ve done that? You’re a Rockstar.

  Ever watched the drummer and wonder if his stick is long and hard? Prayed that yours would be the next skin he pounded? Would his rhythm make you writhe and moan?

  Wait no more. David Hansen will set the beat to make your heart pound. He doesn’t want your underwear. He wants something more. He wants love. Are you interested? If so, I’ll race you to the stage. Don’t forget the panties. He may want them after all.

  Peace Out,

  Adele (drops mic to race to the stage, but trips over her panties on the way)

  Chapter One

  Cara

  Life is like a San Francisco street. It’s often a climb, mostly winding, and sometimes it pitches you forward and straight down.

  Cara Blomquist was pretty sure she had street anxiety, if that was a thing. And when the streets dove, they took her stomach with them. It felt exactly like she was on a roller coaster after it dropped.

  She and her friends were late, so it didn’t help that the driver was hotfooting it down roads that looked like they were heading straight into the center of the earth.

  Cara tagged along with Tommy and Marissa Berry because she was heartbroken, having recently been ditched by her first real boyfriend. She bounced around the back of her friends’ clunker, praying they didn’t wreck on the mountainous streets. Or worse that she didn’t toss her cookies in the backseat.

  Even though she didn’t feel like being there, she’d dressed for the occasion. Nice dress, thigh-high stockings and a pair of heels she wished she’d practiced walking in.

  Careening down Filbert Street—the steepest street in San Francisco—proved Tom’s shortcut turned out to be the long way. The car caught air and landed with a thunk before it finally leveled out.

  They were heading to an area of town called the Tenderloin, to the Great American Music Hall on O’Farrell Street to be a private audience to the best of the Bay Area musicians as they jammed.

  Tommy and Marissa were musicians who had connections to the who’s who of the music scene. With their spiked black and bright red hair and grunge clothes, they looked the part.

  Cara was just interested in getting out of the house. She needed the distraction of friends, nice clothes, and spending time away from San Jose.

  Tommy swerved the car into an alley to the back side of a building, next to a dumpster where a dark brooding figure stood with his muscled arms folded across his powerful chest. He didn’t have the black hair with tips frozen in the air with colored wax. He looked “normal”, but he had the signature scowl that qualified him as a rock-and-roll musician.

  “You’re late,” he said flatly.

  Of all the sights in San Francisco that Cara caught from the backseat, this guy was by far the most interesting.

  “Sorry man,” said Tommy. “Got turned around.”

  Cara added, “Plus, Tommy is always late.”

  At the sound of her voice, Mr. Tall, Dark and Dangerous leaned into the window and stared at her, like a predator sizing up its prey. His face was dark and haunting. Brooding eyes, a jaw carved from stone, a nose that would make the gods weep. He made her throat go dry. She feared him and wanted him at the same time. He stared at her while he talked to Tommy.

  “I warmed up already,” said the guy. “No worries.”

  She wondered if she should know who he was? He had a famous look that went with his I-don’t-give-a-fuck attitude, but she couldn’t be certain since she wasn’t really up on the music scene. Cara was just happy to tag along. She waited quietly before trying to get out of the back of the two-door car.

  Her friends exited, heading to the popped trunk to haul cases from it to the door. It slammed shut. Marissa, Tommy and whoever he was headed towards the back of the building, leaving the car doors wide open and forgetting all about her.

  Cara stuck her legs out one at a time wedging them between the doorframe and the flopped forward seat, hoping she didn’t snag or run her smoky grey stockings. She’d splurged on them for this event.

  She clutched Marissa’s seat and the side of the door. She heaved forward and fell back. Forward and back. It was harder to exit than she expected.

  She considered removing her heels which were a good four inches high, but no way was she going to risk the stockings. They were too sweet and too damn expensive.

  If they had already forgotten about her and locked the door, she had high confidence she’d be able to charm a door man and the lacy thigh-high part might come in handy.

  Because she was out in the alley by herself, she didn’t care if her obscenely short dress, rode up past her hips. The stockings were sheer and stopped mid-thigh and she had on a matching lace thong. No one around to see—although there was the distinctive smell of cigarette smoke which reminded her of Mr. Dark and Desirable.

  She shimmied forward, and once able to put weight on her feet, she twisted around and backed out ass first, bracing herself so that she could stand.

  “Criminy,” she cursed.

  She locked the door, turned around and startled. There in front, having appeared out of nowhere, was the guy.

  “Wow,” she said because he just stood there mutely.

  He nodded. Both of them were studying one another. He had longish, side-swe
pt hair that cut across piercing blue eyes. In her ridiculous high-heeled shoes, they were practically the same height. That meant, that minus four inches, he was close to six feet tall. His muscles were obvious, tattoo-free arms bulged from the sleeves of his tattered black T-shirt. It was odd to her that a fit person would smoke. That a rocker wouldn’t have ink.

  “Weren’t you the guy complaining about being late?” She pointed to the door. “Aren’t you supposed to be out there?” she asked defensively.

  “Why?” he countered coolly, his dark eyes sweeping the length of her. “The better show is out here.”

  He lit a cigarette. Ordinarily she didn’t like the habit. But the image of him cupping a cigarette to light it, with a backsplash of alley brick while the security light spilled on them, was undeniably sexy.

  Someone else stepped out into the alley. He looked like a rock peacock dressed in black with a splash of blue. He strutted like one as he approached Cara.

  “Well, what have we got here?” he practically sang as he checked her out. “Don’t you look adorable. Is she dessert?”

  “Hey, Jay,” the handsome guy grumbled. “Lay off. She’s just here to see the show.”

  “Aren’t they all?” asked the peacock. “Does that outfit come with knee socks or knee pads?”

  “Jay…” warned the guy.

  “Who are you with, sweet thing?” asked Jay.

  “She’s here with Tommy and Marissa,” the guy said.

  Jay snorted, “Does Tommy know he’s left his cupcake outside with the big bad wolf?”

  Jay turned toward her. “You know who you’re smoking with, don’t you?”

  “I’m not smoking,” Cara countered.

  “Don’t blame you. It’s a filthy habit,” said Jay. “But sometimes those are the best kind.” He looked toward the guy. “This is David Hansen, Original David, not to be confused with that other drumming David of the Pacific Northwest.”

  “You’re a drummer?” she asked.

  She didn’t think it was a bad question, but Jay howled.

  “She doesn’t even know who you are.” He laughed.

  David clutched Jay’s neck. His hand struck with viper swiftness. The muscles in his arms flexed and rolled why Jay struggled for breath.

  “Ask her who you are,” David whispered.

  “So masculine, so Alpha,” Jay taunted while he choked. “Strong for a guy who beats it for a living.”

  “You don’t shut up, do you?” grumbled David.

  Cara whisked past them. The car was locked so climbing back inside wasn’t an option. She did not want to be in center of a brawl, so she rushed to the building and knocked on the door.

  David released Jay, leaving him to recover. He caught up with her and gently took her arm.

  “Come on,” he said. “I’ll take you to Tommy and Marissa.”

  Cara felt oddly protected as they entered the venue which was cloaked in darkness. Even with the glow of running lights she could barely see her feet. In contrast, the light was so bright on the stage, it was as if it was gilded by the glow of heaven.

  There were a number of musicians tuning their instruments and setting up, including Tommy and Marissa. Cara was proud to call them friends. She had often thought of them as a kind of wannabes, but she’d been wrong. They were the real deal.

  David’s strong hands guided her through the crowd. She didn’t look down to actually see them, but she imagined his strong hands on her waist.

  “This way, sunshine,” he said.

  She didn’t know if he was a singer as well, but his voice was as smooth as honey. Having a hot musician call you sunshine was dangerous stuff. People on stage were not people. They were characters, dressing to the songs they played. Acting the parts that the crowd expected. Like anything else, music was a facade. A mask the musicians hid behind. She had to watch herself or she could be pulled into the fantasy.

  David steered her over to a section of empty seats. Jay trailed behind.

  “On stage now, Jay,” ordered David.

  He leaned over her as she took her seat, his handsome face looming in front of hers.

  “Do not let Jay alone with you,” he ordered. “He’s not the guy for you.”

  “Got it,” she said but wondered how he knew.

  Her eyes followed David as he hurried to the stage. All the musicians were in some sort of costume except David. Tommy and Marissa had spiked hair, Jay looked like a bird, but David walked on the set in beat-up jeans and a black T-shirt. Long hair. Whiskers. Put him in armor and he could have been a knight at Arthur’s round table.

  This was a performance for musicians by musicians. Even still, when David was finally on stage, a hum of adoration filled the air. He was the guy. He sat behind his drums elevated so he was in full view of the audience. He was the centerpiece of the performance and the director. He clicked his drumsticks to cue everyone up, and counted them in. when he finished, the music started.

  The motley collection of musicians of all different bands unified under one song. It was powerful. This wasn’t really her thing, but she liked the music a lot. With every performer up there trying to make a statement of uniqueness, Cara fixated on David. She couldn’t help but be impressed. He drummed for every song. His powerful arms wailing. His silky hair shaking around his shoulders as he hit the skins. He was hot.

  Even Jay, who she thought was a total jerk, transformed as the front man for most of the songs. She had to give him credit. He knew how to put on a show. His get up off stage looked ridiculous, but under the stage lights it worked.

  Tommy and Marissa stood next to each other. Marissa played bass and Tommy played rhythm guitar. He was talented enough to play lead, but he was more of a background guy. Cara had never seen them in action. She only heard stories laced with name-dropping about famous clubs and people.

  After a couple long, furious ballads, they took a break. They packed the bar for cold drinks, mopping the sweat from their brows.

  Tommy and Marissa made their way to Cara. She ordered her usual club soda with a lime juice top.

  “Oh, and can I have a lemon twist?” she asked.

  “Hitting the hard stuff,” came a sexy voice behind her.

  She turned around even though she knew who it was. She was faced to face with David.

  He winked.

  Her heart beat like one of his drums. She drew in a breath as arousal surged through her. She tried not to be obvious, but she thought she might have actually whimpered or maybe sighed. She couldn’t be sure of much; her sense of reality was warped. All she heard was her heartbeat in her ears and the soft velvet tone of his voice.

  “Make mine the same, Mickey,” he called to the bartender. “Double.”

  The bartender laughed. He set down a giant plastic mug so the Mickey could fill it.

  “I don’t drink and drum,” he said reaching around her. His arm grazed hers and she wondered if that was by accident or design. He sipped the drink that was her special concoction.

  “Mmm,” he said, gazing at her with mesmerizing eyes.

  He probably had a gazillion people crushing on him, but as of now David Hansen had one more. Cara enjoyed the moment for what it was—a break from reality.

  Chapter Two

  David

  There was an after-party that followed the show at a guitarist named Barney’s house in Sea Cliff. It was one of the richest neighborhoods in San Francisco. David accepted the invitation reluctantly because of the rumblings about his being a snob, and that he thought he was better than everyone else which wasn’t true. At thirty-four, he was tired of the games.

  Driving up to the address in Sea Cliff plucked his envy string bad. He should be living in a house like this. While he had more than most people dreamed of, a part of him felt like he’d been shorted. A part of him had, thanks to Jay and his seedy business dealings.

  He knew the after-party house well; attended many a gathering here. Barney’s house was perched on the cliff and had a hauntin
gly beautiful view of the ocean. There were two terraces, one the size of a small room and one just a walk-out.

  David’s car angrily took the incline of the smooth driveway that wound up to Barney’s front door. As soon as the door opened, he put on his happy face and glad-handed his way through the crowd. It felt so phony, he detested himself by the time he got halfway across the room. His plan of attack was to get to the bar for a drink and then get some air.

  Out of the cluster of people, emerged a woman named Nina, dressed in the tight, short skirt and low-cut tank that was the unofficial groupie uniform. She had a decent singing voice and was the type to know how pretty she was and use it to her advantage, although she was basically harmless. Some of the other guys liked to keep her around as a backup bunny in case at the end of the night, nobody better came along, but David wasn’t attracted to her and made it a policy not to get involved with fans.

  “Hi, Nina,” he said as he walked by.

  But, she wasn’t letting him go She sidled up next to him, too high to notice he wasn’t in the mood. “Hey, sexy.”

  “How are you tonight?” he asked and tried to just keep moving.

  Her fingers raked down his arm which felt nice for a change. Fortunately—or unfortunately—she had a few too many which was a total turn off. Otherwise, she might have gotten to him. Being wasted made her completely off limits.