Rock n' Roll All Night

by Bailey, J. A.

  But it didn’t matter. It had been too long and she’d held onto that hurt, nursed it. She couldn’t let it go now. It had driven her to achieve what she had.

  “I’m sorry. It’s too late. I’ve moved on.” Her words came out barely a whisper.

  He studied her, gaze so intense it made her hold her breath. Finally he spoke, voice gruff, “I don’t believe you.”

  And then as swift as a tiger he swept his lips over hers. The contact was brief but it felt like she’d just chucked back half a dozen shots of whisky rather than two. Warmth and a tingling sensation shot all the way down to her pussy.

  When he drew back, there was a look of smug satisfaction on his face. “I’m going to win you back, babe. You’ll see.” With that, he shoved himself away and chucked back his whisky. “So, you going to show me around?”

  Chapter Three

  Jackson sat backstage and murmured his thanks as one of the bar staff handed him a bottle of water. The pretty blonde thing paused and offered him an inviting smile but he did his best to ignore it. Once upon a time, maybe he would have been interested but not now. Jazz may have turned him down, but there was no way he was giving up that easily. Hell, even he could recognise how much she needed someone in her life. From the state of her apartment, he could tell she’d been working all hours. He admired her ambition—he’d been the same once. And though he still had a certain amount of it, his priorities had changed. There was more to life than work.

  The roar of the crowd filtered through the curtains. The bar wasn’t huge but it was jammed with rockers of all ages. He peered around and noted the expectant faces. Once he’d felt like that about music, in the days when he and Jazz just hung out listening to music and watching videos on Kerrang. Hopefully working with some fresh blood would bring back his enthusiasm. He still loved to perform but it didn’t fulfil him the same way it used to.

  Jazz hurried up to him, looking harassed. Damn, the woman worked too hard. He couldn’t wait to help her chill out. Bring back some of that idealistic, funny, rock chick. Guilt made his gut clench. No doubt he had a good part to play in destroying that side of her. From what he could find out, she’d pretty much kept herself to herself, barely dating over the years. Lenny had filled him in a little during sound check, including about the problems the club faced financially. He was rich enough but he doubted she’d let him give her any money. However, a few performances from Jackson Wilde was sure to bring in plenty of cash and repeat customers.

  If she’d let him come back.

  Yeah, she would. He smirked when she paused in front of him and her gaze tracked his body. Tonight, he was going to make sure of that.

  “Are you set?” she asked breathlessly, making Jackson wonder if she’d sound like that in bed.

  It had been a long time for them both—maybe she’d learned a few new things. He sure had but he didn’t want to think about Jazz’s past lovers. What they’d had was special. That kind of sweet sex that you don’t quite know what you’re doing but somehow it still ends up totally awesome. He’d always kinda hoped they would learn other stuff together but he fucked that up.

  He blinked when he realised he was staring at her. “Yeah, I’m set.”She handed him the mike and he flashed her a grin. “A kiss for luck?”

  Jazz jerked back. It had been a tradition when the band first started up. She always gave him a kiss for luck. “I-I don’t think so.”

  “Aw, go on. You don’t want me messing up out there do you?”

  One slim brow raised and she propped her hands on hips. “I don’t—” She threw up her hands as he used his most imploring face. “Oh fine.”

  His triumphant grin slipped when she stepped closer and brushed her lips over his cheek. Before she could retreat, he snatched her forearms and held her close. He smothered her squeal with a quick, hard kiss to her lips.

  “That’s more like it.” He grinned again.

  She was practically ready for tearing him apart, her eyes wide, lips tense. He could even see the pulse in her neck fluttering, so he released her quickly and slid away.

  “See you after,” he said and ducked out the curtain. If she responded, then the roar of the crowd quickly smothered it.

  Jazz might take a while to come around, he realised, but he was sure going to have a lot of fun in the meantime. Especially when he knew the chemistry between burned hotter than ever.

  Turning his attention to the stage lights, he offered a wave and mounted the mike. One of the crew handed him his guitar and he offered the crowd a quick grin. His gaze fixed on Jazz, who’d come around the side to watch. She was just outside of the glare of the lights which suited him perfectly because he’d always been able to work magic on stage. Little did she realise, he planned on totally seducing Jazz even from up here.

  Offering her a wink, he grabbed the microphone and greeted the crowd. “Hey, everyone! Thanks for coming down tonight. All I can say is we’re in for a great night and you look like an awesome crowd. Get ready to get your rock on.”

  ***

  Jazz felt like a jittery teenager again watching Jackson do his thing. The man practically had everyone drooling at his feet as he started the set. Even the men. He exuded that special something that no one could pinpoint or even understand, yet everyone wanted a part of.

  Even her.

  Yeah her stomach twisted and her pulse rate kicked up just watching him. Jackson had charisma in spades and he made love to the crowd perfectly. But every now and then, he glanced at her and she couldn’t help feeling he was playing just for her. It was just a game, she reminded herself. That was what a good rocker did. Made you feel special and awesome and epic.

  However, that didn’t stop her craving more of his attention.

  He sang perfectly, his beautiful voice still amazing in the flesh. You didn’t get this with pop stars who had a lot of help from auto-tune and backing singers. Jackson even played an acoustic number where it was just him. Pure Jackson. It sent shivers down her spine. The man was so talented, so damned sexy, he drove her mad.

  And she really didn’t like it. He’d be gone soon enough and hopefully would forget all about her once he’d found his next groupie but just the thought of him living in the same city, made her feel all… all mushy inside. She feared she’d end up chasing him, begging him to come back if she wasn’t careful.

  He paused before the next song and took a drink from the bottle at his feet. “Does anyone fancy a Blink-182 song?”

  The crowd cheered though Jazz suspected they were that caught up in the atmosphere, they’d be happy if he sung nursery rhymes.

  “This one’s good for all the sci-fi fans out there but be sure to listen to the lyrics. To me, they kinda describe someone special.”

  Jazz found herself caught between wanting to roll her eyes and groan or break down and cry. If it was the song she thought it was…

  “This is ‘A New Hope’ by Blink-182.”

  She groaned but her heart thudded against her chest. What a geek. The song was a Star Wars song for fuck’s sake. Hardly a love song. But all those years ago, Jackson had loved Blink-182. Jazz wasn’t so into them but he always said this song reminded him of her.

  Jackson’s voice filled the room, making her knees tremble. He stared straight at her as he sang the first verse.

  “I've got her in my head. At night when I go to bed. And I know it sounds lame, but, she's the girl of my dreams…”

  Damn him. Damn him for pulling at her heart like this. She clenched her fists at her side as tears filled her eyes. Memories of lying in bed with him, listening to the song, him singing softly in her ear threatened to drown her. She’d never felt anything so strong since breaking up with Jackson. To her teenage heart, he was everything. They thrived on love and music and time together. She doubted she’d ever erase the agony of what he did to her—what he may have done to her, she corrected. But it didn’t matter if he was guilty or not. The pain was still there and she’d never put herself in that position aga
in. Jackson was a rock god and she was just a mortal. It wasn’t meant to be.

  Closing her eyes to the pain, she swallowed the knot in her throat and headed for the safety of the bar. Jazz shoved her way through the crowds and slid behind the counter, already feeling better for the barrier it provided. Here she was the boss. In charge and in control. She gripped a beer pump for support. Thank fuck everyone was too fixated on Jackson. No one was ordering drinks now though the crowd spilled all the way past the bar.

  Still with the tickets she’d sold and the drinks they’d already handed it out, her takings for the night were sure to make an indent in her debt. And once it was known that Jackson Wilde had played at Queens, loads of awesome bands would be begging to play at the club.

  So Jackson had done his job. Queens Rock Bar would be on the map. Jazz swiped her hands down her jeans and eyed her slightly shaking hands. At this point, she couldn’t decide if the ache in her chest was from painful memories or from the thought of not seeing Jackson again. No man had made her feel like Jackson had—or could. Even the brief moments they’d spent together tonight had reminded her of how strong the pull had been between them. As teenagers they’d been powerless to resist. Could she resist now? Part of her—way deep down—wanted to feel that again. Feel alive and excited. She’d spent so long working, working, working. What must it be like to feel like Jackson must do every time he stepped on stage?

  She glanced over at the stage as the song ended and his gaze settled on her again. God, she envied him. He lived and breathed the music still. If he did go into producing, he’d still be so passionate about it, she knew that. Jackson threw himself into everything. It was one of the reasons people wanted a piece of Jackson Wilde. You could see his love for music shine through in every performance. Jazz had to admit a small part of her longed to feel that again, even if it meant putting herself at risk of heartbreak.

  Shaking her head to erase the thoughts, she snatched a cloth and began wiping down the bar. Just because he captured everyone else’s attention, didn’t mean he deserved hers. She tried to summon some anger so those pesky little thoughts would disappear but she felt strangely numb. As if his return and confession had somehow soothed some of the hatred she’d held onto. She never had given him the chance to explain. She’d cut him out of her life. Ten years ago, she hadn’t wanted to hear the truth. Perhaps she too was to blame for how it had ended. Perhaps she should have heard him out.

  Allowing herself one last look at the stage as he launched into one of his most popular numbers, Jazz sighed. Charismatic, arrogant, sexy, outrageous… he was all of those, but he was never liar. So what if he really meant he wanted her back? What did it mean for her?

  Nothing, she told herself. Nothing had changed. Even if she wanted a relationship, she didn’t have time. It was all right for him with his millions, but she needed to keep a roof over her head. Resolving to keep herself occupied for the rest of the night, Jazz began checking the beer bottles and drink supplies. With any luck, most of the crowd would stick around for drinks and add to her profit.

  Chapter Four

  Jazz waved bye to Ali, the last of the bar staff, and shut the door behind her. The thud echoed through the empty club and she felt like it echoed the emptiness in her heart. Scraping a hand through her hair, she grimaced. She was exhausted, exhilarated— a million things—and most of them were to do with Jackson. How she would ever sleep tonight, she didn’t know.

  She scanned the dim bar, glad to see most of the staff had pulled their weight and done their best to clean up. Only the stage lights remained on so she strode over to the light controls. Before she could flick them off, the twang of a guitar sounded and she froze. Hand hovering over the switches, she waited. There it was again.

  Jackson strode onto the stage, acoustic guitar in hand, looking as comfortable as ever up there. His hair was a little mussed now, an extra button had popped open on his shirt, revealing some of the ink on his chest. He looked like sin and salvation, all rolled into one.

  “I thought you’d gone,” she called to him before he could play another chord.

  “Hoped to get rid of me?” He squinted in her direction.

  She strode over to the stage and he offered her a hand, helping her climb up. His touch sent chills through her.

  “You finished up ages ago. What have you been doing?”

  He shrugged.“Chillin’. Questioning the staff. Trying to figure out how to get back into your good books.”

  Jazz snatched her hand back from him. “You don’t need to get back into my good books, Jackson. It’s ancient history.”

  “Nu-uh, I’m not buying that. I know you don’t date. Everyone says you’re a workaholic.”

  “Oh really?” Arms folded across her chest, she rocked back on her heels to eye him. “And what else do they say?”

  “They say you won’t play any of my music.” His lips quirked.

  “Damn it,” she hissed under her breath. “Well, maybe I don’t like it.”

  “You used to like it plenty when we were dating.”

  “Tastes change.”

  “You can’t fool me, babe. I know you as well as you know me. The only reason you wouldn’t be listening to my music was because you were hung up on me.”

  “Fuck’s sake, Jackson, you are too damned arr—”

  He cut her off with his lips. With his hands. He grasped her ass through her jeans and held her against his erection while his lips connected with hers. A pulse of longing surged through her, like a storm wreaking havoc on a coastal city. He crumbled all her defences and her body instantly softened into him.

  The brief moment of fight left her when he rocked into her aching pussy. Hard, ready, thick, long. Christ, everything she needed right now. Hands around his neck, she ground into him, releasing a moan against his lips. He pressed the kiss deep, making her stomach flip in delight.

  Jackson drew back slightly, still holding her firm against him. “Don’t fight me, Jazz.”

  She ground her teeth together, battling her needs. It was just heartache waiting to happen but damn if her body didn’t understand that. She needed him. Had to have his cock deep inside her. This wasn’t love, she told herself. Just pure sexual desire. But could she afford to indulge it?

  One thumb skimmed over her cheek and cupped her chin. He lowered his head and tilted her face to give him better access to her neck. Instant thrills shot through her as his lips tickled her skin. His tongue lapped at the tender spot behind her neck and then worked to tease her ear.

  “We’ve got one night…” he murmured in her ear.

  The lyrics made her stiffen. She loved this song. One Night by The Goo Goo Dolls. Was she really being seduced by words?

  “To let the whole world know. Just how perfect we could be. Just close your eyes…” he trailed off as he closed his teeth around her lobe.

  And Jazz did as he commanded. She closed her eyes. One night? Did he mean that? And could she possible indulge in one night with Jackson and move on?

  Was she kidding herself in believing it might give her closure?

  Muscled chest pressed against her breasts and she sighed. Yep, she probably was. But who could refuse Jackson Wilde?

  “Kiss me,” she spilled out before she could change her mind. “Fuck me.”

  He chuckled. “You haven’t changed.”

  She raised her brow. “Are you going to or not?”

  “I don’t need telling twice.” Hands still on her rear, he scooped her into his hold and kissed her furiously.

  Jazz could only hold on and kiss him back. Firm lips and a strong tongue assailed her until her body shook. Carefully, Jackson dropped to his knees on the stage, his hands working up and down her back. His touch heated her skin and left her struggling for air. How the hell had she survived so long without him? And when had the chemistry between them ever burned this bright? They’d always been amazing together but it had been so sweet and… pale compared to this. She felt like she was drowning in hi
m.

  Legs wrapped around his hips, she twined her hands through his hair and drew in the scent of him. It hadn’t changed. How crazy was that? The stage lights bathed their skin in vibrant colours. She tugged at his shirt, skimming her fingertips over his collarbone before dropping her lips down onto his skin. Jazz licked his chest briefly, the tang of salt on her tongue exhilarating. He groaned as she slipped a hand down between them to cup his hardness through his jeans. He yanked her hand away when she continued.

  “You’re going to kill me,” he declared gruffly and lifted her again.

  Jazz bit back a sigh of disappointed as he disengaged their bodies and placed her on the edge of the stage. With a nimble leap, he stepped off the stage and positioned her so he could stand between her legs as they hung off the stage.

  “I need time to touch you… to see you, babe. I’ve dreamed of doing this to you for so long.”

  She was putty in his hands. The desire hooding his gaze made her stomach flip. She’d do anything. Strong hands came to her waist, pulling her close just for a moment as he trailed his lips over her neck. She shuddered and whimpered when his mouth left her skin. Jackson’s fingers came to the hem of her t-shirt, slipped underneath and smoothed across the flat plane of her stomach. Then one hand went higher, higher until it found the cup of her bra. He curled a palm around one breast and they both groaned.

  Tugging the cup down and her tee up, he dipped his head to take a nipple into his mouth. Sharp heat surrounded the aching tip, and she cried out and arched into him. He did the same to her other breast, revealing her to the stage lights and taking his time to kiss all over her soft flesh before laving his tongue over her puckered tipple and nipping gently. The sweet relief of his teeth against her sensitive flesh caused her head to drop back and she stared up at the rigging above them.

  Jackson tugged at her top, forcing her gaze back to him. Had she lost her mind? The tiniest moment of fear fluttered through her belly but by the time he pulled off her top and undone her bra, it was replaced with swirling heat and need. The look in his eyes was something she hadn’t seen in a long time and it had changed. It was deeper, more intense. His gaze sketched her for several moments and she couldn’t bring herself to be self-conscious. She propped her hands on the stage and leant back slightly, offering her breasts to him.