Rise

by Karina Bliss

  “Oh my God, I want that man so bad right now,” Kayla murmured beside her. Glancing over, startled, Elizabeth saw her ogling her husband and laughed.

  That only left her and thirty thousand women turned on by Zander. But laughing didn’t help when her body was hot and restless, her blood seething with lust.

  She lived mostly in the tranquil depths of her intellect, but Zander kept drawing her to the surface, where there was sun and, she struggled to remind herself, pummeling waves and mouthfuls of brine. Spit out that idea right now. But her hips swayed with his.

  * * *

  Jared clattered offstage first, damp with exertion. He grabbed an offered towel and made a beeline for his wife. “Well, baby?”

  Kayla tiptoed to whisper something in his ear and he laughed, his hand dropping to cup her bottom. “Hold that thought.”

  Winking at Elizabeth, he steered Kayla along the corridor toward the backstage exit where the van waited, engine running, to return the band to the hotel.

  Seth arrived grinning, his russet hair dark with sweat, and exchanged exuberant high fives with the crew. He’d revealed a Jekyll side the moment he sat behind his drum kit, turning into a demon possessed.

  “Best show of the tour,” enthused Dimity.

  “You got that right,” agreed Moss as he joined them, now a sexy vampire, rosy with recent feasting. “We nailed it tonight.” He grinned at Elizabeth before turning to Dimity. “Say it!”

  “You were gods.”

  “Hear that, Seth?”

  “I did, mate.”

  The two men picked Dimity up between them, holding her easily by the upper arms. “Let’s go hit a bar,” Seth still had the wild man vibe. “I’m buying.”

  “Put me down, you idiots.”

  “That’s no way to talk to gods.”

  Feet swinging vainly for the floor, Dimity released a cashmere sweater as they passed Elizabeth. “Give this to Zee.”

  “Sure,” she croaked. Zander was at the other end of the stage wing, being divested of his mike and earpiece. He’d stripped off his waistcoat and draped a white towel over his shoulders.

  Time seemed to slow as he walked toward her with a sexy swagger, his eyes blazing with exhilaration. He swiped the towel across his pecs and her mouth went dry as she noted the contrast of fluffy white cotton against the black tattoo and hard muscle of his naked torso.

  As he passed under a light everything glittered—his white-gold hair, the silver skull on the belt of his low-riding jeans, his rings, his chain, his nipple ring. He stopped in front of her and finished rubbing himself down, heat radiating from his body. She sucked in a breath, but that just added the salty tang of healthy male sweat to the sensory onslaught.

  “Well?” he asked with a conqueror’s arrogance.

  “It was fantastic,” she croaked.

  His eyes gleamed. “Thank you.”

  “You’re…” So. Hot. Elizabeth cleared her throat. “I wish I’d learned a musical instrument other than the recorder.”

  He laughed, wired, buzzed. “It was a particularly good show tonight. I don’t know why I was…” He broke off.

  “Why you were?”

  “Nervous.” Zander shrugged. “I shouldn’t have doubted myself.”

  “No.” Realizing she was swaying toward him, Elizabeth thrust out the cashmere sweater. “Cover up. Um, we can’t have you catching cold.”

  “Thanks.” Exchanging the towel for the sweater, he hauled the garment over his head. Elizabeth resisted the impulse to clutch the discarded towel to her bosom. Pull yourself together.

  “The van’s waiting,” she said.

  Outside, she deliberately chose the space beside Kayla and Jared. Zander climbed in and settled opposite, next to Moss and Seth.

  Dimity, she noticed, had taken refuge up front with Luther and the driver. The mood inside the van was raucous. All fatigue forgotten, Seth and Moss insisting Kayla and Jared join them partying.

  “Stormy will get up with the kids,” Seth said. “Live a little. Elizabeth, you in?”

  “Thanks, but I’m not really a nightclub person.”

  “Hey, I saw you dancing with Kayla,” Jared said. “You’ve got some moves.”

  “Another time. I need to”—take a cold shower—“write down all my impressions while they’re fresh.”

  Zander’s knees bumped hers and she nearly hit the ceiling.

  “You okay?”

  “Just a little hyped from the concert. All that raw energy.”

  The moment the term left her mouth, she regretted it.

  Cognizance entered Zander’s blue eyes, the laugh lines at the corners deepened. One arm slung along the back of the seat, he cataloged every shallow breath and convulsive swallow, every nervous twitch of her eyelids.

  She resisted the urge to moisten her lips.

  Zander stretched his legs either side of her bent knees. “Do you mind? It stops me cramping up.”

  Elizabeth pressed her knees together, minimizing contact. “I expect it’s losing all those salts, sweating and such.”

  “And such,” he agreed smoothly.

  The van cornered, his calf bumped hers. They both wore jeans and yet the contact was incendiary. She’d looked up what to wear to a summer rock concert and matched her jeans with sneakers and a black tank that made the most of her modest assets. Another corner. Another bump, this time thighs touched.

  The bastard was playing with her. Feigning a yawn, she looked out the window. “Lovely night.”

  Zander started to hum and it took her a few minutes to recognize Marvin Gaye’s “Let’s Get It On.”

  Next to her, Kayla and Jared were exchanging soft murmurs and caresses. Ten minutes into the journey, Elizabeth decided she’d had enough of the lovemaking beside her and Zander’s insolently sexy grin opposite.

  The furthest seat away was Moss’s. “Mind if we swap places?” she asked, breaking into the lead guitarist’s conversation with Seth. “I’ve been told there’s a great view of…” Elizabeth racked her brains, “…Sagrada Família as we near the hotel.” Gaudi’s cathedral.

  “Sure.”

  She stood, bumped her head against the roof and Zander caught her hips to steady her. His big, beautiful hands. “Careful,” he said.

  She loosed his hold. “I’m trying.”

  Jared and Kayla slid along to make room for Moss. As Elizabeth shuffled sideways, the van swung into a roundabout and she tumbled into Zander’s lap.

  She leapt like a scalded cat, but his arms tightened. “Wait until we pull out of the turn.”

  “You sure we’re close to the Sagrada?” said Seth, looking out the window. “Still looks like the port to me.”

  The driver missed the turnoff and circled the roundabout again.

  Zander’s chest vibrated against her back with silent laughter and she straightened, annoyed, but that only pushed her bottom more firmly onto his thighs. He stopped laughing.

  Moss and Seth were discussing local sights and Elizabeth made an effort to join in, but she was intensely, painfully aware of the strength of the arms circling her ribcage, and the slight adjustments Zander made to counter the sway of the vehicle. She’d pulled her hair into a topknot for coolness and his breath stirred each loose strand and whispered over the nape of her neck. His breathing deepened to become as deliberate as hers.

  Electric eel, she reminded herself, but her panties were damp and her body yearned to lean into his heat and wiggle further into his lap.

  Opposite, Jared kissed his wife.

  Elizabeth’s fingers curled, she dug them into her thigh trying to think unsexy thoughts. Zander has already had sex with someone tonight. Yes, that cooled her blood. Chilled it, actually.

  The van steadied on straight road and she dived for the free space. Seth was tapping a drumbeat on his knees while Moss organized dates on his cell. He held it away from his ear. “Zee, you interested? Oh, that’s right you already got laid.”

  “I wasn’t late because of a w
oman,” Zander said. Elizabeth gusted an unconscious sigh of relief and fogged the window. She wiped it dry and saw Zander smiling at her, a dangerously intimate grin that made her fog up the window again. Fumbling, she opened it and stuck her head into the night, needing air.

  “Still looking for the Sagrada?” Seth asked.

  There were fans waiting outside the hotel, even though it was well past midnight. The guys stopped to sign autographs and Elizabeth seized the opportunity to leave the group, calling a cursory good night. As she punched the elevator button, she felt frazzled and horny. A hot shower, a warm drink, a few pages of a thriller—they always put her to sleep and… Damn.

  She turned with a smile at the sound of Zander’s voice and saw with relief that Luther was with him. The elevator arrived and the bodyguard ushered her in, then nodded to his boss. “See you both tomorrow.” The doors closed, leaving them alone. She swallowed.

  A small smile playing on his lips, Zander pressed the buttons for their floors. “I recall somebody saying they were insulated from the energy-conducting penis.”

  Elizabeth returned a blank look. “I don’t understand the reference.”

  “Doc, Doc, Doc.” He shook his head. “Remember that kids’ rhyme… How did it go? Liar, liar—”

  “—pants on fire,” she supplied automatically, then thought, Oh. And then, Bastard.

  “My pants aren’t on fire for you, Zander,” she responded with icy dignity. “If anything, they’re the opposite.”

  She only realized what she’d implied when his grin developed another shade of wicked.

  Gathering the scraps of her dignity, she faced the elevator doors.

  “I’ve been thinking, Doc, we should interview after the show one night. There’s something about the raw energy, then, that stimulates lively intercourse.”

  “What do you want me to say? That you’re sexy, that I was a little turned on?” She glared at him in the reflective surface of the door. “Consider it said. Now quit poking fun at your biographer.” Doh.

  “Having a fling with me would add depth to your research.” His tone was unholy with glee. “Kinda like a crime reporter going on patrol with a cop. And if you’re worried about the publicity, we’ll sneak around.”

  “Zander, you couldn’t sneak around if you tried.”

  “Doc,” the husky tone sent a shiver down her spine, “you have no idea what secrets I can keep.”

  Electric eel. “Our interviews are giving me some idea.”

  There was a tiny pause. “Maybe I don’t tell you every terrible thing I’ve done because I don’t want you to think badly of me.”

  She snorted. “You don’t care what I think, and you only flirt to stop me asking awkward questions.”

  “Like that’s working,” he grumbled.

  “Besides, we wouldn’t suit.” She relaxed as their relationship reverted to verbal dueling. “I’d expect you to regularly put my interests first.”

  “How selfish!”

  Elizabeth chuckled. She expected him to drop the subject. Instead he stepped closer. “I’ve noticed something about you too,” he said lazily, looking down at her. “You talk like a shrink when I fluster you. And yeah, maybe the flirting started as a diversionary tactic, but somehow, Doc…” His gaze brushed her face, almost in discovery. “For both of us, it’s getting personal.”

  She swallowed and said in a bored tone, “I expect my indifference makes me a novelty.”

  “No, your difference makes you a novelty. And we both know you’re not indifferent.”

  There was a thread of invitation in his voice and she felt an urge to tug it and see where it led. And that scared her. “It’s a reflex, same as gagging. Nothing to do with you.”

  For the first time since they’d met, uncertainty entered his eyes. Because he lived with objectification. Elizabeth pressed her lips together to stop herself blurting a rebuttal. She might be able to hold her own in trash talk but she was no match for him inside the ring.

  “I don’t have coping strategies for rejection.” His smile remained in place, but his flirting took on all the intimacy of an orgy.

  “Consider me training wheels—no extra charge.”

  The doors opened at her floor. Elizabeth stepped into the hall and hesitated. “Good night, Zander.”

  “Add me to your nightly prayers.”

  “Always do.” The elevators doors closed on his rock-star smile.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Zander’s manager, Robbie Forsythe had eyes so deep-set, the sockets could probably hold walnuts. A voice that galloped and reared and an unexpected mouthful of beautiful white teeth incongruous with his life-weathered face. Small and wiry, he chain-smoked while talking incessantly. He fidgeted, he paced, he glanced at his watch, he was a man always in a hurry. When he left halfway through the Lisbon preshow function for local music bigwigs to act on an “urgent call,” Elizabeth half-expected him to transform into a superhero complete with cape—he so obviously saw his mission as saving the world.

  Zander gazed after his manager wistfully and watching him across the function room, she grinned. Robbie was taking Zander’s second-hand smoke with him.

  You’re staring again. Sighing, she ordered a second Bloody Mary from the bar. The Barcelona concert had unleashed her attraction to him and forty-eight hours later she was still struggling to bring it to heel.

  They’d interviewed in Zander’s dressing room preshow last night but she’d left before the concert, saying she wrote best in the early mornings and couldn’t afford back-to-back late nights.

  “Don’t you ever get tired of the missionary position?” said the short, barrel-chested man waiting beside her at the bar.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Stormy said you two went to church yesterday,” he thrust out a hairy hand. “Stefan Rogan, Rage’s European distributor. I’ve always wanted to use that missionary line.”

  “It’s an attention-getter alright,” she said politely. Expensively-dressed, he had a wolfish grin and a thatch of gray hair to match Grandma’s roof. Come to think of it, she’d seen him sniffing around Stormy earlier. “Elizabeth Winston, Zander’s biographer.”

  “Yeah, I heard.” They shook hands and Stefan’s was clammy. “You don’t often meet God-botherers at rock parties.” When she raised her brows, he barked a laugh. “Hey no offense, I love talking about belief systems—astrology, reincarnation, consumerism.”

  Oh Lord, save me now. With a smile, she accepted her drink from the bartender.

  “C’mon,” Stefan invited, “see if you can convert me.”

  Her keen sense of the ridiculous kicked in. “I’m neither that skilled nor that presumptuous.”

  Across the room, her gaze collided with Zander’s and held too long.

  “But sure,” with an effort she refocused on Stefan, “Let’s talk belief systems.” I believe I’ll shake off this growing obsession with Zander.

  Stefan steered her into a quiet corner. “How do you feel about sex before marriage?”

  “You’re getting ahead of yourself,” she replied. “In the beginning, God created the heaven and the earth.” It was fun citing as many verses as she could remember and watching Stefan’s eyes glaze over. Unfortunately, boredom didn’t stop his hand wandering.

  Time to wrap up.

  “In conclusion, it puzzles me that those who believe in nothing feel qualified to mock those who believe in something. Now take your hand off my ass or I’ll kick you in the goolies.”

  Stefan’s breath was whiskey sour as he leaned in. His palm moved across her bottom and squeezed. “Aren’t you supposed to turn the other cheek?”

  Elizabeth reached between his legs and twisted. He gasped and let go.

  “I’m more of the eye-for-an-eye school myself,” she said pleasantly.

  “Why you—”

  Luther materialized beside them. “Is there a problem?”

  Stefan massaged his groin. “Yeah, this bitch assaulted me.”

  �
��He was groping me.”

  “What the hell is a prude doing at one of your parties anyway?”

  “Take a deep breath,” Luther suggested coolly to Stefan, “and calm down.”

  “I can’t take a deep breath, my nuts are in my fucking throat!”

  Luther nodded for Elizabeth to leave him to it. Turning, she bumped into Zander, who caught her shoulders to steady her.

  “Doc, you know the only person allowed to create a scene is me.”

  “She grabbed my nuts,” Stefan bellowed, drawing some attention.

  “I thought we’d put enough peanuts out for everybody… Oh, you mean your balls?” Zander released her shoulders. “Why would a person as civil as Dr. Elizabeth Winston be so crass?”

  Stefan glowered. “It was a misunderstanding. I brushed her ass accidentally. Christ, you’d think I’d asked for anal, the way she overreacted.”

  Elizabeth said hotly, “Exactly what part of ‘take your hand off my ass or I’ll kick you in the goolies’ was unclear?”

  “To be fair,” Zander said, “English isn’t Stefan’s first language and a term like ‘goolies’ might lose something in translation.”

  Her mouth fell open. “You’re making excuses for him?”

  “Doc, Stefan is one of the head honchos at my record company. Really important.”

  “Right,” Elizabeth said, quietly furious.

  Mollified, Stefan gestured to Luther who was standing impassively. “And this bozo was taking her side.”

  Zander looked at Luther and sighed. “And I thought we’d be able to settle this with one apology.”

  Elizabeth bristled. “Okay, I’ve had—”

  “Instead, you’ll have to make two,” Zander told Stefan. “One to Dr. Winston and one to my head of security.” He added coldly, “Or you can leave.”

  Angry color suffused the other man’s face. “I’m not fucking apologizing!”

  “Show him out, Luther. Notice, how I accepted your no, Stefan? Not that hard really, much like the goolies Dr. Winston just grappled with.” Ignoring the other man’s furious protests, Zander guided her out of earshot.