by Vicki James
I was high on life, on Presley, and definitely high from the concoction of rum and beer I’d been drinking the whole time we were there.
The buzz made me think I could do this. It made me believe I could survive this life in his protective bubble. It made me want it more than ever before.
Like this, in the midst of the party and Presley’s arms, it wasn’t so scary at all.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
“A woman I can’t trust. At least I know what you are and who I’m dealing with now.”
I spun around on the spot, breaking from my conversation with Hawk while Presley was in the toilets. Standing there in front of me, looking more out of place than even I did, was a guy I’d never met before but recognised instantly from his voice alone.
Dicky Bennett had arrived, and his attention was locked on me. His hair was slicked back, and he wore dark jeans with a white shirt popped open at the collar, and a grey tie loose around his neck.
“Cherry, I assume?” he said sarcastically, raising a brow.
“Yeah. Hey. Hi.” I gripped my beer with both hands, holding it by my chest to try and create some stupid barrier he couldn’t get through. “Dicky, right?”
He blinked slowly. “Right.”
“Listen, I know what you must think of me, and I get it. Honestly, I do.”
“I really don’t think you do.”
I sucked in a breath and let it out in a rush, feeling the heat of my embarrassment turn my cheeks flaming red. “I know I made a deal and then I—”
“… broke it less than ten hours later.”
“When I phoned you, I thought I was doing the right thing.”
I caught sight of Presley walking back through the crowd, and Dicky’s eyes followed mine over his shoulder. He scoffed quietly before he turned back to me and dropped both his hands into the pockets of his jeans.
“You think this will last?”
“Who knows?”
“I do.”
“I care for him, you know.”
“That’s what they all say.”
“I’m not them.”
“They all say that, too.” He flared his nostrils and exhaled through them. “Hurt him, piss him off, make him lose focus, or do anything to derail the path this band is on, Tessa, and I swear to you that Janey Dominic will look like a fucking angel compared to what hellfire I will rain down on you.”
I blinked quickly, stunned and confused as I looked back at Dicky’s face. He was so calm, so softly spoken among the noise of the club and the people in it, yet his words had been more threatening and real than anything Janey Dominic could ever have thrown at me.
“Understood.” I nodded slowly.
Presley was by my side in no time, his arm going around my shoulder and tugging me into him at once… my protector, acting like he wasn’t the superstar who needed a bodyguard, and I was.
“The fuck you doing here?” he snapped at Dicky.
“Shouldn’t I be the one asking you that?”
“We got bored,” Presley said, clearly amused.
“Well, that’s all right then. It doesn’t matter that twelve more journalists were waiting to hear from you guys after sitting there patiently all day before you even woke the fuck up this morning.”
“Man, you’re an arsehole. Grab yourself a drink already.”
Dicky’s attention drifted to me, and I must have looked like a deer caught in the headlights trapped between Presley’s body and arm, studying the dynamics of the two. The last thing I wanted was for this man to see me as weak. Something told me if he did, he would use that against me for as long as I stuck around…
And I’d just promised Presley I would stick around.
Raising my chin, I held Dicky’s gaze, lifted my beer to my lips, and I took a slow, careful sip of it, never once looking away. His mouth curved up on one side before he shook his head, and Presley turned us away from him.
“Ignore him,” he said as he leaned into me.
“Was planning on it.”
The two of us were soon back in place on the silver sofa, huddled together with Presley resting his arms on his knees and me copying his pose, legs gravitating towards one another. The night wore on into the very early hours of the morning. Despite feeling wasted, I kept glancing at my watch, unable to avoid the small yawns that were catching up with me. I’d barely slept the night before, and now another night was bleeding into the day, and I still hadn’t managed to close my eyes and rest. If adrenaline was responsible for getting me through all this, I hoped it never ran out.
One of Youth Gone Wild’s songs burst to life from the DJ box, and all of a sudden, the place was bouncing. Every one of the guys apart from Presley shot up from their seats, raised their bottles or glasses in the air and started jumping around. Rhett was headbanging to the beat of Presley’s well-known drum solo from the track Loved You At Dawn, right before the lyrics flowed out around us.
A bottle of Jack
Whacked out from the tracks
Ablaze from your touch
Nothing’s wrong with this feeling,
Except you promise you’re leaving.
Too good
Too bad
Don’t leave, just stay.
I need you on my chest, in my arms, to watch your body sway.
Stronger than ever,
That’s the feeling you gave.
Now you’re saying you’re gone.
And I’m forever your slave
I liked you last night
Sliding around
Kissing me proud
Talking me down
Holding the crown
Yeah, I liked you last night
But I loved you come dawn.
I’d heard the track a thousand times and more.
I’d played it on repeat, over and over again, and every time the familiar fast-paced beat and husky voice of Rhett flowed all around me, my skin prickled, and my heart beat faster.
I was too lost in my own thoughts to realise Presley was staring at me. His finger travelled up my arm, across my collarbone, gracefully sliding under my chin to redirect my attention to his blue eyes. The intimacy with which he looked at me was spellbinding and terrifying. He was made for so many great things, especially to be adored, and the responsibility of his affection weighed heavy on my shoulders…
And I realised I needed the load.
I wanted him to suffocate me with it.
I needed everything he was to lay on me forever and never let me breathe again, because even without the freedom of my own breaths, I never felt more alive than when he was staring at me this way, drowning me with his desire.
“Do you know who wrote this song?” Presley stared into my eyes.
My tongue slipped out to run over my bottom lip, and I gave a subtle shake of the head.
“Me,” he breathed seductively. “I was inspired.”
I closed the gap between us before he could say another word.
My lips crashed against his, and I dropped my beer bottle to the floor, not caring about anything other than pulling him closer, so close, too close… never, ever close enough. I needed all of him and more. My hands dug into both sides of his hair, pushing through the thick blonde. His tongue danced with mine with grace and urgency, melting me with its contradicting softness and firm direction. I could feel every sweep of it hitting me throughout every sensitive spot of my body.
Yeah, I liked you last night,
But I loved you come dawn.
Everyone around us was singing and jamming around, but the only things that existed to me were Presley and the lyrics.
Presley and his beats.
Presley and his tongue.
Presley and his hands.
Presley.
Presley.
Presley.
At once, I was pulled away from him and left gasping for breath with swollen, wet lips and wild, pre-orgasmic eyes. Big D was laughing roughly above us, one hand on my shoulder and another on Pr
esley’s. We blinked up at him wildly, but I was still in a haze, barely able to hear anything Big D or Presley were saying to each other because all I could hear was that Presley wrote that song.
Had he loved me that morning?
Was it possible to fall so hard, so fast?
When I blinked wildly to refocus, I saw Presley protesting and shaking his head while Big D tried to pull him to his feet.
“Nah, man. Seriously?” Presley was fighting it, leaning back and groaning like a teenager. He had one hand curled around mine, gripping it tightly.
“Just put her the fuck down for five minutes, will you? They’ve got it rigged up for us. Dicky sorted it. The crowd expect it now. It’ll make great press.” Big D tugged on Presley’s arm again, yanking him to his feet in one fluid motion. Even putting up a fight, Presley looked smoothed and composed. With a roll of his eyes and a glance down at me, he blew the air out of his cheeks and let go of my hand.
“What’s happening?” I asked with a small smile on my face.
“Impromptu gig over on the stage over there.” Big D chucked his chin and gestured behind us with a nod. The black curtains had been drawn back to reveal a drum kit and several pieces of equipment, as well as guitars and a mic stand.
“Are you serious?” I cried with excitement, my eyes popping as I jumped to my feet and kicked the almost empty bottle I’d thrown down on the floor to the side. “You’re playing? Now? As in… right now? Live?”
“I’m too drunk for this shit,” Presley said with a smirk, which showed he wasn’t too drunk for anything. He had this down already. Music was, after all, his first and one true love.
“There’s nothing you can’t do,” I told him before I pushed his arm and told him to, “get out of here.”
“You going to be okay?”
“What am I? Twelve?”
“I hope not, or I’m in serious trouble right now.”
“Go!” I mouthed before I broke into a fit of laughter.
All eyes from the dance floor and bar area were focused on the guys as they made their way to the stage. Rhett was bouncing around, already halfway there and ready to play his role. Big D had his hands above his head and was clapping, getting the crowd into the mood even though they needed no encouragement. Hawk and Coops followed closely behind, and then trailing at the rear with his infamous leather jacket over his shoulders and his blonde hair being thrown up into a knot on the top of his head was my Presley.
That’s right. He was mine.
He was all I saw.
Rhett spoke to the crowd both intimately, and with enthusiasm, turning them from giddy to horny and back again with a simple switch of his playful tone, but I was focused on my rock star.
Once Presley was behind that drum kit, adjusting it to fit him, rearranging his stool, and banging the pedals, he was right where he belonged. He was the boy I’d first seen in high school, lost to everything around him apart from the sticks in his hands and the beats running through his head.
Time seemed to move slowly while I watched him, and my smile only grew bigger.
Presley raised his sticks in the air, and just before he hit them together, he looked through the crowd and found me. When my smile grew, so did his, and that moment right there would stay with me forever.
A man everyone was looking at was looking at me.
Stupid Bryan Adams T-shirt or not, I’d never felt more beautiful in my entire life.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
It was daylight when we left the club without the others: not dawn—pure sunshine and bright balls of light attacking our eyes.
I needed to sleep for a week without interruption.
After Youth Gone Wild had performed a few tracks for the people of VINYL! things had got messy. Rhett seemed on another planet. Big D slumped into a corner, snoring like a lion with a full bottle of beer in each hand. Hawk was tripping on some form of beer pong where he was the only player, getting snappy about anyone else trying to interrupt him. Coops looked pissed off, as though his hangover had already set in as he sat on a stool by the bar, drawing patterns with his fingers on the counter top.
We’d partied too long, and it had slipped quickly from euphoria to exhaustion. Even Dicky had left without so much as a goodbye.
Waiting outside for us was the ever-reliable Uncle Dex and a beautiful Range Rover I hadn’t seen him driving before. He didn’t say anything when we crawled into the back seats. He just offered us both a warm, knowing smile, and that was it. Although I did see the way his eyes kept drifting to us in the rearview mirror—my head resting against Presley’s chest, and his head rolled back on the seat as sleep threatened to steal him from me for a while.
When Presley and I eventually stumbled into the hotel room, I walked straight into the bathroom to strip out of my clothes. I needed a shower and a few minutes to freshen up. There was a spare toothbrush handy, so I brushed my teeth, scrubbed my whole body, including my hair, and I walked back out with nothing more than a towel wrapped around me.
Presley was out cold.
His body was thrown across the king-size bed. He hadn’t even found the energy to get under the sheets. Not that I was complaining. He was naked, his skin tanned, taunting me to play. I moved closer, taking quiet steps to be near him, not wanting to wake him up from his peaceful sleep.
The kid looks tired.
I know, Uncle Dex. I know, I thought to myself.
The sight of Presley standing at my apartment door floated through my mind.
He was tired now. He was tired then. How couldn’t he be? I was so lost with my days and nights at this point—this life was insane—and I’d only been a part of it for a few days. He’d had it for years, and it was forever his future, too.
I stepped beside the bed and ran a single finger up his toned leg, riding it over his firm arse, before I trailed it over his back and to his neck. Leaning down, I pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek and ran my finger over his parted lips, feeling the heavy, quiet breaths falling from him.
“Sleep, little rock star,” I whispered.
“Cherry?” he mumbled; eyes closed.
I smiled and sighed, bending down so our faces were level. Presley cracked one eye open, his face squished against the bed. He tried to reach for me as much as his lazy, limp limbs could allow him.
“You smell amazing,” he breathed out. “Stay with me.”
“Sleep,” I ordered softly, unable to hide my smile.
His eyes fluttered closed again, and his arm dropped to the side of the bed with a heavy thud. Drying off as quickly as I could, I made my way around to the other side of the bed and ran my fingers through my damp hair. I wanted to be as naked as possible with him, and I hoped with all my heart that one day soon, he’d be naked with me. Not just in body, but in soul.
There were things I needed to know about him.
Things I wanted to understand.
Right then, wanting him was enough, so I wrapped my arms around him and held on tight.
My heartbeat pounding against his back.
My love pouring into him.
“I’m right where I want to be,” I sighed.
A ringing phone woke me up from a groggy sleep, the sting of the most insane headache striking me right between the eyes.
I was seriously hungover, and the light pouring into the room hurt.
The ringing stopped only to start again soon after, and that’s when I realised it was my phone making all the damn noise. Rolling onto my back, a groan slipped free, just in time to see a fresh-faced Presley West walking towards my jeans hanging over the chair and pulling my phone out from the back pocket.
He looked… incredible. His face was fresh, his hair damp and scraped back, and he wore nothing but a perfectly fitted pair of black Calvin Klein boxer shorts as he accepted the call and pressed my phone to his ear, holding a cup of hot coffee in his other hand.
“Tessa Lisbon’s phone,” he answered, sounding way too chirpy, when I felt, and no doubt looke
d like death. Presley’s eyes were trained on me now, a small smile curling the corner of his mouth. “Oh, hey, Bourbon. Yeah. She’s here.”
I scurried upright in bed. Pulling the white sheet up over my naked body, I clutched it to my chest.
“She’s fine. Yeah, course, man. No doubt about it.” Presley laughed. “She said that, huh?” He raised a brow at me. “I’ll be damned.”
Confused by their interaction, I waited for Presley to pass the phone to me, but instead, he turned and began walking towards the huge window overlooking London.
“I still owe you for that,” Presley said. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten.”
My frown was immediate as I stared at him.
“How about I cut a deal with you?” he said to Bourbon. “What if I gave you twenty-grand to find someone to fill her role for, I dunno… a month?”
My eyes widened, and my mouth fell open. “What are you doing?” I hissed, but he ignored me completely.
“Thirty, then?” Presley pressed, taking a small sip of his hot drink. “I know, I know. I get it. I wouldn’t want to let her go, either, and I’m not saying you have to. I have a pair of eyes penetrating holes into the side of my head right now, and I know I’m going to be in deep shit for this when I end this call.” He paused, then dipped his chin to his chest and laughed again. “Yeah, that sounds like Tessa.”
“Presley!” I yapped, but he ignored me and looked back out at the city view.
“Yep, that was her,” he laughed. “She’s not happy about it.”
I groaned and dug my fingers into the duvet.
“I promise you with everything I have—I’ll take care of her.”
And then I melted like a pathetic princess, my heart free falling without a parachute, willing to take whatever damage was waiting for me when it hit the ground.
“She’s important to me, too,” he said quietly.
The conversation wore on, and Presley was very agreeable for someone who hadn’t even bothered to ask me if I wanted a part of whatever contract he was entering me into. Who was I kidding? I’d wanted a part of him since I’d been eleven years old, and now I was hearing him tell someone besides me that I was important.
