Blind Attraction (11 page)

“Mitchell,” she cried out with release.

His name was the final straw on the house of cards. He groaned, long and loud, jerking up into her body. He ignored the clash of plates and concentrated on Alana. She sunk her teeth into his shoulder, and with each pulse of her pussy, the suction from her lips tightened. He rode out the bursts of rapture, holding her against him, sinking his fingers into her hair.

Gradually the pleasure faded, dissipating until his muscles where heavy and lax. She sighed in his arms, the heaving of their chests slowing. He ran his fingers through her hair and kissed her head, surveying the wreckage covering the other side of the bed. “I think we may have ruined breakfast.”

“Your hair is smooth like silk.”

Alana closed her eyes and leaned her head back. Mitchell sat behind her on the bed, his fingers stroking through her hair, untangling what she knew would be an unruly mess.

“Should I use the brush?” His breath whispered over her neck and she shivered.

She’d been breathless and wordless and mindless all morning. She could only nod.

The brush smoothed her hair in soft, caressing strokes. Occasionally, Mitchell would hit a snag, suck in a breath, then treat her like she had tiny strands of glass growing from her scalp.

“Don’t worry about being gentle. You’ll be sitting there for hours trying to get the knots out if you do.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.” He pulled her hair to the side and placed a scorching kiss at the base of her neck.

“You won’t,” she whispered.

He’d doted on her since they made love. First, he’d charmed one of the maids into cleaning up the mess in the bedroom, tipping her with an amount that made the lady gush. He then ordered a second breakfast and fed Alana by hand, teasing and seducing her all over again with bites of food in between soft kisses. With her limited sight she hadn’t known what would come next, the pancakes which melted in her mouth or the hot lips of a man she was starting to fall for.

“You guys ready to go?”

Alana glanced toward Blake’s voice and smiled.

“Ahh, I think so,” Mitchell answered. “Does her hair look good?”

Blake sniggered. “She looks hot.”

“Not the answer I was looking for,” Mitchell muttered.

She raised her hand for the brush. “I’m sure it’s fine. I’m not going to be center of attention anyway.”

She still didn’t know how Mitchell had talked her into going along to the interview. Actually, that was a lie. He’d seduced the agreement from her. When their second breakfast arrived, so had a pile of clothes, underwear, her necessary eye drops, and hygiene products. All for her. All from him. Tears had stung her eyes at his thoughtfulness. But it was the way he paid delicate attention to her in the shower that convinced her to go along with him to the radio station.

No matter how much she protested the ability to wash herself, he didn’t listen. He’d led her into the warmth of the water and caressed her skin with soap, his large palms traveling over every inch of her body. On more than one occasion her thigh rubbed against the hardness of his erection, yet he never acknowledged his arousal. He devoted himself to taking care of her and her heart attached a little more to him with each stroke against her flesh.

“Let’s get going then.” Mitchell grasped her hand and led her from the suite.

A flurry of excitement met them in the lobby. People greeted Mitchell and Blake, fans screamed in the distance—too far away to be inside the hotel—and security guards mumbled instructions on where to walk.

The noise hammered at her, making her chest throb, her palms sweat. “Mitchell, I can’t do this.”

He squeezed her hand. “I’ve got you, sweetheart. We’re almost there.”

They walked fast and she struggled to keep up. Dark shadows blurred her vision, making her cling onto his waist for support. Any moment she expected to trip on someone or something and slide gracelessly along the lobby floor on her face.

“The coast is clear, sugar. You’ve got nothing to worry about.” Blake patted her on the shoulder, his support giving her a needed dose of comfort.

The room became brighter with each step, the shadows standing out against the glow. Footsteps surrounded them, sliding doors opened and closed, the hum of an engine, and still the guards instructed them,
let me lead the way. The car is just outside. You take the passenger seat, Mitch and the woman in the back.

Her blood thickened with each beat, cutting off her oxygen, making it hard to breathe.

“Lower your head, Allie, and climb in.”

She did as instructed, following Mitchell into the vehicle and sliding along the backseat to sit beside him.

Nobody spoke during the ride. The soft murmur of the radio and the occasional
click, click, click
of the indicator was the only noise to break the silence. She leaned into him, catching her breath and tried not to rub her leg against Tony, the bodyguard, who sat on the other side of her.

“Not long and we’ll be there,” Mitchell whispered, nuzzling behind her ear.

She smiled and squeezed his hand.

“Are you still happy to have a coffee downstairs by yourself?”

“Yes. I’ll be fine.” Alana refused to be a distraction, stating she would remain in the car if need be. The compromise, suggested by Tony, was for her to wait in the coffee shop on the ground floor until the fifteen minute interview had concluded.

Mitchell, and even Blake, had protested, but Alana wouldn’t agree to come otherwise. She could sit by herself, drink a coffee, and listen to the chatter of mingling people for the short amount of time. If she encountered a problem, she’d ask a waitress for help.

“I’ll get out first,” Tony’s deep voice startled her, kicking her heart rate back into unwelcomed territory.

“No arguments here,” Blake replied. “When it comes to fans, I’d much prefer to have them groping you than me.”

“Do they really grope?” Alana murmured into Mitchell’s shoulder.

He chuckled. “Unfortunately they grab anything they can get their hands on.”

She cringed. “Maybe I’ll stay in the car until Tony can come back and get me.”

He released her hand and ran it over her shoulders, pulling her closer into his body. “I won’t let anything happen to you...again.” The regret in his voice was palpable.

“OK, here we go.” The car came to a stop and Tony climbed out, letting in a wave of screams before he slammed the door shut.

“There’s nothing to worry about, sugar,” Blake reassured her. “We’re at the back entrance to the building, and there are only a few people at the doors. Security already has it under control.”

A few people? She wasn’t deaf. Instead of alerting him to the fact she heard half of Richmond releasing their siren calls at the car, she nodded and swallowed the bile rising in her throat. “All right.”

Blake’s door opened, then Mitchell’s. “I’ve got you.” He gripped her hand and led her from the car. “Once we get inside and meet the rest of the guys, Tony will get you settled in the coffee shop.”

She tripped up the curb, once again along the path, and sighed in relief once they passed the wailing crowd and entered the relative safety of the building.

“Easy as groupies on a gig night, wasn’t it, Al.”

She cringed at the analogy, but couldn’t help smiling. “Yeah. As easy as I assume groupies are on those types of occasions, I would have to agree.”

“Mitch?” A female voice called, and Alana swallowed involuntarily. “Are you guys ready to head upstairs?”

“Yeah, but first I want you to meet someone. Leah, this is Alana. Allie, this is our awesomely talented band manager, Leah.”

“Nice to meet you.” Alana raised her hand to the shadow in front of her and hoped for the best. There was an uncomfortable pause that caused the hair on the back of her neck to rise and a soft hand gripped hers in a firm shake. They were communicating behind her back…well probably right in front of her eyes, she sensed it.

“You...too, Alana.” Leah’s words were stilted.

“There was a problem last night with the ass cake you fired. He threw a glass vase that shattered in Alana’s face. At the moment, she can’t see.”

“What?” Leah gasped. “Why wasn’t I told? I need to be informed of these things, Mitch.”

“It’s fine. Settle down. She’s here so I can keep an eye on her. I’ve been taking care of her to make up for the position I put her in.”

Alana hid her disappointment behind a smile as the two of them spoke. His words ripped the happiness from her lungs. Was that what he’d been doing? Taking care of her to make up for what happened? If that was the case, he needn’t have worried.

“I’ve gotta go.” Mitchell kissed her temple.

She pressed her lips together to contain her emotion even though her wounded pride urged her to jerk away. “Bye.” She gave a half-hearted wave.

His heat continued to surround her moments later when the blur of shadows around them faded into the background. Tight hands gripped her shoulders and the darkened haze of his face filled her vision. “What’s wrong?”

She shook her head, not wanting to open her mouth. If she spoke she would tell him to drop the knight in shining armor act and call Kate to pick her up.

“We met less than twenty-four hours ago, and yet, I can already sense when something is wrong. Please tell me, otherwise I won’t be able to concentrate in the interview and I’ll make a dick of myself.”

For a second her lips twitched in humor, but then she remembered why she’d been upset. “Has everything between us been about obligation? The sex, the clothes, the shower? Were you doing it because you thought you needed to?” Her voice broke on the final word and she scrunched her nose, fighting back the unwelcomed emotions determined to break free.

A quick, firm kiss landed on her lips, startling her. “I’ve told you before; I say stupid shit around you because you make me lose focus. I didn’t mean it to sound that way.” His mouth caressed hers again. This time softer, sweeter. “I’m sorry. Once this is over, I think everyone will be coming back to the hotel for a few drinks. Hopefully by then, I’ll be able to relax a little and my foot won’t be in my mouth as much.”

Alana tilted her face to steal another kiss. “OK.” She wasn’t convinced, but she wouldn’t be a drama queen and call him a liar either. At the moment, she had time up her sleeve and spending a little more with Mitchell wouldn’t be a chore. She just hoped for her heart’s sake he was telling the truth.

“You ready to grab a coffee?” Tony’s voice came from beside her, and Mitchell’s heat left her body. A momentary wash of apprehension nudged her senses at the thought of being led around by another unfamiliar man, but she suppressed the judgments her mother had tried to instill in her. Mitchell, Blake, and even the optometrist’s son had shown her only kindness. She would do her best to trust Tony too.

“Definitely.” Coffee would be her savior. A great big bucket full.

A hand grabbed hers and laid it to rest at the crook of a large arm. “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure you get settled.” Tony led her forward, taking slow steps so she could keep up.

“I’ll see you later, sweetheart.” Mitchell’s voice drifted away along with the sound of his footsteps.

Tony walked her to the coffee shop in silence, only pausing for a moment to open the door. Inside the noise spiked her anxiety. Voices melded together, some in hushed tones, others loud and obnoxious. The coffee machine hissed, cutlery clattered, footsteps sounded, and bells rang. She had to close her eyes and trust his guidance while she tried to calm herself with steadying breaths.

He patted her hand in reassurance. “Here, sugar, I’ve got a seat for you.” He grabbed her fingers and draped them over the back of a chair.

“Thank you.” She felt for the table, then the seat to gain her bearings before she sat down.

“You’re right up against a wall, only a few rows back from the cashier.”

She nodded. At least if she had any trouble, she knew where to turn for help. She would be fine though. Once she had a coffee in hand, she could relax and simply sit and think. Maybe even relive some of the seductive memories from this morning.

“What would you like me to order for you?”

“A cappuccino with two sugars, please.” She reached for the money in her pocket and pulled out a note.

“Are you sure that’s all you want?” he asked, his voice gruff, but deeply caring. “Don’t women usually want the skim, soy, caramel, mocha, double decaf crappa latte stuff?”

Alana chuckled. Tony was clearly not the chatty type. She appreciated his attempt to make her comfortable. “No. I’m not a crappa latte kind of girl.”

He gave a huff of laughter and patted her hand resting on the table. “OK. A standard cappuccino it is. I’ll go order it now, but I won’t be able to wait around. I need to check the exit point and make sure my boys are all right.”

“Not a problem.” She raised the note in her hand.

“Don’t worry, sugar, Mitch already gave me a big enough bonus to take care of it. I’m starting to think he might actually like you.”

Her heart clenched and she had no clue why. Maybe it had something to do with other people noticing his interest when she physically couldn’t see it, or that she feared he would lose interest in her within any given heartbeat. Either way, her chest did funny things at the mere thought of Mitchell.