BornontheBayou (13 page)

Tears shimmered in her eyes, brightening them in the dim
light. “No, it won’t. I’m used to it. I’m not used to being the center of
attention, but I have seen a media frenzy before. Don’t abandon me.”

“Never.” And he meant it.

He always hated this part, but this time a new excitement
infused him. Not sure of the reason for this new sensation, he kept her hand in
his and led the way to where the other band members were answering questions.
The first thing he did was find a bottle of ice-cold water and chug it down. He
took another and made sure Beverley had one before he deigned to answer the
first question.

One thing he studied in the British members of the band was
swagger. He’d learned a lot from Donovan and Zazz in that respect. They had an
inner arrogance, a fuck-you attitude that seemed to come naturally to them, and
he didn’t think they’d learned it as adults. He remembered old footage of the
Beatles in America. They had it too. The Stones had it in spades. US bands
could do it, but they did it differently.

Hunter just folded his arms and stared at them. He was doing
it now, to a woman who was obviously salivating for the blond-haired hunk who
towered above her.

Eventually she asked him what most of them did. “Can you
talk?”

“Yes.”

“Do you speak English?”

Hunter nearly smiled. “Yes.”

“Then why aren’t you answering my questions?”

“Is it compulsory? Will you eject me from the country if I
don’t?” He got a smattering of applause for that. “I will answer when you ask
me something worth answering. So far you’ve asked me questions that insult my
intelligence, and probably yours as well. How about I ask you something? Do you
read Proust?”

He got laughter for that, but she came back at him, sharp as
a knife. “Do you?”

Smiling, Hunter shook his head. “Not recently. I got as far
as the Madeleines and stopped. Will you call me an uneducated person now?”

No, because he had her. Once he started talking, they
generally fell into his trap and came over to his side.

“Rock bands have that problem,” Jace told her. “They all do.
They think we’re ignorant. Some of us are, but not everybody.”

“You had a good education,” she said.

He shrugged. “Okay, I guess.”

A kid, young, gangly and spotty asked Jace something. If he
hadn’t recognized the correspondent from
Rolling Stone
, he might have
given him the verbal finger. Riku already had, by the look of the way they’d
turned away from each other. “How’s the next album coming along?”

Not at all right now. They’d planned to at least sketch the
outline on this tour, but so far they’d done very little. “Fine. It’s looking
good. Now we have Matt back onboard, it’s working well.”

“Maxx Syccorraxx? Do you think he made a difference to the
last album?”

“Maxx made
Nightstar
. He pushed us all to do our
best, then he showcased the parts needed to bring the most out of the songs. We
couldn’t have done it without him.”

“So why isn’t he here tonight?”

“He owns a production studio and he’s working with someone
else. He said he’d fly in tomorrow.” That was no secret. V was pining for him,
although she’d done great tonight. He had to remember to tell her so. As the
newest member of the band, she was still feeling insecure. She also suffered
from stage fright, which Matt had his own way of coping with, but a method he’d
kill any of the band for if they tried it. She could use his input, so to
speak.

He asked the reporter a question. “Do you think V works
well?”

“Great.” The kid blushed as if caught out admitting a guilty
secret. Jace was glad to see enthusiasm. “She adds to the textures,” he added,
as if he knew what he was talking about.

To do him justice, he probably did.
Rolling Stone
didn’t employ idiots. Other publications might thrive on fan girl
squees
,
but not the venerable paper that had seen so many others come and go. So he
answered without flippancy, and added how much he enjoyed V’s additions and
that they were her own inventions, subtly different every time. “She’s fitting
in real well,” he added.

“Did you give Maxx a job to keep V onboard?”

“No.” He bit the word out. Would his friend never outlive
the reputation he’d once justly deserved? He’d even dropped his stage name,
Maxx Syccorraxx, and gone with the one he’d been born with. “Matt’s the
producer we needed to complete what we wanted to do. He enjoyed singing but he
loves producing. It’s all about finding what you were born for and having the
courage to go for it. We heard V at Matt’s studio and knew we’d found the
player we needed.”

Seething, he grabbed Beverley’s hand and towed her away from
the room, not stopping until he’d gained the sanctity of his dressing room. He
slammed the door and tossed the plastic keycard on the vanity.

“What is it?” She sounded bewildered, and with good reason.

He turned to face her. “I’m sorry, but I couldn’t stand to
hear them trashing Matt like that one more fucking time. The guy made mistakes,
but he’s found his way now. I fucking hate them talking like that about him.
And now V has to listen.”

She frowned. “Surely it’s up to V to say something then?”

“Not when the bastard asks me.”

She didn’t know Matt, she’d never met him, but she knew Matt
was his best friend, so surely she couldn’t be too surprised? He ran his hand through
his hair, front to back, and recalled the state he was in. He’d sweated pints
onstage. He shouldn’t touch her until he’d at least made himself decent. And
the shower might help to ease his mood. “I’ll go shower and change, then we’ll
go back to the hotel. Perhaps room service and a quiet night would help, huh?”

At least that stupid question had helped to loosen the
restless mood after he left the stage.

Chapter Eleven

They turned to each other as soon as they’d reached the
privacy of their hotel room, and when he took her in his arms, Jace felt the
tension that had seized him ever since the band had left the stage easing.
Already it felt so right, as if she’d been there waiting for him and something
inside him had recognized it, had been waiting for her to appear.

More of an inevitability now. Meant to be. And sexy as hell.

He could have taken his time, stripped her slowly, enjoying
the sight of her body slowly being revealed to him, but their first kiss opened
up a fissure of need, one he had to follow or lose himself in the process.

Fortunately she seemed to feel the same way, and they
undressed each other and themselves as clothes became impediments to the access
they needed. He cupped one of her breasts, smoothing the pad of his thumb over
her nipple, loving the way it hardened into a stiff peak in response. Bending,
he took it into his mouth, her soft gasps encouraging him to do more. As if he
needed encouragement.

Coming back up to her, he glanced behind them to where the
bed stood. The maid must have been in, because the covers were already folded
back.

Deciding on their next move, he tumbled her back, his arms
around her to cushion her fall. He stifled her laugh when his body landed on
hers, but he was quick to lift himself away, supporting his weight on his
elbows.

Reaching down, she tweaked one of his nipple rings and
pleasure streaked through him from her touch, forcing his cock into even
greater hardness, until he feared he might not wait for her. She caressed him,
stroking down his sides until she reached his buttocks, clutching and kneading,
as if they were made for her hands. Of course they were.
He
was made for
her.

He had just about enough presence of mind left to grab a
condom from the stash on the bedside table before he lost it completely. She
helped him sheathe his needy cock, which didn’t do anything for his sanity, and
then opened her legs wide, inviting him in.

No time for finesse, only enough to ensure she was wet and
ready before he drove inside her, her pussy closing around him as if it never
wanted to let him go.

That suited him fine. He plunged deep, savoring the wet,
luscious depths before dragging his cock nearly out of her, only for the
pleasure of thrusting back in. She cried his name, clutched his ass so the bite
of her fingernails added to the thrills chasing all around his body, freezing
his brain, warming his heart.

She pushed, and he let her roll them, so she was on top and
he was helpless under her control. She rose, managed to bring her legs up and
sit without dislodging him from her body. “Yoga?” he asked, impressed.

“Once,” she said, smiling down at him. “I guess I have some
of it left.”

“How about I get you a personal yoga instructor?”

A touch of sadness entered her heavenly eyes and he knew she
was thinking the same as him—how long could this last? Then it was gone and she
grinned at him. “Perhaps it never leaves you.”

Then she began to move, her hands on his chest, her fingers
splayed just below his nipples so she grazed the rings when she moved. He
braced his muscles to support her and arched up, responding to her downward
plunges with upward thrusts. He could touch her clit like this, help her on,
and now he knew what worked best with her, how with a sharp nip from a
forefinger she would cry his name. He liked that, liked it a lot, so he did it
some more and watched the glorious sight of his lover fucking herself to
orgasm. On him, with his cock deeply embedded inside her beautiful body.

He explored her body, using his spare hand to tweak a
nipple, soothe it again and then sweep over the curve between her breast and
hip, the pretty indent of her waist, the tiny dip of her navel. All his, all to
explore and worship and use to urge her to a height she’d never known before.

And in so doing, achieve nirvana himself.

This woman pleasured him like no other had done before. She
understood him and his needs at a level others hadn’t known, or hadn’t cared
about. He could only try to reciprocate. He wanted to spend a long, long time
exploring what they had together, but he couldn’t think of that now

He couldn’t think of anything except the roaring orgasm that
he was helpless to control or stop. He grasped her hip, squeezing as he cried
out, hearing her call to him, a deep part of him totally satisfied that he’d
satisfied her as he lost himself in her.

“I’ve come to a decision.”

Tucked up in bed with Beverley after a second incandescent
bout of lovemaking, Jace felt infinitely better. She helped him so much.
Knowing she was watching him onstage actually calmed him, helped him to
concentrate, and he had to make sure she knew why. He had to ensure she
understood, especially because of what she’d told him after the performance. He
wouldn’t do her the injustice of pretending he hadn’t heard her. “But first, I
want you to tell me something.”

“What?” She gazed up at him, the bedside lights making her
eyes glitter as brightly as stars. He couldn’t cope without this, he knew that
much.

“Did you mean what you said?”

She didn’t ask him which part or anything stupid like that.
She spread her hand on his chest, just grazing one of his nipple rings. He
swallowed back his groan. He loved it when she touched him there. Anywhere, for
that matter. “Yes, I meant it. It seemed like the right time to tell you.”

“Sweetheart.” He bent and kissed her very gently, returning
to lean on one elbow, gazing down at her. “Thank you.” He bit his lip. “I know
I’m supposed to say it straight back, but I could say it and not mean it. All
this, this with us, it’s blown me away. I’ve never known anybody like you, never
been able to talk to anybody like I can with you. But—let me try to explain
something.”

He paused, searching for the right words. “My parents
married the same month they met. They conceived me soon after. Then they found
they had nothing in common. They ended up hating each other. I don’t want that
to happen to us.”

She swallowed, her throat working. “Neither do I.”

“So I don’t want us to rush. My mom never stopped telling me
what a piece of shit my dad was. My dad just avoids talking about her. He
wasn’t and isn’t, but they barely communicated after the divorce. I don’t want
that. I don’t want us to blow it.”

This time she cupped his cheek. He turned his head to kiss
her palm. “You’re a terrific woman, amazing in bed and a friend. I really think
I’ve found a friend in you.”

She stopped him there. “And you value friendship and you
don’t want to spoil that, so can we continue as friends with benefits?”

“
No.
”The thought of that horrified him. “Why?
Has somebody said that to you?”

“Yes. Once. It hurt because he didn’t have the guts to break
up with me properly, but that was what he meant. Is that what you’re doing?”

He shook his head, savoring the rasp of his beard against
her palm. When he was touring he tended to keep his beard at a stubble, but he
might change that. It could hurt her. “No, never. I want something else for
us.” He watched her, waiting for her slightest reaction. “How do you feel about
being permanent manager at Great Oaks?” Her gaze sharpened but she said
nothing. “I want to give us a chance, sweetheart. I made a decision tonight.”

“When?”

“What?” Not the question he was expecting.

“When did you make the decision?”

“In the shower, before we came back here. Why?”

She shook her head impatiently. “It doesn’t matter. It’s
nothing. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

It took him a second to collect his thoughts, and he did it
while looking at her. A gorgeous sight, golden hair spread over the pillow, her
body relaxed and open to him. He wanted so much to have more times like these.

“I decided that following this relationship with you is more
important than anything else. I know you didn’t enjoy parts of today, and fuck
knows relationships on the road don’t last long. I’m irritable after a
performance; more than that sometimes. That was when I drank, when I took
drugs, anything to take that feeling away. Tonight, I thought I could fuck you
senseless, and that would work too, but I decided against it.”

“Why not? I thought you’d want me after.”

He laughed. He could, now he’d had her and he could have her
again. Before, he’d have found it difficult. “Oh I did. But I realized I was
dying for sex. Not you, anyone. If you hadn’t been here, I’d have taken any of
the groupies around tonight. Just for relief.” So hard to tell her the truth,
to see the hurt in her eyes. “You can’t be here always with me, can you? You
can’t watch me all the time. I can’t take that risk.”

“Would you really?” She almost whispered the words.

He nodded and forced himself to meet her gaze, although
truthfully he wasn’t entirely sure. But he didn’t want to take the chance of
hurting her. He knew if he had her around all the time he wouldn’t want anyone
else, but a niggling note of uncertainty remained. He was scared of letting her
down, and that moment of desperation when they came offstage had forced him to
consider. He didn’t trust himself.

“Are you tired of the band?” She seemed almost hopeful, but
he wouldn’t tell her any lies.

“I love playing guitar, I always have. But Matt loved
singing, and he made something new of his life. He’s found something else he
enjoys even more.” He touched a finger to her lips because he knew what she was
about to say. “Yes, V and Matt have decided on a long-distance relationship for
a while. It works for them, or is working so far. It wouldn’t work for us. I
need you here every day, every night, and I don’t trust myself.”

“But you fought the urge.”

“One night I won’t.” He sighed. “I decided I don’t want to
risk it. This—whatever we have—is worth fighting for. So I’ve decided to take
the house back. We can run it as a going concern. I can pay the cost of repairs
and renovation, and we can live there and run it together. When I was a kid I
longed to see the house like it is. I used to dream of doing what Bell’s has
done and returning it to the beautiful place it should have been.”

He smiled, dropped a kiss on her lips. “It’ll be fun. And we
can spend time together, quality time. Proper time.”

“I can’t let you do it.” She looked scared.

“Yes you can. What’s life if it doesn’t throw you a few
curveballs? I can still write music, do some local performances, just not give
my whole fucking life to it. What we have going is more important than anything
else, so tomorrow I’ll talk to Chick and see how soon I can leave the band. I
have a couple of people in mind who could do this job as well as I could, so as
soon as Chick can arrange it, I’ll leave. Definitely by the end of the first US
leg of the tour.”

“He won’t be happy.”

“He’ll have to suck it up.” He kissed her, making it sweet
and long. “We’re going home, baby.”

This time the “baby” really rankled. He wouldn’t let her
argue or discuss the topic with him. After he’d made love to her again and
fallen into a deep sleep, Beverley stayed awake, staring at the ceiling. He’d
stonewalled every attempt she’d made to talk over his decision. It was his to
make, he said. He’d invoke the clause in the contract he signed with Bell’s and
take the house back into private ownership. They could run it together.

One thing she knew for sure and certain. It wouldn’t work.
One day he’d regret not carrying on with the band, not doing more, writing
more. Or he’d get the itch and take up with some other band. Murder City Ravens
was perfect for him. She’d seen that for herself tonight.

What was more, they were making something worthwhile,
something that made so many people’s lives that bit better. Murder City Ravens
better. She wouldn’t take on that responsibility, however much she loved him,
because other people loved him too. Not like she did but that didn’t make their
claim on him any less important.

So what if it would break her heart? She’d live. Probably
avoid listening to the radio for a while, and she’d have to claim it was just a
fling if anyone asked, but they’d have to—what did he say?—oh yes, suck it up.

He hadn’t said he loved her, he’d said he wanted to give
them a chance, that was all. He wasn’t even sure about that. How could she let
him do this? He didn’t want to do it for himself, he didn’t want to go into the
hotel business and he doubted himself so much that he couldn’t cope with
spending time apart?

No, she couldn’t live like that, couldn’t live knowing what
he’d given up for her. Besides, he wasn’t the only one who could be honest. She
didn’t want to live at Great Oaks.

Oh, she loved the house, but she doubted she could face it
if the weather got much warmer, and this being April, it would get worse.
Strange, because she’d endured the steamiest of kitchens, but the thought of
the unrelenting heat overwhelmed her now.

However, the job had given her something to occupy herself
with. Organizing the renovations at Great Oaks and then the hotel here in
Atlanta, she’d found something that made her heart sing, but it had taken the
crisis at the previous hotel to bring it home to her. Loving watching her plans
coming to fruition, making people better, happier, by doing it. So maybe hotel
management was the career she’d wanted after all. People management for sure.
The satisfaction she felt when a plan came together rivaled the Carthaginian
Hannibal’s when organizing the passage of elephants over the mountains. She’d
make it on her own, the hard way, only go back to her parents when she could
meet them on their own level.

She’d switched off the ringer from her phone but now a flash
of light attracted her attention and the cell buzzed its way across the vanity,
heading for the edge. She slipped out of Jace’s arms and caught the phone
before it fell to the floor, before slipping out of bed and going into the
bathroom so she wouldn’t wake him up.