Dirty Past (15 page)

“Insinuated plenty,” I mumble into my beer bottle. “And correctly.”

“Tate!” both girls shriek.

I earn myself a slap on each thigh. At least they were courteous enough to miss the beer, the little shits.

“Aaaand there we go.” Kye flags the waiter and orders another round. “The confirmation of what we all knew.”

“You know, Kye, I can easily pencil in a walk over hot coals for you tomorrow.” Ella smiles sweetly.

“LEGOs,” Sofie adds. “More painful. Way more painful.”

“I’ll pencil in both.” Ella flutters her eyelashes, still looking at my brother. “Or do you need a nighttime snuggle buddy as well as your twin?”

Fuck me. Fuck. Me. I love it when she turns on that sass. It’s the girl beneath the hardened, fear-filled exterior. It’s the girl who pulls me into another dimension and makes me smile, laugh.

It’s the girl who makes me fucking dream. And I haven’t done that since the day we stepped into our first arena performance.

Ella Dawson is the dream I never knew existed.

“Damn.” Kye shakes his head. “You’ve spent too much time with my brother.”

I wrap my arm around her waist and touch my nose to her temple. “Not nearly fuckin’ enough.”

“Ooooh, nachos!” Ella sits upright, yanking her body from my grip.

I cover my face with my hands. “Nachos. Fuckin’ nachos.”

Ella scoops a huge pile of chili onto one slightly curled chip and offers it to me. I open my mouth, and she guides it toward me before evilly turning it and shoving it in her mouth.

“Bitch.”

She smiles a wide closed-mouth smile as a steak is put in front of me.

“You should’ve gotten the nachos.” She shakes her head.

I lean over and grab hers. “Ya think?”

Ella

He is . . . warm. He’s warm and soft and solid all at the same time.

His chiseled stomach is against my back, his pecs teasing my shoulder blades, and my back is fully curled into him. Or against him, whatever it is. One of his arms is resting beneath my neck and bends so his hand is shaped around my waist. His other arm is draped over me and reaching up to where our fingers are linked.

Holy crap, this is how those cheesy-ass couples wake up in romance novels.

Wait—why am I awake?

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beepbeepbeepbeep.

“Holy fucking shit,” Tate groans sleepily. Huskily. Sexily.

“Concert-day alarm,” I mutter, untangling my fingers from his and reaching for my phone on the nightstand. I swipe the screen and the beeping stops, then I freeze. “Oh my God! Concert-day alarm!” I squeal, rolling over to face him.

“Whaaat?”

“Concert day!” I shake his shoulders until his startling bright eyes open and look up at me. “I love concert day!”

Tate’s lips curl up slowly. “You’ve only experienced one, darlin’.”

“I don’t care. I loved it. And another is today! Wake uuuup!” I grab his shoulders again, but he grasps my waist and flips me onto my back. I half-laugh, half-shriek as he rolls us and straddles me.

“Mmm. I like this wake-up call,” he hums, lowering his face to mine. “Can I get it often?”

“Depends. You gonna be bored of me tonight?”

“Never.” His hot breath cascades over my lips with the force of the conviction tinting his word. “Not tonight, not tomorrow, not ever,” he whispers. “You gonna scream my name tonight, Els?”

“You gonna scream mine?”

“Darlin’, I don’t scream names.”

“Then, no. I’m not.” I tap his nose. “Name-screaming goes two ways, Tate.”

“You should consider adoptin’ a pet name for me. It feels like you’re tellin’ me off when you call me Tate.”

“I am not calling you God.”

He laughs and drops his face into my neck. “Fuck it. You got me figured out, darlin’.”

“Sassy woman, sassy mind.” I run my fingers through his hair and grin when he looks at me. “You need to get up.” I glance at the clock on my phone. “Damn, I need to get up.”

I shove at him to get him off me, but he simply grins above me.

“Taaate,” I warn.

He ignores me, instead lowering his mouth to mine. I whimper as his lips touch mine, and the soft heat makes me curve my fingers around the back of his head. His hands on my back are hot, but his kiss is hotter, his lips sweet and soft but dry, his tongue flicking against mine, begging for me to open, to give him more.

I do.

I fall prey to his predatory kiss, and I submit to the force of his will, allowing him to sweep his tongue through to a battle with my own.

His fingertips caress my skin sweetly while his mouth attacks mine ravenously. It’s the perfect mixture of reticence and recklessness, and so very Tate, so very me, so very us, so very everything I need right now.

“Still gotta go,” I murmur into his kiss.

“We can be late. Right?” He mumbles the words against my jaw, and despite my back arching, I shake my head. “Your body appears to be disagreein’.”

“My body needs a slap.” I tap the back of his head and wriggle so much he groans.

“Dammit, Els, that shit ain’t helpin’, darlin’.”

“Then get off!” I laugh, trying to ignore the clenching and the obvious wetness pooling in my panties. Because, yes, I did absolutely just rub my pussy against his hard dick.

“Shit, okay. But you owe me for this boner.”

I laugh loudly as Tate stands, his erection delightfully obvious in his tight boxers. My eyes linger at the bulge protruding from between his thighs, and I unwillingly lick my lips.

I mean, I know that. I felt that. I touched that.

Hell, I fucked that.

Oh, he’s rubbing off on me if I’m saying ‘fuck’ in my mind.

I like it. Feels kinda . . . badass.

“Like what you see, darlin’?”

I comb my eyes upward, slowly. Over the angel wings tatted just above his waistband, to the packed muscles of his stomach, to the gentle tattoos of his upper chest that curve over his shoulders and toward his full sleeves.

Then to his eyes. My eyes fall on his eyes, and I’m paralyzed by the brightness and the intensity.

“It’s not bad,” I manage, swallowing hard.

“Not bad?” he asks, leaning against the doorway to the bathroom. Slowly. Seductively. All boner in his boxers and six pack tensed and biceps bulging. Deliberately.

That’s the word. Deliberately.

“Not bad,” I confirm, my eyes flicking to his lips and back up. “I mean, you know.”

“Seen better?”

“Shouldn’t ask your assistant that. She’s seen all your brothers shirtless.”

He darts back across the room and pins my hands above my head before I do so much as protest his sharp jump onto the bed. “You’ve what?”

“Seen your brothers shirtless,” I repeat, staring into those fiery eyes.

His fingers tighten on me. “Who hasn’t?” he growls, ironically softly. “But get this, darlin’. The only one of us you’ll see naked is me. The only one you’ll feel inside you is me. The only one who will make you scream, silently or otherwise, is me. You got that?”

“Got it,” I hum quietly. “It’s okay. You’re sexier anyway.”

“Oh, the confidence to admit I’m sexy.”

“I said sexi
er.
Don’t get cocky.”

He digs his hips into mine. His cock pushes into my pussy, teasing my clit, and I clench. “Too late.”

My phone beeps again, an excruciatingly painful noise. And I grab it, end it, and shove it into Tate’s face.

“Up. Now. Off. Later.”

“Is that a promise?”

“You gonna keep it?” I ask, sitting up.

“Els, I’m makin’ it. Tonight you are mine. Again.”

W
e bundle into the SUVs. The whole time to the venue, Aidan eyes us suspiciously, but Tate grabs my hand and he looks away. Seconds later, I pull my hand back, because, well, we’re working. And I know it makes no sense, that I’ll have sex off duty but that on duty I won’t touch him.

For me, it helps separate the two Tates I know . . . almost. The asshole and the nice guy. Helps separate the manwhore from the man who holds me tightly and won’t let me go.

It helps to separate the guy I can’t trust from the one I can.

I can feel his eyes burning into the side of my head as we park outside the arena. Questioning. Confused. But I ignore him and follow Aidan out of the SUV. I duck my head as the cameras flash and girls scream.

It seriously perplexes me how they can stand here for hours just to see the guys. Like, they can’t wait until they get inside the arena in eight or nine hours?

Ajax opens the door for me and I dart inside. Phew. Conner guides Sofie and Mila into the building, flanked by the rest of the band. Tate’s eyes are still burning into me, and I do my best to escape past him, but he grabs my hand before I can get away.

I attempt to snatch my hand back, but he squeezes tighter. I tug harder and he lets go.

“Working,” I whisper angrily, clasping the tablet to my chest and walking away.

“It ain’t a secret, darlin’,” he calls after me.

“I don’t care.” I stop and look at him, ignoring everyone’s eyes on us. “You need to get into your dressing rooms and get ready to come down here for sound check. Now,” I add, glancing over all four of them.

“Damn, you’re a slave driver,” Kye tuts, grinning.

“I’ll drive my boot up your behind if you don’t move it,” I threaten, spinning and walking away.

“Shit, Tate. You’ve rubbed off on her a little too much.” Aidan laughs.

“I have two feet, Aidan.” I throw a glare over my shoulder and slam open the door to the backstage area. I kick it shut behind me and walk through the hall to the wings. I check to see that all their things are being readied on the stage, then jump down and take a seat in the first row.

“They don’t mean you any harm,” Ajax says, taking the seat next to mine.

“Mhmm,” I reply, swiping across the screen of my tablet. “Unfortunately none of them are aware of the concept of lines, therefore they cross them regularly.”

“Like Tate trying to hold your hand?” Sofie asks, setting Mila on the floor and pulling her seat down.

“Precisely.”

“Yet last night he was stealin’ your nachos, and you woke up together this morning.”

“This is work.” I sigh and put the tablet down. “We both have jobs to do. When we leave here—if he leaves with us—then he can do whatever the hell he wants to do. Right now he has to remain professional.”

“If he leaves with us?” Ajax questions, leaning forward. “Ella, you do know he isn’t gonna let you out of his sight, don’t you, sweetheart?”

“Yeah.” Sofie nibbles on her thumbnail. “I mean, even I’m surprised. The only thing Tate cares about as much as you is his dick.”

I sigh and turn back to the tablet. “Look, I’m not expecting anything from him. I’m not expecting his super-protective-alpha-male routine to be anything other than kindness, so can we move on now?”

“If you want.” Sofie leans back. “But it ain’t gonna change a thing. I know you ain’t used to tenderness, but take it, doll. He’s the hardest fucking idiot I’ve ever met in my life, but he’s also one of the sweetest. You aren’t soft with a little girl if you’re made of heartless steel.”

“Mama! Bad word!”

Sofie gasps. “I’m sorry, baby. I’ll put a dollar in your pig when we get back, okay?”

“In her pig?”

She looks at me, her lips in a thin line. “Carla helpfully suggested the boys get a swear box for when Mila’s around. Mila took to the idea, and well, she’s some twenty dollars richer than she was twenty-four hours ago.”

“Oh. Nice.” I tap my finger against my lips. “I don’t like Carla much.”

“No one does,” Ajax laughs, standing. “We all just pretend, and y’all do it the best.”

I smile at him. Other people filter into the arena, including the topic of our previous conversation. When everyone is in their proper place, the guys step onto the stage, water bottles in hand.

Aidan, Kye, and Conner all check on their instruments before they start, but Tate keeps walking. He steps right off the stage and approaches me, his eyes burning brightly.

He stops right in front of me and lays two fingers on the top of the tablet. Slowly, he pushes it down so it’s flat on my lap, then strokes along the side of it until he finds the power button. Then presses it.

“Not today,” he says softly.

My eyes narrow suspiciously, but he pulls the device from my hands and gives it to Ajax, who slots it into Sofie’s purse. I glance at the burly security guard, but all he does is lift his eyebrows in response and fold his arms across his chest.

Tate’s hands curl around my armrests and he leans forward. “Today, Els, you watch for fun.”

I say nothing. Even as he walks back toward the stage and pulls himself up onto it, I stay silent. Even as he walks across the stage to his seat and sits down, resting his guitar on his knee and looking at me, I stay silent.

I don’t say a word.

Because this . . . isn’t meant to happen. I’m supposed to work. I’m supposed to organize their butts and keep them in line.

Tate’s lips pull up at the sides, only barely, and the memory of his lips on mine floods my mind. The softness, the forceful yet oddly soft caresses, they consume me, take me over.

And I sit back in my seat and hug myself.

“Well, Carla, honey, aren’t you lookin’ good today?” Tate drawls, still looking at me.

“Always do, Tate,” she retorts, seemingly not recognizing his eyes on me.

Asshole.

“You look real good today. That shirt is damn good. Oh, and I see you brought Tits with you!”

Double asshole.

I look toward the girl he dubs Tits and see a girl, indeed with huge breasts, and long blond hair, bright blue eyes, and a waist that I could wrap my hands around. A body clearly surgically enhanced.

“Always a pleasure, Tate,” Tits croons, sitting a couple seats up from Sofie and crossing her legs. She runs her hand through her hair, and when he looks at her, my eyes narrow.

Sofie reaches over, grasps my chin, and forces me to look forward. “You hurt him. He’s tryin’ to do it back because he’s a moron. Act like you don’t care and he’ll give it up.”

I swallow hard. “I don’t care.”

“Then tell that to my daughter. She might believe you, doll.”

E
lectric. Crazy. Insane.

Three words to describe the pandemonium in the arena right now. Screaming girls, laughing, singing Dirty B., amazed backstage people.

Sofie and I are standing in the wings, feet away from the guys, and I’m almost certain my ears are ringing from the screams echoing from the seats. Because, holy hell, Tate was right when he said I’d only seen one show. These girls scream crazy loud.

But I still get it. The excitement of the last concert. The craziness. The goddamn deafening shrieks. The everlasting adrenaline rush that fills my veins with extreme delight and insanity.

It boils inside me and encompasses me until I’m buzzing, too. Until every word and every chord is vibrating across my skin and consuming me with its sheer force.