Ice Steam (Loving All Wrong #3) (8 page)

“Lick and stick?”

“Yeah,” he said, face serious. “Always lick it before I stick it, Chino.”

Oh dear God
…

Wetter than water, I tried shifting my ass closer to the edge of the counter so I could rub up against him. “Ah, how long will this ‘understanding each other more’ experiment last?”

After six months of nothing but
talking
about ourselves, lives and families, now we’re finally in the same place, I
could not
believe this rock wanted to do anything less than strip me and screw me senseless on this kitchen counter right now. To be honest, I wasn’t ‘pleased’ with this decision, nor did I think it ‘honorable’ or ‘sweet’.

It had been two long years since I last been kissed or screwed. Why did he have to pick
me,
of all his conquests
,
to ‘try something different’ with? This was so not cool.

“Until one of us breaks.”

I broke.

Reaching up, I grabbed his face and attacked his mouth, having no problem being the first to ‘break’. At first he hesitated, but not for long, as he opened up and let me in, clasped my hips and slid me to the edge of the counter so I could feel his hard-on.

His kiss had its own rhythm, own beat, its own heart, own life. His kiss was the kind of kiss a woman could never in her life forget, a kiss no other man could ever outdo.

I was in trouble with him. So much trouble. If I had a heart, I could stop this now before I ended up wanting him for more than I’d planned, before I ended up hurting both of us. Right here, right now, I could tell him the truth, that lead singer, Davian Hamilton, from Ice Steam wasn’t just an old ‘hi-bye’ neighbor, but an ex I was still madly in love with, the father of my child. I could come clean and confess I really came here for Davian and not him, and we could still lick and stick in the interim.

But his kiss…his kiss was a song I wanted to continue dancing to, a melody I wanted to linger in my head long after the song is over, a stimulating massage I wanted to last
just a little bit longer
.

His kiss had me. Had me locked in a tight fist I was in no rush to weasel out of.

I was selfish. Wanted to have my cake and eat it, too. But in that moment, I didn’t care. All I knew, in that breathtaking moment, was that I
wanted
Xavier Xander.

With an abrupt jerk, he broke away, and I tried to haul him back by his shirt, but the attempt was futile. “Where’s your bathroom?”

What?

“S’okay, I’ll find it,” he said when all I did was stare back at him in a haze of writhing heat and confusion.

In the next second he was walking out of the kitchen, rocker boots pounding the floor tiles, letting it be known there was a
man
in the house, long hair bouncing slightly due to his swift steps in search of a bathroom.

I remained seated on the island and waited for his return, but when five minutes passed with no sign of him, I hopped down and poured myself a tall glass of water to cool down. Waited some more. Texted Saskia and checked up on Jacob. Waited some more. Checked Facebook. Waited some more…

Fifteen minutes later, Xavier returned—well, he didn’t ‘return’ as much as strode right past me and made a beeline for the elevator.

Curious, I inquired, “Did you just—”

“Yes,” he quickly, if not sheepishly, admitted. Pounding into the elevator, he threw over his shoulder, “And you’re never to bring this up ever again.”

In the elevator, he turned and hit the down button, watching me struggle to keep back a laugh.

Losing the battle, I grinned, feeling like I’d just won some kind of match and had one up on him.

Right before the doors closed him in, he pointed one long, masculine finger at me, steel eyes glaring, and warned, “
Ever
.”

The elevator swallowed him whole.

My days began at 5:30am.

I would jog to my trainer’s gym just a couple blocks from my apartment building and grumpily endure his punitive workouts for all of ninety minutes. After workouts I would then jog back home to shower, eat breakfast and head out again for the shoot location of the day. There, I would spend the next six to eight hours getting dolled up, stuffed into all manner of frocks and frills, and making faces for the camera.

After shoots, I had to make it to catwalk training for an hour, then I was free to go home and collapse.

That’s how the last two weeks have been for me. Grueling. Leaving no free time for me to maintain a new ‘relationship’, or to ruin an engagement.

By the time I got home in the evenings I was too flagged out to even shower. This was a lot more work than I’d anticipated. To think I used to believe models had the easiest job in the world.

I thought about throwing in the towel and going back home to my boy whom I missed so much it hurt, but then I would either see something on the television or hear gossipers at the shoots talk about Davian and Jessica, and my purpose would get an instant renewal.

In the first week I would come home and find Xavier waiting in the apartment lobby for me to invite him up. But every time we tried to hang out or watch a movie together, it resulted in me falling asleep on his chest and waking up in the morning to notes like:

I do like it when chicks drool all over me…

But only in the metaphorical sense.

Literal drooling is just plain nasty
.

Eventually, he gave up and told me he understood the situation right now, and to hit him up whenever I had a break in my schedule.

He felt neglected, like we weren’t making any progress, and like things weren’t much different from when I was back in San Francisco.

Sundays were day-offs, and all I did was sleep and eat frozen yogurt, too beat to do much else.

As the next week uneventfully drifted by, I started to miss coming home to find Xavier waiting for me in the lobby. Missed having his chest to fall asleep on during our one-sided conversation.

I missed Xavier.

Realizing I’d never be able to enjoy Los Angeles, or the rock stars of Los Angeles, with this kind of schedule, I had a meeting with Lion and made it known that the six days a week thing wasn’t cutting it for me.

After a long, circuitous argument in which he tried to convince me that once all the test photo-shoots were over I would have a lot of free time during his deliberation process, he gave up the fight, muttered a couple F-bombs under his breath and agreed to rearrange my schedule and give me Saturdays off.

Xavier was glad to hear this, and wasted no time in making plans to pick me up from my shoot the following Friday.

I was bent over the monitor with the photo shoot director flipping through the best shots of the day when I heard Danni, Lion’s assistant manager of the ‘Alina O’Hara Project’, mutter, “Oh. Wow. Oh
wow
.”

Peeking up over the monitor, I saw him. In dark denims and a gray T-shirt with a sketching of Kurt Cobain. A head taller than everyone else, moving, leaving a trail mix of gasps, wide gazes, lip-biting and open ogling in his wake. A force of nature. An undertow. A
man
.

Xavier Xander.

Steel-gray eyes darted about the massive room, searching, and when they spotted my dark ones peeking over the monitor, he gunned straight in my direction, in all his Khal Drogo fierceness, giving a chin-lift to the important folks.

“You ready?” he asked in that deep, mellifluous voice when he got to me.

God, I loved that voice. It just made him seem like the only
real
man in the room.

Danni, who was as queer as they came, twisted awkwardly, looking up, up into Xavier’s face. “
Sweet
baby
Jesus.”

Pretending he didn’t hear, Xavier kept his gaze trained on me, his target, as if no one else there mattered. Like an assassin who came to get the job done, without distractions, and get out.

I picked up my handbag, slung it over my shoulder, and smiled wide, giddy. “Yeppers.”

For the first time since he walked into the room like a blaze of fire from the tip of a guitar, a smile pinched his lips. “Yeppers?”

Dismissively waving a hand, I said, “Text talk.”

With a small shake of his head, he slung a protective arm around my neck and drew me into his side, then moved with me out of the room like we were nobody’s business.

Brushing a kiss to the top of my head, he murmured, “Missed you.”

Sighing, I burrowed into his side, loving it there, along with his smell. Like fresh picked mints and late night winds. Uh-huh, I missed him, too.

Of course, paparazzi were waiting outside when we left the building. Wouldn’t be L.A. if there hadn’t been. At the attack of flashing cameras and shouting faces, I dipped my head and turned my face into Xavier’s side, letting my hair create a curtain around my face.

Keeping me shielded in his side, Xavier moved easily through the klatch of intrusive photographers, ignoring their shouted questions and made straight for a white Hummer sitting on the curb.

Rending the door open, he safely tucked me inside, rounded the monstrosity of a vehicle and swung in.

It wasn’t until he rolled off from the unwanted chaos that I raised my head. “Wow. You could’ve warned me about that, you know. Lion gave me specific orders to keep out of the tabloids for now.”

“Sorry.” He really did look sorry. “Was quiet when I got there. Pests got wings. They move fast.”

“Until Lion gives the green light, I’m gonna have to avoid scenes like that.”

“Understood.”

A few blocks down, he pulled over at a Starbucks at the same time a pretty blonde in a green apron walked out as if she’d been waiting for him. Xavier powered down the window, gave the blonde his habitual chin-lift, and took the Java Chip Frappuccino she handed him with a geeky grin. She then gave me a quick wave and darted back into the cafe.

Powering the window back up, he handed me the cup. “Frappuccino for Chino.”

Java Chip. I could smell all its sugary, milky, tasty goodness. Taking the cup from him, I took a sip, closed my eyes, and emitted an orgasmic sigh when the flavors burst and dissolved on my tongue. “Love love love love love love love.” I opened my eyes and looked over at Xavier. “
You,
big guy
,
are awesome.”

Just like the first time he’d watched me take my first sip of coffee, his gaze went all hot and smoldering. Then he cleared his throat and pulled off into traffic again. “I know.”

“Modest much?”

A one-shoulder shrug was all I got. “You have a thousand bucks worth of coffee at the Starbucks outlet down the street from your apartment. Told them what you liked, so when you go there in the mornings they’ll just sort you out and send you on your way. Cool?”

I glanced over at him, surprised. “For someone who’s never been in a relationship before, you’re kinda nailing this.”

He frowned. “Am I?”

“Well,”—I looked down, feeling somewhat abashed all of a sudden—“you kinda make me feel like the only girl in the world. And it’s just weird…because you’re
Xavier Xander
, you know. One of the biggest rock stars on the planet. I guessed I’m just baffled why you chose me to ‘try’ with when you don’t even know…me…that well.”

Another frown. “Think we’re moving too fast? Like we should try being friends first or some shit like that?”

No, no, no. No more ‘take things slow’ conversation. I so
did not
want to take things slow with him. I wanted to jump in his pants as fast as I could and get it over with before I saw Davian and no longer had the desire, or the chance. “Not fast. Just…different.”

An even deeper frown. “I’m confused.”

Me, too.
I took another
long
sip of my frappo, to both occupy my mouth and chase away the heat under my skin.

“As for why I chose you,” he picked up where I slacked off, “I dunno. Saw your pics, got a reaction from my dick, and I wanted a sample. Yeah, started out just wanting to sample you. Then we began chatting. Was light entertainment at first, and soon found I couldn’t stop. Kept wanting more. Your antics kept me from relapsing over the months, and your voice put me to sleep ‘lotta nights. Then you stopped taking my calls and responding to my texts…
Knew I had to come find you. Don’t know if I’m doing this right as you say, just know I really like you. And I take good care of what I like.”

His manner of speaking was so raw and straightforward. No games. No poetry. No bullshit.

“Just so you know,” I whispered, “I don’t just ‘
like
’ you…”

His head shot to me, as if that confession surprised him. “Sure don’t seem like it.”

“Really?”

“Chino, let’s just say you’re the only chick I can’t gauge. Your signals aren’t consistent. Get headaches tryna figure you out.” He shrugged. “Maybe that’s why I dig you so deep.”

“It’s unintentional,” I lied.

He snorted, making it clear he didn’t believe me.

“So,” I dragged, aiming to change the subject, “where are we going?”

“Villa. Boys wanna meet you.”

“You told your band mates about me?”

“Not exactly. They nosed around, found out,” he said. “They can be like that. We’re not just a band. Tighter than blood brothers. Hiding shit from each other’s prohibited. The reason we shine so bright together. Ninety Miles’ not individualized, we’re just one big star.”