Текст книги "Rock Addiction"

Автор книги: Nalini Singh

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Chapter 9

Seven forty-five the next morning and Molly’s fingers trembled as she looked up the number Fox had input into her cell phone the first night.

“In case you ever need a musician,” he’d said with a smile that had made her want to straddle his hair-rough thighs and claim kiss after kiss while his hands roamed over her. She hadn’t been confident enough to act on that impulse, but she wasn’t going to stay silent this morning.

Regardless of the stuttering beat of her heart.

Initiating the call, she readied herself to wait while he woke up, but it was answered on the first ring. “If you’re a telemarketer, I’ll be supremely pissed,” was the growled warning.

“Fox, it’s me,” she said, then winced. As if he didn’t know a thousand women who had his name on speed dial.

She’d just opened her mouth to identify herself when he said, “Molly Webster,” turning her name into a purring caress. “You often prank-call strange men on Sunday mornings?”

Goose bumps broke out over her skin. “I wanted to invite you to the market,” she said before she could lose her nerve, twisting her fingers in the thin cotton scarf she’d wrapped around her neck because she liked the indigo color against the raspberry of her cardigan. “If you still want to come.”

“Baby, I always want to come.”

Face red-hot, though her nerves eased at the sign he wasn’t still furious, she laughed. “I can’t believe you said that.”

“How soon can you be ready?” he asked, and she could hear the smile in his tone.

“I’m pretty much done, but I can drive over and pick you up. It’ll take me about ten minutes at this time of day.” The roads would be all but dead, even in the city. “Is that enough time?”

“Man who needs more isn’t a man, but I don’t even need that.”

“I’ll start driving now.” The butterflies took flight again, her need to see him a scary, beautiful craving.

“Or you could come downstairs to the surface parking lot.”

Eyes widening, Molly ended the call and grabbed her purse. When she left the elevator on the ground floor to step out through the main doors, it was to find a low-slung beauty of a car parked near the exit from the underground garage. A bright, sleek yellow, it was a sexy, powerful intruder in amongst the compacts and sedans. Just like the man who prowled around the car to put his hands on her, her own on his chest a heartbeat later.

“You were so confident I’d call?” Her violent pleasure at his presence slammed up against annoyance at being taken for granted.

“Hell, no.” Smoothing his hands over her hips, his touch proprietary, he said, “But while I might possibly have a temper—”

Molly couldn’t maintain her annoyance in the face of his blunt response. “Possibly?” she said with a small smile, happiness dancing in her at having the heat and power of him so close, his scent in her every breath.

“Possibly.” He nudged her closer between his spread thighs, his hands moving to her butt, the green of his irises brilliant under the morning sunlight. “I’m not a man who gives up when I want something, and I want you, Molly. Under me, on top of me, with your luscious mouth on my co—”

Damp heat between her thighs, she pressed her fingers against his lips. “Stop. We’re going out.” Not back inside and to the bedroom where words weren’t necessary, pleasure and sensation their vocabulary.

A slow smile that turned her knees to jelly. “Yes, ma’am.” Squeezing her butt, he dipped his head, his lips flirting with hers until she wrapped her arms around his neck and opened her mouth. He stroked his tongue deep, the rhythm languorous and she had the thought that if she hadn’t made him leave last night, he’d have moved in her with the same unhurried patience this morning.

“Come on,” he said when their mouths parted, that sexy dimple creasing his cheek and his hand cradling her nape in a way that felt breath-stealingly protective. “Let’s hit this market before I take you up against the wall there.” His forehead touched hers. “I’m not sure your neighbors would approve.”

Cheeks blazing, Molly shot a nervous glance around the parking lot. It proved empty of all other life. Phew. “Aren’t you worried about photographers?”

“I fucking love this country.” He placed one hand on her lower back, nudging her toward the car. “Even your paparazzi are polite and don’t bother people until after ten.”

“Ha-ha,” she said, trying not to think too hard about how incredibly good it felt to be with him. “And wow, look, you picked such an inconspicuous car.”

“Smart-ass.” He lightly spanked that ass, to her renewed blush. “The rental company only delivered it yesterday, and as far as anyone knows, it was hired by a corporation.”

“Where’s your disguise?”

“Wait and see.” Leaning down to open the door, he said, “Into my chariot.”

Molly bit her lower lip and wondered if she should warn him about the parking situation at the market. Then the devil in her, long stifled, grinned and said why not give him the full local experience? “Is this a Lamborghini, too?” she asked, sliding into the buttery-soft leather bucket seat with a sigh of pleasure.

“Baby,” he said, after getting into the driver’s seat, “we need to have a serious discussion about your lack of knowledge of the most beautiful machines on this planet.” Closing a hand on her thigh, high enough up that her breath caught, he slipped on mirrored sunglasses with the other. “This is a Ferrari Spider.”

She widened her eyes, unable to tone down her awareness of that hand on her thigh… or of how possessive it felt. “Gosh, what a rookie mistake.” Faux embarrassment. “I mean, what ordinary person can’t tell a Ferrari and a Lamborghini apart on sight?”

“A certain librarian clearly wants to be in trouble today.” Shifting his hand from her thigh to grip the back of her neck, he held her in position for a patented Fox kiss. Deep, wet, lusciously sexual.

He didn’t stop until she was squirming restlessly in her seat. A final lick across her lips, a warning squeeze of her nape. “You’ll get the rest of your punishment later.”

“You—” Shaking her head, she pointed to the street—and if his grin kicked her in the heart, she’d already made her decision, already decided not to be a coward, to embrace this month no matter the consequences.

“Busy place,” Fox said fifteen minutes later, the area around the outdoor market a hive of activity, cars and pedestrians intermingling as the early birds made their way to the entrance.

The Ferrari received more than a few hoots and hollers, especially when the tiny paved parking lot proved full even so early, and Fox was waved into the overflow lot—a grassy field that also occasionally functioned as a racetrack.

“Molly, you have some explaining to do,” Fox muttered when the car’s undercarriage almost scraped a raised section of earth during their turn into the “parking space” pointed out by the orange-vested teenage boy acting as an attendant.

“Were you expecting valet service?” she asked innocently, enjoying playing with him in a way she could’ve never predicted that first night. “I heard they have that at the malls in L.A.”

“Oh, your punishment is going to last a long time.” He turned off the engine. “I think I’ll need to hear some begging before I show any mercy.”

His growled warning, voice holding that edgy roughness that had turned him into a megastar, had her clenching her thighs together as he reached into the miniscule backseat to grab a baseball cap and what looked like a sticker. Confused, she watched him peel off the backing and apply it to his cheek. Suddenly, he had an impossibly realistic-appearing tattoo of a knife-edged starburst on his face.

“Wow,” she murmured, running her fingers over the “tattoo.” “That’s incredible.”

“I have a friend who’s a makeup artist.” He tugged on the cap, the brim shadowing his sunglasses. “She fixes me up with these—people focus on it and don’t bother with the rest.” He pulled on a gray hoodie that covered his arm tats, and suddenly, he wasn’t Fox the rock star but Fox the gorgeous, intelligent, fun guy who was going to the market with her early on a Sunday morning.

Feeling her heart twist in a way that heralded trouble, she didn’t resist when he put an arm around her waist once they’d stepped out of the Ferrari—even though it wasn’t safe, wasn’t sensible.

She already knew that in a month, when he left, it would hurt.

“That is a smokin’ car,” the attendant said, having wandered over to admire it.

Fox halted. “You have a license?”

“Yeah.”

“Keep an eye on it and I’ll let you drive it around the block.”

 “Man, thank you.” Shocked awe on the teenager’s face. “Man, shit. I’ll make sure no one touches it.”

Sliding his hand into the back pocket of her jeans as they left the lot, Fox allowed her to set the pace of their exploration. She’d worried the lip ring would make him noticeable, but no one seemed to pay him much mind even when he ditched the sunglasses, asking her to keep them in her purse. Of course, he attracted plenty of admiring female glances, with more than one envious one leveled at Molly, but none of that had to do with his rock star status. No, it was Fox’s raw sexual appeal.

“This is my favorite section,” she said, leading him to the dubious antiques while wondering how any woman stayed sane in a relationship with a man so desired by others. The idea of Fox with another woman—

Strangling the thought before it could ruin their day, she went to the best stall. “Some of it is actually real. Like this.” She picked up a teacup and saucer in beautiful condition. “See the mark on the bottom?” she whispered. “And they’re selling it for only five dollars.”

Fox pulled out a five and handed it to the stall owner before she could go for her wallet. Opening her mouth to protest, she saw the glint in his eye and knew he was expecting it. “Thank you,” she said instead, giving the cup and saucer to the stall owner’s son so he could wrap it up in cushioning newspaper.

“Good choice, baby.” His breath warm against her skin as he leaned in, one hand on her lower back, he said, “Don’t you feel guilty fleecing these nice people?”

She pointed to another similar set as her nipples grew tight and sensitive against the lace of her bra. “I saw that at our version of Walmart last week for seven bucks. He’s selling it for twenty. Trust me, they make their money.”

Fox carried her purchases for her as she rummaged for treasures. He was unexpectedly good-natured about the time she spent, even found an old metal lighter he thought David would get a kick out of. “He doesn’t smoke anymore, but he collects these.”

A fun two hours later, Molly picked up the fresh vegetables she wanted and they headed back to the horse-racing track turned parking lot where Fox’s car sat unmolested, the teenager on stern guard. Seeing Fox, he grinned and shoved his hands into the pockets of baggy camo cargos belted so low on his hips Molly half expected them to fall off. “So, we’re sweet, right?”

Fox fist-bumped the boy in answer. Glancing at Molly after he’d put the shopping in the trunk, he said, “You mind riding in the back?”

“That’s not happening.” A five-year-old would have trouble squeezing in there. “I’ll grab a coffee and wait while you two go for your ride.”

Kissing her to the kid’s wolf whistle, his hand cupping the side of her face with a tenderness she was coming to expect from her hard-rock lover, Fox said, “I’ll be back soon.”

Happiness floated in her blood, tiny bursts of starlight.

Fear attempted to take hold on its heels, but Molly locked it out. Not today, not this month.

She’d have endless time for regrets after Fox was gone. And though she knew it could never be any other way, for a piercing instant as she watched Fox laugh with the excited teenager, the sound entangling her heart, she wished it could. Wished her life had been different. Wished she was the kind of brave, strong woman who could give a man like Fox what he needed not just for a single month, but for a lifetime.

Fifteen minutes and surely more than a single block later, loud cheers told her the car was back. It prowled into the parking lot in Fox’s hands a few minutes after that, and she knew he must’ve stopped where the attendant’s friends could admire the vehicle. “Did you have fun?” she asked, getting in when he reached across to pop open the passenger door.

“Not as much fun as I have with you.” Tapping her cheek, he pulled out. “Breakfast?”

“My place. Your reward for pretending you enjoyed the shopping.”

“I do like shopping.”

“Liar.” She’d glimpsed the telltale twitches.

 “Well, I liked watching your ass when you bent over to do your shopping.”

The butterflies in her stomach swirled and dipped in dizzying flight. “You’re impossible.” She threatened to peel off the sticker he’d told her needed to come off with water.

 “I think you want to be naked over my lap.”

Throat dry and thigh muscles going tight at that deep-voiced response, she sat on her hands, not sure of her impulse control where he was concerned. They made it as far as the kitchen table—where she found herself bent over the smooth wood, her jeans and panties around her ankles and her fingers clawing at the tabletop as Fox pounded into her in a single powerful stroke.

Chapter 10

Hand in her hair, he tilted her head to the side and bent over to bite down on the spot where her neck flowed into her shoulder, his chest pressed against her back. “You are so fucking sexy, Molly.”

Fracturing within and unable to do much of anything in this position, Molly gave in to the experience of being taken by a man who made no bones about being turned on by her body and who said low, hot things that made her want to whimper and beg for mercy.

Fox, however, wasn’t in the mood to draw things out. Pushing into her after five deep, fast thrusts, he pinned her in place for a long, slow minute as his body shuddered, before coming down to kiss her neck. He’d shaved this morning, his jaw smooth against her skin. “Give me a sec and I’ll take care of you.”

Molly shivered at the way he said that, the blatant sexual promise in his voice. “That’s okay,” she whispered, though her breasts ached, her body on the brink. “You took plenty care of me last night.”

Pulling out to her gasp, he said, “That’s not how I work. Stay in place or I really will spank your sweet ass.”

Molly set herself to rights the instant he disappeared into the bathroom, the idea of giving him that particular view mortifying. Fox took one look at her when he exited, sans facial tattoo and T-shirt, and backed her straight onto the table. Where he flipped her around and, pulling down her jeans and panties, proceeded to make good on his threat, his hand caressing each cheek before he delivered four light swats that almost pitched her into orgasm.

That was only the start.

His body a muscled wall at her back, he tugged her head to the side again, his voice deliciously low in ear. “I told you I was going to punish you.” His fingers slipped between her thighs from the back, the callused tips rubbing the engorged tissues of her entrance with torturous subtlety. “And”—a lick along the edge of her earlobe—“I don’t think a naughty woman who teases her man all morning should get to come without earning it.”

Her man.

Molly barely had time to process what he’d said before Fox did something with his fingers that arced sweet white fire through her nerve endings, the pleasure a lightning storm.

Half an hour later, she tried desperately to catch a breath where she lay naked on the sofa, one of her feet flat on the floor, the other on the cushions. Part of her wanted to hide in red-faced embarrassment at her splayed position, but that part was buried under the exhaustion of a pleasure that had turned her bones to noodles.

A very satisfied-looking Fox, his jeans still on, knelt on the floor beside her. Placing his hand on her abdomen, he touched his lips to hers, his tongue owning her mouth. “How about I make breakfast?” Self-assured fingertips around one of her swollen nipples, a nipple he’d sucked until she begged.

It wasn’t the only thing he’d sucked.

She slapped at his shoulder, her aim off. “Be quiet.” Another ragged breath. “I’ll make breakfast—soon as I can move.” Right now, her muscles were jelly. “I think I might be dead.”

Chuckling, Fox kissed her again, stroking his hand up and down her body until she wrapped an arm around him, loving the sensation of being petted by that strong hand. Her stomach chose to growl right on cue.

Breaking the kiss on a blush that made him dip his head, lick along the upper curve of her breast as if to taste the color, she said, “I need my robe.” Before he made her forget everything.

Once again, he grabbed his T-shirt. “Raise your arms.”

He bit teasingly at the side of one of her kiss-reddened breasts before tugging the soft gray fabric down over her head. Padding to the bathroom to tidy herself up a bit, she returned to the kitchen a few minutes later, her feet stuffed into fluffy purple slippers shaped like monster claws that Charlie had given her as a joke gift, her hair corralled into a loose braid, and fresh panties on under the T-shirt.

 Fox was sprawled on the couch, the remote in hand while a cartoon played on the television screen. Stomach dipping at how right he looked there, how painfully good this felt, she forced her gaze off him and put on the coffee, then began to gather up the ingredients for omelets.

Since that would hardly fill Fox up, however, she put out some bread to be toasted, then went hunting to see what else she had. “Fox, do you want fried potatoes?” It wasn’t like he had anything to worry about in the weight department—the man was pure firm, strokable muscle, the energy he burned onstage brutal.

He also, her body reminded her on a ripple of remembered pleasure, burned energy in other ways.

“Hell yeah.” A grin over his shoulder that cut through the afterglow to hit her straight in the heart. “Come kiss me.”

 “Not risking it while I’m starving,” she said, using humor to bury her worry at how fast she was falling for a man she could never hope to claim. “Next thing you know, I’ll be naked again.”

“I’ll never say no to naked Molly.” He prowled up off the sofa to take a seat on a stool on the other side of the counter, pouring himself a cup of coffee while she quickly peeled and sliced the potatoes, the pan already heating up.

“What do you think about Sydney?” he asked without warning.

Disappointment pinched at Molly at the idea of losing even a tiny part of their month together, but she wasn’t surprised he was interested in a visit. The Australian city was only a three-hour flight away.

“I visited with Charlie last year and loved it. We were total tourists”—she laughed softly at the thought of how much fun they’d had—“even did a cruise around Sydney Harbour.” Putting the potatoes in the pan, she looked up to meet the dark green of Fox’s gaze, hoping he couldn’t see how much she was already missing him. “You can book flights easy enough, even at short notice.”

“I’m going over end of the coming week.” He grabbed a piece of the green pepper she’d diced for the omelets. “Favor for a friend. He set up a charity concert, but the entire band he booked just went into rehab.”

“What?” Molly turned around. “All of them?”

“Might be a publicity stunt, but yeah, it does happen. Except for those premade boy bands”—a smirk—“a lot of us were friends first, and friends get into bad shit together.” He ate another piece of the pepper. “Who else are you going to shoot up with but the people you trust most?”

Molly had never heard even a whisper of drugs attached to Fox, wouldn’t have been attracted to him if she had, but she couldn’t not take this opportunity to make certain. “Have you—”

An immediate shake of his head. “No, not my deal. Music’s my addiction.”

Relaxing, she whipped up the first omelet. “I didn’t realize bands as big as Schoolboy Choir could move so fast.”

“Normally no, but like I said, Marc’s a buddy, and he’s raising money for a children’s charity. It would’ve been a problem if we were already doing a concert in the city, but since that isn’t the case, there’s no bullshit red tape.”

She poured the omelet into a second pan. “So he’ll refund the people who wanted specifically to see the other band?”

A nod. “He figures he’ll make that up with the increased ticket sales.” Fox shrugged, his shoulders rippling with the lithe muscle that felt so beautiful under her touch. “Plus, we’re here, and it’s a low-stress outdoor gig.”

Putting the fried potatoes on a couple of thick paper towels to drain, she flipped the omelet. “I’m sure you’ll draw a huge crowd.” The words “legendary” and “iconic” were already being used in connection with the band’s name—Schoolboy Choir’s sheer, raw talent was as obvious as their love of music.

“You could be a part of it.”

Air was suddenly hard to find. “Are you asking me to go with you?” she said at last.

“It’s on Saturday night. You could leave work a little early if you don’t want to take the whole day off, be there in plenty of time.”

Molly bit the inside of her cheek, her throat thick. The fact was, since she usually never requested unanticipated vacation days, her boss wouldn’t quibble about either a half-day or a full day. “You’ll take this the wrong way,” she said when she could speak, turning to face Fox with her breath painful in her lungs, “but I don’t want to be known as the woman you’re sleeping with.”

His lashes lowered to hood his expression. “Yeah, how else should I take it?”

“You’ll go,” she said, gripping the counter behind her and fighting back tears. “After a month, you’ll go. But I’ll still be here, living my life. Being famous, even by association… I can’t handle it, Fox.” Already, her stomach churned at the idea of being known as “Fox’s Secret Lover,” the headline sure to be splashed across the magazines.

Molly might have decided to break out of the box into which she’d wedged herself at fifteen, but fame was the one thing she’d never touch, not for anything or anyone.

Not even a man who made her wish for an impossible dream.

Heart aching and throat raw from holding back her emotions, she turned back to the stove and plated the omelet, then poured in the other one while pushing down on the toaster lever to start the bread. “Don’t be angry,” she said quietly, aware it’d be difficult for him to understand the depth of her aversion to the idea of fame without knowing the ugly background responsible for her gut-deep abhorrence.

Yet she couldn’t tell him, couldn’t bear to see pity—or even worse, disgust or speculation—in his eyes. She understood she wasn’t being rational, that Fox wasn’t like the teenagers who’d alternately shunned and tormented her after the scandal broke, but this was the one point on which she simply couldn’t be rational. It hurt too much.

Fox flexed his hand on the counter, his eyes on Molly’s back. “I get it.” Shoving a hand through his hair, he blew out a breath. “Shit, yeah, I get it. I once walked a girl home from a bar in London because she was drunk and the next day, she sold her story to the tabloids.” It had been early on in the band’s career, but Fox had never forgotten.

“Turned out we had a ‘mad sex romp’ in the seconds it took for me to make sure she got safely inside her place.” He’d felt like such an idiot for falling for what had obviously been a setup, given that the tabloid had pictures of him in her doorway. “That was her claim to fame and she milked it for all it was worth.”

The second omelet done, Molly put it on a plate then came over to wrap her arms around him from the back. “Well, whatever happens”—she rubbed her cheek against his skin, the open warmth of her affection a powerful drug of which he couldn’t get enough—“I promise not to sell the videos I made of our mad sex romps.”

He half-turned to tuck her under his arm, realizing his librarian was trying to make him feel better. The tenderness he felt for her dug its tendrils in even deeper, the emotion a punch to the gut. “Funny.” He scowled. “Not.”

Rising on tiptoe, eyes laughing, she rubbed her nose against his.

He was fucking undone. Just gone.

“Do you have a real one of those?”

“What?”

“A sex tape?”

“There was this time with an entire professional cheerleading team…”

Her expression was priceless.

Shoulders shaking, he claimed a hard, fast kiss. “Gotcha.”

“Funny. Not.” She pulled his hair in a retaliation that just made him want to haul her into his lap and mess her up with his mouth, his hands. So he did. It was the best damn breakfast he’d ever had.

They drove out of the city and down the coast that afternoon, the stark autumn scenery stunning through the windows of the low-slung car as it ate up the road. Stopping for ice cream at an isolated corner store, they took seats on the grassy verge of a windswept beach. Low tide as it was, the sand seemed to go on forever, smooth as sugar and sprinkled with minerals that made it glitter under the sun.

Despite the beauty, the cool temperature meant there were only three other people on the beach, and they were far out near the water’s edge—a bundled-up toddler and his parents. Nearby, there was only a long piece of driftwood worn smooth by time and water and the occasional seagull pacing the sand for tiny crabs and mollusks.

“This is the best date.” The unsophisticated words spilled over Molly’s lips, she was so happy.

Picking up her hand, Fox kissed her palm, the caress unexpectedly sweet. “Yeah, it is.”

She curled her fingers around his, let him taste her ice cream, took a big bite out of his, which made him cry foul and attempt to claim it back in a laughing kiss. There would, she thought as he wrestled her giggling form to the grass, be no forgetting Fox. It wouldn’t only hurt when he walked away, it would be brutal.

Strong, intelligent, and talented, he’d marked her deep inside.

That talent was in haunting evidence later that night, when—having picked up his acoustic guitar on the way back from the beach—he played for her. Lying curled up naked under the sheet in bed, a jean-clad but otherwise undressed Fox in a chair facing her, Molly listened and felt her entire body ache at the harsh beauty of his music, the edgy sound distinctively Fox.

 “I can’t figure out how you create something so extraordinary from a few strings and your fingers.” She could listen to him forever. “Play it again, please.”

Fox’s smile was quiet, the look in his eyes unreadable as he complied. “It’s not finished yet.”

“Will you,” she began, hesitated, took the plunge. “Will you play it for me if it’s done by the time the month is over?”

A long look. “Yeah, baby. I promise.”

For some reason, she believed in his promise, despite the fact she’d spent a lifetime learning not to trust. “Thank you.” Then she lay silent as he moved his fingers over the strings with a grace that astounded and compelled. When he added his voice, keeping the volume low to avoid disturbing her neighbors, she felt her heart stop beating.

A fallen angel might have a voice like that, she thought, hard and pure and with an unashamed sexuality to it that invited the listener into sin. It made her eyes burn, tears roll down her face.

Setting aside his guitar as the last note faded from the air, Fox walked over to kneel beside the bed. His hand slid into her hair, his lips touched hers… and Molly felt herself fall, her shields crashing in splintered shards at her feet.