His eyes were lit with a jaded conviction that sickened her. No one should be so certain they were being used by everyone around them. It doused the flames of her temper, leaving her miserable. They really lived in different worlds. His wasn’t any more perfect than her own.
“I’m sorry.”
He stiffened, drawing back as their gazes connected. A guarded look appeared in his eyes before he shrugged, pulling his flippant sex-god side back up to cover his momentary vulnerability.
“Don’t be. My life rocks,” he informed her. “I don’t need you or your pity. Just your leather skills.”
“Well, I’m glad we got that clear between us.” Her pride was stinging, but there was no way she was going to let him see it. She turned around and started down the hallway, blurry eyed and pissed. Fortunately, she found the room number written on the little paper envelope her key card was in only a few doors down. She slid the key card into the lock and pushed her way into the room.
The air-conditioning was droning away, soothing her flushed cheeks. Her bags were already on the luggage racks. It was a lavish bedroom, with a separate sitting area. But she didn’t have any will to appreciate it.
* * *
Syon slammed into the suite his bandmates were partying in. There was already a scattering of clothing on the floor. He unzipped his jacket and shrugged out of it, flinging it aside to join the mess.
“The Marquis!” a feminine voice cooed.
He turned to find a topless brunette greeting him with a bright smile. Her bare breasts bounced as she approached him, but all he felt snaking through his gut was revulsion.
What the fuck? Since when wasn’t he interested in a pair of good tits?
Since he met Kate.
“You’re so fucking hot!” she squealed. “I bet your cock is gorgeous…”
She reached for his fly, and he stepped back.
Shit!
Ramsey looked up from where a blond was sucking his dick. He was leaning back in a plush armchair with the chick kneeling between his spread thighs, but his attention was completely on Syon. The chick meant nothing to him but a moment of entertainment. That doubled the feeling twisting Syon’s insides.
He shook his head and turned to leave.
“Hold on, sweetie,” Ramsey said.
Ramsey caught him in the hallway, completely unabashed to be stuffing his erect cock back into his pants. “What’s up with you, bro?”
“Nothing,” Syon barked. “I’m just not in the mood.”
“You’re in the mood,” Ramsey argued. “So why the hell aren’t you between Kate’s thighs?”
Syon growled. “She’s making sure I know she’s a team member.”
“Yeah, and she had her hands all over you about an hour ago, so what’s the problem?” Ramsey demanded.
“Apparently I am!” Syon slammed his fist into the wall, leaving a hole in the drywall. He stared guiltily at the damage. “I’m a dumbass tonight, Rams. Forget I exist.”
“No fucking way.” Ramsey reached out and grabbed a handful of Syon’s shirt to keep him from stomping away. “Let me have Cid pack her ass out of here. We don’t need this kind of tension. We’ve got a ton of our assets tied up in this tour.”
“That’s why she has to stay. We can’t look like shitfaced amateurs.” Syon shook off Ramsey’s hold. “I checked her out. She does mind-blowing custom work. My pants don’t fit right because I couldn’t get worked up enough in front of the other guy.” He snorted and shot his buddy a hard look. “That won’t be a problem with Kate for sure.”
Ramsey gave a grudging nod. “Fine, get your ass back in that suite and fuck it out of your system. We’ve got plenty of pussy to go around. And tomorrow, Kate can be a team member. You can let her measure the boner she’s too prissy to ride.”
Syon looked at the door but shook his head. He wasn’t even sure he’d decided to decline the offer; there was only pure reaction, and it sent him away from the excess going on in the suite.
“I’m going to…write something,” he said.
Syon stormed down the hallway to his own room and shut the door behind him. His guitar was set up again in the corner of the suite, the sofa pushed aside to make room for his practice area. His cock was throbbing, and he was pissed as hell. Without a second thought, he turned up the amps and played out his frustrations, making the strings squeal and ping.
But when his anger settled into something deeper, he began to make notes and put them together into something that made his blood pulse.
Relationship?
He didn’t have to do relationships.
In fact, it was a whole lot brighter of him to avoid them. Success was a cruel little bitch in that she twisted everyone around him into leeches. No one came to him without a plan to get something out of him. His bandmates were the only exception.
He needed Kate to cover his ass; that was all.
He refused to let it be anything else.
* * *
She needed earplugs.
Syon was playing. Kate was sure of it. There was something about his rhythm that she recognized, even though she didn’t know the tune. Her memory offered a perfect recollection of what his fingers looked like when he was playing, and her clit throbbed in response.
When he finally stopped, her mouth went dry. Her body felt on edge even though there was no reason to think he’d come looking for her again.
Ha! You screwed that opportunity!
Actually, she wished she had screwed it, literally. Maybe she’d be getting some sleep if she had.
Yeah, but sunrise would have been a bitch to face.
She growled and punched her pillow.
Someone’s squeal pierced the hallway. “Come and get me!”
There were pounding footsteps and then a thud against the wall that shook her door. The girl laughed loudly as someone growled, and there was another rattle from her door.
“Oh yes! Fuck me!” the girl shouted, and the door began to shake in a very recognizable rhythm. “Harder… Harder!”
Was it Syon?
Would he be that big of a jerk?
You don’t have a right to be mad about it.
But she was.
“It’s so good! Ramsey!”
Kate buried her head beneath her pillow and screamed. She didn’t have the right to feel relieved either.
But she did.
* * *
Kate rubbed her eyes and waited for coffee to brew in her little kitchenette. The scent of java helped improve her mood as she marveled at Toxsin’s ability to party. The noise hadn’t died down until well after four.
She was going to have to do more sleeping on that tour bus.
You need to stop caring. He’s a rock star.
It was well after noon when she made her way to where her shop was set up. The Toxsin crew knew what they were doing. Her machines were assembled in an easily accessible fleet, every case opened so she could see into it. Even her cutting table was ready. Racks of costumes stood around the room, each with a band member’s name marked on it. The scent of leather was familiar, easing some of the tension from her neck.
At least this part of the deal she knew she could handle.
And do it really fucking well.
Someone rapped on the door, and she turned around to see one of the black-polo-shirted crew members standing there with one of those pigtail earphones stuck in his right ear.
“Do you need anything, Ms. Napier?”
“Well…” She scanned the room again. “Actually, I need to drape out the members of the band. Not all today, but if any of them have time…I’ll start there. Mr. Braden is a priority.”
He reached down to press the button on the little microphone clipped to his shirt collar and relayed her instructions.
She turned back around and started taking inventory.
“You’ve got one coming down,” polo-shirt guy said. “They have a sound check in an hour.”