Dirty, Dark, & Dangerous: A Contemporary Romance Boxset Page 6

  Keith nodded. “I will. Thank you both for being here.” He walked into the room with a final wave.

  They wandered back to the nurse’s area. It was quiet. None of the kids were in sight. “Bedtime.” Millie winked from behind the desk. “They need their rest so they can tear things up in the morning.”

  Sara smiled. Thank goodness these kids had someone like Millie watching over them. She was like their guardian angel on earth. “The kids are so lucky to have you.”

  “That’s very sweet. I hope we’ll see you again.” Millie gave her a quick hug, pausing to whisper, “Dax is a very special guy. Please take care of him, honey.”

  A sob rose in her chest, and it took everything she had to fight it from erupting. “I will.”

  Daxton hugged Millie. “Tell Carly I promise I’ll play for her next time.”

  “I will. Be safe, kids.”

  Silence descended as they walked to the parking lot. Sara pulled her denim jacket tight around her, shivering in the cool, crisp evening air.

  “Cold?” He slung an arm around her, pulling her close. His normal musky scent had been replaced by something different…more fresh and clean. Soapy. Delicious. Delectable enough to—oh, for Pete’s sake! It was amazing how just breathing him in could make her lose track of her sensibilities in a hot second.

  He opened the car door for her and she slid into the seat. There was so much that she wanted to say, but nothing that could bring him peace. Ironic that they had similar demons to battle – both so tortured by what they couldn’t change, both running from any degree of vulnerability because the risks were potentially too painful to accept. She nibbled on her thumbnail. The guy was unattainable, and she wasn’t in the market to be acquired anyway, so why was her pulse racing like a car doing laps in the Indy 500?

  “Hungry?”

  His gravelly voice sliced through her thoughts. “Not really.”

  “Feasting on your nails is better than a real meal?”

  “It’s a bad habit, I know.”

  “So why do it? Do you know how bad it is to swallow all that nail polish?”

  “It’s kind of a control thing.” She bit the inside of her lip and peered out the window at the cars whizzing past.

  “How so?”

  She let out a lingering breath. “Back in Grand Falls, I didn’t have the best relationship with my parents. They’re all about image. I always had to look a certain way, act a certain way, and wear my hair a certain way. It was maddening. My mom hated when I’d destroy a manicure before an event. So I kept doing it. It made me feel like I still had some control over myself.” She twisted her hands. “That probably sounds stupid, huh?”

  “No. I think we deal with our parents the best way we can. It’s not always ideal, but if it helps us keep our sanity, so be it.”

  “Did your parents visit the facility as much as you?”

  “Yeah.”

  “What about now?”

  “My dad is more concerned with resurrecting his career than anything else. And my mom took off after Jase died. I haven’t heard from her in a year.”

  “Daxton, I’m so sorry.”

  He shrugged. “It is what it is.”

  The remaining minutes of the ride back to Daxton’s house were silent and thick with remorse. What kind of comforting words could she possibly offer when so many of her own unresolved issues shadowed her existence like a black cloud?

  He pulled up next to her car and turned off the engine. “Do you want to come inside?”

  Her chest tightened. “It’s late. I think I should go.”

  “Are you sure?” Even a lack of light couldn’t disguise the need in his eyes, but there was her screwed up life to consider, as well as the tour…and Eli. Besides, her new image didn’t change who she really was on the inside, and that girl wanted much more than what Daxton was capable of giving.

  She opened the door. “I’ll put my notes together and see you in a few days. We’ll talk then.” Within seconds, she was in her own car, chewing on her nails once again. His hold on her was too strong, and if left to succumb to her feelings, she might very well choke.

  Chapter Nine

  SARA CLUTCHED HER FLIMSY BLACK shrug tightly around her as she watched the roadies piling equipment to load onto the tour buses. It was expensive as all hell and barely covered any exposed skin. She doubted a giant fleece pullover would have warmed her at that point, since it wasn’t the chill in the air frosting her insides. That moment in Daxton’s car, the moonlight casting a glow over his lust-filled expression when he’d asked her to stay, was on permanent loop in her mind, much like the fantasies bridging the gap until she’d see him again, which was imminent.

  Her jaw had dropped to the pavement when she saw the set of insanely huge buses they’d be boarding in a few short moments. Five-star luxury hotels on wheels, en route to Dallas, equipped with Lord only knew what to satisfy each band member’s wanton desires. And would she ever like to satisfy Daxton Cole.

  Oh crap. Was it really that impossible to conjure a single thought that didn’t involve her lapping him up like a dog at a water bowl on a hot summer day? Way too much tingling going on in areas that should be reserved for Eli. But watching Daxton croon into that microphone during their final show in Houston made her knees quiver. The way his hand squeezed it, imagining the warmth of his breath against it, the close proximity to his lips…oh hell, was she really fantasizing about being a microphone to get closer to him? Her emotionally troubled client?

  Yep. She was pretty much screwed. The guy had an excess of heart-melting layers. Seeing him with those kids, especially with Luke, God, it was almost impossible not to swoon, knowing he’d be the one to catch her. But the press only cared about the surface, nothing deeper. Superficial bullshit sold magazines and newspapers, and boosted television ratings. It was her job to remedy the public ills plaguing him and the rest of Jimmy Sixx, which meant keeping salacious thoughts to a minimum.

  “You know, managers get their own private rooms. I’ve never been ridden on a tour bus before.”

  Sara let out a yelp as Eli’s low voice vibrated against her ear. “Oh my gosh! You scared the hell out of me!”

  “Why are you out here by yourself? We’re not leaving for another half hour.”

  “I know. I was just trying to clear my head a little before the craziness starts.” Yeah, that was it. Eradicate the carnal thoughts about a certain unattainable hot rocker before they compromised the ability to perform her job.

  “So, what do you think? How about a quickie before we take off?” He wrapped his arms around her waist, the scent of his cologne swirling in the air around them. The spicy blend had never made her recoil before, but something about it now made her stomach roll.

  “I don’t think it’s a good idea. Being here is such a big deal for a junior publicist. I have to make a good impression or word will get back to Jake and he’ll pull me off the tour. I’m sure we’ll have plenty of opportunities once things get rolling.” She snickered. “No pun intended.”

  Eli let out a deep sigh and pulled away. “Fine, I get it.”

  “Don’t be like that.” Sara bit the inside of her mouth. Lusting after another guy and making guiltless, bullshit excuses to avoid the one she was supposed to be with was just wrong. But somehow, the security of being with Eli wasn’t enough to sustain her emotional craving. She wanted what she couldn’t have, what she shouldn’t have, and it was dangerous with a capital D. “You know I can’t just run off and—”

  The back door of City Center Arena swung open. Hordes of people spilled out, flanked by mounds of luggage and equipment. Eli stepped back, immediately morphing from horn-dog-boy-toy to commandeering-badass. Oh well, better he channel the excess testosterone into his job instead of her.

  “Techs, you have ten minutes to get everything loaded onto the bus. Head straight to the next venue and start on the setup. PAs, I need copies of all the rider checklists before you board the buses. There had better not be a
single item missing from the green rooms in Dallas. If Laney’s room smells of anything other than freesias, you’re all fired.” He turned toward Sara, his face now a mask of self-importance and control. “See you around.” All business. No hug, no peck on the cheek. And dammit, if she wasn’t a tiny bit relieved. As much as she hated to admit it, those weren’t the lips she wanted brushing against her skin.

  A cursory glance confirmed Eli had taken solace with his charges, one of whom was tall, tanned, and drop-dead gorgeous, with a half-hooded gaze that held enough heat to melt glaciers. Laney Taylor, the lead singer of Smeared Lipstick. An unfamiliar pang jolted Sara. Strange. It wasn’t because of the way Eli was following her like a lovesick puppy with its tongue dragging on the concrete at her heels. Instead, flashbacks of the images plastered all over cyberspace flooded her mind. Laney and Daxton. Daxton and Laney. Laney, Daxton, and an unknown third party. Blech! Damned man-whore tendencies trumped everything else.

  It wasn’t her job to care about who or what he did, only to keep it out of the public eye. He could keep a freaking harem in his palatial suite on wheels for all she cared. Her stomach clenched. Nope, still not convincing enough.

  Sara watched Laney’s long, toned legs strut past and step onto the first bus in the line, a clingy black leather skirt barely covering her ass cheeks. No cellulite to be seen. Bitch. Eli almost tripped over himself trying to keep up. Sara stifled a snicker. Looked like he’d have his hands too full to worry about cornering her for hot tour bus sex.

  “Sara.”

  She twisted in the direction of the voice, already familiar with the condescending prick tone. “Hi, Merrick.”

  “Why are you out here? There are about fifty things that need to be done inside before we leave.”

  “What are you talking about? I’m a publicist, not your assistant. I’ve already taken care of everything that needs to be handled on my end. Aren’t there PAs to handle your fifty things?”

  The corners of Merrick’s lips curled into a grimace. “If you’re here, you’ll do whatever the band requires. Right now, that includes getting their personal effects packed up and loaded onto the bus. If I were you, I’d get moving. And if you miss the bus, rest assured, you won’t have to worry about catching another one.”

  What a freaking douchebag. She was there to make sure the guys kept their noses squeaky clean for the press. Period. Surely, he had plenty of other lackeys falling over themselves to tend to their every wish. “Listen, Merrick. I think there must be some misunderstanding. Jake made it clear that my responsibilities on this tour are limited to—”

  He stepped closer, his dark eyes almost black. Unsettling. Evil. A chill snaked its way down her spine under his lewd stare. “That’s what you still don’t seem to understand. There are no limits, Sara.”

  * * *

  Determined fingers gripped Daxton’s backside, nails digging into the wet skin. She could lance the shit out of him for all he cared. His fingers tangled in her hair, his body thrusting deeper. Christ, her mouth was so hot and eager, so tight around him. She slurped like a champ, sucking his rock hard cock dry.

  Fuck this.

  He twisted the brass knob, letting out a groan as ice-cold water assaulted his back. Why should his balls be the only part of his anatomy that were blue? These sick and twisted fantasies about Sara were screwing with his head. Not being able to get off was becoming a major problem. Even imagining her on her knees, feasting on his dick, couldn’t do the job anymore.

  Knowing she was so close, imagining what lay beneath those sexy clothes after her body had been pressed against him, fantasizing about fucking her senseless on the back of the tour bus… it was a wonder he’d been able to perform a single song that night. Something about her had him turned inside out. She permeated every waking thought; merely picturing her tight little ass could have him hard in seconds.

  He covered his face and let out a loud groan. Why couldn’t he just rub one out like a normal fucking guy, for Christ’s sake? Or at least slam some backup singer looking to get ahead in her career? What was it about Sara that had his head in a million different places? Or rather, both his heads…

  That smart mouth of hers should have been screaming his name right about then, but besides her tool of a boyfriend, and the conflict of interest bullshit surrounding her job, he knew he’d ruin her. She was a good girl, not someone he needed to pull into his own downward spiral. All the slutty clothes in the world couldn’t fool him. And he was bad, cold, empty, and void of everything she needed to find happiness. She knew it, too. That’s why she’d left him the other night.

  He turned off the shower and headed into the main area of his green room to air dry. His iPhone pinged, most likely with a text from Merrick telling him to get his ass moving. He was one of the privileged few who were allowed to deliver an order. Not that the orders were ever executed upon request.

  A rustling sound made Daxton’s brow furrow. His eyes adjusted to the dim glow of the wall sconces as he entered the room, now focused on the shapely ass bent over his duffel bag. Jean-clad, tight, begging to be grasped. Hmm…familiar.

  “Looking for something?”

  A high-pitched shriek pierced the air and the intruder spun around, long blonde hair fanning her face. His cock twitched. Of course, since it obviously only worked when Sara was around.

  Her green eyes widened and she backed toward the door, her skinny boot heel catching in the shoulder strap of his bag. She gasped, grabbing onto the couch for leverage before planting face-first onto the plush carpet. “Jesus! Do you always sneak up on people when you’re naked? Or am I the only privileged recipient of your sick and twisted peep show?”

  He snickered and pulled on a pair of basketball shorts that were lying on a table. “I’m not used to finding unannounced visitors rummaging through my things. People usually knock before entering.”

  She folded her arms, nostrils flaring, fiery gaze darting in every direction. “Your head of security let me in.”

  “I’ll fire Sean later.”

  “Don’t do that! It wasn’t his fault! I begged him because Merrick said I—”

  “Relax, I was only kidding.” He flopped onto the sofa, his body molding to the soft buttery leather. God, would he love to pull her on top of him and watch her ride his aching cock until he was finally sated. “Why are you so edgy?”

  “You’re supposed to be on the bus, and Merrick ordered me to come in here and pack your things to save time.” She bent over the bag, stuffing it with clothes. That tasty ass beckoned again. Basketball shorts probably weren’t the best choice to cover a half-hard on.

  “Shouldn’t one of the PAs be packing up?”

  “Yes! There are only about ten of them strutting around here like they own the damned arena, acting like entitled little bitches. But yet, here I am, bent over your sweaty pile of clothes.”

  “I work hard on stage. Imagine what I can do when I’m only performing for one.”

  She jumped up. “I’m your freaking publicist, for chrissakes! Comments like that are what got you into trouble in the first place!”

  He pushed back his still-damp hair, a teasing smirk lifting his lips. “Actually, I think it was the sex videos, but sure, we’ll say it was the comments.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “I can’t believe you’re mocking me right now, when it’s your career hanging by a string. What the heck?”

  “Stop packing the bag.”

  “I can’t,” she grumbled. “Merrick made it very clear that—”

  “I’ll take care of Merrick. Really. Just stop. It’s not your job.”

  Sara held a black t-shirt between two fingers, scrunched her nose, and dropped it onto the pile. “Thank you. But you seriously need to get your life in order.”

  “I haven’t done another sex video since the last one got leaked.”

  “You’ve missed multiple concert dates, been arrested for public intoxication and disorderly conduct three times in the past six months, and parade
d more girls on and off your tour bus than there are days in a year.”

  “Wow. And I managed to write and record some songs in there, too. Go me.”

  Sara rolled her eyes. “This is serious.”

  “Agreed.”

  “Your reputation is in jeopardy.”

  “That’s a little dramatic, don’t you think?”

  “Are you or are you not in danger of having your recording contract pulled?”

  “I’m not exactly a menace to society. Even bad press is still good press.”

  “And based on events from the past few months, I can see why your former PR team has been fired. Maybe you should rethink that mantra.”

  He stretched his arms overhead, not bothering to mask the self-satisfied smile lifting his lips as her eyes raked over him. “I’ll do whatever you want.”

  Stunned into silence. That was a first. Seemed like she never had a shortage of things to say. “Um…yeah, well, we uh…still need to review the rest of my plan.”

  “We could have done it the other night, but you chose to leave.”

  She ran a hand through her shiny blonde locks, dragging her eyes away. “We both know that’s not why you asked me to stay.”

  Damned moonlight. It had messed with his head, made him say stupid things. But it wasn’t just the moonlight. He’d opened up to her at a time when he was riddled with sadness. Her presence comforted him, filled the void, and he’d just wanted to hold on to those feelings for a bit longer; his reputation, however, always preceded him. No wonder she flew out of there so fast. “Maybe I just needed a friend.”

  “Maybe I was afraid you needed more than I could give.” Her hand clenched the shoulder strap of his bag. “I’ll just take this up to the bus.”

  He crossed the room in no more than three steps, covering her hand with his. Fuck, she smelled good, like the beach…sunshine, suntan lotion…her in a skimpy bikini or better yet, topless….

  Her body stiffened against him. The duffel bag crashed to the floor.