Rock Addiction by Nalini Singh
"You did good for a rookie." Jen finished off her margarita and swiveled off the stool. "I'll come, too. Maxwell and I want to go see the opera house tomorrow."
They walked back across the road and into the hotel, the crew having deliberately picked a place nearby so no one had to worry about driving. Molly was crossing the lobby when she spied Fox inside the small hotel bar; he was leaning against the bar itself, the sex-kitten who'd wanted a "reward" in the seat right next to him.
It felt like being punched in the stomach.
The ding of the elevator had her snapping her head away from the cozy tableau. Punching in the number for her floor, she tried to keep her face from crumpling, Jen thankfully too tired to pay her much attention. "Good night," the other woman said one floor down from Molly's. "If you want to check out the opera house, too, meet us downstairs at eleven."
Molly nodded. "Thanks."
Managing to keep herself together with the same furious will that had allowed her to survive that year of hell in high school, she entered her room and, striding across to the connecting door, locked it on her side. Only then did she give in to the urge to kick at the wall. It didn't help.
Damn him. Damn him. Damn him!
She ripped off her Schoolboy Choir T-shirt, toed off her sneakers and, leaving a trail of clothes on the carpet, walked into the bathroom. Choosing a water temperature so hot it was almost unbearable, she was about to step inside the shower cubicle when there was a banging on her door.
Chapter 18
Molly's heart leapt, but she knew it was likely a guest who had the wrong room. Wrapping herself in the hotel robe and switching off the shower, she frowned as the banging came again.
Not about to make herself vulnerable if the person was a drunk or otherwise aggressive, she padded out quietly and put her eye to the peephole--to see the last person she'd expected. Wrenching open the door when Fox went to pound again, she said, "What are you doing?" through clenched teeth. "You'll wake everyone on the floor."
Striding inside, he watched her close the door, then imprisoned her against it by slamming his hands palms-down on either side of her body, six feet four inches of pissed-off male. "What the fuck, Molly? You blow me off after the show and now you lock me out?"
Instead of being intimidated, she shoved at his chest. The fact it was a futile effort only ratcheted up her anger. "I didn't think you'd notice." Her eyes burned with furious tears. Blinking them back, she said, "You looked plenty busy at the bar!"
"Seriously? A groupie sneaks into the hotel with the intention of getting into any bed she can, and you--"
"And I what?" She thudded her fists against his shoulders. "I shouldn't wonder what the hell you were doing the hours I was at the site?"
Grabbing her wrists, he pinned her arms above her head with one big hand. He gripped her chin with the other, the green of his irises violent and his breath hot against her skin as he said, "You trust me, that's what you do!"
Kicking out at him, Molly tried to wrench away but he pressed his body so close that she couldn't move. "Trust you?" She sucked in ragged gasps of air. "Why? What do I know about rock stars?"
"I don't fucking care. You know about me!" It was a growl. "I made a promise and I don't break my promises." His kiss was a wild storm, his mouth demanding her response.
A red haze across her vision, she bit him on that luscious lower lip. Hard enough to hurt. Pulling away with a hiss, he shook his head. "That was not a good idea, baby."
Dark and low and rough, his warning rasped over her skin. "What," she said, hating that she was still so susceptible to him, "your little playmate didn't scratch your itch?"
His fingers tightened on her wrists, his other hand curling around her throat. "Don't push me."
She could almost see him throttling back his temper, and it infuriated her that he could remain in control while she was falling apart, hot, angry tears rolling down her cheeks despite her every attempt to rein them in. "I'm not the one being pushy!" Twisting in his hold, her chest heaving, she was angrily aware of his jean-clad cock shoving against her abdomen. "If you think I'll let you in me after you've been inside her--"
His temper snapped with a snarl, his mouth slamming down on hers and his hand shifting to hold her jaw so she couldn't bite him again. Molly sent her knee up between his legs instead. Blocking her by pressing his body against hers, he thrust his hand into her robe, palming her breast with blunt possessiveness--as if he had the right to handle her however and whenever he liked. "Why didn't you answer my calls?"
"I didn't want to talk to you, that's why." Molly twisted again but only managed to open her robe even more. "You let her touch you!" Images assaulted her of that woman's fingers on his chest, her skanky breasts rubbing against his arm.
"Shit, Molly, people think they can touch us all the time." Tugging the loosened belt of her robe all the way open, he ran his hand down her otherwise nude body to squeeze her hip. "If I'd wanted her, I wouldn't still be in the clothes I was wearing after the show, and I damn well wouldn't have been at the bar keeping an eye out for you. I'd be in my room feeding her my cock."
Giving an aggravated scream, she managed to wrench a hand free and slapped it on his chest, shoving hard. "You think that's going to make me feel better?"
He released her all at once. Picking her up in an effortless move before she could take advantage of her freedom, he dumped her on her back on the bed. The robe gaped around her and when he came down over her, she felt him on every inch of exposed flesh. And his raw, masculine scent, it was pure Fox, no hint of the groupie. Her body surged to erotic life. Shoving his hand between them, he began to undo his fly. "Say no, Molly." Harsh words. "Say no right fucking now if you want me to stop."
Thrusting her hands into his hair instead, she pulled him down to her, ravaging his mouth as he ravaged hers. Teeth and tongue and fury, it was as much a fight as a kiss. The fact her body was liquid for him only enraged her further. Sucking on her tongue, his knuckles brushing against her clit before the blunt head of his cock did the same, Fox pushed up her thigh and shoved inside her in a single push.
She screamed into the kiss, her hands clawing at his back through his T-shirt while her body rocketed out of control. His mouth dropping to her neck, the lip ring grazing her skin, he bit down hard enough to leave a serious mark... and Molly's orgasm tore her to pieces in a violent pulse that had her muscles locking around his cock. One hand tight in her hair, Fox pulled out and shoved deep again, and then he came and came inside her.
The first thing Fox did after his brain started functioning again was push up and look down into Molly's face. "I lost my temper. Tell me if I hurt you." The idea that he might have was a chunk of ice inside him. Never had he spun that out of control with a woman. That it had been Molly who'd borne the brunt of his temper? Fuck.
"No," she said, and tried to turn her head aside, but he cradled her face with one hand, forced her to hold the agonizing intimacy of the eye contact, their bodies still locked together.
"Tell me the truth, baby."
"You didn't hurt me." Naked vulnerability, confusion, the remnants of anger in those brown eyes that couldn't lie, but no pain. "I was with you all the way."
Blowing out a shuddering breath, he pressed down on his forearms, his hair falling across his forehead. "Now we're going to talk."
Fine tremors ran over Molly's skin, each a kick to Fox's gut. "This isn't my world," she said. "I don't know the rules."
"There's only one rule you need to know with me." The embers of his temper glowing to life again at the reminder she'd doubted him, his voice came out a growl. "I won't fuck around on you while we're together. I told you that at the start and nothing's changed."
"I believe you." Her long, dark lashes lowered, rose again, her pupils deep ebony. "If I didn't, I would've said no. I was just..." Right when he thought she'd finally admit that there was no way in hell this had ever been, or could ever be, a temporary affair, she said, "I'm sorry I overrea
"Don't be sorry you let me see you." Fighting with Molly wasn't his favorite thing in the world, but he'd damn well take her anger over icy distance. "Don't you ever apologize for that."
Molly broke the eye contact once more, her throat moving as she swallowed. "We should shower. We're both sweaty from today. You need to..." Cheeks flushing, she shifted her hips in a silent reminder that he remained buried in her.
He could sense her pulling away emotionally in spite of their sexual entanglement, shaken by the visceral power of the minutes past. "I'm not done with you yet." Possessive fury continuing to thunder through him, Fox opened his mouth over hers, slid his tongue between her lips, and began to use his intimate knowledge of her body to seduce her.
If sex was all she'd give him, then he'd damn well use it to tie her to him until she could never again think of walking away. Fingers clenching on the rucked-up sheets, Molly moaned in the back of her throat as he flexed his hips in a lazy movement. "Not nearly done."
Wrapping herself tightly in the robe again after they finally had that shower, Molly ordered room service for them both from the twenty-four-hour hotel kitchen. She was still wrecked from the smoldering heat of their second time together that night. Fox had wanted to make a point, and he'd made it with a relentless concentration that had left her shuddering in ecstasy, his body her only anchor.
He hadn't liked being locked out, being distrusted. But even in his anger, he hadn't hurt her. What he'd done was worse--he'd taken her, branded her, driven himself into every cell of her body. She couldn't survive a month of this, of becoming further and further intertwined with a man who could never be hers. The thought of ending up an empty, broken shell like her mother was a nightmare... but even worse was the thought of losing Fox, of never again inhaling his scent, hearing his voice, feeling his touch.
"Room service."
Jumping at the knock on the door, she glanced at Fox where he lay on her bed.
Jaw clenched, he went into his room and closed the door while the waiter dropped off the food. His dark expression had grown heavier by the time he walked back in, his jeans low on his hips and his upper half bare. She didn't have to be a mind reader to know he was angry about the continued secrecy of their relationship, but he kept his silence as the two of them ate the food while sprawled in bed.
Molly picked at a plate of fruit, then set it aside on the bedside table, not really in the mood to eat. "How did that woman get past security?" she asked, knowing she was revealing too much of what she felt for him but unable to stop herself.
"How groupies always get past security." Fox shrugged and continued to eat his burger, but his voice held an edge that said his temper was still simmering. "Don't waste any more time on her. She's nothing."
Molly winced, wondering if that was how he'd think of her once their month was past. Then she wanted to slap herself. "I'm really not cut out to be a rock star's g--" She caught herself before she said "girlfriend," the word a knot of painful emotion in her throat. "Lover."
"Since I can still feel you hot and wet around my cock, I disagree." With that forthright statement, Fox finished off his burger, then picked up the beer he'd had her order and half-emptied the bottle before suddenly frowning. "You mind if I drink?" he asked, reaching out to tuck her hair behind her ear. "I never asked."
The tenderness shattered her. He remained angry, that much was clear, but still he thought about her. Cuddling close, she laid her head against his shoulder and felt the tension in her spine ease when he wrapped his arm around her without hesitation, his fingers closing over her nape.
"No," she said in response to his question. "It's my choice, doesn't have anything to do with anyone else." The golden silk of his skin an invitation to her senses, she stroked his side, petted his chest. It felt so right to just be with him. "Each time I turn down a drink, I remember why I made this choice and who I am. Does that make sense?"
Fox brushed his lips over the top of her hair. "Perfect sense. Was your mom a drinker or was she just drunk the day she got behind the wheel?" he asked, and she knew then that he'd read through articles not only about her father's fall from grace but also about what followed.
Molly could remember every detail of that fateful hour when she'd lost what little remained of her world: the fine yellow paper of the note calling her to the school counselor's office, the echoes created by the soles of her school shoes in the otherwise empty corridors, the Wet Floor sign where the custodian had wiped it clean of a spill, the kind face and sad eyes of the veteran cop who'd told her both her parents were dead. It was as defining a moment in her life as the day she'd watched televised images of her father being arrested.
"My mom was a high-functioning alcoholic for most of the last eight years of her life... then she was just an alcoholic," she said through the agony of memory. "But," she added, eyes gritty and throat dry, "from the things I picked up over the years, I know she began drinking years before, when she learned of my father's first affair."
Fox lifted his hand from her nape to run his fingers lightly over the side of her face. "Bastard has a lot to answer for."
About to respond that her mother held half the responsibility for choosing to stay with Patrick Buchanan despite knowing what he was, Molly's heart suddenly hiccupped, a wave of ice crawling over her skin. What was she doing speaking to Fox about things that made her feel as if she were that beaten, broken girl again? She knew how dangerous this was, how far she'd already fallen, how bad it was going to hurt when it ended.
She'd bleed the day Fox walked out of her life.
"The concert," she said in a stumbling rush of words, "it was amazing. I've never experienced anything like that."
It was about as subtle an effort to change the subject as a sledgehammer, but Fox let her retreat, maybe because he, too, didn't want to go that deep. "Yeah? It's a rush, isn't it? I love performing, especially when the crowd is that pumped."
Heart rate smoothing out as the ice eased its grip, she traced her fingertips over the ridges of his abdomen. "That teenager you let onto the stage to jam with you--he was so excited, I think he's probably not going to sleep for a month."
"Me, Noah, Abe, and David, we were all that kid once." Bracing one arm on a raised knee, he said, "You really had a good time?"
Surprised at the note of hesitation, she pushed up so she could look into those gorgeous eyes, his lashes lush and thick. "Yes! It was my first rock concert and I think I'm addicted." Fox's slow grin was the reward for her honesty. "The energy, the primal power of it, and most of all the music... my God, Fox, you four make the most incredible music." It pulsed in her veins even now, compelling and haunting.
"In the end," Fox said, "it's about the music. That's why we've stuck together--the money, the fame, it's peripheral. All the four of us ever wanted to do was make music."
Filching one of his fries when he put the little basket on his lap, she crunched it. "I was talking to Maxwell and he said you guys stuck through everything."
Fox nodded. "We've had a couple of really bad patches. Right back at the start, when we were young and stupid and didn't know how to handle the pressure, and a year ago, when Abe's divorce had him trying to drug himself into an early grave." He fed her another fry despite her scowl. "Your mad face is cute."
"You could get murdered for saying stuff like that," she muttered, charmed regardless.
His dimple flashed at her, and she was expecting the way he drew her down for a lazy kiss. Her palm flat on his chest, she sank into the pleasure, her earlier fear tangled with a poignant tenderness that urged her to continue being brave, continue hoarding the memories. Because now that she was thinking rationally again, she knew she wasn't her mother, would never be her mother--as tonight's fight had shown.
Karen Webster had never screamed at her husband. No, she'd been the perfectly coiffed and poised political wife, drowning her pain in alcohol.
If Fox actually had slept with that groupie, Molly would've slammed t
Molly was going to live.
Even if it smashed her heart to splinters.
Chapter 19
They ended up sleeping in till noon, which wasn't surprising given the late night. Molly woke to find herself tucked into Fox's body, her breasts pressed to his chest. One muscular, tattooed arm was locked around her waist while the other lay under her neck, his thigh--heavy with muscle and dusted with hair that rasped deliciously against her skin--thrust between her own. Yawning, she snuggled deeper and just wallowed in the feeling of warm safety, the emotional storm of the previous night having left her raw.
Fox had told her they had the whole day free to do whatever they liked, and what she liked was cuddling in bed with her rock star. At least until he woke up. Feeling him stir almost ten minutes later, she pressed a kiss to his shoulder. "Hey."
"Mmm." It was a deep, sleepy sound before he tugged her impossibly closer to his body.
With both of them naked, the sensation was sensual, but right then, it was also just good. He felt strong and solid and protective around her, as if he was cherishing her. Though he was clearly aroused, it was the lazy arousal of morning, and he seemed far more interested in cuddling her to his body than in sex.
It made her melt, the idea that her hardcore rocker might not be against cuddling on a weekend morning in bed. Rubbing her nose lightly over his skin, she pressed another kiss to his chest, licking out with her tongue to taste him.