Hard Rock Roots Box Set (118 page)

“Hello?” Turner snaps his fingers in my face, and I blink like I'm coming out of a coma. “Seriously, what's the fucking problem here? If you like him, then fuck him.”

“Yeah, it's that easy for you, isn't it?” I ask Turner, running my fingers affectionately through his blue-black hair. He bats me away again, but I can't help myself. I know I'm not
that
much older than him and Trey, but they're so immature that it's not hard to imagine that I am. “Just fuck whoever, whenever. And that's fine if you both know you're just swapping fluids. But I don't know that Dax knows that.” I tap my fingernail against my lips. This one's coral. The one next to it, yellow. The other side, lime green. It's just how I roll. “He's young, and he's lonely, and we definitely have a chemical reaction sort of a thing going on. I don't want to deal with drama, you know?” Turner rolls his eyes at me.

“When you know, you know,” he says, like he's the God of Love. Fucking hypocritical little bastard. I poke him in the back of the neck and he growls at me.

“Says who?” Turner flips around again and glares daggers at me. I'm interrupting his view of Naomi and it's pissing him off. How precious is that? “What happened to the whole getting to know someone, dating them, living together, etc., etc., and so on and so forth thing?”

“I never said you had to marry the guy, but if you take one look at him and turn into a horny tramp, why not see where it goes? Part of falling in love with someone is finding out you have sexual chemistry. Good sex is a big deal in a relationship. I know everybody pretends it's fucking not, but then why the hell don't we marry our bros? I love Ronnie, but I don't want to screw his ass.” Turner shivers. “And not just because he's disease ridden.”

“I heard that,” Ronnie calls out from somewhere to my left, but I don't look at him. I'm actually listening to Turner's advice. I know it sounds stupid as hell, but sometimes, if you dig through his words, there are little nuggets of pure idiot wisdom, the sweetest kind there is.

“So if you think he's hot, fuck him and see how it goes. Talk to him. Hang out. I don't give a shit. Just stop panting in my fucking ear and leave me alone. I told you, Trey and I decided together that he's cool.”

“Trey's on a morphine dip. You can't trust anything he has to say.” I smile at Turner, but I let my eyes flicker back up to Dax. His arms cross over and back, beating the last trembling pulses of the song into existence, teasing my ears with hard sound and desperation.

“Yeah, well. Dax hits harder than I thought. A good punch to the face is like a handshake among men. I can tell a lot about a man the way he hits. Your brother always manages to knock the shit out of me.” Turner sighs and stands up, stretching his arms above his head and flashing his bat tattoos. All the women backstage turn to look at him. “But it's your life. If you want to ignore a spark, douse it out. I prefer to let mine flame.”

Turner sneaks forward, behind America's back, and at the last second, moves on camera, grabs Naomi and kisses the shit out of her just as the song comes to a natural end. Dax taps out a few more notes and even though I know nothing about music, couldn't read a damn line of it, I can tell he's good. Because good music gets in your soul and eats you alive.

By the time they start the interview, I'm just crumbs, baby.

“Why'd they have to ask me if I was gay again?” Dax asks his friend, the girl with the black and blonde hair. I twirl a strand of mine around a finger and lean against the wall, debating if I should walk into the room or knock first. They
did
leave the door open, but only because I stuck my foot in it. The bodyguard in the hallway gives me a funny smile. Apparently, he finds me amusing.

“You answered the question well,” she says, and I hear the creaking of bed springs. “And the thing about Sydney, you did great on that, too.” I grin and conjure up an image of Dax's face, all scrunched up and frowning. The skin around his nose crinkles when he's irritated. I find it …
cute.
Yes, that horrible C-word. I mull Turner's advice around in my head. It's ludicrous that I'm even considering it, but then again, it doesn't take a hurricane to topple a house of cards. I don't need much coercion to act on my desires. How hard is it to give into your wants? The answer is, not that fucking hard at all.

“I laughed at her, Blair,” Dax says, and I hear fingers moving across a keyboard. “At
Miley,
the supposed quadruple threat: sing, dance, act, market.”

“Market?” Blair asks him as I consider my entrance. I'm not a hundred percent sure what I'm doing here or what I'm trying to get out of this, but my mind can't get past Dax blowing the sweat from his lips while his arm muscles contracted and expanded, a glossy sea of sweat and power.
Christ.

“That's what it says on LMTV's website,” Dax groans. “
Marketing is just as important as talent, and Miley knows how to get the word out.
My God, what a nightmare. I could tell she hated me from moment one.”

“She didn't hate you,” Blair says, but she sounds unconvinced. I'm inclined to agree with Dax though. The Miley girl had a face like a chimpanzee and a nasally voice that's still lodged in the deepest recesses of my brain – and not in a good way.

“She asked me why everyday was Halloween,” Dax says, and I laugh.
Oops.
I take a deep breath, pretend I'm heading onstage and put on my best disinterested face. It's supposed to make me look untouchable. I'm going to need that if I walk in here just a second after being discovered eavesdropping. I push open the door and saunter in, letting it close behind me and leaning my butt against the wood.

“Sorry. I didn't mean to butt in, but the door was cracked and I was passing by in the hallway … ” I shrug nonchalantly. White lies are okay sometimes, aren't they? Especially when they make you look like less of an asshole. Blair is giving me a woman once-over, but that's okay. I let her do it, whatever makes her feel comfortable with me. Apparently, my plan backfires because she squinches up her mouth like she's intimidated and glances away. I'm not trying to project, just saying. I don't always win in their eyes; the bitch nurse definitely thought she was hotter than me.

Dax wets his lips, but I can tell he doesn't know what to say. Not that it matters. He doesn't need to talk, not with his damp hair curling softly over his gray eyes. He's got on a white tank that's also damp from his freshly washed skin, making it just this side of see-through. And I have a big thing for guys in sweatpants. He's got black ones on now, hanging low on his hips. I clench my thighs tight and try to maintain a normal expression. I'm not even supposed to be making friends with the guy and here I am, about to ask a really stupid question.

“Would you like some company?” I say, moving over and sitting next to Blair. She doesn't like that, giving me a look like I'm encroaching on her territory. I smile at her and she gets a confused expression on her face. Nobody ever expects anyone else to be nice, so if you really want to throw them off their game or even just disarm a dangerous situation, try it. It works fabulously.

“Company?” Dax asks, taking a step back towards the bathroom. His face is clear and clean, not a speck of makeup to be seen. I study his freshly shaven chin, the way the skin on his neck gets tight when he looks at me. Unconsciously, I cross and uncross my legs, feeling the fabric of the denim catch and tease me with the slightest hint of friction.

“For your trip to Tulsa,” I add, fully aware what my previous statement might have implied.
God, I'm such a bitch.
I didn't come here trying to give Dax blue balls, but I kind of just, I don't know, like him. For example, when I went into the bathroom and he apologized for his erection? Who does that? And how many men can spring a freaking woody in record time? “The drive. Would you like some company?”

“I was going to go,” Blair says, moistening her ridiculously red lips. I love the shade of 'stick. I'm gonna have to ask her for the brand. “But if you want to, you're welcome to my seat.” She might not feel warmly towards me yet, but I can tell Blair is watching Dax for his reaction. I figure she knows him, and I don't, so I let her read his expression. Apparently, it's a good one. Blair stands up and adjusts the black and white polka dot dress she's got on. I like her style. Are all the women on this tour fucking fly as shit? I want to make friends. I grin at her.

“Not super pumped for a hometown tour?” I ask, looking back at Dax. He's leaning against the edge of the table now, staring at me with a neutral expression. I don't know why everyone keeps calling him girly. Dax is a man if I've ever seen one. He's tall, ripped, and his voice is a dark delicacy. I like the way he talks, like he's thinking twice about everything he says before he says it, even if it comes out the wrong way sometimes. There's this edge of nerd there, like maybe he once holed himself in a room and OD'd on video games. I think it makes him even more appealing. There's nothing I like better than a butterfly that's finally come out of its cocoon.

“Not particularly,” Blair says, following my eyes to her friend's face. “My family doesn't live there anymore. I was just going for Dax's sake, but I'm sure he'd prefer your company to mine.”

“Blair,” he says with a small warning in his voice, but he doesn't look angry, just contemplative.

“What? All I'm saying is that when it was just me in here, you didn't have
that
.” Blair bats her fake eyelashes and points at his crotch. Dax groans while she spins on her heel and leaves with a small wave. The door falls back into place with a heavy sigh as Dax turns around and puts his hands on his hips. I don't know that he knows it, but his reflection in the windows is mirror quality. I can see all the little – and not so little – details. A smile quirks the edges of my lips.

“I can't even fucking believe this,” he grumbles, casting a glance over his shoulder. “And I'm sorry. This doesn't usually happen to me.”

“I bet that it does,” I say, hooking my ankles together. “At least once a morning your entire adult life.” Dax snorts and then shakes his head, but I notice he doesn't turn back around. “Hey, it's alright. Like I said, used to it.”

“I still feel like a dick.”

“Nah. I mean, we know you have one though. That's always a good thing,” I joke, running my hands along the sheets. The covers are partially pulled back, exposing the perfectly pressed white linens, tempting me into doing things that shouldn't even be considered until well after dark. I check out the window, just to make sure we're cool.
Black as pitch.
“That should've been your answer to the interviewer's questions. Just a big, grinning picture of Mr. Happy.”

“I didn't want to be accused of plagiarism. I'm pretty sure Turner's already done that.”

I laugh.

“Yes, well.” The room goes silent, tension stretching between us. My pussy's already calculating the distance between his happy and my smile, cooking up an equation to figure out how close I have to get before the magnetic pull will cause Dax and I to become entangled. I scoot a few inches away. “I wouldn't worry about the hard-on, baby. It's only a dig deal because you can't see how wet I'm getting over here.”

“Fuck. Me,” Dax snarls, spinning around but staying right where he is. Maybe he's already figured out the magical equation? Maybe we're already in it? I keep my eyes downcast, focusing on the carpeting beneath my heels instead of on his face, his rockin' body, his dick. “Why do you keep saying things like that? I thought we already agreed to … leave this alone.”

“And we did, and I'm sorry. I have a huge, fucking mouth sometimes. I just meant that it's okay for you to be attracted to me. I'm attracted to you, too, even if you can't see it.”

“And that's supposed to help me be … less horny?” Dax asks. More awkward silence. I'm sort of blowing this whole meeting, aren't I? I unhook my ankles and stand, turning towards him with a hand on my hip and my heart in my throat. I'm twenty-nine years old, and I feel like I know my way around the dating scene, around sex, around life in general. I've been through
a lot
, more than most of the girls I knew at the club even. So why is this Dax thing so hard for me to wrap my head around? Not only is this the strongest physical attraction I've ever had for a guy, this is also the first time I've ever consciously rebelled against it. It doesn't even make any sense.

“So can I?” I ask him, taking another step closer. Dax backs up again, the heels of his feet brushing against the tiled floor in the bathroom.

“Can you what?” he asks me, voice low and strained, like he's exerting physical effort simply to stay standing still. It makes me even more determined not to mess with him. If I move forward, I do it with clear intentions.

“Come with you. To Tulsa.” Dax licks his lips and I move again, stepping into this aura of sexual energy that surrounds him like a storm. The lightning licks my skin and the cool rain falls enticingly, coating my body in wetness. It's not just between my thighs anymore. “I want to ride with you, talk, maybe unravel a little more of this Stephen mystery.” Another step. Now I'm within touching distance of him. If Dax raised his hands, and I raised mine, we could melt fingertips. I wait until I think he's at least considered it, and move again.