Rock Me Two Times (3 page)

First time he’d been beaten out by a pair of pants.

Ramsey started in on a solo, turning up the volume. Syon sighed and turned around. The show always came first.

He picked up his guitar and began to let the music take command of his brain. It wasn’t a hard switch. Kate had him worked up. Music was an extension of his soul. Lust was just one of several powerful components. There was also aggression and drive. What he put onstage was the inner demon that most people in the civilized world struggled to conceal. His music was a raging of his desires for everything from sex to blood. The song crested, he and Ramsey in perfect unity. They both had their heads thrown back, bodies arched, as they pushed out the last wailing notes.

Satisfaction moved through him, but it was one peak in a chain that he planned to climb that night.

He wanted to lick her
…

Syon turned to find Kate watching him. The tip of her tongue passed over her lower lip. She looked back down at what she was doing, but the dark blush on the side of her face was still visible.

“I think she bites…” Ramsey cooed, his fingers moving across the strings.

“She’s mine.”

“Says who?” Ramsey demanded.

Syon took the lead, feeling the music pulsing through his veins. It was a crazy combination of rhythm and stimulus, pushing him into revealing just exactly what sort of animal he was to the screaming fans waiting to glimpse it. Kate’s presence was more potent, more intense than any he’d felt in a long time. It was the unknown factor that was driving him to a fevered pitch—that hint of challenge she presented, and something else that he had no fucking idea what it was, beyond the fact that it made him feel mean.

And made him more determined to get between her thighs than was probably healthy.

Anticipation…

“She’s blushing…for me,” Syon declared.

“Yeah.” Ramsey leaned back, letting the music overwhelm him completely. Taz and Drake joined in, flooding the suite with music that shook the walls. “I still want to taste her.”

* * *

Kate listened to music and even found some of the songs shaking the suite familiar. But she’d never heard it quite the same before.

She could have sworn she could feel it on some level she couldn’t really explain. It was just there, inside her, like a second heart. Moving her along with the tempo as she worked with the machines that were so familiar to her hands. The two forces combined, her love of creation with the music. Sweat covered her skin by the time she stood up and pressed the new waistband she’d put on the pants. She shook them out and ran a critical eye over her work as the music died down.

She felt him coming this time, and looked up as he bore down on her. For a moment, she wasn’t sure he was going to take the pants from her hand. Determination blazed in his eyes—and a hunger that matched her own.

But he took them, crumpling the leather in his fist. His attention lowered to her mouth, and she rolled her lower lip in. His eyes narrowed before he ripped open the button fly of his jeans. She had just enough time to turn around before she saw him kick them across the floor.

“Chicken,” he whispered.

She heard him stepping into the leather and pulling it up. The sound of a lace sliding through the eyelets of the fly was something she recognized, but tonight, it was far more sensual than usual.

She looked over her shoulder before turning. He was looking at his reflection in the full-length mirrors the suite was furnished with, stretching up and arching his back while watching just how low the waistband dipped on his tight abdomen.

“Hopefully that will do the trick,” she offered. “There is only so much I can do with an existing garment. Leather doesn’t stretch, so I opened up the crouch and put in a gusset. It’s a pretty close color match. Someone would have to be right between your thighs to notice it.”

“Fans in the pit pick up on every detail.”

He was being serious. Dead, hard serious.

Kate stared at the glimpse of the businessman inside the rock star. Toxsin had come out of nowhere just three years ago and was now on the top of the charts. Rumors varied on the band’s origins, and she had the feeling that she was getting a glimpse at a very personal side of Syon Braden, the man under the Marquis. He caught her watching him, their gazes meeting in the polished surface of the mirror. For a moment, she felt a pull toward him so strong it threatened to overwhelm everything else.

Like common sense. Or professionalism.

Or the very blunt reality of knowing she was going to end up like a used condom if she didn’t get her sex drive under control.

“Stay for the show—there’s a private box up here with all the amenities,” Syon told her. “If your work fails, you’ll have a good view.”

“My work doesn’t fail,” she said. “And those aren’t my work. If they were, they’d fit.”

“You’re passionate,” he said softly.

“Perfectionist,” she corrected. “Leather is a…personal experience for me.”

He turned around and cupped her cheek before she realized he was in motion. The connection sent a shiver down her spine that traveled all the way to her toes. He leaned down, hovering over her ear. “Passionate,” he bit out, slipping his hand back to cup her nape with a grip that twisted her clit.

“I dare you to be here when I’m finished, Kate.”

“No problem.”

She was a sucker for a dare. Her head was spinning from the mix of pheromones and raw sexual allure bleeding off him, and the words were just out of her mouth before she engaged her brain.

At least the higher functioning parts of it. Animal instinct was working just fine.

He lowered his gaze, targeting her mouth before leaning forward and pressing a kiss against her neck. His grip on her nape was solid, his body hard as stone, but his lips closed over her skin with just enough aggression to throw more fuel on the flames licking her clit. He teased her, stroking and tasting her before licking his way to her collarbone with a delicious stroke that left her knees weak.

The lights in the suite began to flash. He pulled away, leaving her leaning on the wall.

There was a hint of violence in his expression. His eyes narrowed as he pulled away from her, reluctance flickering in his gaze.

She was gasping, so turned-on she was in a daze. She needed to run.

Because she was way out of her depth.

* * *

The Staples Center was roaring.

It sounded like a tsunami coming in, or a freight train passing three feet in front of her face. It was more than sound; there was a vibration that traveled through her body, all the way down to her bones. There was a current in the air that practically crackled with excitement.

The bodyguard-slash-security guy showed Kate up to a private box. She followed because she didn’t want to squeal like a little girl and ask to be taken home.

She’d never lost her head like this before.

It was embarrassing on an epic scale. She was pissed at herself for rolling over so easily for a man who wouldn’t recall her name by the end of the night.

The box had plush seats and an open rail overlooking the stage. The lights went down, and the drummer started up. The beat was infectious, taking over her heart until she was sure the muscle was keeping the same rhythm.

The crowd roared again, thrusting their hands up into the air as two guitars joined the drummer. Her nipples puckered again, her memory offering up an image of Syon arching back as he played those final chords. It was like he was pushing the music out of himself, almost as if he were giving birth.

Onstage, he was just as raw.

Syon took command of the space completely. The audience ate him up.

And were they
screaming
. Syon worked them just as skillfully as he did his guitar. He really was lord of all he surveyed. Kate discovered herself leaning forward, being drawn toward the spellbinding energy pulsing on the stage. Sitting still was impossible; her body wanted to move in time with the notes Syon was wringing out of his instrument. She became fixated on his hands; the way he worked his fingers was downright dominant.

Her teeth were clenched. By the time the last song finished, she was panting softly and felt wrung out.

But it was fucking wonderful. She was drifting on a high and collapsed back into her padded chair, her composure scattered around her like fall leaves. She felt spent but amped up at the same time.

Fangirls were definitely climbing the respect ladder in her book.

Okay, so she was drooling over a rock star like some high schooler, but at least B.O.B.—her battery-operated boyfriend—was waiting for her at home. All in all, the buzz was worth the slightly stinging blow to her pride, because in some corner of her mind, she believed she should be grown-up enough to realize fantasies weren’t mature. So disappointment wouldn’t stalk her in the wee hours of the night.

A hollow feeling in her gut warned her she was hoping in vain.

As Syon and the rest of the band left the stage, Kate indulged herself in a long moment of reflection. Syon had worked that guitar until it wailed. He had to be hell in bed if he applied even half that effort to pleasing his partner.

“So, what’d you think?”

She jumped, grabbing the armrests of the movie theater–style chair. Her eyes popped open wide, and her belly did a triple flip when she found Syon watching her.

“Ah…” Her tongue suddenly felt like a wad of cotton in her mouth as she scrambled to stand up and turn around to face him. “It was fantastic…”

He grinned at her, a huge, arrogantly pleased expression that showed off his perfect teeth.

God, she wondered if he knew how to bite…

There was a curtain in the doorway that she’d never closed. Syon reached over and tugged it off the hook that held it back. The velvet shimmered as it swung down to give them privacy, adding a dose of intimacy that was spine tingling.

“Why did you do that?” she asked.

He shrugged, drawing her attention to the tightly corded muscles of his forearms. “I don’t want to get jumped.”

“Oh.” She took a quick look down at the fans still crowded into the seating below. Now that the house lights were on, she could see people sitting in the private boxes that lined the second and third stories of the arena. Syon was hanging back, staying behind the seats where there was still some shadow.

“Shouldn’t you be backstage somewhere…with those security guys?” Kate asked.

He bared his teeth at her. “Maybe in forty years. Their job is to protect the fans from me.”

“Yeah, I can see that side of your personality.” Hell, she could have sworn she could feel it.

“I earned it,” he answered with a confidence that was admirable.

He opened his arms. “Want to take a measurement? So you can make me a pair that fit…perfectly?”

“I get a hard-on when I play…”

“Oh…”
Damn it
. That was the third time she’d done nothing but answer in monosyllables.

She wasn’t sure it was healthy for her to be taking a good look at him, but her costumer’s eye switched on as she scanned his groin, tracing the bulge straining the leather.

Oh…yeah…serious package.

“It’s Giles’s account. I just stepped in because of the timing issue.” There. At last. A perfect, professional deflection.

Syon’s grin widened.

“Giles is in New York. You’re here. I can’t play ‘Insatiable Craving’ without this pair pinching.”

She had to swallow the lump forming in her throat. “Insatiable Craving” was one hot song.

And she looked back down to find the leather straining.

Kate’s breath froze for an instant as a bolt of excitement tore through her. “We’re not going there. I’m not measuring you.”

He looked down at her left hand and raised one of his perfectly groomed eyebrows. “Husband?”

“No,” she admitted. He was stripping away her defenses like a kid pulling the petals off a daisy.

His attention returned to her face. There was a flash of determination in his eyes that made her quiver.

“Boyfriend?” He stepped toward her. “Girlfriend?”

She shook her head, the feeling of being overly exposed trying to drown her. “Just not going there. I’m way past the age of impulsive behavior. Got a business to run.”

He bared his teeth again and moved in closer. “But it feels like it would be so much fun if you…
came
…”

She lifted her hands to ward him off and felt ridiculous, because what she really wanted to do was grab a handful of his chest hair. He smelled male, and some part of her was insanely turned-on by it. She was ready to claw him. His eyes were slightly dilated, like he was on the edge, and it excited her wildly.

Well, he was hard.

And she was wet.

“I have rules,” she sputtered. “You don’t look like the type who follows rules. So, good night. Nice to meet you and all. I doubt you’ll miss me. Giles is likely working up more wardrobe for you as we speak. You’re his premier account.”

She expected him to recoil from the mention of rules. Instead he crossed his arms over his chest and cocked his head to one side. “Lay ’em on me.”

“Excuse me?” she asked.

He flashed a grin at her. “The rules. Let’s hear them.”

She was back to feeling like her personal space was being invaded. “I’m not interested in amusing you. I’m sure you won’t have to go far to find that sort of companionship though.”

“I won’t,” he confirmed, his tone deeper, serious. “And I’m standing here. You have discipline. So do I.”

Of course he did. Beneath the makeup and the lights, there had still been some serious music. No one got that good without self-control.

“Your rules, Kate.” She was pretty sure he wasn’t asking. There was a flicker in his eyes that looked a lot more like a demand.

Well, he’d asked for it. Part of her wanted to see what he did when she laid it down. Straight out. Her fingers were closed into fists with anticipation, her head spinning just a bit at the idea of someone like him being willing to please her.

“No married men, no rock stars or celebrities, no drugs, no kissing on the first date, and no men still living with their parents.”