So I Married a Rockstar (11 page)

Savory waves him over to the stage and he stumbles away, leaving me swaying in disbelief. Why am I so surprised? I hardly know anything about Drax, and it's not like I had any illusions about where this relationship was going. Fantasies, maybe. Illusions, no. This was a fling, pure and simple.
 

Then why does my heart feel like it's being wrenched apart?

"I am so
not
wearing this!" I exclaim from the dressing room.
 

"Come on, Lola, let me see."
 

"No way! It's obscene, Drax."

"I bet you look sexy as hell. And like we talked about, to move product, we need a hot chick selling it. Now come out."

I peek at my reflection again and flinch even harder than the first time. I'm stuffed into a blood-red satin corset that the sales girl had to lace up for me. The 'girls' are spilling out up top and my hips are bulging out down low. My bottom half is clad in skin-tight black leggings that have somehow defied the laws of physics by wrapping around my thighs and ass without shredding their seams.

The last thing I want is to have Drax witness the horror that is me in this get-up but I know he won't let me out of this store until he gets an eyeful.
 

I crack the door and peer out at him. He's leaning a shoulder against the wall, arms crossed and bulging across his chest, and my heart starts thumping. Regardless of what has or will happen between us, I know deep in my tightly-bound gut that I will always have this reaction to him.
 

Always.

He gives me a wicked grin and a wink. "Strut your stuff, gorgeous."

I don't need the mirror to tell me I'm beet red with embarrassment but I swing the door wide and stand up straight. I don't really have any choice as the corset prevents me from slouching or, you know, breathing.

Drax's eyes bulge. Almost immediately I notice another part of him bulging. Maybe I don't look as grotesque as I think. Feeling a little boost of confidence, I make a slow turn until I'm facing him again and gasp. He's standing right in front of me!

His upper lip pulls back in a snarl. "I could devour you right now."
 

My entire body shudders at his growl. I can't help but sneak a peek over his shoulder. The lone sales girl is waiting on a woman who appears to be asking all sorts of questions. Good.

Meeting Drax's gaze, I let my own lips curl up into a wicked smile and hook a finger in the neckline of his T-shirt. I don't need to pull very hard for him to follow. Ah, like a lamb to the slaughter.

As I slip my arms around his neck, I kick the door closed with my foot. He already has me pressed up against the dressing room's mirror, one big hand under one of my thighs, guiding it around his waist.

Just before his lips are on me, he pauses. "I do believe I've been a bad influence on you, Miss Raines."
 

I want to spout off a snappy retort but the moment he kisses me, I can only think of getting more. I'm like an addict. I will never get enough. Which will only make it that much harder when whatever this is eventually -- inevitably -- ends. But for now, I'm just going with it.

The trouble with corsets is that they don't allow for quick disrobing, plus they're not known for their flexibility, both of which Drax discovers when he tries to get me naked.
 

"What the fuck?" he mutters as he fumbles with the complicated lacing in the back.
 

"Leave it," I say, batting his hands away and dropping my rump down on the room's tiny bench seat. There's no time to deal with this contraption before someone catches us, but there might just be time for something else.

Without ceremony, I deftly unhook the skull and crossbones belt buckle and have his pants around his ankles before he can so much as suck in a breath. What does it say about me that wetness pools in my skimpy thong at my discovery that he's going commando?

Of course it's not just that. I've been half-excited, half-terrified to see him for the first time since our first kiss. I mean, it has been a while, as Pepper would love to remind me. I almost want to giggle with joy at the beautiful specimen bobbing before my lips, but I'm pretty sure that Rule #1 in the
Woman's Guide to Great BJs
(if such a book even exists) is to
not
laugh the first time you see his junk.

Instead, I wrap my fingers around him, softly, and move my hand the full length of his shaft. I'm too entranced to look up at him, but I hear his quiet sigh. Encouraged, I slide the satiny soft tip across my billowing cleavage, tucking it between my breasts for a moment before letting it pop up to mouth-level.
 

Part of the thrill of this is the risk of getting caught, but as much as I want to take my time, to lick and explore every magnificent inch of him, I feel the need to hurry. Drax has a hand buried in my hair but he's not tugging, thank goodness. Taggart used to do that and I hated it.
 

Dipping my head, I open my lips to take him in when the sales girl knocks on the door. I jerk away from Drax but I notice he doesn't even flinch.
 

"How's it going in there?" Her voice is chipper as ever. She doesn't suspect a thing.

"Um, fine! Thanks!" I'm trying not to collapse into hysteria and Drax, as usual, is smirking.
 

"Great! I'll be right out here if you need anything else."

I think she's gone and I'm about to actually start when a hoarse whisper filters through the door jamb.
 

"For an extra Benjamin, I can get you a copy of the security footage from that room. The angle's good and I guarantee the lighting's flattering."

"Oh! No! The outfit will be fine," I cry as I push a laughing Drax away from me. It was one thing when I thought no one knew what we were doing, but this? Just...ew!

Before I can run screaming from the dressing room, Drax pulls me into his arms, those electric blue eyes boring into my very soul. "A for effort, Lola, but this isn't really you. We'll have plenty of time after the show. Now let's get out of here before you turn purple."

Word must have spread like wildfire that Roadkill would be playing tonight because, I swear, the crowd on the quad has swelled to double what it was before Drax took me on our little shopping spree. No way are they all students. The sheer mass of bodies gives me hope that we just might pull this off.

The boys are getting set up and I'm about to open our merchandise booth when a statuesque blonde in a pale blue, sleeveless, form-fitting dress strolls up to me.

"Are you Laura?" she asks, giving me a quick once-over before plastering a fake smile on her perfect face. This must be Drax's ex, the infamous Shelby.

Greaaaaaaat.

Suddenly I feel completely exposed. I will myself to wake up, praying this is just one of those dreams where you find yourself naked at school. No such luck. I'm wide awake and half-naked at school. I try to smile but what I really want to do is crawl under the merch table and hide for eternity.

"Lauren, actually." I shove a hand at her, regretting that I let Drax choose the black polish that adorns my nails. She probably thinks I have some kind of fungus. Or that I
am
some kind of fungus.

"Of course, my apologies."
 

The silence drags out between us. I don't know if she's toying with me or what but I refuse to be the first to speak.
 

"You must be Shelby."

Doh!

"That's right, and if there's anything you need, please don't hesitate to ask. You have my cell. Now if you'll excuse me..."

Before I can blink, she's making a beeline for Drax, whose tanned and tatted skin is shining with sweat from helping with the set-up. I can't tear my eyes away when Shelby flings herself into his arms, kicking up one designer shoe-clad foot as if she was in a movie and this was her long-lost love.
 

Maybe it is
, the nasty whisper in my head says.

A tiny part of me is relieved that Drax merely looks surprised instead of overcome with joy. But a bigger part of me isn't at all happy with how his arms wrap around her trim waist, as if from muscle memory. Nope, not happy at all.

With one eye on the reunited couple, I unhook the velvet rope that's keeping the rabid college kids at bay. Before I can get behind the table, five drunk kids are pawing through the T-shirts, spilling whatever alcoholic drinks they have so cleverly disguised in their credit card-sponsored water bottles.
 

Oh, hell no.
 

"Back!" I shout. "All of you, behind the line! One at a time or none at all!"

"Sheesh, lady, get a grip," mumbles a scrawny kid who doesn't look old enough to even be in college, much less drunk as a skunk. My patience ran out about, oh, thirty seconds ago, and I want to go Pepper on his skinny ass. But as irritated as I am with the entire world, we need as much income as we can get tonight. I settle for the Lola version of Pepper.
 

"Back of the line, you little shit! Anyone else wanna fuck with me?" Everyone in line quickly shakes their heads as the kid grumbles his way to the back of the now-much-longer line.

This is so unlike me. Maybe Drax was right about being a bad influence. I know I'm only taking my aggravation out on them, but I don't really care. Besides, it probably gives me some kind of street cred to not only be dressed like the voluptuous bride of Frankenstein but also to treat them like crap. Kids these days...

By the time the music starts, I've sold out of medium men's T-shirts and panties with the band's name emblazoned across the crotch, most of which were bought by guys for their girlfriends. Classy bunch.

The handful of kids remaining in my line run to the mass of bodies jumping around in front of the stage. They want to see the start of the show but they'll be back for their souvenirs. Drax is bellowing into the microphone and my heart beats a little faster. I can't understand a word he's screaming, but I can't deny he has the crowd -- and me -- in the palm of his tattooed hand.

A flash of baby blue catches my eye. Shelby is standing front and center in the crowd of kids, never taking her eyes off Drax. Jealousy flares in my heart, which is ridiculous. I don't own Drax. I'm not even his girlfriend.
 

As I drag my hate-filled gaze away, a blur of bubblegum pink in the crowd draws my attention. Something about it...

"Good turnout."
 

The deep voice startles me out of my hatefire. Don't get me wrong, it's still there, I just turn it onto the speaker...where it dissolves into alarm. What's he doing here?

"Mr. Gasperini. What a pleasant surprise to see you."

His leering gaze lingers on my overflowing top half. "Ditto, honey. And call me Marco."

Heat rises up my chest to my face. Damn, how I long for a cardigan to cover up. It's too warm to be wearing one but, if I felt exposed before with Shelby, now I feel practically naked. There's nothing to do but stick 'em out and up. Maybe it'll put him in a generous mood.

"Enjoying the show?" I choke out.
 

Marco barks out a laugh. "You gotta be kidding? I hate this shit. But I got a vested interest so...I'm here. What about you?"

I loosen up a bit. He's not here to break my kneecaps -- yet -- so we might as well have a chat. "It's not what I normally listen to."

This time his scan of my body is more clinical. "You coulda fooled me."

I shrug. "Hey, we have a debt to pay, as you know. I'm told sexy sells and I'll do whatever it takes to get the money on time."

"Oh yeah?" he oozes, a twinkle sparking in those devil eyes.
 

My throat closes and I can barely breathe at his insinuation. Is he saying what I think he's saying? He sees my discomfort and winks.

"Relax, honey. I never needed to blackmail a chick to fuck me and I ain't gonna start now. Much as I might be tempted..."

I can't look him in the eye -- and not just because his eyes aren't focused on my face -- so I sneak a glance at Drax. He's screaming into the mic but he's looking our way. Each successive scream is louder and more rage-filled than the last. The audience is going nuts over the pure violent emotion pouring out of him. Marco chuckles. He sees it, too, but he's untroubled by it.
 

"See you in the morning, honey. Now don't go runnin' off with my cash. You got a good head on those beautiful shoulders. I think you know what'll happen if I have to track you down."

Chills shudder down my spine. Yeah, I have a pretty good idea.

My table has stayed busy throughout the two-hour show. There were a few lulls but mostly it's been steady with pimple-faced college kids and grungy street punks trying to snap up some Roadkill gear. So busy that I haven't had time to count our earnings, but judging by how little merchandise I have left to offer people, I'd guess we're really close to having Marco's full amount.

I haven't been so busy that I lost track of Little Miss Perfect, though. She's still standing in front of Drax, smiling up at him like he's her demon-knight in shining armor. Is it mean of me to hate her? I don't even know her, and she seems perfectly nice, but I can't deny that I hate her guts. It must be my outfit. I'm pretty sure it's impossible to
not
hate the world when you're wearing a corset.

Drax belts out one more impossibly long note and the band finishes with a bang. The kids go absolutely crazy. They're ecstatic to have seen one of the hottest new bands on the 'I Hate Daddy' rock scene for free, yet they still want more. The earth vibrates under the thick-soled boots Drax bought me today from the stomping and clapping, urging the band to do an encore. I can't really blame them. I have to admit that, by the end of the concert, even I found myself moving with the music. They're really quite talented.

The guys wave, turn around and pretend they're packing up. Only when the crowd is in a frenzy does Drax turn back to their screaming faces. He holds a hand up to one ear, as if he can't quite make out what their saying. Wiggling his other fingers in a 'Come on, I can't hear ya' gesture, he gets them worked up to a fever pitch. Then, when my eardrums are about to burst from the noise, he grabs his guitar and strums an ugly note.