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‘And where do you envisage me being?’ She was lost. Really astonishingly lost.
‘Somewhere reasonably close by. I took the liberty of making a few arrangements. We can’t be together all the time, but that doesn’t mean we have to be apart all the time either. And we’ll talk.’ He dug in his pocket and proudly showed her his new phone, with her number already set to speed dial.
‘And rendezvous.’
‘Why, when you say that, do I imagine disguises, and white carnations?’
‘Because it’ll be fun. We’ll dress up. I’ll wear glasses and a trilby, and we can leave each other coded messages. Doesn’t that sound more romantic than being holed up on a tour bus with a dozen sweaty men?’
Maybe it did. She liked the idea of him in a trilby, and maybe a pinstriped suit. Then again, she wasn’t averse to the notion of being confined with several heavy rock stars, except maybe it was possible to overdose on man candy, and she had to remember she wasn’t a free agent any more.
‘OK, maybe it’s starting to sound interesting. So, where does our first tryst take place?’
‘On the Chunnel. I’m sure we can find a quiet spot. Then in Paris, after that. I’ll send you all the details.’
Ginny nodded. She still couldn’t quite squash the disappointment over not going with him tonight, but at least she had something to look forward to. It wasn’t ideal, but it was something, and that something was better than the possibility of them not being together at all.
She entwined her arms around his middle and breathed in deeply the smell of his skin. ‘You know, if we’re going to be apart for that long, I think I need to say goodbye to you some more before you go.’
‘I’m totally with you on that.’ He lifted her up, and she wrapped her legs around his waist. ‘Phone me every night, even if we’ve already spoken a million times that day. I want your voice to be the last thing I hear before I sleep.’
She nipped at the faint trace of stubble lining his jaw. ‘What makes you think I’m going to let you sleep? If I’m calling you last thing at night it won’t be to sing you a lullaby.’
‘No?’ He wrinkled his brows as if in disappointment. ‘What will it be for?’
‘To torture the fuck out of you with my dirty thoughts, of course.’
‘You’re going to talk dirty to me?’ She heard the catch of excitement in this throat. ‘Babe,’ he purred, ‘you’re way too good to me.’
Chapter 4 (#u16637e47-8b12-5a2a-ada5-28d2f0b2157e)
Paris, France.
Dinner had seemed like such a good idea when Spook had suggested it. Seriously, what wasn’t to like about the idea of decent food, in a nice restaurant, and someone else footing the bill? However, that had been before the adrenalin rush of the Paris gig had worn off, and he’d had to talk Iain down from the rafters. Ash didn’t recall Iain being quite so big a diva when they’d played together in the past. Apparently these days he didn’t take criticism at all well. He was rather peeved himself that Iain had screwed up ‘Fatal Error’, since it was normally a major crowd-pleaser, but he’d had to bite his tongue, given that the rest of the band were already seething and they couldn’t actually afford to give him the boot, or see him walk. Without a drummer, the whole tour would collapse, and none of them could afford for that to happen. This perhaps explained why they were all tolerating his motor-mouthed yapping too. Iain had hardly paused for breath in the last forty minutes and Ash was beginning to suspect he’d taken something, but he sure as hell didn’t want to suggest that at the dinner table, because it’d be an instant tour-killer.
And, if he was being honest, he needed this tour. Touring was easy, it made life ridiculously simple: they drove about, they played gigs, he ate, slept and fucked. It wasn’t real, and it wasn’t complicated. He didn’t want to deal with real life right now. Reality was a total screw-up.
Xane leaned towards him, his long black hair falling forward to shroud his angular face. ‘If he doesn’t shut his trap soon, I swear I’m going to throw something at him.’
Ash caught Xane’s wrist as he reached for a bread roll. Although he was relieved it was only food missiles Xane was considering – there were steak knives on the table.
‘He’s nervous, is all. Iain always talks when he’s nervous.’ Not entirely true, but he needed to find some explanation for Iain’s behaviour. ‘Give him a chance to settle in. It’s only been a few days, and you did all lay into him when we came off stage tonight.’
Actually, they’d all given him hell every night since the tour began, nearly a week ago.
Xane withdrew his hand, but rolled his eyes at the notion that they’d given Iain a hard time. ‘What the fuck were you thinking, Ash? He’s so wrong for us, it’s depressing.’
‘He’s a drummer. That makes him perfect for us.’
Xane gave him the sort of look that would have made anyone else wither. Ash refused to shrivel.
‘He pisses me off – deliberately.’
‘That’s a bit of an overstatement. He messed up one song, Xane. And I hardly think he did it deliberately. Why would he? We’re his ticket into the big league.’
‘Yeah, well, maybe that’s my issue. I don’t like freeloaders hanging off my coat-tails.’
‘So work him harder.’
Xane smiled grimly. ‘Oh, I will. Don’t worry about that.’
‘Whose phone’s vibrating?’ Spook asked, his native Swedish lilt coming through, a sure indication that he was stressed. The rest of the conversation around the table had stopped.
‘Heck, mine.’ Ash fished the damn thing out of his pocket and swiped a finger across the dimmed screen to waken it. It was a little late in the evening for his mum to be calling; she’d be in bed with one of her beloved mystery novels by now. There were only two other people with his number and one of them, Spook, was sitting next to him.
You never told me what a nice guy your driver is. Ginny’s message flashed up.
Shit! Ginny. What with one thing after another post show, the fact he was meant to meet her had completely slipped his mind. Although, hang on. He checked the time. He wasn’t due at the Arc de Triomphe until midnight. Why was she texting him now?
Where are you? He typed and hit send.
On your bunk. Flicking through your porn.
Really, where are you?
Your bunk.
She couldn’t really be on the tour bus. Troels, their driver, wouldn’t let her on. OK, he might, depending on what Ginny had said, and if he believed he was doing Ash a favour. It wasn’t as if the band’s resident Cave Troll hadn’t sneaked a girl or two on board in the past for him.
Why don’t you come and check if you don’t believe me? It’s all quiet here, no one’s home. It’s just me and a lot of empty beds. Whose do you think we should try out first?
Ash shot to his feet.
Maybe Xane’s? No. Spook’s. We can rumple all his neat edges and give his mattress springs a workout. It’ll be the only action they ever see if your assertions he’s celibate are to be believed.
‘Ginny, you’d better be pissing with me,’ he mumbled. What in the name of hell was she playing at? She’d seemed fine with their arrangement the last time he’d seen her. They’d had a lot of fun playing Secret Agent and Spy on the train under the English Channel.
‘Where the hell are you going?’ Rock Giant asked, when Ash pulled on his leather jacket.
‘I’m …’ He stalled, having failed to invent an adequate answer. ‘Off,’ he concluded. He turned to Spook, hoping his friend would understand why this was important. If he didn’t make the connection now, then Ash would explain it later. ‘Sorry. I’ve really got to go. Something’s come up.’
‘Can it not wait until dessert? At least finish your meal.’
Ash’s phone buzzed again. This time the message came with an attachment. Ash opened it and gawped at the screen. She’d only gone and sent him a picture of her pert and very sexy derrière wrapped in fishnets and the skimpiest, sexiest black silk shorts he’d ever had the pleasure to behold. She was bent over, clearly on the tour bus, as the bunk room was in the background.
‘I’d love to, but no. I’m sorry. I need to run.’ He needed to get her off that tour bus before anyone saw her there.
Chapter 5 (#u16637e47-8b12-5a2a-ada5-28d2f0b2157e)
Ash arrived with a plan that would bypass questions and get them both off the bus and somewhere private fast. Unfortunately, every coherent thought in his head went bye-bye the moment he saw her poised waiting for him. God, she was …
His jaw dropped as he hurried towards her.
… she was going to be the goddamned death of him.
Ginny had gone all out to entice, dressed in his favourite fishnets that covered her slender legs and disappeared inside those teeny satin shorts. Her lovely figure was cinched into a corset. She had on elbow-length fingerless gloves and her black hair had been styled into a wild mass of curls.
She looked both nightmarish and terrific.
Make that tongue-lolling, instant-hard-on terrific.
Hottest-thing-in-universe terrific.
Fuck! His heart took up residence outside his ribcage.
Sure, her get-up was slightly sleazy, but you’d hear no complaints from him about that. Hey, he knew what he liked, and so apparently did she. That fact would probably have scared the shit out of him, if his brain had still been functioning above animal level.
‘Looking for a good time?’ she asked, smiling down at him from under her thick eyelashes. She stood with one leg provocatively bent to block his passage, and an arm outstretched. In her hand she held a riding crop.
He gulped, not sure if he was hopelessly turned on or plain shit-scared at the possibility of her using it on him. He did know that if he didn’t adjust his pants soon they were going to cut his cock in two.
‘I think I might have found it,’ he croaked as he attempted to mount the bottom step, only for her to flick out the riding crop and block his passage. Ash froze as the looped leather end ticked against his chest and descended sharply towards his groin.
Damn, damn and heck!
This was bad. Seriously bad. His cock was saying yee haw, while something in the back of his brain tried to remind him that the goal here was to get her away from the bus so that they weren’t seen by the band, or anyone else for that matter.
‘Rules first.’ Her smile lit her face like a neon light, and made him salivate like one of Pavlov’s ruddy dogs. ‘You sit, you don’t touch and you do as you’re told. Got it?’
He mindlessly nodded. Got it? Sure, he got it. Not that there was enough blood left in his head to make an informed decision, but, his cock was in full agreement. It apparently liked her bossy and fiendish.
‘Then do come in.’
This was crazy. Why was he accepting invitations onto his own tour bus? It was the fault of those shorts, and her pert little ass, or maybe the ultra-glossy scarlet lipstick he wanted to see smeared across her face, or maybe just the fact that he hadn’t got laid in over 48 hours. He was used to a certain amount of sex, and he just wasn’t getting it so far on this tour. Instead of every night, all night, he was seeing Ginny every two to three days. Was it any wonder that he turned into a slathering beast the moment he saw her?
She’d been busy inside the bus. ‘My God!’ he gasped. She’d transformed the place into a sumptuous gothic boudoir by swathing everything in black velvet and dragging Rock Giant’s favourite chair into the central aisle.
‘Take a seat.’ She gave him an intoxicating smile, then a persuasive push in the direction of the leather seat. When he stayed upright, she snapped the crop against his backside, making him jump.
He sat, shocked and tingling.
‘Ginny, we can’t do this here. We’d arranged a time and a place.’
‘So you don’t want to see me dance?’ she said, pouting and opening her eyes really wide.
‘I …’ Absolutely, he did want to see her dance. Especially since, in that outfit, he was pretty certain she wasn’t going to perform ballet, but something rather more raw and dirty. He glanced around. The bus windows were tinted, so no one could see in from outside, and the band were still dining, so he guessed they had a couple of minutes. That left the crew to consider, and he had no idea where they might be, but presumably Cave Troll or one of the others had let her on board in the first place, so they already knew she was here. That was fine, as long as they presumed she was just another fan out for some fun with him, and didn’t realise they were a whole lot more committed than that.
‘Comfortable?’ she asked him.
Ash shook his head. His trousers were too tight, and the ache in his groin was too persistent. Things only got worse when she hit the stereo remote and filled the space with a raunchy, grinding beat. One sway of her hips, a flick of her hair, and he was done for. He wanted her in his arms, across his lap, their mouths locked and sexy bits touching. Nothing else mattered.
Damn, he was weak!
Whoa! She danced like a pro. No, better than a pro. The few lap dances he’d had before hadn’t made him want to rip the lady’s clothes off. When Ginny had mentioned she used to practise rhythmic gymnastics, and that she still liked to keep herself fit, he hadn’t appreciated how much dedication she’d obviously given her art. The sway of her hips worked like a snake charm, mesmerising him while simultaneously making him rise. ‘Come closer,’ he pleaded, when she twerked her rear over his lap. She kept maybe an inch of space between them at all times, which was not what he wanted. He wanted to feel her rubbing up against his fly.
‘Ah, ah!’ she chastened him, when he put a hand on her hip to guide her down to where he wanted her. ‘No touching, remember.’
‘Babe, that’s just evil. What do you want to torture me for?’
‘Fun,’ she quipped, arching an eyebrow. ‘Aw, look at you getting all pouty and irritable.’
She tweaked his nose in an annoying manner. ‘You know we’re not allowed to fuck on the bus. Xane’s rules, remember.’
‘Fuck Xane and his fucking rules.’ He exhaled hard. Then sucked in a deep breath. He ought to be inured to this sort of stuff. He was a goddamned rock god, after all. Plenty of other women had shaken their stuff in order to tempt him. The difference was that none of them had been Ginny. She undid him. Not the hairdo, or the clothes, or the stupendously fit body she was shimmying, but the person inside. Ginny was right for him in the way every other woman who’d passed through his bed had been wrong. She saw into his heart. With her he was more than he was without her. That unfortunately meant she also knew just how to make him sweat.
‘Hold it together. Think how good it’ll be when you finally get what you’re after.’
It was a shame the rule wasn’t about fucking with him on the bus, because he really couldn’t hack this sort of torture. He didn’t like delaying gratification. He’d spent too much of his adult life seeking bliss and never finding it, to want to wait for something when he knew it could be had so easily. He clenched his fists, black-painted fingernails biting into the arms of the chair as he fought to maintain some control over his libido. It wasn’t easy with her mimicking the movements of sex right over him.
‘There’s not enough time until the guys get back.’
If she surrendered now, there might just be enough time to reach orbit before they had to make a sharp exit, but the likelihood of achieving that lessened with every passing minute.
‘Yeah, but it’s not as if they haven’t seen you fuck before. I mean, how many pictures of your cock does Spook have in his collection?’
‘He doesn’t take pictures of me.’ Why did she refuse to grasp that? Not that that was even the issue here. The important part was that he wanted to keep their relationship quiet. He didn’t want the band in on it, or their expectations colouring things. Nor did he want to listen to their shit, if something went wrong and it all fell apart. ‘Let’s leave and go somewhere quiet.’
She shook her head, making her wild curls bounce. ‘I like it here. The setting, the lights, the nice little hummock you’re sporting.’ She swayed down low, and brushed her pussy right against his cock.
The few scorching seconds of contact sent a thrill straight through Ash’s frayed nerves, shredding the last vestiges of his restraint. His hips jerked upwards so their bodies met properly, and his hands locked around her waist. Suddenly, he could feel the sweat breaking out across his body, and his heart was pounding in his throat. He needed to be inside her right now. Really, right now, before he embarrassed himself and came in his pants.
‘Bad boy, Ash.’ She smacked the riding crop against the back of the chair, startling the hell out of him with the explosive thwack. ‘No touching, remember.’ She moved his hands from her waist to the arms of the chairs. ‘Do it again and I’ll punish you.’
She was torturing him already, so that didn’t seem much of a threat. ‘What will you do?’ he asked, still rocking his hips so that her silky shorts slid against him.
She leaned close and teased his ear lobe with her teeth. ‘Leave you to reach orgasm all by yourself.’
‘You wouldn’t.’
Her smile was warm and yet sly. ‘Wouldn’t I?’
Ash’s muscles jerked all over his body. ‘I don’t want to play games anymore. Let’s just go somewhere where we can work this out without fear of interruption.’
‘You don’t want me to unzip your fly for you, then?’ she said in a low sultry voice.
Oh fuck! He did. He totally did. There was no way on God’s earth he was ever going to say no to that.
She popped the button of his fly, and carefully drew down the zip.
