Putting my head down, I decided to follow Ash. After all, Warren had told everyone to get out. I was only respecting his wishes. It was nice of me. Considerate. I’d even collect my bags at a later time. Scratch that. I’d just buy all-new stuff. I’d use Billy’s card. He’d like that. Daisy could go shopping with me.
My arm grazed Warren’s. Heat pricked along my side at the contact. He stayed as still as a statue, his body taut and tense. He was going to let me pass. Thank you very much. I was almost home free. Until his hand shot out and wrapped around my upper arm, his grip tight enough to halt me but not tight enough to hurt me. I could feel the warmth from his palm through my damp sweatshirt, burning me, branding me.
“Not you,” he said, his voice hardening.
I shuffled back into the bunks, forcing him to let go. His stare went to my heaving chest. It felt as if the temperature had skyrocketed a thousand degrees.
Warren advanced. His nostrils flared and his septum piercing, a thin silver band, flashed in the low light.
I stepped back until I was pressed against a sliver of wall. Dammit, why’d they have to make these spaces so tight? Warren kept coming until he was flush against my front. I fisted his shirt. To push him away or bring him closer, I didn’t know. Then his fingers were in my belt loops, pressing me into him. I could feel his desire for me, his hardness against my stomach.
“Warren…” I started.
He closed his eyes. “Fuck, I’ve dreamt about you saying my name. Say it again,” he demanded. Always so bossy.
“Warren,” I said again, this time more firmly.
He didn’t understand my tone, or he chose to ignore it. Probably the latter. His head lowered, and his lips crashed against mine. He cupped the nape of my neck and begged entrance into my mouth with his tongue.
Something inside of me broke free, a need so fierce it bulldozed all my common sense, all my reasons against this, everything I’d kept tightly reined in for the last few years. I yielded to him. His mouth tasted like whiskey and chocolate, two of my favorite things. Warren groaned and it was like a tiny earthquake inside of me, the vibration snaking down to my belly and igniting desire between my legs. As if he sensed it, his kiss became hotter, wetter, more demanding.
Somehow, my hands found their way under his thin T-shirt, caressing his abs. Cool air hit my stomach, then the tops of my breasts. Warren was stripping me. He broke the kiss for one second to whip my sweatshirt and T-shirt over my head. Then he was back on me, his tongue in my mouth, his body shifting down and up, forcing my legs to wrap around his waist to keep balance.
He rubbed against my core. I made a guttural sound. His lips withdrew and then plastered to my neck. Oh, God, he still knew my sweet spot, right behind my ear he licked and whispered, “I knew you’d come back to me. I knew it.”
What? A cold sensation crept along my spine. Warren didn’t notice. He sucked the thin skin on my collarbone. I’d almost forgotten what he’d just said, but then he opened his big fat mouth again. “Are you sorry for what you did? Leaving me in Rome?” He kissed a wet trail down to the top of my breast. “You want me back, don’t you? Jesus, I should make you beg but I don’t think I’m going to last.”
The cold sensation turned to a blast of ice water. I shoved at him.
He didn’t get it at first. “Don’t worry, baby. I won’t make you beg.”
There he was, ladies and gentlemen, king of the assholes. That didn’t take much time. Ten, maybe fifteen minutes. My nails traced a path up to his pec. My fingers circled his nipple and then twisted.
Head of security Trent had taught me some defense moves. He’d even made up a little song so I remembered. A variation of “head, shoulders, knees and toes,” changed to “nipples, balls, knees and toes”—the four most vulnerable spots on a man’s body.
Warren was off me in an instant. My feet hit the ground and I leaned against the wall, heaving and steadying my shaky body.
“What the fuck, Addy?” Warren fumed, cupping his chest.
“You asshole!” I should’ve gone for his balls. I picked up my sweatshirt and T-shirt from the floor and scrambled to put them on. All the while, I ranted at him. “I’m not coming back to you. And even if I was, I certainly wouldn’t beg.” I felt better once I was fully clothed again, a little calmer.
He made a low, irate sound. “Then what the fuck are you doing here?”
“I got on the wrong bus. I’m here for Billy. For my father’s last tour.”
Aside from bringing up Gabe, the worst thing I could do was mention my father. Many things had been screwed up in Warren’s and my relationship. Chief amongst them was my refusal to tell Billy about us. I’d been scared, worried Billy would disown me if he found out I’d gone and fallen in love with a rock star.
Warren had not been sympathetic. In fact, he’d been the opposite of sympathetic. He didn’t understand my hesitation because he had an amazing family that accepted me without recourse. But I only had Billy. And the thought of losing my father was a dagger in my chest. Almost every day he’d threatened to call Billy himself. It went against Warren’s nature to hide. Or I’d thought it did. Turned out everything I’d thought I knew about Warren was a lie. I didn’t know him at all.
I marched to the curtain. Warren moved to block my way. He was pissed all right. “Let me pass, Warren,” I said through my teeth.
His features were hard, carved out of granite. He could be just as stubborn as me. We faced off. Memories assaulted my mind. Memories of Rome, of a party, of a conversation I wasn’t meant to hear.
My stomach hurt. I felt sick.
I stumbled through the crowded villa trying to find Warren. I wanted him to take me back to the hotel. Lily was already there, weeping and drinking wine. She and Ash had fought earlier. She was threatening to go home. I sort of wanted to go home too. My stomach had been aching for days. “Just a case of bad food poisoning,” Warren had said.
I found the room Warren was supposed be in. Third door on the left, Lix had told me. The door was partially open. I could just see Warren sitting on a plush couch. The lighting was low. A drummer and singer from another band on the tour were there. And of course, there were girls too. Always girls.
“Addy’s such a hot piece,” the drummer said.
Warren took a long drag of a joint, nodding.
“Ash said you wife’d her. Never thought I’d see the day Warren Price was off the market,” the singer said.
A steady stream of smoke blew out of Warren’s mouth. He spoke, an arrogant smirk playing on his lips. “What can I say?” I smiled, ready to go in. But then he kept talking, putting his huge foot in his huge mouth. “She worships me, you know. Can’t get enough of me.” I rolled my eyes. I used to think his cockiness was endearing. “And fuck, her old man is loaded. Someday he’ll die and all that money will be ours.”
My grin faded. Since Warren had been booted from the U.S. leg of his debut tour, he’d been reduced to touring smaller venues. Billy’s tantrum had set Wild Minds back a few years. The band had gained popularity in Europe courtesy of opening for Miss Americana, a popular band. They were making a name for themselves again, but weren’t well-off by any means.
“Yeah, Billy Wanks has a shit-ton of money,” the drummer said, accepting the joint from Warren. “But word is, he hates you. I bet you don’t see a dime.”
Warren shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. It’s enough to piss him off. Motherfucker had us booted from his tour. It took us years to come back. It’s going to be sweet when he finds out I’ve defiled his little girl. I can’t wait to watch his head explode when she calls me her husband.”
A girl got up on the table, dressed in a miniskirt and just her bra. She started to sway seductively. Warren leaned back on the couch, watching the girl dip down and back up through half-lidded eyes.
I didn’t wait to hear anymore. Tears blurred my vision as I pushed through the crowd. I kept it together until I got back to the hotel. Then I sobbed into Lily’s arms. We booked tickets home that night. And I ran as far from Warren as I could.
Then I’d gone to the hospital and things had gotten worse.
“We need to talk.” Warren’s dry, gruff voice summoned me back to the present.
“We have nothing to talk about.” I kept my gaze focused on the curtain. The memory brought back my humiliation and anger full force. It was loud on the other side. Girls giggled. Someone strummed a guitar. A lighter flicked.
Gentle fingers grasped my chin and forced my gaze up to his. His eyes had softened minutely. They were blue. The palest blue, like the center of an iceberg. “We’re still married.”
We were. But that was something that could be rectified immediately. Breaking from Warren’s hold, I bent and yanked the divorce papers from my backpack. Turning back to him, I slapped the papers against his chest. He didn’t move to take them. “Sign on the dotted line and we won’t be.”
“We need to talk.” He was starting to sound like a broken record. Typical Warren, it didn’t matter what I wanted. It only mattered what he wanted. Selfish prick. I thumped the papers against his chest again. But he refused to accept them. Letting out a frustrated little squeal, I threw the papers at his feet.
“We aren’t talking.” If I could help it, we would never speak again. “Sign the papers, Warren. Don’t worry, since we didn’t have a pre-nup, you’ll get half of my trust.” It hurt saying it aloud. I’d been used as a pawn for money and revenge against my father. I’d vowed to myself never again. It was why I hadn’t made very many friends in college, why I clung to Gabe and Lily—because my own husband, the one who had promised to love, protect and cherish me, had betrayed me. Once burned, twice shy and all that.
Confusion marred Warren’s beautiful face. “Wh—”
“HEY, BILLY!” Lix shouted in the front.
I took advantage of the distraction. I ducked past Warren and into the main cabin. Billy stood up by the door, Lix in front of him, blocking his view of the bus. It was pretty ineffective, given that Billy was a good head taller than Lix.
“Hey, Felix. I’m looking for Addy. Trent said she was here but she’s not on our bus.”
He hadn’t seen me yet. I breathed in, tried to compose myself. It didn’t work. I was shaking and tears were overflowing. So I did the thing a girl was supposed to do when her heart had been broken by a dirty rock star, the thing I should’ve done before—I ran to my father. “Billy,” I cried. Billy stepped around Lix, a blinding smile lighting his face.
“Little bird!” He opened his arms.
I grinned too. It’s amazing how one can smile through pain. Leaning into Billy’s hug, I let the weight of my despair lift. When we drew apart, he kept his arm slung around me and guided me off the bus, unaware of Wild Minds and their scowling lead singer in the back.