CHAPTER 28

 

 

Knox

 

 

 

The crowd is electric. It’s our last show in Denver. We’ve practiced and played with Sarge for days now, and he gets better with each gig. He’s handling it all like a pro, even the interest from the press, and relief erased my nerves from the early days. It’s been ten days since we first played with him, and shit’s settling in to a new normal.

Noah still looks a little grim, like some disapproving gargoyle looming over us or something, but Rye and Ajia have stayed calm and easy. Ajia works extra hard to keep the audience focus on him, his fuck-me voice and sexy prowling around the stage overshadowing the rest of us for the most part. Rye’s a little more animated than usual, filling in when Noah’s not there, and I put everything I have into my guitar solos. I stalk to the front of the stage and play with a passion I haven’t had as much of earlier in the tour. Too much fucking else has gone on, but it feels good to be back in the groove again.

Especially tonight.

Tonight.

It’s our most current hit, the last song in our set. It’s next, and then we’re done for the night. Sarge’s done great, yeah, but it still isn’t the same. Never will be. We got a bond, the five of us, and Wycked Obsession will never be right without the original lineup.

I glance offstage as Ajia flirts with the crowd. My sister watches him proudly, but I don’t give a shit anymore. Guess I’m finally used to them as a couple. I see how he cares for her, keeps her safe, and that’s enough for me.

I’m more interested in London, anyway. Been watching her like a hawk since the day she broke down in my arms. She’s a strong goddamn woman, amazing at times, and she’s stayed busy doing her thing these last ten days. I kinda assume she likes the escape of it, and I know her routine by heart. Posting clips to Instagram. Taking pictures for the website and Facebook. Showing us back stage, on stage, panning the crowd. She’s transformed our social media accounts.

Tonight she’s wearing a dress I haven’t seen before. Bree took her shopping on one of our heavy practice days, and she must have gotten it then. It’s white, with red roses and green stems and leaves weaving over her perfect-looking body. The skirt’s long, almost to her ankles, with a slit that stops just below her pussy.

God damn, but I want her.

We haven’t fucked in days.

It hasn’t felt…right. For once, I don’t know what to do. It’s been a couple of weeks since the miscarriage. Is it okay to have sex? Then there are her sore ribs. She ices them occasionally, but her movements and breathing seem better. And emotionally…she’s less fragile and more herself since she broke down in my arms.

She slept for hours after that, and since then has spent every night curled against me. Trusting me in a way I don’t deserve. I don’t sleep so well. Mostly I lay there with a rock-hard dick that doesn’t give me any peace until I rub one out in the shower. Even that doesn’t last long.

Doesn’t matter, though. I’ll take it over not having English in my arms. I want it.

I need it—just like I need her.

Spent ten nights like that, but tonight…

Tonight she’s mine.

She might not be up for fucking. I get that. She’ll have to tell me how much we can do. But however it happens, I’m going to pleasure her and remind her of the beautiful, sensual woman she is. She deserves it…and so much more.

I focus as Ajia raises his arm, Noah counts off the beat, and Rye keys the opening notes of Tonight. It’s his song, one he wrote about…well, not quite sure what. Or who it’s about. Rye’s got secrets that go back from before we started the band, and he’s never shared a damned hint about them. Not with me, anyway. Had no choice but to leave him alone about it, and if Tonight is his way of dealing with it?

Good for him, and good for the band.

I step in with a guitar riff that seems at first shocking as the song picks up momentum, but then it all makes sense when Ajia begins to sing.

It’s late and I’m here all alone,

Like I’ve been since she’s been gone.

I pretend but truth is truth,

And that means we’re really done.

How did it go, why did she leave?

She kept her truths deep in her soul.

I would have done so much more

If only I could make her whole.

It’s a song about loss, but I hear the lyrics in a different way tonight. I pick through the words, find ones that make me think of London. And me. Maybe she did keep her truths deep in her soul, but I swear, I’m going to make her whole again.

Me, too.

Tonight.

I can’t think anymore, have to concentrate on the complicated guitar outro Rye let me arrange for the song. It’s kind of a Hotel California ending, something I wanted to try since I first picked up a guitar. Mom is a huge Eagles fan, and I grew up on their stuff, especially since they were getting back together about the time I was born.

Everybody, including the critics, agree it’s a haunting ending to the song, and I send an approving smile in Rye’s direction as I finger the last riff. He smiles back, and satisfaction practically chokes me up.

 Wycked Obsession will be okay. I know it now.

And tonight I make things right with London, once and for all.

 



 

Not interested in seeing the groupies or drinking with the band in the green room after the show. Baz has a Town Car waiting behind the venue, just like I asked, and I tell Bree we’re leaving.

“You told me to make it right with her.” I step up behind my sister and whisper in her ear. “Well, tonight, I’m taking English back to the hotel, and I’m gonna do it. So don’t call. Anything happens, call Baz.”

She grins like it’s Christmas and then hugs me like I’m Santa. “I won’t cockblock you, Knox, I promise!”

“Jesus.” I shake my head. “Did Ajia teach you to say that?”

She laughs and shakes her head. “No. I’m twenty, Knox, remember? Starting my third year in college this fall. You think I don’t hear the same kind of stuff y’all say at school every day?”

She’s saved—or maybe I am—when London comes around the corner. She smiles warmly seeing us. She and Bree are close. That’s one thing I love about my girl. Family, whether blood or band, is important to her. And she’s part of the Wycked Obsession family now.

One thing I love about my girl.

Yeah, I’ve had to admit my feelings in the last couple of weeks. I love London. It fucking damn near choked me when I first realized it, it crept up on me so slowly, I don’t really know when my feelings went from sexual attraction to liking to love. All I’m sure of is that my feelings for her are so foreign to me, they can only be love.

Oh, and I’m not sticking to that stupid rule about the relationship ending at the end of the tour. We’ve got maybe three weeks left on the road, and I’m keeping London after that.

“You two kids have fun.” Bree gives London a quick hug, waves her fingers at me, and hurries into the green room.

London looks at me curiously. “What’s that about?”

I shrug. “Not in the mood to hang out with the groupies or drink with the guys. I need—we need—a break.”

“Okay.” She says it slowly, carefully, and looks at me uneasily. “Are you okay, Knox?”

“Just fine, baby.” I smile easily and sling an arm around her shoulders. “Let’s go.”

The ride to our hotel is mostly quiet. English sits next to me, and when I pull her close, she snuggles against my side. It’s kind of an awkward angle she couldn’t have managed a week ago, and relief lightens my mood. I’m glad she’s healing, but my selfish side prays to fucking God that her ribs are good enough for some careful lovemaking.

And, yeah, for the first time in my life, I’m gonna make love to a woman, not fuck her.

There’s no crowd to notice us when we reach the hotel. The last real paparazzi we had was shortly after Zayne went into rehab. English has been releasing carefully-worded updates, and that seems to keep things quiet. Now we’re just hoping that Noah’s baby mama—if that’s what she is—keeps her fucking mouth shut. Especially me. Every time my girl has to deal with this pregnancy shit, I know it hurts her.

I shake off my shitty thoughts and get London to the elevator with my palm on the small of her back. I keep it there through the ride upstairs, ‘cause pushing her up against the wall and fucking her standing up is not part of the plan.

English seems a little nervous when I open the door to our room, but she kinda gets that way with me now. We’re close and, I don’t know…cuddly, I guess, when she allows it, but sometimes she gets nervous. I understand, even though it hurts. Can’t say I don’t deserve it, though.

“You look beautiful tonight, baby.”

She stops just inside the door, stares at me.

“The flowers on your dress bring out the red in your hair.”

She blinks, still staring. “Knox…”

I step closer, wrap one hand around her hip while I trace the fingers of my other hand up her leg, to the top of that fucking slit. “I wanted to do this all fucking night.”

“Why?”

I stroke my thumb over the soft skin of her thigh. “What do you mean, why?”

Her skin gives a little twitch, and she presses her leg lightly against my hand. “After everything. What happened, and what I did—”

“We talked about that, baby. I don’t blame you.”

“I know you said that, but…” She takes a breath and steps away, wanders farther into the room.

“But what?”

“You were so cold. So distant.” She seems to search for a word but then brings her gaze directly to mine. “Angry.”

I blow out a harsh breath and shove my fingers into my hair, squeeze the back of my neck. “Fuck,” I mutter to myself but force myself to answer. “It wasn’t you I was mad at.”

“Who was it, then?”

“Me.” I don’t hesitate. “The sperm donor. All the shit going on. You were just…convenient.”

She blinks, erasing any hint of how she’s feeling from those beautiful whiskey-colored eyes. “Convenient?”

“You…” I pause. Fuck. How do I say this without making her feel bad? “The baby…not knowing.” I take a breath. “Made you an easy target. I could get pissed about that and not deal with any of the rest of the shit.”

Strange, but she shakes her head. “You deserve to be pissed about that.”

“No.”

“Yes,” she disagrees. “I told you, I—”

“Goddamn it, English!” The words sound rougher than I meant them, but it’s too late now. “Don’t do that!”

Kinda surprised my anger torched so quick. Especially now, when this night was supposed to be about seduction. But…fuck!

She swallows. “Do what?”

“Keep blaming yourself. Take it all on yourself. You didn’t do anything wrong. I’m the one who fucked up.”

“No.” She holds her hands up, palms toward me. “Knox…luv, of anyone in this godawful drama, you’re the one who’s innocent. You—”

“Fuck!” It’s a shout, but at least it stops her words. Concern darkens her eyes.

“Knox?”

I stalk past her to the other side of the room, pace back by her, and finally end up between the wall and the bed. “We can’t keep doing this, baby. Blaming ourselves for shit. We’ll never make it if we don’t let it go.”

“Let it go?” She comes toward me, that fucking slit in her skirt showing her long, slender leg and then hiding it again. She stops in front of me and slowly brings her hands up to rest on my chest. How is it that she’s not nervous now, when I just yelled?

“You want to just let it…go?” she asks.

“We have to, baby.” My heart’s pounding like Noah’s goddamn bass drum, and I wonder if she can feel it. “We can’t go on if we don’t. You were trying to find your footing before you told me about the baby. I get it. And I—” I snort. “I never thought the sperm donor would touch you, let alone…” Fuck, I don’t wanna say the words again.

“It wasn’t that I didn’t trust you.” She comes a half a step closer. “That isn’t why I didn’t tell you. You have to believe that. I was just…scared. Confused.”

“I know.” I take her hips in my hands, pull her crotch against mine. “You had every right to feel like that. When I had time to think about it, I knew it. Understood it. I just…”

“What, luv?”

“Wish I’d protected you better. From the sperm donor—and me.”

“Oh, baby.” Her arms slip around me, and she lays her head against my chest. “I don’t need protecting from you. You’re the last one. You’re…I—”

The word ends with a strange gasp, and the body tucked against me stiffens. I glance down but can only see the top of her head.

“What, baby?” I stroke a hand up her spine. “What’s wrong?”

She shakes her head against me, but I can’t let it go. I tilt her head back, my fingers under her chin. “What?” I ask again.

She swallows, closes her eyes on a long, slow blink, and shakes her head. “You don’t wanna hear it. It isn’t part of the deal.”

“Deal?” I stare. “What deal?”

She lets out a short breath. “The rules, then.”

The rules? Fuck my life.

“The rules?” This time I say it. “What the fuck are you talking about, English?”

Something about the words, my tone pisses her off. I don’t know what it is, but suddenly she’s out of my arms and storming over to the bed. She plops down on the mattress and glares at me.

“The fucking rules, Knox. You know, the ones where we’re exclusive through the end of the tour. And then, you know, when it’s over, we’re over.”

My blood runs cold. “We are not fucking over.” I stalk over to her, stop so close she has to lean back to see my face. “Not at the end of the tour, and not…ever.”

“No?” She doesn’t sound as angry or defiant, but it doesn’t matter. I’m still hot.

“No.” I reach out for the back of her neck, hold her tighter than I should as I bend down until our lips are almost touching. “Hell. Fucking. No. I love you, and I’m not letting you go.”