Jet (Marked Men #2)

The guys all stopped what they were doing and watched me with curious and careful eyes. I felt like I was about to fly apart into a million pieces, so I just barked, “Not right now!” and decided to barricade myself in the bathroom until I managed to pull it together.

I was breathing hard and I could see how wild my dark eyes looked in the mirror. I was just about to splash cold water on my face to try to get some level of control back, when I heard my name, spoken in a soft Southern drawl, from the other side of the door. I was going to growl at her to leave me alone, but I didn’t get a chance, because she pulled the door open and met my gaze in the mirror. All I could do was stare at her while everything swirling under the surface suddenly broke through. I heard her ask me what was wrong, and was aware that I demanded to know what she was thinking by bringing that guy here.

But all of it was white noise against the roar of something far louder and far more powerful thrumming in my heated blood.

I wasn’t aware of moving toward her. I wasn’t aware of pushing her up against the door with the entire length of my body. I wasn’t aware of tangling her silky dark hair around my fingers and getting it caught up in my rings. I heard her gasp when my tongue ring hit the warm center of her mouth. I was going to pull away, going to apologize over and over again and tell her it had just been a shitty week, but before I could, she wrapped her arms around my neck and I felt any resistance she had, any control I retained, melt away under a soft little murmur of pleasure.

We were exactly at the right height for me to get my knee between her amazing legs and press even more fully against her, as she collapsed against the door behind her. She tasted like wine and invitation and I was pretty sure both things were going to my head. When she whispered my name, any rational thought that I shouldn’t be touching this girl in this way, especially not in a backstage bathroom, went out the window.

The fingers of one of her hands moved from my neck and crawled down the back of my T-shirt. Even though it felt better than anything I could remember in a long time, to be pressed head to toe against her wasn’t enough, so I let go of her hair and moved my hands under the hem of her poufy skirt. Gripping her toned thigh, I expected more resistance when I wrapped it around my waist and trailed my eager fingers up to the part of her I had no business at all being anywhere near. It was a short trip met with zero resistance and little gasps of surprise.

I saw her amber eyes get wide, but instead of asking me to stop or telling me to go to hell, she whispered my name. I felt the edge of her fingers dig into the base of my spine, right above my ass.

We were eye to eye, foreheads almost touching, and I could see every single reaction she had to my touch shimmering in those liquid depths. When I got my fingers under the edge of her lace panties, I saw something flare there that made my already hard dick get even harder. I knew it sure as hell wasn’t very comfortable. She shivered, and I didn’t know if it was from the press of the metal on my fingers against her bare skin or because I had her pinned and exposed and was about to touch her in ways I had only dreamed of. Either way, her other hand tightened almost painfully in my tousled hair and her bright eyes fell to half-mast. She tugged my head closer, so our mouths were lined up and she kissed me. I got inside all her wet heat, her mouth and more, and swore because she was hot and slippery and felt like molten fire against both my tongue and my questing fingers.

I leaned down so that my forearm was braced on the door above her head, and settled even more fully into her. My tongue ring clicked against her teeth and I pulled away to suck on the pulse that was rapidly fluttering right below her ear. Her hands were tense in my hair and on my skin. I moved my fingers in and out of her, and slicked over the part of her that was throbbing and burning for my touch. Every whimper, every gasp made me move faster, made me touch her in a way that was guaranteed to send her over the edge. I felt her flutter against my fingers and moved back to kiss her hard and fast, just before she went limp and her eyes burst into a fireworks display of desire and satisfaction. Her chest was moving rapidly up and down, and clarity was slowly starting to filter back in, when a fist pounded on the door behind her lax head and made her jump.

“Jet, man, we go on in, like, ten minutes. Can you stop acting like a spaz and get out here so we can do this shit?” Von’s voice was irritated and I couldn’t blame him. I was acting erratic, and we did have a huge crowd out there that had paid good money to see us perform.

I pulled her from against the door and let my hands fall away from her. She leaned back and we watched each other warily, without saying a word. I ran my hands over my face, which was a mistake because I smelled like her, and it was doing nothing to tame the more than uncomfortable situation I had going on in my pants. They were already tight; she’d made them unbearable.

“I have to go.”

She sucked her plush bottom lip between her teeth, and all I wanted to do was find the closest flat surface and demand she put that pretty mouth to better use.

“Jet?” I didn’t have the time or the wherewithal to get into any of the consequences of this little dalliance with her, so I just shook my head and reached around her for the doorknob. .

“Look, we both know that’s what a guy like me has to offer, a quick fuck in a bathroom backstage, and we both know you deserve a night in a king-sized bed with silk sheets. I’m not going to apologize, but I can tell you it won’t happen again. All right?”

I thought she was going to look remorseful or ashamed; I wasn’t prepared for her to be mad. Those whiskey eyes lit with a fire I had never seen in her and before I could react, she slapped me across the face hard enough to make my back teeth rattle and my face flame.

“What the fuck, Ayd!”

She brushed down her dark cap of hair, and turned to pull the door open herself. I hated that I loved how wrinkled and well-loved she looked, and that I was the one who had gotten her all messy and rumpled.

“In case you forgot, I offered you a night in a king-sized bed with silk sheets, asshole. You turned me down. You told me I wasn’t the type. If you took a freaking second to stop trying to tell me what I do and don’t deserve, maybe you could see that the location doesn’t matter, but the person does.”

She had stunned me into silence, but she was good and pissed and clearly not done.

“And just so you know, I broke it off with Adam yesterday because every time he tried to touch me, every time he tried to kiss me I had to pretend it was you to even fake getting through it. But you’re right, Jet, it won’t happen again, because you don’t know half of what you think you know about me. Every time I think you’re figuring it out or at least trying to, you just end up making me feel like an idiot.”

She threw the door open in a swirl of red and righteous indignation. The guys in the band were all staring at me with knowing looks, as she swept out of the room like a regal goddess. I saw Von open his mouth, but I just squinted my eyes and pointed a finger in his direction. “Don’t even start.”

I picked up my electric Les Paul and fit the strap over my shoulder. I shook my head to try to get my brains and my libido to settle back down, and shoved a guitar pick between my teeth.

“I wanna start with something a little different. You guys think you can just follow me in?”

We had played together for years, and there hadn’t ever been a time when I had spontaneously changed up a set that they hadn’t been able to just fall in line or pick up the rhythm and follow my lead. Boone narrowed his eyes at me and picked up his bass.

“It’s going to be one of those shows?”

I blew out a breath and tried not to think about how good Ayden felt, how perfect she had tasted and moved against me. Granted, I had had a thing for her for a hell of a long time, but I hadn’t been prepared for the reality to profoundly beat the crap out of the fantasy. She was a girl who wanted things in life I was never going to be able to give her. It shouldn’t make me go sideways every time we were close, when I knew that nothing was ever going to come of it. While I wasn’t opposed to being any pretty girl’s good time, something told me that when she walked away after having her fun, she would be taking with her more of me than I wanted to give.

The sound tech running the board at the venue called us onto the stage, and as soon as we walked out, the crowd erupted. I lifted a hand and saw Von give a little salute. Here, we were kings and what happened elsewhere didn’t matter, couldn’t matter. I loved to play live. Loved to give the crowd a show that made them move and sing. It was my way of getting all the poison that filtered around in my blood out, so that it didn’t kill me. The house lights went down and the red spotlight hit me squarely in the face. I looked around the crowd, refusing to admit I always searched for a certain dark head in the masses. I forced a wicked grin and shoved my hands through my hair, and heard a few ladies offer up loud whistles.

“It’s Valentine’s Day, motherfuckers!!!” Everyone screamed and Von struck a long chord on the guitar. I grabbed the mic with both hands and squinted into the light. “Unfortunately, for all you love birds out there, you came to see a rock show. We don’t sing songs about love.” There were more cheers and someone screamed “I love you, Jet!” at the top of her lungs. I laughed and felt the intensity ratchet up and up. I cocked a hip to the side and gave my best sneer, feeling all the things that had just happened with Ayden blazing under my skin.

“We don’t normally do cover songs, but tonight, oh tonight, I think we’ll introduce a little metal to one of my ol’ faves.”

I felt the anticipation blow across my skin, saw Von and Catcher share a slightly worried look, but before they could stop me, I strummed the opening bars to Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young’s “Love the One You’re With.” I loved old rock and roll, when songs were written for a reason, and this one seemed to be a perfect fit for my night. I took the bluesy notes, the folksy undertone, and bellowed it out over suddenly screaming guitar riffs. Stephen Stills would be appalled, as I sang with every bit of dissonance I was feeling.

I was singing it directly to her, even if she didn’t know it. The crowd ate it up. The older group was singing along, and the younger kids were embracing it as an anti–love song. By the time I was done, the entire place was electric and the guys in the band were done worrying about me going eruptive and messing everything up.

We blazed through the rest of the planned set and I knew it was a good show. When I threw my guitar pick in the audience after our last song, I saw three girls wrestle each other to the ground to try to collect it, and that was a sure sign of success. We went backstage and I was instantly bummed that I had trashed a perfectly good bottle of whiskey in my rage earlier. I had to settle for doing a shot of tequila with Von and Catcher, while Boone stayed steady and chugged a Red Bull.

Von clapped me hard on the shoulder and looked me straight in the eye. “Want to tell us what the oldies were all about?”

I couldn’t meet his gaze so I picked up my guitar case and shrugged. “You know that I like to mix it up every now and then.”