Amplifier dark tide 2, p.18
Amplifier (Dark Tide #2), page 18
“You hardly know enough about me to know what I deserve, Kris.”
“I know you deserve more than I can give.” He whispers the words, cigarette precariously held between two fingers as the stick slowly burns down to the filter. “And yet,” he muses, watching the ember. “I refuse to let you go. Strange, huh?”
I lean forward, hands to my head as I sigh. “Answer me one thing.”
He stubs the mostly spent smoke out with finality and then sits tall.
“If I thought I could do better, if I wanted more than this,” I ask, “then would I risk ruining the career I love by coming with you tonight?”
“You needed an out,” he says, tossing my own words back at me.
True. “I still could have refused.”
He shrugs as though unconvinced.
“Close your eyes.”
A smirk pulls the right side of his mouth higher. “You love telling me to do that, don’t you?”
“Just do it.”
He follows my instruction; shirtless and adorned with the chains he wore on stage as he waits on me to tell him what to do next. It’s quite the head-trip having this much power over somebody who’s viewed as untouchable by many. Yet I’d never take advantage of him.
Not when I feel too many people already have.
“We’re going to do the exercise I did when you first found me meditating.”
An eyebrow peaks, yet he keeps his blackened eyes closed. “Okay.”
I slide off the bed to the floor, resting on my knees. “I want you to tell me how tonight would have gone if you could pick whatever outcome you desired.”
“You want me to make up a perfect scenario?”
“Essentially. Yes.” I creep forward, careful not to make a noise.
He’s so captivating: sharp cheekbones, strong jaw, and expressive eyes—even when closed. His mannerisms say so much. Things I don’t think he’s aware he shares.
“I guess—”
“Don’t say guess,” I scold. “Be certain with your choices.”
Kris swallows as I move the ashtray and make myself comfortable on my knees; a mere foot separates us.
“For starters,” he says with a huff, “I would have been honest enough with myself to do this a week ago.”
My belly flips. I feel as though I slowly lift the lid on a forbidden box of treasures. I still myself, eager not to miss a single word that falls from his soft lips.
“I wanted us to be happy when I brought you here.” He frowns. “I saw you smiling when I thought about this the first time.”
I’m smiling now.
“The details are still foggy, but I know I’d take things slow with you. Make the night last,” he mumbles deliciously low.
Desire surges through me, my thighs squeezing together involuntarily. “Why?”
“I guess so I could make as many memories as I could.”
I let his choice of words slide. No way I’m interrupting his train of thought now.
“If you decide to go your way at the end of the tour,” he explains, his thoughts gathering speed, “then I want as much to remember you by as possible. I wouldn’t want to forget a thing. Not how you made me feel, the way you changed me, or how you reopened my eyes to things I’d been blind for so long.” He twitches a smile. “I wouldn’t want to miss out on knowing how your body felt under my hands”—he gestures as he speaks, eyes pressed tight as he flips his palms over—”how you sounded, the rush of your breath as you found bliss.” He pauses to sigh. “All of you. I’d etch everything I could deep enough to scar me so that I’d never be without you.”
Wow.
My hands shake as I lift them between us, my chest heaving with each labored breath. His eyes open when I reach out to touch his face.
I freeze.
“Was that what you wanted me to do?” Kris frowns.
I set my fingers to his cheek and drag them over the ridge of his jaw to his throat. “You aced the lesson, young one.”
He smiles and then laughs. A singular, throaty sound. “Cool.”
The gravity of what I’m about to broach pulls the joy from the moment. “Your fear still rules you sometimes, doesn’t it?”
He takes my lingering hand in his and sets it back on my lap. “Yeah. It does. Which is why we’re not doing this tonight.” He rises to his feet and walks behind me. “I want to make memories with you from a place of love, not fear.”
What the hell can I say to that? The rejection hurts, but I totally understand what he means.
“Stay where you are,” he instructs, any ounce of playfulness long lost from his words.
The request isn’t a difficult one for me. In this moment I’m afraid if I move, I may break. I’ve had one hell of a night, and in some ways, all I want to do is curl up and forget what happened back at the motel.
It’s as if Kris can see that too.
He returns, appearing before me with one of, what I assume is, his T-shirts in his hands. “Arms up.”
“Pardon?”
He smiles, waggling one eyebrow. “I do something when you ask without question.”
Damn it. He has a point. I lift my arms above my head.
He crouches before me and takes the hem of my tank top in his hands. My breath lodges in my throat, every muscle in my body fraught with nervous tension as he peels the cotton off over my head. I sit before him in my black denim and bra, exposed and completely vulnerable.
His gaze lingers for the briefest second before he redirects focus to the T-shirt beside him. His inked hands captivate me as he gathers the material and then jerks his chin to indicate I should lift my arms again.
I obey, comforted by his tenderness as he dresses me in his larger clothing. The shirt hangs from my slight frame providing the security that unwanted eyes stole from me earlier in the night.
Kris pinches the bottom of the shirt, gaze locked to mine. “Trust me?”
I nod, unable to speak for fear of crying out of sheer gratitude for this man.
He gathers the hem, his deft fingers diving beneath so his hands are cloaked under the cotton. I suck in a sharp breath when his touch connects with my waist, his hands finding their way blindly around my body and up my back until he finds the clasp of my bra.
His breath touches my face, eyes hooded as Kris regards me over his cheekbones, his stance slightly taller than my own. The clasp gives way, his fingers leaving with the lace. I fill my lungs when his hands reappear between us, only to dive beneath the sleeves of the T-shirt to find the shoulder straps. He tugs first one, and then the other, allowing me time to lift my elbow and thread my hand free of the elastic. The discarded lingerie falls to my lap. Kris flicks it aside as though the bra means nothing, nodding toward my legs.
“Stand.”
I have no cause to think twice.
I rise to my feet, his T-shirt brushing against my upper thigh. Our dance continues, his hands making light work of the clasp and zipper of my jeans. They slide to the floor with his guidance where I lift first one, and then the other foot so that he can free me of their restriction.
I stand before Kris in nothing but his T-shirt and my panties, realization sinking slowly into the marrow of my bones.
I love this man.
I’ve followed him for years, which means I’ve already done the lust phase most people enter into when they first find that connection to the one they want. I fast-tracked that part of my fascination with Dark Tide’s lead guitarist, and now that I stand before him receiving all the care that’s impossible to experience through the disconnection of the Internet, I tumble head over heels for the whole package.
I couldn’t have imagined anything more perfect than what he’s given me.
I want Kris to scar me too, so I wake every day with a reminder of what he meant to me.
I want to wear that scar with pride.
He slowly rises to his feet, a lazy gaze raking me from head to toe as his hands skim over the curves of my body. The shirt catches in his left, lifting it to my waist before the fabric breaks free and once more sheaths me from his desire. I’m at his mercy as he cups my face in his hands, tilting my chin up toward him.
The softest kiss, the deepest promise. “Come to bed, babe.”
THIRTY-TWO
Kris
“Metalingus” – Alter Bridge
The most delicate of beings require the most gentle of touch.
The hard, fast, and only reason I let go of Henley when she silently begs for more.
Her long and agonizing breath follows me as I head for bed, unbuckling my belt on the way. She hangs her head where I left her, seeming to collect herself as I shuck my jeans and climb under the sheets.
Thank fuck for her current state of distraction, otherwise this hard on would be awkward to excuse.
“How much longer are you in town for?” she asks, finally turning to join me.
“Another day. I think we leave sometime tomorrow night. I can’t remember.”
She smiles softly as I toss back her side of the covers. “You can’t remember?”
“I just do as I’m told.”
She folds first one slim leg, and then the other between the sheets. “Same.”
“You know,” I say, covering her to the waist as she settles on her back. “I could fix your problem with one message.”
She opens her mouth to argue, then seems to think better of it. The proposition tempts her.
“Say the word,” I urge. “I won’t get involved unless you want me to.”
“I want to….”
“But?” I loop an arm over her and wrap my hand around her waist.
She turns to her side and wriggles back into my hold. “Getting you involved validates the bullshit they said about me tonight, is all.”
“What bullshit?” I like this big spoon business.
“They said pretty girls always show up on these tours for one reason: to get what they want from the stars of the show.”
Fuckers. “As if none of those assholes are here for the perks.”
“Right?” She twists in my hold to look up at me. “You don’t think I’d do that to you, though?”
I bend my arm at the elbow to lay it the length of her chest and tease her bottom lip with my thumb. “You think you’d be here right now if I did?”
“I wasn’t sure,” she murmurs, hiding her face, “especially after what you thought of me at the start.”
“I was wrong.” Fingers to her chin, I guide her back to face me. “Okay?”
“Yeah. Okay.”
“Say the word like you believe me, Henley.”
She swallows, eyes searching my own. “Okay.” The slightest nod. “I believe you.”
“Good.” I tuck my body against hers, my residual stiffness hard against her ass. “Now get some sleep.”
She shudders against me, air leaving her lungs on a shaky exhale. “I should get up and set an alarm, so I’m not late.”
I groan. Is this what the guys have had to put up with touring with me? Always listening to me worry over everything and nothing all hours of the day?
“You know, Emery loves to tell me how lucky I am on my own because I don’t have a woman to drive me nuts.” I roll away and slide out of bed. “I’m starting to see what he means.”
“You want me to leave?” she challenges.
I chuckle as I retrieve my phone, stubbing my toe on the fucking lamp table in the process. “I dare you to try.”
She cocks her head when I turn around.
“I might be nice as pie now, but you don’t stand a chance if you piss me off.”
“I get that about you.” She rolls to her back, a fucking picture in the half-light with her hair fanned out around her head on the pillow.
How did I get so goddamn lucky?
I tear my eyes from the siren in my bed and toss a quick message to Rick.
K: Henley travels with us today. Let Jericho know, if he wants to know why to ask the cunts on her team.
There. Sorted.
“Right. Where were we?” I throw my phone to the floor and launch on the bed, much to her squeal of delight. “That’s right.” She wriggles around, resuming our earlier position when I tuck myself against her again. “Your foxy little self tucked snug against this monster.”
“Kris,” she warns, reaching behind her to set a hand on the side of my face. “Don’t, okay?”
“Habit.”
“We’ll work on that.” She yawns, pulling her arm away to rest it over mine. “Night, handsome.”
I place a kiss to her cheek and then nestle my face into the nape of her bent neck. “Night, beautiful.”
***
She took eleven breaths to fall asleep. Yeah. I counted them. Call me creepy, but I was dead serious when I told her I wanted to etch every little detail of this night with her into my memory.
Henley was so damn dog-tired that she didn’t stir when I rose a while later to have a smoke, seated cross-legged before the massive windows. I tried to sleep, but fuck me, with her beside me all my goddamn hormones wanted to do was give me a never-ending stiffy I’m too much of a good guy to put to use.
Even as I lie here now—my arm under her head and her sexy little leg tucked across mine—I can’t steer my thoughts away from those goddamn fuckers on her crew. Sure, I’ve heard the stories. You get this many people together in close quarters for these kinds of intensive stretches and shit’s bound to go down—especially when you throw drugs and alcohol into the mix. But either I’ve been sheltered enough or too blind to see it happening amongst my circle.
I won’t fucking tolerate that kind of bullshit culture. Crush on the girl or not, Henley is one hell of a tech.
Rick can replace the whole damn crew if it means she feels comfortable enough to stay. Period.
My heart jumps, as does Henley when somebody pounds on the fucking door. So much for a quiet morning together.
“You up, Kris?”
I sigh, cinching my arm tight around Henley to keep her in place. “Am now!”
“Who is it?” she whispers, blinking away her sleep.
“Rick,” I mutter. “Our manager.”
He thumps the door again. “Roll your ass out of bed and let me in, huh?”
“Whatever you want, ask Toby,” I holler back.
I’ve got more important things to deal with. I reach over and smooth Henley’s wild hair from her face. She grins up at me; her chin rested against the side of my chest. I swear to God I trip past the point of no return at that moment.
“She still with you?” Rick persists.
Fuck. I sigh and take her face in my hold, placing a slow and soft kiss to her lips. “Gimme five to get rid of the asshole.”
She chuckles as I slide my arm from beneath her. “I get the feeling it may take more than that.”
With a groan, I set my feet on the floor and stretch my arms over my head. “Don’t jinx me, woman.”
To my annoyance, she sits on the opposite side of the bed to do the same. “I think I already have considering he asks about me.” The jest has left her tone, the words flat as they fall from lips I’m in no way finished with yet.
I jerk my jeans on as I make my way to Rick, cursing under my breath as I hitch the belt and then reach for the door.
“I don’t even want to know how fucking early it is,” I snap as he walks in. “And yeah, come on in. We’re all decent.”
“Time is a factor,” he says with a sigh. “Hi, love.” The preppy fucker lifts a hand to greet Henley as she rounds the doorway out of the bedroom.
“Hi.” Like the professional she is, she simultaneously kicks her bra out of view and extends a hand for Rick to shake. “I don’t think we’ve met properly yet.”
He takes the offered hand and gives it a gentle pump. “No. We haven’t. Rick. I attempt to manage these frat boys.”
She shares a polite laugh with him as I stride past to get a goddamn drink. My throat is raw as fuck, and my mouth feels as though I’ve licked the carpet all night. Fucking lack of sleep.
“Cut to the chase then, Rick.” I snag the half-drunk bottle of coke from last night. “What’s the issue?”
“Henley has to travel with the crew.” He shifts his focus back to her. “Sorry.”
“Did you ask those fuckers why she doesn’t want to be around them?” I say, jabbing my capped bottle at him.
“Kris.” Henley shakes her head, still dressed in no more than my T-shirt. “It’s fine.”
The fact Rick has now seen as much of her as I have set a fire raging inside. “No. It’s not fine.” I turn to our manager, brow hard. “If you’d seen how she was last night you wouldn’t agree to this either.”
“Well, that’s a conversation for another day,” he retorts, eyes narrowed on me. “For now, I need to drop Henley back at the motel so that she doesn’t miss her ride.”
“So she misses it,” I gripe. “Then she has no choice but to come with us.”
“It can’t be that way,” Rick presses.
“Why the fuck not?” I set the coke down hard; frustrated I can’t even take a drink I’m so damn mad.
“Jericho has firm rules.”
“We have two fucking shows left.” I throw my arms out wide, angered to spot Henley gathering her clothes in the background. “What does it matter?”
“It matters,” he growls, taking a step toward me, “because if I fuck everyone off by letting you get your way this time, then what will you be asking for next tour? Huh? I’ve already got a goddamn shitstorm on my hands because Rey whined until he got what he wanted. I can’t be fucked dealing with this too.” He lifts a hand, turning to where Henley sneaks out of view. “No offense, love.”
“None taken.” She steps out of sight, presumably to get dressed.
I sag against the wall, defeated. Fucking Rey. As usual, he gets whatever the hell he wants, and then when any one of us others want something, oh no. Nope. Not gonna happen.
“I’m sorry,” Rick says quietly. “You’ve got to see how this just throws an unnecessary spanner in the works.”
