Consumed (12 page)

This is the first time in months that I’ve overslept, but not for a good reason. I’ve got one motherfucker of a headache. The little bit of sleep I managed to get last night was screwed over by shitty dreams. The only bright side is the twenty minutes I spent in the shower with Sienna, with my cock buried deep inside of her, and her fingernails raking a crisscross pattern across my back as we fucked against the tile wall.

Even then, even after letting go, she was still tense from arguing about Sam last night.

Automatically, the muscles in the back of my neck tighten. Fucking Samantha. She’s kept her promise to leave me alone, and yet she’s still causing me problems.

Sienna rests her hand on my chest. “You alright?” Her voice is worried. Even when she’s frustrated with me—with anyone—my needs are still first and foremost to her. 

I open my eyes and take in the sight of her. “How many of the tour cities have you been to?” 

Her eyebrows knit together over her blue eyes. “Did you know that you’re the most evasive, infuriating man that I’ve ever known?”

“There you go again.” I brush my thumb over her cheek, and her shoulder lifts a little. “Answer the question, Sienna. How many?”

She draws in a breath and then lets it out. “A handful,” she says. I trail my finger around the scooped neck of her tight T-shirt, and she flushes the sexiest shade of red. Staring down at her thighs, she continues, “We didn’t go on many vacations when my parents were still together. Once they got divorced, travel all but stopped. Unless you don’t count my dad’s half-assed attempt to get Seth and me to move to Maine.”

I don’t know much about Sienna’s childhood, but the few times she’s mentioned it, she almost immediately changed the subject. Hearing the disappointment in her voice—it just makes me want to protect her even more. 

“I’ll take you everywhere with me.” To drive my point home, I take her hands, holding her long, slim fingers feel between mine. “As long as you don’t get tired of it and tell me to fuck off.” 

Dipping her head, she presses her lips to the side of my wrist closest to her face. “I’m a travel virgin. I won’t get tired.”

Glancing up at the driver who’s eyes keep looking at the rearview mirror, I let go of her hands and touch my mouth to her ear. “Don’t worry, I’ll—” I begin, but then I realize she’s not wearing her usual apple-scented perfume today, but something else with a hint of cherry. “Fuck, you smell good enough to eat,” I whisper.

“Good luck with that on the bus.” She inclines her head to five parked buses coming into view. “Holy shit . . . you never said it was that many.”

“It’s a big tour, Red. Two buses for us, one for Wicked Lambs, and two more for the crew. We’ve moved past the days of the one bus shit.” 

“That sounds so unbelievably cocky.”

“Just being honest.”  I regret those words the moment I say them. Irritation flashes in her blue eyes, but she blinks and it’s gone almost as quickly as it came. Our driver slows the car to a park, and as soon as he gets out to grab our things, I take the conversation back to where I was intending to go before her scent fucked me up. To a place that’s far away from words like past and truth and honesty. 

“Just so you know, your ass is mine as soon as we get on that bus, and I’m going to enjoy breaking you in to each and every new city,” I whisper, and she races her tongue over her lips. I can’t decide if it’s just nerves or to test me. 

“I’m guessing that has nothing to do with sight-seeing,” she says as the driver opens the door for her. I’m right behind her, steadying her by gripping her hips so she doesn’t fall over on the bright wedge sandals that make her legs seem even longer. As I stand up, my cock brushes up against her ass, and she jerks forward, taking in a sharp gasp of air. 

“That was on purpose.” Since Wyatt’s approaching us and grinning I keep my voice low enough for only her to hear me. “Like I told you in there, your ass is mine.” Her mouth is parted when she whips her head around to look at me. “You can take that however you want for now.”

“Honestly, I’m afraid to take it anyway.” 

Our conversation is cut short after that because of Wyatt, who gives me about 10 excuses on why he bailed after the show last night until he finally fesses up and admits that Kylie flew in from New Orleans to spend the night with him. “I already know where you were,” I say when he’s done. 

When he catches up to me, he’s shoving a cigarette into his mouth. “Then why the fuck did you let me go through all that?”

“Unlike my sister, I’m not against watching you fuck yourself into a corner every once in awhile.” We reach the second black bus with the band’s logo—a heart full of daggers—emblazoned on the side. I run my hand down Sienna’s forearm and stare down at her. “This is ours. Give me five and I’ll be up too.”

“Ours alone? 

“Wouldn’t that be convenient,” Wyatt says under his breath. Pressing his fist to his mouth, he clears his throat, and adds says aloud, “You and Lucas. Whichever bus driver is on the rotation that day. Sinjin. Whoever Sin’s fucking.”

Sienna’s pink lips drag into a tight smile, causing me to debate whether or not I should punch McCrae in the mouth. “Good to see you again, Wyatt,” she says right before she climbs the bus steps. Once I hear her introducing herself to the bus driver, I face Wyatt.

“You know I’m bigger than you.”

Stuffing his hands into his pockets, he nods. “Yep.”

“And that you don’t need teeth to play your goddamn guitar.”

He claps me on the shoulder, but I don’t budge. “I’m envious of you.” He stares up the bus stairs. “We all are. Now pipe the fuck down and enjoy what you have. Even if she is here to”—he grins broadly and clears his throat—“work.”

“Don’t go fucking everything with a pussy and maybe Kylie’ll come around.” In the past, I played ignorance and didn’t step into their relationship. That changed when they got married. “Don’t fuck her over.”

Wyatt’s still stunned into silence as I get onto the bus, but he speaks up before I’m completely out of earshot. I don’t hear his exact words because my attention is drawn to Sinjin who’s giving Sienna his hung over version of a grand tour of the bus, but I know what Wyatt’s saying.

I need to follow my own advice. 

I’m not going to bullshit and say that it’s not a little rocky, but the first couple of days on the bus aren’t the potential clusterfuck I prepared myself for. Sinjin’s not walking around screwed up out of his mind, so he’s decent company, and Dave keeps to himself whenever we’re secure and inside. Because we have no other damn choice, we fall into a quick routine. Sienna focuses a lot of her attention on wardrobe, while Sinjin and me work on music and Dave comes and goes after shows, keeping an eye out for stray sets of tits and ass trying to find their way onto the bus. 

Still, I’m sick of the bus—with it’s full-sized master and standup shower—by the time we check into our Denver hotel mid-afternoon on the third day of the tour. Sienna’s obviously ready for a break too. Even before the door closes in our suite, she falls down on the bed, curling her bare toes into the crisp white sheets and grinning.

“I thought I never wanted to see another Four Seasons again, but this is heavenly,” she sighs. 

Fuck. 

Since I’m on the other side of the hotel room and her eyes are squeezed together, she doesn’t see my muscles tighten up at the mention of what happened in the Atlanta hotel. I’d treated her like shit. By the time she sits up, raking her fingers through her hair, I’m back in control. I cross the room slowly, allowing myself a little grin as her chest rises and falls faster and faster with each of my steps. 

“It’s a good break from Sin’s goddamn drumming, huh?”

“The guy makes a drum set out of everything he sees.” But she’s smiling. She pulls her knees up to her chest, and I let my gaze follow the path her red toenails make up the bedspreads, imagining how they’ll look on my shoulders a little later. “How long are we staying for?”

“Tomorrow morning. Next city is only a few hours away.” The need to be inside of her is a second away from trumping everything else I’ve got planned, and I know I’ve got to leave this room before that happens. I’ve already told Tyler that I would stop by his hotel for a meeting, and even now my phone is going off in my pocket. “Get some rest. I’ve got some band shit to take care of and then I’m yours.”

She starts to protest, but I bend my face to hers and cover her soft lips. “Here I was thinking I’d managed to break that annoying habit of yours.”

It takes her a second to answer, and when she does, she traces her tongue around my lips every couple of words. “Isn’t my”—she clears her throat and when she continues, her voice is a few octaves lower—“habit of being infuriatingly compliant to everyone but you what drew you to me in the first place?”

She starts the rotation of her tongue once more, but I pull it into my mouth. I lean in to her, my hands cupping either side of her head. She moans softly, pleadingly as our mouths crush together. The moment her fingers touch my thigh, I jerk away.

“Get some rest,” I tell her again. The look she gives me is just about enough to break through my thin layer of control, but I turn abruptly and make a quick exit. 

Because Tyler’s staying in a different hotel, Wyatt and I walk over together with David following several paces behind us. The Embassy Suites is about five blocks away, and Wyatt bitches all seven minutes of the trip how Cal and one of my sister’s friends have been keeping him awake with their loud ass phone sex.

“I’m just waiting for the
really
weird fetishes. Balloon popping bullshit or—” he pauses when a woman pushing her kids in a double stroller turns and glares him down. “I know what you’re thinking,” he says to me more quietly.

"Why would I think you have too much time on your hands?”

“Fuck you, Lucas.” 

I go inside of the hotel lobby with my head down. Even though it’s only just after two, women are already mulling around the lobby, earning pissed-off stares from the hotel staff. With one of the tour buses stupidly parked at the side of the building, it doesn’t take a goddamn genius to figure out what they’re here for. 

Luckily for Wyatt and me, Brady Callahan, Wicked Lambs’ lead guitarist is already in the lobby signing boobs, back dimples—whatever he can without getting tossed out of the building by hotel security.

Once we’re far away from the fray and almost to the elevators, I speak to Wyatt under my breath, “If it’ll help, I’ll buy you some earplugs. Then you won’t be able to hear Cal and Heidi about balloon popping or whatever and I won’t have to hear you bitch and moan about it.”

His eyes are lowered to the floor too but when I take a glimpse in his direction, I can tell he’s grinning. “Nah . . . but I do feel bad for Sin. Has to fucking blow living with the king of ropes and cuffs. ” Before I can respond he makes a face at the crowd at the elevator. “Taking the stairs. See you lazy fucks at the top.”

Almost immediately after he turns the corner in the direction of the staircase signs, the elevator doors open and the line starts to die down. Figures. I wait until there’s nobody left to catch a ride. 

The moment David and I step inside the elevator, we get company.

A couple of women—both dressed in little black shorts and tight T-shirts—trip all over themselves to come inside. They look like their minutes away from lining up outside the venue. They also know who I am. That much is obvious by the flushed skin and the fumbling for cell phones. 

Fuck.

“I’ve seen you on tour four times.” The woman speaking to me is redheaded—not natural, but it’s close to the same fiery shade as Sienna’s. I can’t help but wonder if she colored it on purpose—like my ex-wife had earlier this year. “I love your music. Love “Handcuffs” and “Ten Days” and—” She moves forward, but David steps between her and me, shaking his head to each side. 

“Ma’am, you’re going to need to take a step back.”

Normally, I wouldn’t give a shit. I guess it makes me a dick to admit that, but I wouldn’t. I would step off this elevator at the very next floor and there wouldn’t be a doubt in my mind that the redhead and her friend would still come to my show tonight. It was a control thing. 

It was also fucked up.

I rub the pad of my thumb across my chin and lean against the elevator wall. “Which shows?” I ask. David’s eyebrow jerks up, but I ignore his surprise.  

The redhead looks momentarily stunned and her mouth hangs open for a long time. Finally, her friend answers for her. “Two years ago. Los Angeles, Vegas, and Salt Lake City.” The brunette stretches her arms out against the railing surrounding the elevator and shakes her head. “Teresa runs Everything YTS.” 

I have no fucking clue what Everything YTS is, but I nod and make a mental note to Google it once I’m done with Tyler. “Okay, so only three shows so far.  But I’m seeing you tonight,” Teresa says. 

Hearing her say that makes we realize why I haven’t gotten off of the elevator yet, despite the fact I just missed Tyler’s floor. These women haven’t come on to me, or offered to fuck me in a three way in the first floor laundry room, or even spoke to me with a hint of invitation in their voices.