Page 53

I hug my arms around my knees and ignore him. It’s been a weird couple of weeks—all three of the original bandmates have been moping around the hotels and tour buses, trying to get me to talk to them—but I’m still sure I’m not talking to any of them since they decided to believe I was a freaking thief. Like what the actual fuck were they thinking? Me—a thief?!

Bronx apparently has forgotten that I’m mad at them by that friendly gesture. That or he’s decided to change tactics. Either way, he can go screw himself.

“Or we could go out. We could hit Serious Pizza.” He looks at me hopefully when I arch my neck to look up at him. “I hear the vibes are good and so is the pizza. We could get your favorite. Or... do you still like sushi? We could go to Uchi.”

“I’d like to make sushi out of your nuts.” My grin is savage. His face falls. I pretend my hand is a knife and mime chopping up his balls just to rub it in. I don’t miss the wince.

“Kelsey.” He kneels, his arms resting on the couch between us. He puts himself level with me.

And I just know he’s going to be the first one I forgive. He’s the one who saved me from Marco that night I ran from the Scarlet Club. The one who brought me on tour with them so I would have a roof over my head and food in my belly. He’s been trying to apologize this whole time. But it would have been nice if he’d told me what he was apologizing for.

“We were fucking idiots,” he says.

“Speak for yourself.” As far as I’m concerned, they can continue to sulk around like the dumbass jerks they are.

“I was a fucking idiot,” he reiterates. “You were my friend. I told you things first that I was too afraid to tell anyone else. Including Golden, Neil, and Riot. Including my parents. Because I trusted you. I shouldn’t have forgotten that just because you ended things with our brother in rock ‘n’ roll. He was hurting and you were gone and it was easier to take his side, but that doesn’t make it right. I should have stuck up for you. I am now. I won’t make that mistake again. I’ll have your back. I promise.”

“You’d better,” I whisper.

Maybe I’m a big softie for my Drummer Boy, but I believe him. He’s had my back, hasn’t he? Offering to look after me? And when I wouldn’t accept charity—seriously, how could they think I would steal money I wouldn’t even take willingly—he found a way to help me anyway. Even if that meant putting up with Riot.

Maybe he even realized there were things I needed closure for before I did myself.

He shifts nervously, and I let him stew on it for a few more seconds before I cover his big hand.

He smiles big, big, big. Leaping over the back of the couch, he lands on the seat beside me and lifts me onto his lap. His arms wrap around me as my knees sink into the cushion. Burying his nose in my shoulder, he breathes me in. “I missed you, Kells Bells. Fuck.”

“I missed you too, Drummer Boy.” Missed his big, rough hands and his wicked tongue. His sense of humor and the way he looks out for me. I press a kiss to his cheek, just above his ginger stubble.

He turns and kisses the corner of my lips. I clasp the side of his face and taste his mouth. He’s been drinking lemon-lime Gatorade. Making sure he’s hydrated between shows. I lick inside his mouth and he groans.

“Mm, yummy.” I nibble on his bottom lip.

Underneath me, he adjusts his hips. Whether he’s trying to hide his hard-on from me or make room for it in his pants, I can’t tell. Either way, it doesn’t matter. He’s big and fully erect. “Want me to stop?”

I roll my hips, grinding over the hard length. It twitches beneath me. “No.”

He takes control of our kiss while the head of his cock pushes against his pants and rubs along my panties. “Are you going to let me make it up to you... show you how sorry I am?”

I wiggle on his lap. It’s been too long. It’s been me and my Lemon since the night someone pulled the fire alarm at Pepperoni Rock and Riot came to get me. Between my uncertainty over Kodiak’s motivations and telling Riot I wasn’t ready to talk to him, despite what happened that night... with the way I was ready to climb on his lap in the back of the rideshare... it just seemed like a break was the way to go. But I’m so tightly wound. “Please.”

Bronx puts his hand under my skirt and brushes his thumb over my clit. My back arches, giving him more space between us to work his fingers inside my panties.

Each swipe produces sparks everywhere. Slicks his fingers.

His green eyes darken. “Riot’s rules or...”

“I should ask you that.” I sink down on his fingers—two now, because one is never enough. “He’s your friend.”

“He’s more than that to you and we both know it.” His fingers spike through my hair and tip my head back. His stubbled jaw grazes my throat and chest as he leaves kisses on any bare skin he can.

“I’m not his.” I put my hands on his knees to hold myself up while he thrust his fingers inside me. One day I’m going to believe that so thoroughly that I don’t internally wince. I follow it up with a light hearted, “And before you ask... I’m not Kodiak’s either. I’m the band’s slut, remember?”

“You’re ours.” He pops a button on my tiny black dress. Drags his lips across the top of my breast. “Not our slut. Just ours in whatever capacity you want to be. Friends... family... more. God, I hope you want more right now or I am going to have the worst case of blue balls.”

I laugh. But that laugh twists into a moan when he scissors his fingers inside me.

“You want a third?” He doesn’t wait for a response before he slides another digit inside me and twists them around. “Or my tongue? Or my cock?”