 
# Unexpected

### Rock Star Affliction #1

## Amity Cross
**Unexpected by Amity Cross**

Copyright © 2014-2020 by Amity Cross

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

All song titles, song lyrics, products and brand names mentioned in this book are the property of the sole copyright owners.

**Cover Design © Amity Cross**

Contact: theamitycross@gmail.com

### Contents

1. Blair

2. Blair

3. West

4. Blair

5. West

6. Blair

7. West

8. Blair

9. West

10. Blair

11. West

12. Blair

13. West

14. Blair

Other Books in the Rock Star Affliction series...

About the Author

Unexplainable: Rock Star Affliction #2

Other Series by Amity Cross

## One

# Blair

Real life isn't like the movies.

It isn't full of serendipity moments and true love. It's full of shit. Every day is an uphill battle to keep your head from going under and drowning in the current of monotony.

That's me. That's my reality and sometimes I wish I were in a movie, because right about now, there'd be a cut scene. I'd walk around a corner and run into the love of my life or a stack of money. Either seemed a good option right about now.

My phone vibrated in my pocket and I pulled it out and looked at the screen. It was one of those automated texts telling me my bill was due. How the fuck did I become so insignificant that I only got messages asking me for money?

Blair Hayden. Twenty-five, great tits, nice ass, but man...what a fucking bitch.

My life was just nothing. I woke up, went through the motions and went home. Rinse, repeat until I started to rot in a hole somewhere in a six-by-one pine box. Serendipity wasn't knocking on my door—it was running screaming in the opposite direction.

It was nine p.m. on a Thursday night, people littered the streets, going out to bars and restaurants, a movie, a theatre show, whatever normal people with valid social skills did. I walked amongst them, alone in a crowd. I desperately needed some kind of escape. Walking down a lane filled with various hipster looking bars, I stopped in front of one that was called _Dark_. The sign hung low over the door, the typewriter font backlit in a murky red color. I fucking felt dark all right. It was an omen sent from the voodoo gods of hell, so I pushed through the door, the muscled meathead bouncer giving me the once-over.

The place wasn't actually roaring. A group of suits sat at one end on low red couches, a few couples and groups of friends were scattered around tables and around the bar that glowed the same red as the sign out front. Typical inner city wank-fest. I don't know why I just didn't walk out and go someplace else, but I ventured toward the bar, sitting on an empty stool. I didn't exactly fit in here. Not with my long, wild dark hair, biker jacket, black skinny jeans, ass-kicking combat boots, tattoos and sour attitude.

I grabbed a cocktail menu and started reading through, deciding what it was that I was looking for. An escape, a fantasy or something in between. A one-night stand. I was good at those. Fuck 'em and leave 'em. A dull ache spread between my legs at the thought. Yeah, I'd find someone to take the edge off. A no-strings orgasm sounded delicious. I could pretend to be someone else for a night and maybe for a few hours I'd forget my depressing existence.

The bartender tapped the counter in front of me and I looked up. He wore a loose fitted white T-shirt with a low-cut v that showed off his tattooed chest and toned pecs. Nice eyes, messy brown hair that hung in his eyes. Getting warmer.

"What can I get ya?" he asked with a smirk, his eyes dipping to my tattooed cleavage.

I glanced over the cocktail menu once more and flung it back onto the bar when nothing caught my eye. "Give me something that'll fuck me up."

The bartender winked. "You got it."

"Those are dangerous words coming from a beautiful woman."

I turned at the sound of the deep, husky voice and my eyes collided with a pair of chocolate brown ones, or at least they looked like it in the dark and dirty light of the bar. Not responding to his quip, I blatantly took the stranger in. He was hot. Smoking, knee-weakening, pussy-throbbingly hot. His tight black T-shirt clung to toned arms, but he wasn't overly built, just right. He was tattooed up to the eyeballs and didn't seem to give a fuck who he impressed with it. Messy black hair, combed back in a quiff, the kind of hair that begged to be fucked up with wandering hands. Dark stubble coated his jaw and I instantly wondered what it would feel like to run my tongue along his defined bone structure. He looked like the kind of man that did whatever the fuck he wanted. Maybe this guy would do.

His lips curved into a sly grin. "You're unashamed, aren't you?"

"Life's too short to fuck around." He thought I was beautiful? Unlikely. He probably just saw me as a hole that needed filling.

"What's your poison?"

"Dunno," I sighed, looking for the bartender. "I like surprises. As long as it's hard, I'll take anything."

"I'm beginning to feel the same way." The double meaning didn't escape me, not for one second, and I ran the tip of my tongue along my bottom lip.

"Do you live here?" I asked, noticing the way he'd inched closer while my back was turned.

"No, just passing through." Even better.

The bartender slapped a glass in front of me, pulling my attention away from the hot stranger. "On me."

"Thanks." I gave him a wide smile and stifled a laugh when his eyes narrowed at Dark and Dangerous next to me. I was going to fuck someone tonight and it was probably the guy sitting next to me. He was available now.

The guy gave the bartender his order, three fingers of whiskey, and glanced at me out the corner of his eye, taking me in as blatantly as I was him.

"See something you like?" I asked, turning my body into his.

"Yes."

My lips quirked into a smile at his blunt tone.

"Do you live here?"

"Unfortunately," I sighed, glancing across the bar.

"Waiting for someone?" the guy asked, cocking his head to the side.

"No, I just don't like talking about myself. Especially not with guys I'm considering fucking."

"Considering?" he asked with a chuckle.

"You thought I'd already made up my mind?"

"He did," he said with a nod toward the bartender, who was at the opposite end making some fancy cocktail.

"Maybe I'm not that easy," I said. "Maybe you have to work for it."

"Where do I sign up?"

With a smirk, I stood and moved forward, positioning his leg between mine. "Come with me," I said and grabbed his hand.

"Oh, I think I'd go anywhere with you."

It was always so easy. Men only ever wanted one thing from me. They wanted to take their cocks and rub against me like a dog in fucking heat. If there was one thing I was good at, it was manipulating them into doing anything I wanted. Yeah, so maybe it was my fault that I was alone in the world. Maybe I deserved to be at the bottom of the pile. But one thing no woman deserved was to be used to satisfy a man, then be thrown away like cheap garbage. There's only so much you can take before you snap.

I led Dark and Dangerous to an equally dark and dangerous corner and pushed him down onto the couch, almost spilling his drink. Sitting next to him, he pressed closer, so our legs were firmly wedged together.

"I'm—" I pressed a finger to his lips and his eyes widened.

"I don't want to know your name," I said.

"Why not?"

"Let's get one thing straight. I'm not looking for details. I'm looking for a guy to take the edge off. Preferably with his cock inside me."

"Shit," he hissed, running a hand over his face.

"Consider this the interview."

"Where the fuck did you come from?" The guy shook his head, almost in disbelief, and I wondered if he was thinking about the fact that he'd just won the lottery.

I took a sip of my drink, feeling the slow burn of alcohol run down the back of my throat. "If you don't live here, then where are you staying?"

"Down the street," he replied, running his eyes over my breasts.

"On your own?" I slid a hand over his thigh, feeling the hard muscle underneath the material of his black jeans. He fit in even less that I did in this place and somehow I knew this was the guy that would calm my mood.

"Yes," he said, his jaw flexing as I moved my hand higher.

"I don't fuck without condoms," I said, digging my fingers into him.

"No problem."

"If you're not doing it for me, I have no problem telling you where to put it."

"Fine by me."

"Once isn't enough," I said, brushing my hand over his crotch.

"We can go back to my hotel room and we can fuck wherever you want for as long as you want."

He had a hotel room, which was okay with me. I could fuck him and then leave at the end of it without having learned anything about the guy. He was well built, which meant he had the stamina, and he was fucking amazing to look at.

"Are you clean?"

"Are you?" he replied, his eyebrow rising.

"I wouldn't be here if I wasn't." I trailed my fingers underneath his shirt, feeling the muscles along his lower stomach and the dusting of hair that led down into his jeans.

"I'm clean."

"Do you have a balcony?" I asked, a wicked thought popping into my head.

"Maybe not the balcony."

"Why not?" I asked. The sound of air hitting my bare ass was music to my already throbbing pussy.

"We might get photographed."

I cocked my head to the side.

"There's a lot of perverts out there." He shrugged.

"So, when are you going to ask me?"

"Right now," he replied.

"I'm waiting."

"My hotel's not far from here."

"Let's go." I stood, nodding toward the door, shoving my hands into my pockets.

"No bag?"

"I'm not that kind of woman," I said, licking my lips. I just shoved whatever I needed in my pockets and ran with it. Phone, keys, money, ID. Travelled light.

Standing, he placed a hand on the small of my back and guided me toward the door, our drinks sitting half-finished back in the darkness. He handled me like a fucking alpha male and that was either going to be a problem or the hottest thing I'd ever fucked in my entire life. He'd either make me bow down to him, or we'd clash until he was on his knees for me. And I was going to have a fucking good time standing over him and hearing him beg.

## Two

# Blair

Flipping up the collar of my leather jacket, I stood on the footpath as Dark and Dangerous stopped next to me. The streetlights afforded a better look at him and I didn't hold back.

He looked rough, not like he'd had a bad day, but abrasive, like he'd been around the block more than a few times. I bet he knew exactly what he could do with his hands and tongue and I wondered what he looked like naked. I let my eyes run the length of him again, settling on his crotch. I wondered what he could do with _that_.

With a laugh, he slipped a hand into the back of my skinny jeans, between the material of my lacy underwear and my skin. "You can play with it soon."

I licked my lips as he reached down and adjusted himself with his free hand. When he pulled me forward with the other, I gasped despite myself as I felt how hard he already was. He pressed his erection into my waist and dipped his head low, trying to catch me in a kiss.

Pushing him away with a hard jab to his chest, I began walking down the footpath, hoping it was in the right direction. I wasn't one for public displays of affection, especially not with a stranger and especially not on the street.

"Don't you want a taste?" he murmured, shadowing my steps. "Know what you're getting into before you reach the point of no return?"

Spinning on my heel, I curled my fingers into the front of his jeans, squeezing his cock through the material. A satisfied smile pulled at my lips as his breath caught. **** "I reached the point of no return the moment I laid eyes on you. Don't mistake that for anything deep and meaningful. I want to fuck and I want to fuck now."

The moment I felt how big he was, my entire body prickled with anticipation and moisture started to pool between my legs. He pried my fingers away and grasped my hand, pulling me down the street. A man who took charge, I fucking liked the sound of that. The fight for control that was about to begin would be epic. I almost had to run to keep up, his stride was that long.

People parted as we approached them, diving out of his way like they knew they'd be in trouble if they didn't. Crossing the street, he led me into the foyer of a hotel. All gold and marble with crystal chandeliers.

"Are you sure this is where you're staying?" I asked, looking around at the posh interior.

"Yes." He smirked at my reaction, walking me back into the elevator as the doors slid open. He held up a key card that had the hotel's logo printed on it, slapped it against the scanner and pressed the button for number twenty-eight. As the car made its way up, he turned and pressed me into the mirrored wall, running his hands over my breasts and down into the front of my jeans. I rolled my hips forward, pressing into his hands as his fingertips grazed against my clit.

"I can't wait to hear you scream," he whispered in my ear, breath hot against my skin.

"Who says I'll be the one screaming?" I pushed his hands further down my jeans and his finger slid through my wet folds.

The door slid open with a ding and without looking, he pulled his hands out and tugged me out into the hall, his eyes dark. We were alone as we walked toward his room, my entire body pulsing with the promise of what was coming next. A whole lotta fun, that's what.

The lock flashed green as he slid the key card in and out and he pushed the door open, dragging me into the dark room. A moment later, the light flicked on, revealing a modern and expensive-looking suite. The guy must be loaded to afford a room like this. My gaze ran over the king-sized bed and across the floor to ceiling curtains I was sure led out onto a balcony. I wondered why he didn't want to fuck out there? It didn't look as if a little exhibitionism would faze him at all.

He tossed his wallet and key card on the countertop as I slid off my jacket. Before I could toss it over the chair, he turned sharply and pushed me back against the wall, covering my mouth with his, plunging his tongue right in. The only way to describe it was devouring. He kissed me like he was starving, like he hadn't had sex for a long time and was coming up for air. Like an addict that had been denied his hit and was finally getting it. Funny thing about that. I felt exactly the same way.

I slid my hands underneath his shirt, feeling the hard muscles in his back, and my tongue melded with his, deepening the kiss even further. Tasting, sucking, like we were fucking each other's mouths. Dark and Dangerous really knew how to kiss a woman.

Grinding his erection into my stomach, he moaned long and deep into my mouth, as the throbbing between my legs started to become unbearable.

"You really enjoy driving a man wild, don't you?" he asked between kisses.

Running my hands over his heavily tattooed arms, I smiled against his mouth, sliding my tongue over his bottom lip and then back against his tongue. "Take your clothes off," I said, pushing him back. Not waiting for an answer, I pulled off my top, flinging it over the chair.

His eyes ran over me as he pulled his shirt off, throwing it over his shoulder, and both our hands reached for the buttons on our jeans simultaneously. As I was about to shimmy out of mine, he pulled my hands away and slid his own down my back and over my ass, the material sliding with them. Then he was on his knees in front of me, cool air against my skin as he pulled off my boots and jeans, kissing and sucking the insides of my legs and up toward my thighs, sending sparks right into my already wet pussy.

"Spread your legs," he commanded, tugging at me with strong hands.

No sooner than I'd spread myself open, his tongue was running the length of my folds and circling my clit. I gasped, my hands grasping my breasts, kneading through the material of my bra. I was so fucking right about this guy. He knew exactly how to use his tongue and as long as he kept sucking my clit like that, he could put his cock anywhere.

"You taste fucking amazing," he growled against me and plunged his tongue into my opening, teeth grazing the sensitive flesh around it.

"Fuck," I gasped, grabbing his hair, grinding against his face as he slid a finger inside me.

"Easy, beautiful," he chuckled, pulling away. Sliding a second finger in with the first, his palm circled my clit a few times.

Standing, he pressed against me and I grabbed his hand and sucked his fingers into my mouth, tasting my arousal. "You're dripping wet, you know that?" He was watching my every move with dark eyes, moving his fingers in between my lips as I sucked.

Oh, I fucking knew it. "Take off your pants."

Without any hint of hesitation, he took his boots and jeans off, revealing his hard cock, and my mouth began to water. Stepping forward, I wrapped my fingers around it and circled a thumb over his tip before sliding up and down, hitting his hilt before reaching the tip again. He shuddered against me, pressing into my hand, pulling me toward the bed. The back of my legs hit the mattress and he steadied me with a hand, the other fumbling for the clasp of my bra. Cool air hit my skin as he threw it over his shoulder and I was landing on top of the mattress with his weight pressing into me.

He sucked a nipple into his mouth, his hand on the other, twisting and kneading. I pressed my head back into the pillow, closing my eyes, feeling his teeth against my skin, his length sliding against my clit, and I let out a moan. Fuck, he felt so good. He just took what he wanted from me without asking. Most men did at this stage, but this guy was different somehow. The difference being, I didn't mind.

When he pulled away, my eyes snapped open and he gave me a wink. A wink? He just fucking winked at me? The cocky bastard. He had a condom in his hand and I went to snatch it so I could do the honors, but he pulled it out of reach.

"You want to fuck me," he said, "but I want to fuck you."

He totally got that I wanted to dominate him and it was obvious he wasn't going to go down without a fight, but right now? I didn't care as long as he got me off. "As long as one of us is fucking the other, I don't give a shit."

A grin tugged at his lips as he rolled the condom over his length and ran a hand up and down, before rubbing it against my opening.

"Put it in, for fuck's sake," I groaned, locking my legs around his waist, trying to force him in.

"We've got all night, beautiful," he murmured, sliding over my folds and across my clit. "Let me savor you."

No man had ever wanted to take his time with me before. It had always been hard and fast. In the backseat of a car, a dark corner of a park, the back room of some bar, a storage closet, but never in an expensive hotel and never so slow. Truthfully, I didn't know how to savor it. All I chased was the high of a violent orgasm.

Sliding his tip just inside sent shivers through my entire body and his lip curved into a wicked grin. "You like that?" he asked, pulling out.

"I prefer full penetration," I said through heavy breaths, arching my back off the mattress.

Winding his arms around my waist, he thrust into me without warning, skin slapping hard against my clit, and I cried out, throwing my head back. He held firm for a moment, circling his hips against me, allowing my body to stretch to accommodate his size before sliding out to the tip. Then he was striking deep again, holding me up and at the perfect angle.

"Is this what you want?" he grunted between thrusts, setting up a rhythm.

"Yes," I cried, feeling an orgasm building inside me already. "Fuck, yes."

Pushing me back down into the mattress, he pressed my legs up, opening me further, his weight feeling explosive above me. Taut muscles, skin covered in a shiny sheen of sweat, everything he was right then was raw. We weren't human beings anymore; it was almost animalistic the way he fucked me. It was the thing I'd been chasing with all those other guys and had never found. No man had truly let go of himself when he was with me, but the Dark and Dangerous I'd picked up in that bar was gone.

His hand slid over my chest and curved around my neck, fingers pushing my head back, allowing him to bite and suck my throat as his cock slid in and out. Through heavy breaths, I angled my hips to meet his and every time he thrusted in, it was deep. Good for him and even better for me. The harder he hit my clit, the more pleasure spiked through my body.

He didn't say anything else as we fucked, he just grunted as he pounded into me. He'd obviously let the notion go of savoring this, or maybe he didn't have a choice. My body began tipping over the edge as the onslaught continued, my muscles tightening around his cock, squeezing and coaxing him to follow.

"Don't stop," I panted as the control I'd been fighting for left me and the pleasure that had been building all night splintered through my body. He kept fucking me, my orgasm rolling over me again and again, so much so that I thought I'd never come down. I didn't want to.

With a grunt he thrust one last time, deep and hard, his body quaking against mine as he came inside me, teeth grazing against my skin.

"Fuck," he panted and drew my face to his. Sucking my bottom lip into his mouth, our tongues slid together in a long, slow kiss, his cock still firmly inside me.

I clenched around around him and he shuddered again, flexing his pelvis against my sensitive clit. I was far from inexperienced but that was...he'd just fucked me _raw_. There wasn't any other word to describe it. Dark and Dangerous had just eclipsed every other man I'd ever been with by about a billion to one.

"Who the fuck are you?" he murmured, sliding out.

"A good fuck," I retorted as he rolled off the condom, tying the end and flinging it onto the floor. What a dirty prick. Sliding my hand over him, I rubbed him hard again in two seconds flat.

"I know we agreed on no names," he groaned, flexing into my hand. "But I've never come like that before. Who are you?"

"None of your fucking business," I growled, reaching for another condom. "If you want to come again, you won't ask." Questions led to the inevitable deep and meaningfuls and sucked the intensity out of everything. This moment right here was one that I wanted to hold onto. Emotional connections were something I wasn't good at. Was it because I felt like I wasn't worthy? Like there was nothing there worth knowing? Who knew? Maybe I just liked to fuck. There was always that explanation.

Pushing Dark and Dangerous on his back, I rolled the condom over his cock, his eyes watching my every move. Straddling his hot tattooed body, I positioned him over my opening and I slid down his shaft slowly, feeling him fill me again. Leaning backwards, his tip hit me so deep it was almost painful, but what delicious pain it was, hearing him moan and writhe underneath me as I took him to the hilt, squeezing my walls tight around him.

"That's just how I like it," I said, rubbing circles over my clit, building another orgasm. My other hand went behind me, locking around his thigh as I slid up his length, almost to the tip and back down again, savoring, like he had. He'd wanted to take his time and had shown me just how good it could be. Granted, he didn't finish that way, but he'd given me a taste and that was all it took. He drove me wild and now it was my turn to take the power back from him.

Abruptly, he sat up, pulled me against his chest and sucked my bottom lip into his mouth. He wrested control from me and annoyance began to sear in my veins. Fisting my hands into his hair, I curled my fingers around his mussed-up locks, tugging his head back hard and he grunted, flexing his cock inside me.

"Who are you?" he said, hands digging into my hips.

Clenching around him, I sunk my teeth into his bottom lip, fingernails biting into his scalp.

"God," he groaned.

"On your back," I hissed.

"No," he growled. Abruptly, he flipped me over, and he was on top. Sliding out, he then thrust back in again and I cried out as he hit my sensitive clit.

"Do you know what those sounds you make do to me?" he said, thrusting again. "Knowing that I got them out of you? You. Are. Fucking. Exquisite." The last part he said in staccato with his cock striking deep, and it was fucking hot. It was all I could do to hold on and not come. I wasn't ready to give in to him yet.

His lips grazed my neck, sweat sticking our skin together, the air broken by our labored breathing. Every time he moved against me, I let out a moan, holding back, trying to prolong the fantasy for as long as I could.

"Give it to me," he said, moving faster, our flesh pounding together so hard, I knew I'd feel where he'd been for days afterward. "Come for me, beautiful. Let it go."

As his words sliced through me, I couldn't hold on anymore. I came harder than the first time, clawing his back, writhing underneath his body, and it was just as he'd said in the elevator—I was the one screaming. It didn't take him long to follow me over the edge and his entire body tensed as he spilled inside me, grunting like a fucking animal.

He collapsed on top of me, both of us spent, breathing hard and unable to move. That was...there were no words for _that_.

When he finally rolled his sticky body off me to discard the condom, I sat up, fully intending to get dressed and leave. I'd endure the ride home smelling like him, smelling like sex, and then I'd wash it off and go back to reality.

"Stay," he said, reaching for me. "Please."

Tensing, I looked into his chocolate eyes, and this time I really looked, and found myself actually considering it. I'd never thought about staying before and fear prickled through my skin. It wouldn't hurt to live the fantasy for a few more hours, would it?

I slid back onto the bed and he drew the covers over us, wrapping his arms around me. His lips grazed my shoulder before he sunk back into the pillow, a sigh fluttering against my exposed skin. Trying not to let myself doze off, I let myself study his arms. He was heavily tattooed with tribal stuff. It wasn't my favorite, but he seemed to pull it off. The one on his left arm snaked over his wrist onto his hand, a point finishing at the knuckle on both his thumb and pinky. I wondered what kind of job he had that allowed him to have hand tattoos? A pretty shit hot one, if you asked me.

I had my fair share of tattoos and while most of them had a story, there were one or two that I got just for kicks. I knew people got them for both reasons, but did they mean anything to him? I was too chicken shit to ask.

His grip began to loosen slightly and I knew Dark and Dangerous had fallen asleep. His breathing evened out and he didn't flinch when I flexed my ass against his crotch. If I was going to ditch the guy, then now would be the right time to do it.

I untangled myself from his arms as gently as I could manage. He must have been well and truly fucked, because he didn't wake, he just rolled over onto his stomach, the sheet falling away. Tiptoeing around the bed, I gathered my clothes and started dressing, one eye on Dark and Dangerous, one on the door. Pulling my boots on and grabbing my leather jacket from the floor, I hesitated at the last second, the place between my legs feeling raw and tender.

His wallet sat on the bench, shining like a beacon against the white countertop. Temptation began to pulse and I glanced back to the bed where Dark and Dangerous lay sprawled on top of the sheets, his tight ass on full view. I could so easily open up his wallet and learn his name. Pull out his ID and find out where he was from, how old he was. I could totally fuck off with his credit card if I really wanted to. Looking around the room one last time, I could imagine the limit on it.

I stared at his wallet for another minute until he moved on the bed, letting out a whimper in his sleep. Snapping to attention, I threw on my jacket and went for the door. When the sun came up and the fantasy was over, I'd be back at the bottom of the pile and he'd go back to his mid-list life doing whatever the fuck it was he did. It wouldn't work. It never did. They always fucked me and left. Do unto others, ad nauseum.

Closing the door behind me as softly as I could, I strode down the hall and into the elevator. When I got to the lobby, I walked right out of that fancy hotel and back into reality. The fantasy dissolved and my mask slipped off and I was just plain, ordinary Blair Hayden again. Flat out on the road to Nowhereseville.

The only difference was, the edge was taken off...for now at least.

## Three

# West

I jerked awake at the sound of my phone ringing shrilly. Fumbling blindly, I hit the answer button on the screen and pressed it to my ear. No guesses who'd be on the other end.

"Yeah?" I muttered through my sleep-induced haze. Sleep and...I rolled over and the bed was empty, save for my sorry ass. The woman was gone and my heart sank.

"West, you better not be in bed, high with some hussy," came the familiar whine of Dean Furlough, manager extraordinaire. More like asshole extraordinaire.

"I'm not fucking high, asshole," I groaned.

"But you're in bed with some random groupie."

"You say that like it's a bad thing."

"I fucking knew it," he exclaimed. "West, after all that shit, you want to go back there?"

"I'm alone, dickwad," I spat, sitting up. The sheets were tinged with her perfume and the musky smell of sex. She wasn't a groupie. I don't even think she knew who I was. "I'm clean, Furlough, and that's the way I'm staying," I added for emphasis.

"Good. Don't forget sound check at Billboard is at three."

"No, I won't. I'll be there." Looking at my watch on the nightstand, I saw it was already eleven.

"If you're even a second late, I'll punch you in the face myself."

"Good thing I'm never late." I ended the call before he could rip more shreds off of me. If he knew what I'd been up to last night, I'm sure he'd have a few more choice words to say.

The phone clattered onto the tabletop and I ran my eyes over the room. If it wasn't for her scent sticking on my skin and the claw marks all over my chest and back, I would've sworn that woman was a ghost. She was the most dangerous downward spiral of them all and I'd enjoyed every single second of it. The way she fit around my cock, the way she'd tried to dominate me, her taste. She was the best kind of drug...the best kind of natural high. And knowing that she'd disappeared, never to be seen again, was fucking torture.

I was a member of rock 'n' roll band Affliction. Correction, I was the fucker who'd started the thing and had never once thought I'd be the one to become addicted to the lifestyle. A new town, a new country every other day, a new set of women throwing themselves at me, another line of coke and another bottle of Jack. A guitar and a stage, the things that spoke to my heart, those things had faded into the background. A fuck and a high were the things I'd chased until it almost cost me my life. I was the fucking rock star stereotype down to the dotted i's and crossed t's. Now, I was working through it day by day. The band was what mattered. The band and my life.

I'd been clean for six months. Six painful fucking months. Furlough was hard on me for a reason and he was one of the few people that kept me on the straight and narrow. My downfall was one of the best-kept secrets in the entertainment business because of him.

Would I call last night a relapse? Maybe it was, but that was more than a fuck. I'd walked into that bar looking for a connection. I was sick and fucking tired of feeling so empty all the time. Was there someone out there who could love me for being myself and not the guitarist and lead singer of Affliction? The idea seemed so far-fetched it was like a fucking fantasy.

Then she'd sat down next to me and blown all my carefully placed walls to pieces. I hadn't been with a woman for months, so why her? What was it about her that had drawn me in? Who the fuck knew why anything happened. Sometimes I forgot which city we were in, we toured that much. Right now, I'd never forget this one. Melbourne, Australia.

Getting up, I stretched my tight muscles and walked round the bed toward the bathroom. That's when I saw the card lying on the carpet. Snatching it up with greedy hands, my heart almost stopped beating for a sickening moment. Her face stared back at me, her fucking beautiful face, and that attitude she'd carried around like a badge of honor clear in her features. She was all wild hair, rock 'n' roll, tattooed, and from experience, I knew she'd kick any man's ass without blinking. She was a firecracker in all senses of the word.

My gaze ran over the rest of the card, but all I could see was the one thing she didn't want to give me. Her name. Blair. _Blair_. It fit her like a glove. It couldn't be the last time I saw her, because I was positive there was something there. Something else had happened between us while we were fucking and I'd never felt anything like it before.

I had her name, address, birthdate, everything. If I wanted to, I could track her down and... And what? What the fuck would she say if I turned up on her doorstep in—I flipped the card over and read her address again—Brunswick? Where the fuck was Brunswick anyway?

If I didn't want to piss Furlough off, I had to be at the venue at three sharp. I didn't have time to go wandering over the city looking for a woman who may or may not call the cops the moment I knocked on her door. What I didn't need was to be bailed out of the cop shop and in the fucking tabloids. Affliction's bad boy rock star on the prowl again, this time stalking random women. I'd have to come at this one from another angle and right now I still ached from her touch. I needed a shower, my cock was hard, and I'd take care of both at the same time with the memory of Blair's naked body writhing underneath mine.

I'd figure out a way to contact her after the concert tonight. I'd have her in my bed again before she even knew what hit her. I'd have her screaming with my cock inside her and I'd work my way into her heart. A woman like that was worth the hard climb to the summit. A woman like that could take whatever she wanted from me.

As soon as I walked through the stage door, Furlough pounced, his smartphone wedged in one hand, the other circling around my bicep.

"West, for fuck's sake." He was giving me that look. The one where he knew something was up.

"What?" I scowled. "I'm on time."

"And it's a fucking miracle," he declared. "I'm talking about last night."

"So what?" I said, knowing that someone had found me out at some point along the line. Was it the loud, obnoxious sex, or the part where I'd been absent? "I snuck out to a bar like a snot rag teenager. I'm a grown fucking man. If I want a drink, I'll get a drink." I knew I was being an asshole, but I was still wound up over Blair, and I would be for days.

"West, you know I'm hard on you for a reason."

"Yeah, yeah," I said, shaking his hand off. "I know, but do you have to keep reminding me? It's hard enough."

"West!"

Looking up as we stopped at the side of the stage, I caught sight of Joe at the opposite side, fooling around with the soundboard. Joe was my oldest buddy and the first idiot to sign up as bass player in Affliction. We'd grown up together in backwater Australia and got the fuck outta the country the moment we both turned eighteen. His family were potato farmers and mine ran the local farm machinery dealership, so rock star wasn't on the menu. So, we changed it.

He was the first one to stand up for me when things started to tank. My face had been all over the tabloids, the vultures were circling and he'd been there. The other guys, Rob and Mick, had been quick to follow, but deep down I couldn't shake the feeling that I didn't deserve their loyalty.

They'd forgiven me a hundred percent the moment I went to rehab. I was only there for two weeks, but they still forgave me, which was more than I deserved. I'd almost fucked up their lives as well. Joe had always maintained that we were family and family stuck together and all that crap. I was still waiting for the part where he sucker punched me in the face.

Ditching Furlough, I walked across the stage and fist-bumped my best buddy.

"I hear you went AWOL last night," he said with a concerned frown.

"I just had to get out." Or suffocate in that hotel room under the weight of my emptiness. God, I was a douche.

"Everything okay?"

The thing about Joe is that he's like me. Tattooed, built like a fucking brick wall, hard as nails, in need of a good haircut, but underneath it all he's a really good guy. Sometimes I think my parents loved him more than they did me.

"Mate?"

I grunted, not really knowing if I should come clean about what exactly had happened last night. Keeping secrets from the guys was one of the things that got me into the shit in the first place. Once, we'd laugh about the women we'd fucked and compare notes in detail like it was a fucking game. Yeah, I wasn't proud of that, but when you're a twenty-year-old guy, all you can think about is your dick. This time I'd grown up a little and what happened between Blair and me...that seemed like something to keep to myself. Something sacred.

"If something's eatin' you up, you can tell me," Joe said, clapping me on the shoulder.

"I know." I watched him as he set up the soundboard, while the actual sound tech hovered in the wings, looking seriously pissed off. "Hey, can you help me with something tomorrow?" I asked. "I know we're on break, but I could really use a hand."

"We finally get a whole eight days off and you want me to pussyfoot around with your sorry ass?" Joe laughed, shoving me with his shoulder.

"I need a voice of reason. And Furlough needs to be thrown off the scent."

"Ahh, so it's like that, huh?"

"Yeah."

"You're not trying to trick me into anything, are you?"

"No, it's not like that. This one's different."

Joe suddenly stood up straight, a knowing grin spreading across his face. "You didn't."

"Didn't what?"

"How was she?" He winked.

"Fuck, Joe," I hissed, running a hand through my hair.

"You ditched our fearless manager and went out and scored. How is that not like old times? Seriously, I like a bit of pussy as much as the next man, but step one was screwing groupies. Be careful there, mate."

"She didn't know who I was." Like that was an excuse.

"So, for once in your life, you had to work for it?"

I hadn't had to work that hard, not really, but once I was inside her it had been a battle of wills. One that I was keen to repeat, but also one that I wanted outside of the bedroom as well. Just thinking about her made me hard. It was like the universe had made her just for me.

"It was just different," I said. "I only know who she was because she left her driver's license behind. She didn't want to tell me who she was. She never even told me her name."

"And you don't want to come off like a crazy stalker?"

"Fucking hell," I sighed, ignoring his last comment. "She was..."

"Shit, she must have been a good fuck if she's got you lost for words."

"She wasn't just a fuck. There's something else there and if I don't do something about it, then I'll regret it for fucking ever." I couldn't leave Melbourne and not find Blair. I couldn't let that kind of connection go, whether she wanted to or not. A connection was the thing I was craving like I needed air to breathe.

Joe stepped away from the soundboard and nodded at the tech. "I'll help you, but I'm not promising anything. Band before pussy. Nothing's changed there."

"I know." And I hoped it wouldn't be an issue. Blair was more than pussy.

"And if she has a hot friend, I'm having a crack."

## Four

# Blair

Rolling over, I ached in all the right places. A delicious, just fucked throb was set deep in my muscles and every time I moved, I remembered where he'd been. Dark and Dangerous, who I'd left naked in his hotel room only hours ago, really knew how to leave a mark.

My eyes cracked open and I took in the roof of my bedroom, lit a murky red from the cheap-ass curtains I picked up at some Sydney Road junk shop. My whole life was furnished with discount store purchases. It was a far cry from the lavish hotel room I found myself in last night. The small flat I rented in Brunswick was just a place to rest my head. The whole thing was a nightmare from the nineteen seventies and the landlord had apparently never saw fit to renovate the place or even think about replacing the mustard yellow carpet. I'd chuck a match on the place in a second. There was a reason rent was so cheap and why I kept signing a lease every twelve months. A hundred and twenty bucks a week, inner suburbs of Melbourne, single bedroom. I could live with the shitty carpet.

Dragging my ass out of bed, I stripped out of the faded singlet I slept in and turned on the shower as hot as it would go. Standing under the spray, I couldn't help thinking about the amazing sex I'd had. Really, I couldn't help it—I could still feel where he'd been and from the ache that had settled into my muscles, I would for days. The warm water did nothing for my memories and I leaned my head against the salmon-colored wall tiles, trying to get into the right headspace to go to work. Because today was reality and yesterday was gone.

Who the fuck was Blair Hayden? If you have any idea, let me know. That was the crux, wasn't it? That's why I felt so lost and hopeless all the time. Right? It was why I went out and fucked random guys, pretending to be someone I'm not...wasn't it?

I didn't have any interesting hobbies or aspirations. I worked a dull job and went home. There was nothing interesting about me at all and maybe that was my problem to deal with, but how do you get out of that kind of funk? I couldn't think of one thing I wanted to do or become.

I've tried to put myself out there and meet people, but I always end up disappointed. With them or me? Mostly myself. Start talking to some guy and the inevitable questions follow. What do you do? What are you interested in? That's when the conversation drops off into the abyss. When they hear I'm not a tattooist and just work the desk, interest drops off one hundred percent. She's just the receptionist. Skilled at answering the phone and getting everyone's lunch. When I'm not as dangerous or wild as I look, no guy wants to touch that. When I have nothing interesting to say, vacate the premises.

I'm a bitch because I can't be bothered trying anymore. Not when my efforts are rewarded with being treated like trash. Someone to be used, fucked and tossed out the morning after.

My entire attitude might be seen as a cop-out, but I was so fucking tired of clawing my way out of the shit pile. People get to a point where they can't take anymore. Hope, faith and all that...I've learnt the hard way just to let it go. Some people don't get their happy ending, no matter how deserving they are or aren't. Real life's a bitch and so am I.

A little fantasy went a long way to taking the edge off. Last night was just that. And now I had to go to work, because that's what normal real life people did. They just got up and kept going or they just laid down and died. I was in the keep on truckin' column.

When I got to the shop an hour later, one of the tattooists, Tommy, was sitting on a milk crate out in the back lane, a cloud of smoke hanging in the air around him. He sucked on cigarettes like something phallic and reeked like them, too. It was a miracle he had any customers and all of them seemed like bogun trash. He was the go to guy for black work and that meant tribal. My thoughts instantly went to Dark and Dangerous and his tattoos. He was definitely not a white trash westie from the ghetto, so I guess there was always the exception to the rule.

"'Sup, you hot bitch," Tommy drawled as I pushed the back door open. He was wearing his trademark baseball cap low over his eyes like a fucking wannabe gangster from the hood. "Look at you in your short shorts and little singlet."

"You know how fucking disgusting you look sucking that cancer stick like a cock?" I retorted, letting the back door slam closed behind me.

Dumping my jacket underneath the front counter, I flicked the lights on, glad that I was alone in here for the moment. The book was full today and after last night, I wasn't looking forward to dealing with it.

I had three stations to set up before we opened at twelve, so I got cracking, turning on the stereo. Someone had left an Affliction CD in it, so I pressed play. It was nasty as fuck rock 'n' roll, just the way I liked it. I wouldn't go as far as to say they were my favorite band, but I liked their stuff. They sung about love and sex and there was something in the lyrics and the music that just rang true. It was... well, raw. In your face. Kind of reminded me of Dark and Dangerous and how we'd fucked last night.

Groaning, I cursed to myself as my pussy throbbed... _again_. I wouldn't be seeing the guy ever, so I had to let it drop and besides, I had a ticket to the Affliction show tonight. Fucking thing cost eighty bucks, but I'd pay it to hear this music live. I'd get hot and sweaty in the mosh pit and be done with it. Work out some of this pent-up stress.

The back door opened and I heard Tommy talking to the owner, Tim, and today was just going right down the fucking toilet already. I'd never met a bigger asshole than that guy and lucky me got to work for the fucker. How he even had repeat business was one of the great mysteries of the universe.

The shop was actually nice when Tim wasn't around. The guys were more cheerful, the customers left happier and the buzz of tattoo guns didn't grate as much. I didn't even mind answering the same inane questions over and over. Does it hurt? How much does this stupid kanji cost? Do you do piercing? But, when the man himself walked in, I swore the temperature dropped ten degrees as his black hole of a soul sucked everything that was good right into his aura of bullshit.

I caught sight of Tim's disgusting ass as he walked onto the shop floor. His clothing style was rockabilly and not in a good way. His hair was slicked back, his checked shirt done up to the collar, and his tattoos peeked out on his neck and hands. On anyone else it might look sharp, but it just made him look slimy.

Tim sidled up to me and I tried not to gag as I set up Tommy's station. It wasn't any secret that he'd try to get me into bed with him any chance he got. He knew I was stuck here because he was the one that paid me my shit wage. After bills and rent there wasn't much left to do shit with other than buy cheap cask wine at the Bottle-o. I couldn't quit and with my resume, the only job I could get was in a call center, and I'd rather beat my head against a brick wall then work in one of those places. So I put up with his foul attempts at sticking his pin dick in me and went about my work. I'd never let the slimy fucker touch me, not in a million years. The day he tried was the day I ripped his dick off and fed it to him.

"Mornin', Blair," he said, the smell of cigarette smoke burning right up my nose.

"Hi," I muttered, not looking up.

"Goin' to the concert tonight?"

"Yep." If I didn't talk to him, he would go away eventually, usually after calling me some filthy name.

He let out a sharp sigh and began to walk away. "Fuck you're a bitch," he said. "The only reason I employ you is because you're fucking hot. Good for business and morale."

"And you wonder why I won't let your disgusting dick near me," I muttered under my breath as he disappeared into the back room where he had a private workspace. Luckily for me, he didn't like my "hot ass" touching his equipment, so he set up his own shit. I didn't want to think about getting caught in there with him.

As the day rolled on, everyone got antsier, customers came and went, the phone kept ringing and by the time I locked the front door and flipped the sign, my muscles throbbed. My thighs ached something fierce with that day-after-being-fucked-hard feeling. Tommy and the boys had bolted the moment they'd finished, leaving me to clean up their mess as usual. The last clients had been an arm and a lower back tramp-stamp, so their stations were quick to dismantle.

The door to Tim's studio opened and I jumped. I thought he'd already gone, but he walked out with a look on his face that said otherwise. Today, he'd been waiting and his sudden need to up his game made me sick to the stomach, but I guess it was only a matter of time.

"You never talk about a boyfriend," he said, not hiding the fact that he was staring at my tits swaying back and forth as I wiped down the bench.

"Why would I talk to you about anything personal?" I said, dumping the last of the paper towel in the bin.

"Because that's what workmates do. They talk about stuff."

"They talk about work." I rolled my eyes, retrieving my jacket. "And if you hadn't noticed, there ain't much to talk about."

"You know how hot your smart mouth is, Blair? You're such a fucking tease, it makes my balls blue."

I didn't like where this was going and my blood started to run cold. He'd never forced himself on me, but he'd never said it outright either...how he wanted to fuck me. I knew it and so did the boys, but he'd never acted on it, not like this. I had to get out of here before this whole situation went south.

"Would it be a bad thing?" he asked, stepping toward me.

That was the moment I bolted for the back door. As I pushed it open, I said, "Yeah, it would."

I sat as close to the window of the tram as I could as it rumbled down Flemington Road, slowly filling with people the closer it got to the city. I was dying for a hard drink and some music to calm me down. The last day had been a headfuck and for me that was a year's worth of excitement right there. Pick up a hot guy, fuck his brains out, then my boss tries to crack onto me like a perverted sexual predator. That was my calendar done for the year.

When the tram finally hit Bourke Street, I forced my way off and onto the street. One thing I liked about living in the city was the anonymity. Melbourne was big enough that you could blend into the background without knowing every sick sad fucker out there. I didn't want to be known, I just wanted to blend, and that was saying something knowing how I looked.

By the time I got into Billboard, the support band was just finishing. I ordered two drinks at the bar and downed one on the spot, taking the other with me. Weaving through the mass of people, I forced my way toward the front, finding a clear spot about five back from the stage.

People milled about me talking about Affliction, the support band, their stupid as fuck plans for the weekend. I just stood there as it all washed over me like I was invisible. Nobody even looked my way, other than a few random guys who just stared at my tattooed tits like they were something to eat. Talk about being alone in a crowd.

Then the lights dimmed and the crowd erupted into cheers and this was the moment I was waiting for. The moment where the music would just take me away, make me feel something else, and I could forget the last twenty-four hours. And the last twenty-five years for that matter.

I skulled the last of my scotch and Coke and dropped the cup between my feet on the floor and watched as the band came out on stage. I wasn't one of those people that followed music in a hardcore way. I didn't know what they looked like, what their names were, I didn't read interviews or that little booklet in the front of CDs. I just hit play.

Closing my eyes, I let the first sounds of distortion wash over me as the band cracked their guitars.

"Hello, Melbourne," came the sound of a husky male voice. "We're Affliction. Thanks for fuckin' comin'."

The guy kinda sounded familiar but I didn't open my eyes as they started their first song, the crowd pushing against me. He had a nice voice, husky and soulful as he sung. As they played song after song, whoever the lead singer was caught my attention. He sounded better in person than on the CD and curiosity got the better of me. Opening my eyes, I scanned the stage. Over on the right was a heavyset guy playing bass guitar. To the left was another guitarist, all tattoos and muscles, and the drummer in the back was a shaved head, shirtless meathead. And in the center, right in front of me, was Dark and Dangerous—and I almost choked on my own spit.

I don't know how he knew, but his gaze flickered down to the crowd and recognition flashed in his eyes. There was no way he could mistake me from this distance. Five people separated us. He didn't falter as the song continued, some song about dirty sex probably, and I had to give the guy points for professionalism because my mind went straight to the gutter.

His hands on my breasts, his tongue against mine, his cock inside me. My muscles clenched and throbbed and it was all I could do not to slide my hand down the front of my shorts and rub my clit. I was dirty, but not dirty enough to touch myself in a crowd of people. Then again, maybe he'd like it.

My mind caught up with me eventually and I realized that I'd fucked the lead singer and guitarist out of Affliction. That's why he looked like he did and had a hotel room with gold leaf on the wall. All those times I'd listened to that CD at the shop and it'd been him. I wasn't sure what I was supposed to do right then, but I knew I felt sick. I was right to have left him when I did. What would've I done if I actually knew who he was? He wanted me to stay with him, but how many groupie sluts had he already said that to? I was right to have left before he could fuck me over.

I stood there, frozen to the spot as the concert went on and his eyes never left mine the entire time. I even stood there through the encore in some kind of haze, my entire body throbbing with the memory of him inside me. I should've left while they were off stage, but I found myself wanting to hear more. Dark and Dangerous's voice was like velvet, honey, pure sex, whatever delicious adjective you could think of.

When they came back out, he instantly found me again, a smirk pulling at his lips. He was such a cocky bastard. Did he think I came here for him? Of course not, that would have to mean I knew who he was all along, and I wouldn't have known him from shit.

The moment the crowd started cheering and the last sounds reverbed into silence, the spell was broken and I tore my eyes from his. I began weaving through the throng, pushing people out of the way, desperate for some air. I didn't know exactly what I was running from, but it felt like the right thing to do. He was a member of Affliction. Rich, badass, could do whatever and whoever he wanted... Who was I to fuck with that? He probably had a harem waiting for him out back.

As I passed the merch table, I saw a bouncer opening a side door to clear people from the venue and I slid through into the cool night air. Flipping up the collar of my jacket, I sunk my head low and started walking. Directly into the sunset, eat my dust and all of that. Like I was in one of those spy shows on tellie, trying to shake a tail. Not that he'd run after me, but right now I felt so small, disappearing into the city seemed like the only thing I was capable of.

## Five

# West

Blair had been standing right there. Right in front of me in the crowd. Was she fucking real or some kind of ghost?

My eyes scanned the place where she'd been and I couldn't find her in the throng of people. Even when the house lights came up, she was just gone.

"Fuck," I hissed, bolting off stage. There was a side door that let punters out onto the street and the stage door opened up a little further down. If I was her, I'd go for the nearest exit. Ignoring Furlough's confused look, I pushed past him and wrenched open the door, stepping out onto the street. A few people who'd obviously been at the gig glanced at me, recognition showing in their eyes, but I stared straight past them. She couldn't have gone far, it'd been like thirty seconds since she'd looked away.

There weren't that many people out here yet, but as the venue started to clear, more and more concertgoers flooded out onto the street. Either I'd find her or I'd be hounded by fans. My eyes locked onto the back of a woman farther up the street. Her head was down, but she wore the same denim shorts and the same leather jacket and how the fuck I knew it was Blair, I'll never know. Running along the footpath, dodging the people who got in the way, I felt this awful sensation boiling in my gut. Desperation.

"Blair!" I called out, and for a sickening moment the woman kept walking and I found myself thinking maybe it wasn't her. Maybe I'd already lost the chance. But then she stopped, raising her head, and I came to a halt a few paces behind.

As she turned, my breath caught and my cock twitched. Blair. Then her eyes met mine and I couldn't help closing the gap between us. Something flashed over her beautiful face, annoyance, anger, disappointment? I didn't know, all I could think about was the fact that she was standing in front of me. She was real and she was here.

"How the fuck do you know my name?" she hissed, looking around the street warily.

Backing her into the doorway of a shop so my face was hidden, I pulled her license from the back pocket of my jeans and held it up.

Her eyes widened in shock and she snatched it from me. "Motherfucker."

"You dropped it, beautiful," I said with a smirk. She was the one who'd left the calling card and I chose to see it as fate. She obviously chose to see it as a mistake, one that I was determined to make her see as a good one.

She shoved the card into a pocket of her leather jacket, zipped it closed and began to edge around me.

"Where are you going?"

"Someplace else."

Before she could turn and run again, I threaded my fingers through hers and pulled her back toward the stage door.

"Let me go," she hissed, digging her heels in.

"Gimme five minutes." I had to kiss her again. I was desperate for another taste of her lips, the stinging bite of her attitude, everything. "If I don't get off the street, then someone will recognize me."

"Wow, the problems of rock star fuckwits."

Her barb should've stung, and it did, but coming from her lips it was like an aphrodisiac. "If I wasn't a rock star fuckwit, then I wouldn't have been in that bar last night."

"And I would have just fucked someone else."

"You say that like it doesn't bother you."

"It doesn't."

There was a moment of hesitation before she spoke and I tried to hide a smile. "Five minutes. Hear me out." I tugged on her hand again.

She glanced at the people walking past, then up the street in the direction she'd been walking like she was trying to formulate an escape plan. "Five minutes," she glared, her shoulders sinking. "Not a second more."

Grinning, I led her back to the stage door, head down and fast. Five minutes was more than I needed, but fuck was I going to use them all.

## Six

# Blair

Dark and Dangerous pushed through the stage door, not once letting go of my hand. He'd backed me into a corner and I couldn't help it. I really couldn't. The fucker was tempting beyond belief.

A man stood just inside the door and when we passed, he looked at me with a frown, like I was some kind of problem that needed fixing. Somehow I knew I wasn't welcome here and it just made me feel like running even more. I shouldn't have agreed on that five minutes. I should've kept walking the moment I heard my name.

"Fuck off, Furlough," Dark and Dangerous hissed, pulling me closer.

I assumed the uptight dickwad was Affliction's manager or some kind of groupie repellant. He just shook his head as we passed and then he was gone. Just as suddenly, I was being pulled into a room, the door slamming closed behind me, and then we were alone. Amps and cases and all kinds of crap littered the floor and I wasn't sure what I was supposed to do. The mask I'd worn the night before was gone, kaput, and I was just plain old Blair Hayden with no cards to play but my own.

Before I could say anything, Dark and Dangerous pressed me against the wall, hands cupping either side of my face. He looked at me like I'd just saved his life. Like I'd just delivered him from an eternity of misery. What the fuck was wrong with this guy?

"I've been hard ever since I woke up," he murmured, flexing against me like he was trying to prove a point. "You shouldn't have left."

"You were a one-night stand," I hissed. "It was a great fuck, but that's all it was."

"Was it?"

A hand dropped to my waist and teeth grazed against my neck and despite myself, I shuddered against him.

"When you have sex that raw with someone, you just know. It clicks and it works and fucked if I know why, but me in you? It's the only place I ever want to be."

His words sliced right into my heart and I felt myself starting to give in. I'd never give in. "You want a fantasy." I wasn't even sure that person he'd fucked last night was really inside of me. She was a mask that covered everything that was real. Men didn't say these words to me, not the day after and not ever.

He didn't seem to be listening. "I don't know what it fucking was last night, but you brought me back to life."

What the fuck? How could I bring someone back to life? Plain, nothing, nobody Blair Hayden? This guy was in a fucking hot as hell rock band with the world at his feet and he wanted me? Was he fucking high?

"The next time I'm pounding into you, I want you to scream my name."

"Oh, yeah?" I scoffed, trying to push him back. I'd used him last night and now he wanted to use me like some groupie? Fucked if I was letting him be the alpha in this nonexistent relationship.

"Blair." His breath was hot against my mouth, his cock hard against my stomach, and thoughts of us in bed together slammed into my brain like a fucking sledgehammer. He was in my head, he was _everywhere_. I didn't care one bit who he was, he was here right now offering himself to me on a silver platter and if I didn't kiss him, I might as well give up at life.

Digging my fingers into the back of his head, I pulled his mouth against mine and he struggled to take over, our tongues clashing, tasting. When he picked me up, I wrapped my legs around his waist, his length pressing into me through our clothes, and it was just as explosive as the night before. He put me down on top of one of the amps and pushed the jacket off my shoulders.

"Do you want me to fuck you right now?" he asked, pulling off my singlet. "I want to feel you come again."

Without hesitation, I said, "I want you inside me." I lifted my ass off the amp and dragged my shorts down and he pulled them the rest of the way over my boots.

"No underwear?" He cocked an eyebrow, licking his lips.

"No underwear." I reached for the button on his jeans, tugging him between my legs, while he pulled at my bra, exposing my nipples. He let his jeans drop just enough so I could wrap my fingers around his hard length, pulling him free as he discarded his shirt. Running my palm up and down, I remembered how his cock had felt inside me, coaxing one of the most overpowering orgasms I'd ever felt out of my neglected body.

Spreading my legs open further, I rubbed his erection against my opening before circling it around my clit, delighting in the soft groans coming from him. I had control for the moment, but for how long?

His jeans hung around his knees and he took a condom from one of the pockets, prying my fingers off him so he could roll it on.

"Hard and fast," I commanded as he positioned himself just inside me.

"Right now, I don't think I could fuck you any other way." As soon as the words left his lips, he thrust deep, hitting the spot he'd made tender the night before. This time, instead of lingering inside so I could stretch to accommodate him, he pulled straight out and thrust again and didn't stop.

"Oh, god," I gasped as he pounded into me again and again, his delicious cock striking deep. Hard and fast, exactly the way I wanted it.

"West," he grunted. "My name is West."

The amp lifted and dropped back to the floor with each thrust, the feeling of him fucking me raw overpowering everything else. I wasn't going to say his name. I was walking out of here the moment he pulled out and wasn't going to look back.

His teeth grazed the curve of my neck, fingers biting into my ass. "Say it," he hissed, burying deep and stopping his onslaught.

With a tortured moan, I rolled my hips against him, trying to chase my orgasm, but he was too strong. He held me so tight, I couldn't move, and anger boiled through my blood.

"Asshole," I spat and sunk my teeth into his bottom lip, hoping I drew blood.

Hands left my ass and fisted into my hair and he plunged his tongue into my mouth, taking what he wanted from me without shame. He was so fucking dominating and powerful I didn't believe it was reality I was in right now. Sex was never this shattering, not for nothing Cinderellas like me.

I couldn't help myself and I kissed him back, tasting him like a drug. This fucking asshole was like an addiction. His taste, his cock, his wicked words. I couldn't get enough.

"Blair," he breathed against my lips, flexing inside me.

Quaking against him, I didn't have any fight left. I needed to come and I need him to deliver me. " _West_."

A low growl rumbled in his chest as he pulled out to his tip and slammed right back in again, our skin coming together in a delicious slap. Who the fuck was this man?

I threw my head back as I started to come and he latched onto my breasts, sucking and biting my hard nipples, grunting like a fucking animal as he came with me.

"Fucking hell," he said, crumbling into me, our chests heaving with heavy breaths.

What was with this guy? I breathed in his musky scent, lips brushing against the stubble that coated his jaw. He smelt like a man, not some fancy as fuck cologne.

"Come back to the hotel with me," he murmured.

"Why?" I asked, my voice wavering.

"Because I want you to. I don't want to let you go."

"I've known you a day." It came out a little angry and rightfully so. West was a guy in a band who probably fucked groupies for a living as much as he played that guitar. The only reason he'd want me to go with him was so he could fuck me some more. I knew his name and he knew mine, and that was a huge fucking warning right there. I was the one who'd get hurt if I started to get attached. I was just a number. Being a human being would never come into the equation.

He drew back, his chocolate eyes searching mine. "You're not a groupie, Blair. I'd never treat you like one."

Like shit he would. "I can't come with you."

"Why not?"

"Because you obviously want something I can't give you."

Frowning, he pulled out and turned his back as he discarded the condom and pulled his jeans back up. Sliding off the amp, I dragged my shorts back over my boots and retrieved my top and jacket from the floor. Time to split before he could tempt me with his wicked words again. Self-preservation and all that jazz.

"I'll make you a deal."

I turned at the sound of his voice. He was watching me getting dressed, adjusting my bra over my breasts, and his eyes were still hungry. My curiosity spiked and I asked, "What kind of deal?"

"I have the next week off," he said, eyes sparkling like he knew he already had me. "Spend it with me and at the end we can keep going or end it. Your call."

"Determined fucker, aren't you?" I cocked my head to the side and a grin pulled at his mouth. I'd tried not to notice, but now I saw he had a lopsided smile, a small scar over his lip. Despite wanting to keep the guy at arm's length, I found myself wondering how he'd gotten it. It was too fucking late now, wasn't it? I don't even know why I was so determined not to let him know my name anymore. It was lost in the haze of what we'd just done on top of his amp. He'd tempted me with his cock and his deal and peeled a layer off my hard shell in the process. I wanted to hate him, but I couldn't find the emotion anywhere near the surface.

"I still have to go to work," I said, crossing my arms over my chest. "I can't get time off unless I quit the piece of shit, so you have to live with it. Some of us don't burn hundred dollar bills for the thrill of it."

"Fine," he laughed.

I ran my eyes over him for good measure, lingering on his crotch.

"I could go again, you know."

"Oh, I've no doubt," I said.

"So, do you agree?" He inched forward like a lion stalking its prey.

He knew I had no choice but to say yes, not after that. So I just nodded.

Stepping into me, his hands circled my waist, thumbs running up and down against my skin. Dipping his head low, he pressed his lips to mine and this time he kissed me like I was something breakable. Tender and slow, like a lover. His tongue skimmed over my bottom lip then lightly teased against my tongue before he claimed me completely. It was like a fairytale kiss from a romance novel. He kissed me like I was his lifeline and all it did was scare the hell out of me.

"You won't regret it," he whispered against my mouth, before kissing me again.

I didn't know what it was he was looking for, but whatever it was, he obviously thought I was it. Either he was fucking insane or I was blind. Regardless, I'd agreed to his deal and would see it through because I was a stubborn bitch like that. Maybe I was the insane one in this scenario.

By the end of the week, one of us would be broken and I was determined that it wouldn't be me. I couldn't do it again. West didn't seem like a man who was easy to come back from...if you ever came back at all.

He would get my body, but he'd never get my heart.

## Seven

# West

I didn't know what I was thinking when I offered Blair a deal, but I saw that look in her eyes, the one that said she was gunna run the first chance she got, and I had to offer something. I wondered what her deal was, anyway. Why she thought it was a good idea to leave me behind. It couldn't be the whole Affliction thing—she'd been at our concert which meant that she was into our music. The thought made a smile creep onto my face. Maybe she had a screwed-up past, too.

When I took her hand and pulled her back out into the hall, Furlough was standing at the other end looking at me like I was psycho. I knew what he was going to say and I didn't want to hear it, and I especially didn't want Blair to. It felt like the tiniest thing would frighten her and she'd bolt in the opposite direction.

I was determined to know more about her, and by the end of the week I wanted her to be mine. And I wanted to hear it from her beautiful lips. _I'm yours, West_.

"Where are we going?" she asked as I led her through the venue.

"The hotel." There wasn't anywhere else to go, not if I didn't want to be recognized and right now, I wanted to give Blair my full and undivided attention.

Stepping out onto the street, I decided we should walk it. The hotel was only a few blocks away and a huge flashy car with tinted windows would draw the vultures and fans like nothing else. I wanted to keep Blair as far away from that shit as possible. The street was busy, but nobody was hanging around, probably because it was a service entrance and not the stage door. Putting my head down, I flung an arm across her shoulders and guided her down the footpath, the sensation of her body against mine searing in a good way.

"Is it always like this?" she asked, fitting herself into my side. "Covert?"

"When we're on tour, yeah."

"Don't you get tired of it?"

"Tired of what?" I knew exactly what she was getting at, but I liked the fact that she was talking to me as Blair, not the wild part of her that was looking for a quick fuck.

"The attention."

Sighing as we crossed the street, I said, "Sometimes." The attention was what I craved, but it was also what sent me on my downward spiral. The right kind of attention was the stuff that came with the music. Interviews with people that gave a shit, _Rolling Stone_ , _NME_...not the tabloid shit that just wanted to know what I did last Saturday and if it was scandalous or not. The fame part wasn't so hot after a while.

She didn't ask me any more questions as I led her into the hotel foyer and back to the elevator, my arm slipping from her shoulders to her waist. Even when I scanned the card and pressed the button for my floor, I didn't break contact. It was like I needed to be reassured she was real and still here, and physical contact was the only way to do it. As the car ascended, I reached up and tucked her wild, almost black hair behind her ear and when she shivered, I let a grin pull at my lips. Her hazel eyes met mine and my cock began to harden as she dragged her bottom lip into her mouth.

The door opened with a ding and I smiled at the memory of the night before.

"What?" she asked, a wicked lilt to her voice as she walked backwards out of the elevator.

"Just remembering last night." I followed her, reaching out to touch any skin I could come in contact with. Last night felt like an eternity ago and my body still hummed in the afterglow of our desperate quickie back at the venue.

Her hand traced the tattoos on my bare forearms before her fingers curled around mine. This felt different than before. Last night Blair had been cocky, direct and forceful. She had bitch written all over her, but now it was like she'd dropped the facade and was just herself. She was still prickly and hostile, but there was a softness that I hadn't picked up on before.

She tugged me down the hallway to my room and right then, I would have gone anywhere with her. My eyes skimmed her tight ass and ran the length of her long, almond-toned legs. I wondered if she was part Italian, or Greek? Turkish, maybe? I was one hundred percent Aussie, but she wasn't. Not that it made a difference, but it added to her air of mystery.

Unlocking the door, I held it open for her and she walked by, dumping her jacket on the same chair she had last night. Dropping the key card and my wallet on the table, I pulled her against me, just savoring her body against mine. I had her, but for how long?

"You smell like sex," she said. "All the time."

"Good. Because I want to do it with you all the time."

"Do it?" Her lip began to curl into a smile.

"Fuck you raw," I growled, slipping a hand down the back of her shorts.

"I have work tomorrow," she said, kissing the curve of my jaw.

"I'll get Furlough to send a car to pick you up."

"A car?" she scoffed. "Don't you dare."

"Why not?" It had to be better than a taxi...or public transport.

Blair shook her head, eyes narrowed. "I'll come back after work. Don't you trust me?"

"Trust is a hot commodity, beautiful." I brushed a thumb over her nipple, which was standing to attention through her singlet.

"Luckily, I'm hot," she said, pushing herself forward.

"Stop trying to change the subject." I grinned. "Don't you want me to know where you work?"

"No."

"Why? You don't run a meth lab, do you?"

"No." That wicked smile again.

"Stripper?"

"Fuck, no." She laughed this time.

Blair was so damn sexy when she smiled, when she let her barriers slip a little. I wondered what she was like underneath that prickly exterior. I had a feeling she was just as difficult and just as beautiful. She was so damn...addictive.

"When I said I wanted you to spend the week with me, I didn't mean just sex," I said, sliding my hand back down her shorts, cupping her ass.

"There's nothing to know." Her tone suddenly became serious.

"There's plenty to know." I began moving my right hand toward her hip. "Like where you work and what you do." My fingers crept toward her clit, tracing the edges, but not touching. "What kind of food you like, your favorite band." I winked playfully. "Your favorite position." I skimmed my finger lightly across her clit as I said the last part, wanting to see her reaction.

"You're a fucking tease," she moaned, pressing herself forward, catching my hand between her clit and my thigh.

"All I want is to know a little more about you."

She began rubbing against me, nibbling at my neck. Aiming for distraction, no doubt. This was one half of the deal, but getting to know her was the other. It was the part I was counting on.

"Blair," I sighed, my breathing starting to pick up. Fuck it all to hell. She already knew which buttons to push and it wasn't difficult to figure out how hard.

"West," she whispered in my ear and I couldn't help myself. I slid a finger just inside her opening and my entire body crackled with need as she gasped. Those sounds she made were fucking gorgeous. She was wet and ready and it made this harder than it had to be.

"Where do you work?" I asked again, holding her completely still. She wouldn't come unless she gave me some answers like a normal person.

"Fucking bully," she hissed.

"I just want to know you," I said, pressing my palm against her clit. "You can ask me anything."

"Fuck you," she groaned, her fingers digging into my back.

"I want to, but that's up to you, beautiful."

Catching her mouth with mine, I kissed her hard and deep, our tongues exploring like it was the last time...or the first. She felt the attraction between us just as much as I did, I fucking knew it. She'd caved once already tonight and I'd get her to again.

I couldn't take my hands off of her for one second without feeling lost. I was in that dangerous in between place where I'd either do whatever she fucking wanted me to, or fight to keep my head above water. Two alphas together. We'd fight and then we'd fuck. I could already feel it beginning.

"I work at a tattoo shop," she gasped, tearing her lips away.

"You're a tattooist?" I asked, surprised.

Her eyes narrowed as she sucked her bottom lip into her mouth. "No. I work the desk."

"Do you like it?"

Abruptly, she pulled my hand from her shorts and stepped back.

"What did you think I was gonna say?" I asked, pulling her back against me. This woman would fucking kill me.

She shook her head with a scowl and I knew it was for my own good to stop asking. Not if I wanted to come inside her again.

"Okay," I sighed, running a hand through her wild hair. "Your turn."

"My turn?"

"Yeah. I asked a question, now you ask me one."

"Is this part of your deal? You know, I reckon you're making it up as you go along."

"Sure, if you say so."

"I can ask you whatever I want and you'll answer?"

"Sure." We were standing in the middle of the room, tangled in each other's arms, and if I'd known what she was going to say next, I probably would have sat down first.

"How many women have you fucked?" she asked, calling my bluff.

"Blair..." She didn't want to hear the answer to that question. Truthfully, I didn't have one.

"You said I could ask you anything."

"Are you looking for a reason to ditch me again?" I asked, annoyance starting to edge into my voice. "You know the answer won't be pretty."

"I've fucked my fair share of guys."

The thought of another man inside her made my blood boil and I didn't know how that was possible. "Don't."

My phone started ringing and her face contorted into a scowl. "Saved by the fucking bell," she said, turning her back to me.

Pulling out my phone with a sigh, I saw it was Furlough. From experience, I knew if I didn't answer he'd just turn up at the door in the flesh, and this was a conversation I didn't want Blair to overhear. It'd be nasty as fuck.

"It's Furlough," I said. "Our manager."

"The fuckwad in the hallway," she declared and it would've been funny, but laughing right now wouldn't be the smartest of ideas.

"I have to take it or he'll bust down the door."

"Be my fucking guest." She waved her hand around wildly and sat on the end of the bed.

Backing into the bathroom, I closed the door behind me and pressed the answer button on the screen.

"West?"

"Don't fucking start, Furlough." I wanted to punch the fucker already.

"Who was the girl?" His voice dripped with annoyance.

"Blair. She..."

Before I could explain more, he ripped right into me. "You picked her up last night, didn't you? Then fucked her again in the back room of the venue? I can't believe you. You want to fuck up again? Is that want you really want? Destroying everything you've worked your entire life for over some groupie slut?"

"Fuck you, Furlough," I spat, curling my free hand into a fist. "Blair is not a fucking groupie slut."

"West, it's only been six months since you got out of rehab."

"How could I fucking forget?"

"This is how it started the first time," he went on. "First it was one. Then it was what, like fifty? A hundred?"

A hundred different women. A hundred different pussies. I actually felt sick and for a guy as hooked up on sex as I was, that was saying something. It had been quantity not quality. On the road, there was no chance of seeing the previous night's fuck again. They all knew what they were signing up for, I never promised them shit, but there was always one who thought she could tame me like some wild fucking animal.

"West," came Furlough's voice. "Are you still there?"

"Yeah and I don't fucking know why."

"Did you promise her anything?"

"I promised her shit," I almost yelled, forgetting that Blair was still in the other room. "A week. I want her to spend the week with me. That's all."

"Get rid of her, West."

"No."

"She's enabling you. You want a real relationship so bad that you'll latch onto her without taking into consideration what she wants, let alone your fucking career."

"It's just a week, Furlough. I know that there's a chance she'll walk away at the end of it. I fucking know it. I need this."

"All I can see coming out of this is another trip to rehab. The band can't afford it and neither can you."

"She's different," I said looking at myself in the mirror. My reflection stared back and I knew I was insane. I knew what Furlough was saying was mostly true, but Blair wasn't like that. How could I explain it to him, when I couldn't understand it myself?

"If she finds out what happened to you in Florida, she'll only see dollar signs. You'll be in the papers again for all the wrong reasons and you won't be able to leave the hotel without a security escort. It'll take months, years to die down if it ever does. Joe, Mick, Rob...they won't forgive you again." I couldn't believe that fuck was using my friends against me, especially Joe. The next time I saw Furlough's face I'd punch the bastard out cold. "Either that, or she'll turn out to be some crazy fucking stalker. It's not like we haven't had our fair share of them already."

"I can't believe you," I hissed. "You really think she's some crazy-ass stalker out for some quick cash?" She'd fought me every step of the way, but she'd been quick to accept my deal. Maybe she was looking for money. Fuck, now Furlough had planted a seed of doubt into my head and I began to hate him even more.

"Get rid of her, West."

"Fuck you." I ended the call before he could say anything else.

I ran a hand over my face, seriously pissed. This might be my only chance to find someone who might understand me. Someone who didn't care about the newspapers and their shit stories and who might understand what I'd been through. Someone I could fall in love with. That what I really wanted when I said I wanted a connection with someone, right? I wanted the woman who'd blow me away with her body, her heart, her mind and her soul. That's what I wanted and it was like asking for world peace or snow in the desert. But with Blair, the impossible seemed a little more within reach. I'd be a stupid fuck if I didn't do something about that.

Leaving my phone in the bathroom, I went back out into the bedroom and found Blair sitting where I'd left her, glaring daggers at me. Her posture was stiff and her face hard.

"Fucking crazy-ass stalker slut out for some quick cash?" she asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Blair, no."

"Why would I want to stay with you now after everyone wants me gone?"

"Furlough's an asshole." I strode forward and tried to pull her toward me. She was on her feet, arms still crossed, and my heart did a nosedive.

"He's your manager and obviously he still is for a reason." She began to back away, out of reach.

"This here," I gestured between us, "has nothing to do with the band. It has to do with you and me. No one else."

"I can't stay, West, and you know it."

She was slipping through my fingers and it had only been two hours since I'd found her on the street. I couldn't lose my second chance. I wouldn't allow it.

"You're just gunna run at the first sign of trouble?" I asked in disbelief.

"I couldn't care less about your stupid fucking band or your money. I might sleep around, but I'm not a fucking whore."

"I never said you were. I was defending you. Having a one-night stand doesn't make you easy."

"You don't even know me," she yelled, the wildcat coming right to the surface. "And I don't even know you."

"But, I want to. Isn't that something? A start? What are you afraid of?"

"Why bother," she scoffed, pushing roughly past me and making a break for the door. I had a feeling running was her defense mechanism and she wasn't going to pull that shit with me.

I grabbed her arm, pulling her back, and her hands landed on my chest. Before she could call me another filthy name, I crashed my lips into hers and instantly, she began kissing me back. Her tongue slid against mine and the taste of her overtook everything else. I picked her up, her legs locked around my waist and I carried her back toward the bed. Fighting and fucking. That was one thing I was right about.

When her lips were on mine, everything else just dissolved. The band, the press, Furlough and his constant piss farting about, my past...it all fell away, and that's the thing therapy and rehab hadn't got out of my stupid head. The reason I fucked around and got high was to drown out the world to a dull roar. Music was one thing, something I loved, but the pressure that went with a bit of fame wasn't always shit hot. Blair was the cure.

Setting her down on the bed, I pulled off her boots, throwing them over my shoulder, and tugged her shorts down her long legs. She made short work of her top and bra as I stripped. One day soon, I'd be undressing her, peeling every inch of clothing off her slowly, driving her mad with want, but not tonight. Tonight we'd fought and fighting always led to desperate, hard sex. Always.

I settled between her legs, my cock sliding against her clit as I sucked a nipple into my mouth, rolling my tongue over the hard nub. Her fingers curled into my hair, tugging as she moaned, legs locking around mine.

"I need to be inside you," I muttered against her breasts. "I'm so fucking hard for you."

"Yes," she gasped, rolling her hips upward, her clit pressing into the underside of my cock.

With a groan, I reached over to the bedside table and pulled out a condom, rolling it over my length. Her hands were on mine, guiding me to her opening and I slid inside her, right to the hilt.

"You're so fucking wet, beautiful," I said, my breath heavy against her mouth. "Do you always get this soaked, or is it just for me?"

"It's because you know how to use that beautiful cock of yours, that's why," she said before crushing her lips to mine.

I began to move inside her, our tongues entwined, hands curled in each other's hair. I'd fucked in every position I could think of, gotten off in a hundred different ways, been with my fair share of skilled women, but this was something else. It was just straightforward vanilla and it was blowing my mind. And it was all because of Blair. I never thought sex could be like this, but obviously with the right woman it could. Just putting my cock in her was enough to satisfy and what a mind fuck that was.

"You feel so fucking good," she moaned underneath me as I flexed hard into her clit.

I was incapable to speaking, so I just caught her mouth with mine again, our skin beginning to stick together with sweat. I felt my orgasm building with each steady stroke and I could've let go and fucked her hard, but this slow and steady pace was so good, I couldn't. If I kept going, I'd come longer and harder and so would she.

"I'm close," Blair muttered between heavy breaths, her entire body quivering against mine.

I knew I'd never be able to fuck another woman and not compare her to Blair. Everywhere she touched me felt alive with fire and when we were together, both naked with me inside her, it was fucking insane. She turned me into an animal.

"Can you feel that?" I asked, nipping at her ear. A desperate moan came from her parted lips as I continued my onslaught.

"West," she gasped, clawing at my shoulders. "I'm coming."

I felt her begin to tighten around my cock, coaxing me to follow her into oblivion, and I did. I stroked against her again and again as she writhed underneath me, her orgasm taking over everything else. Grunting, I began to spill inside her, hot and hard. Fucking hell, it was the hottest sex I'd ever had...apart from last night. I knew her name, I knew how much of a bitch she could be, but who the fuck was Blair Hayden and what had she done to me?

"Fuck," I gasped, stilling inside her as the last of my orgasm faded away. Her eyes met mine and they had a satisfied gleam to them.

"Kiss me," she whispered and I was more than happy to comply.

Pressing my lips to hers, I kissed her softly, my tongue teasing her lips. I flexed inside her and she moaned into my mouth, sliding her tongue against mine.

Sliding my cock out of her, I said, "I'll be back."

Leaving her naked and sweaty in my bed, I walked into the bathroom, threw the condom in the bin and cleaned myself off. As an afterthought, I picked up my phone from beside the sink and frowned at the message on the screen from Furlough.

_Get rid of her._

Fucking cocksucker. I texted him as much and left the phone behind. When I opened the bedroom door, Blair was gone from the bed and my heart did this sickening hammering thing in my chest. Then I realized the outside door was open, the curtain fluttering in the breeze. Pulling on my boxers and jeans, I tugged the curtain aside with a trembling hand. She stood out in the cool night air, looking down at the city below, wearing nothing but my T-shirt. Her hair was wilder than ever with that just fucked look and her perfect ass stuck out just underneath the bottom of my shirt.

"Come inside," I said, holding out my hand.

"No." She was still pissed and if the roles were reversed, I would be too. But she couldn't be out here.

"Blair," I murmured, hovering behind the curtain. We had to talk about this. Furlough was wrong and I had to make her understand. If she'd been hurt before, if that's what had made her so hostile, then this would be stinging like a bitch. We had to talk it through if I wanted to keep her.

I knew it was a risk going out onto the balcony, but the way I saw it I didn't have an option. Blair was worth it...worth the inevitable fallout. Furlough didn't see it because he didn't know her. He couldn't understand how I felt because I was the only one who knew.

Stepping outside, I wrapped an arm around her waist as the cool night air blew around us. After all that, I didn't know what to say, so I just stood there holding her against me, watching the city beneath us.

Somehow I knew this wasn't going to end well, so if this was the last time I was going to see her, I had to have one last taste. Cupping her cheek, I pulled her toward me and sucked her bottom lip into my mouth. When she started kissing me back, I pressed into her, our bodies molding together. It was the only way I knew how to show how I felt without saying it.

I wanted to tell her how much I wanted her to stay. I wanted to tell her how she made me feel, but after a day? I would come across like a fucking crazy person and things were mental enough as it was.

When I brushed my lips against hers, she pulled back, her caramel eyes searching mine, and I already knew what she was going to say before the words even left her beautiful mouth.

"Deal's off," she whispered and walked through the doors back into the room.

And I was left alone, looking out over the city, feeling like a big fucking failure.

## Eight

# Blair

Okay, so I lied about going to work the next day. West's intensity levels were off the chart and for someone as hell-bent on blending into the background...let's just say I needed a fucking break from the whole shebang.

Sunday was a good day because Tim was too tight to pay me double time to work, so I could sleep in and do whatever the fuck I wanted. Actually, it was my only day off, so I went out of my way to do nothing with it.

Staring up at the ceiling like I did every day for the last five years, my mind ran over last night. I hardly remembered the concert at all. That stupid cock stain, West, had ruined Affliction for me for life. The moment I got to work tomorrow I'd snap that stupid CD in half and imbed it in Tim's skull.

Rolling over, I still felt sore. I could still remember West's cock inside me and I buried my face into the pillow, stifling a frustrated scream. This didn't seem to be the reaction I should be having. What woman wouldn't lose their shit over a hot-as-fuck rock star asking them to spend the week with them? Me, that's who.

The more I thought about it, the more I felt I'd made the right decision. Fucked if I was the one who was going to be left behind again and fucked if I was going to sit there and take being called a stupid slut. I didn't care who he was or how he made me feel. I'd had a lifetime of name-calling by the time I was eighteen and sure as fuck I wasn't going to take it from anyone again.

I spent the rest of the day trying to get him out of my head. I went for a run down the skeezy, graffitied bike path that followed the train tracks right down to the zoo. Then I caught the train back home. I had a _Resident Evil_ marathon, the first three movies before I shut it off and went to bed utterly defeated. The only thing I could do was strip and make myself come with thoughts of West, whatever his other name was, and thoughts of his addictive fucking cock rolling around my head. I imagined my fingers were his as I swirled them around my clit, my other hand kneading my breasts. And when I came, it was hard and long. It sent me to sleep five seconds later and thank fuck it was dreamless.

The next day I dragged my sorry ass into work kind of feeling numb. You know, that stupid depression you sink into when something doesn't go the way you wanted it to? Yeah, I felt it in the pit of my stomach and right there in my sensitive lady parts that still hadn't recovered one hundred percent.

Tommy was sitting on the milk crate again, smoking his usual morning cigarette, flipping through a magazine.

"Look at you," he said and I readied myself for his scheduled comment about my ass, tits or whatever caught his fancy.

"Hi, Tommy," I said, rolling my eyes. Looking down at the magazine in his hands, instead of the tattoos I was expecting, I saw he was looking at an article about Kim Kardashian. "Since when do you read that trash?" I scowled.

"Stopped at the 7-11 to get some fags," he drawled. "And then I saw a hot bitch looking back at me from the cover of this rag."

"Good luck to you," I said, pushing the back door open.

"You don't know, do ya?"

Pausing, I rolled my eyes. "What's there to know?"

"You like rock star's pricks in you."

The blood drained from my face and I felt like throwing up as he tossed the magazine at me. It hit me in the chest before falling to the concrete and I snatched it up. I didn't have to look far—I was on the front fucking cover. There I was standing on the balcony at the hotel in nothing but West's shirt, his hands all over me. And it was _obviously_ me. I felt like punching something when I read the headline. _West's New Affliction Down Under. Rock's Bad Boy on the prowl again. Another downward spiral or secret lover?_

What the fuck? I was so fucking right about him. Someone was going to get hurt and it was always me.

"Has Tim seen this?" I asked through gritted teeth.

"Yep. Came in ten minutes ago."

Shit. I could already imagine the day I was going to have without having to deal with the fallout over West. That man was obviously fucked up and I'd been dragged into it by association. I shouldn't have accepted his deal, attraction or no attraction.

I dumped the magazine in the bin without bothering to open the piece of shit. I could imagine the vitriol they'd printed about me. Furlough's words flashed in my mind: _Fucking crazy-ass stalker slut out for some quick cash_. And what the hell did this look like? I hadn't tipped anyone off about the hotel, but West had warned me about the balcony. Despite that, he'd still stood out there and kissed me. And was that my fault? Fuck no. He could've just said, _Come inside, Blair, there might be paparazzi scum with telephoto lenses out there_ , but no, he just walked right out like a dumb fuck.

Maybe I was nothing but a slut and obviously the media had lapped it up to sell more fucking rags. Maybe he'd used me to get some free publicity, because any news was good news, right? I couldn't believe I'd regretted leaving last night. Okay, so only for a second, but the thought had crossed my mind. I was such a stupid bitch.

I strode right into the shop with my head up, determined to get this over with as quick and painlessly as possible. Whatever Tim had to say, I'd just take it and move on. The sooner the better. I dumped my jacket under the counter and my shoulders sunk in relief. He was already in his studio with a client, his tattoo gun buzzing. I hoped that meant he'd eventually forget, but after last night's comment about how blue his balls were, I knew that wasn't likely.

I flicked on the lights and went over to the stereo and pulled out the Affliction CD. Balancing it half on and off the bench top, I brought my fist down and it snapped with a loud crack, imagining I was snapping off West's cock.

"Hey," Tommy cried. "Did the rock star fuck you over after he put his dick in you?"

"God, you're foul," I spat, dumping the CD in the bin.

"Foul and proud, baby."

"Ugh." I rolled my eyes, putting another CD into the stereo, this time some angry-sounding punk.

"Blair," Tommy said, suddenly serious. "I know we joke about it and stuff, but just watch Tim, okay?"

Looking up, I was kinda surprised that he'd go so far as to warn me and be concerned about it. Actually, I was dumbfounded. Tommy was a dick and said some stupid stuff to me that could be taken as sexual harassment, but I knew he'd never act on it. He was married for fuck's sake and I gave it back just as vulgar. Tim, however... "Thanks, Tommy."

"Sorry about that guy."

Another one from left field. "Yeah," I answered. "So am I."

Looked like life was going to get a little worse before it went back to mediocre.

## Nine

# West

I wasn't the kind of guy who got depressed over a woman, but I'd had my fare share of low moments. Once, I would've gone out, scored some coke or ice, gotten as high as I could and fucked some broad wherever I could find a quiet spot. Unfortunately, that wasn't an option anymore. I don't even know why it was unfortunate. I wasn't going back there.

Blair was gone and I felt emptier than I'd ever been before. She was the one. Everything about her had taken off the edge and filled the black hole inside me and because of a stupid fight with Furlough, she was gone.

She wasn't a whore...she was beautiful, exquisite, perfect. No one would be able to replace her and I didn't want them to. I had to get her back.

There was a sharp knock on the door and I rolled off the bed that I'd been licking my wounds on for the past day and a half, wondering who the fuck it was. Looking through the peephole, I saw Furlough's ugly mug. Of course it'd be him. I wondered what else he could possibly have to say.

Furlough and I were kinda a package deal these days. I guess he was terrified of leaving me alone and doing something to screw up his cash cow. Somewhere along the line it'd become more about the money than the music. We'd all forgotten at one stage or another why we got into this, some more than others.

Wrenching the door open, I snapped, "What?"

As he pushed past me, I noticed he was dressed in his usual snappy suit pants and shirt, a magazine under one arm and his phone glued to the other. Lately, he never brought any good news, just a cloud of bullshit.

"Have you see this?" Furlough demanded, throwing the magazine at me.

Catching it against my chest, I looked at the cover and my eyes widened in shock. It was a photo of me and Blair on the balcony the night after the gig at Billboard. "Shit."

"More than shit, it's a fucking nightmare. I told you to get rid of her. Now we're going to have to do some damage control."

He was more interested in scheming than waiting for it to blow over. All I could think about was Blair and if she'd seen it yet. What, was I fucking stupid? The picture was on the front cover, of course she'd seen it. This was a major fuckup and I could already imagine the scathing shit she'd say to me. That's if she even let me get close again.

"How many times do I have to fucking tell you?" I asked, my voice beginning to rise.

"West, we have an image to repair. These things take time and the media has a long memory."

"That's all you're worried about?" I scoffed. "Image?"

"It's what keeps the band going. It's what keeps you getting booked. It's what keeps the fans. No one wants to deal with a coke addict. Nobody wants to deal with those kinds of problems."

"Fuck, Furlough, would it kill you for once in your life to be nice?"

He sighed, putting his phone in his pocket. "Look, West. I do care about you and the guys, but this is a business. You might be musicians making your art and whatnot, but when money's involved things like this, like this Blair girl," he pointed to the magazine, "can take the wind out of the sails. We've got a world tour to consider and the contract with the tour company, not to mention the record label."

"Save to the fucking wage," I spat, throwing the magazine back at him.

"I understand you want someone, but it's too soon. Six months isn't much in the grand scheme of things."

"I'll be an addict for life, Furlough." That much I'd gathered from rehab and the group therapy shit. "I'll be struggling with this until the day I fucking die, so what's six months? My brain isn't fried. I know what I feel."

Furlough sighed, looking me over with a shrug of his shoulders.

"She's gone anyway," I said, turning my back. "You got what you wanted and once she sees that..."

"That's not the Jake West I know."

Turning sharply, I frowned. What was Furlough's game?

"You've been going on and on about it, but did you stop to consider that you could love her?"

"What the fuck, Furlough?"

"Mate, I'm your manager, but I'm also your friend, fucked as it is. I made a promise to you that day in the hospital."

"I know." _I promise to look out for you and save you from yourself_.

"If it's what you really want, then I can't stop you. You're a difficult bastard, West. I learnt a long time ago just to go with it. Help not hinder. You say she's different, so show me."

I ran a hand over my face, grinding my teeth. I didn't know where to start.

"I'll call you later," Furlough said, going for the door. "If you need anything, give me a shout."

The door closed behind him, but I wasn't listening. Furlough'd given me free reign to find Blair. That was a mind fuck right there. My manager had been more like my parole officer since "the incident." I'd been put under house arrest more than once and now he'd just left the door unlocked. Had to take advantage of that, right? It wasn't like I was going out to score some coke.

Picking up my phone, I pulled up a map and punched in Brunswick. I didn't actually have Blair's address anymore, but she'd said she worked the desk at a tattoo shop. It was the only bit of information I had to go on, so I had to roll with it. Step one was finding her. Step two...well, I'd figure that out on the fly.

Pulling up a search on all the tattoo shops in the surrounding suburbs, I groaned. There were a fuck ton of them. Starting at the top, I dialed the first number and hoped for the best.

I think I'd called ten shops before I got the right one.

"Captured Tattoo."

There was no mistaking her voice. Not after the filthy things she'd whispered in my ear, and whatever I was going to say caught in my throat. She sounded professional, just a hint of bitch with a dash of fluster, which was obviously my doing.

"Hello?" She sounded annoyed.

I held the phone for another second, listening to the background noise of voices and tattoo guns, and she sighed loudly and hung up. What, was I in fucking high school now? Reduced to calling and hanging up? I was Jake West. Badass rock star, not some pansy-ass pussy.

I dialed the number again and her voice came back over the line.

"Captured Tattoo."

My heart did this stupid thing in my chest where it flip-flopped and I couldn't believe I just thought the word flip-flop.

"Hello? Captured Tattoo."

I didn't know what I could say over the phone to make it better, so I ended the call and grabbed my jacket. Time to make a break for it. Furlough was on the phone out in the hall and he chased me down as I strode toward the elevator.

"Where the fuck do you think you're going?" he called out, hanging up on whoever he was talking to.

"Your cash cow's going for a ride."

"West..."

"Either get the car round, or I'll stand out front having an impromptu photo shoot while I wait for a taxi."

That seemed to give him a kick up the rear and he was back on the phone calling down for the car to be brought round back.

"Where are you going?" he asked, getting into the elevator with me.

"I'm going to get a tattoo," I smirked.

## Ten

# Blair

It was a long-ass day for a Monday. The shop was usually on the down low customer wise, but today everyone was booked. Even Tim didn't raise his putrid head. It seemed I was granted a day of peace after everything that had happened, or was about to happen. It worried me that my face was plastered on a billion copies of that magazine and with the tattoo on my arm on full show, I was more worried about someone recognizing me and even more terrified if it was a journo or paparazzi. The thought of being hounded at home or the shop was too much to handle. How did West cope with it? Who the fuck cared.

Apart from the pain-in-the-ass phone calls where some fuck kept hanging up on me, the day had gone by without any major incidents. I just wanted to go home and forget about it and maybe think about finding a new job.

Flipping the closed sign over the door, I went to turn the deadbolt, but I felt that weird feeling you get when someone stands behind you. You know, that prickly skin feeling that something shitty is about to happen. Turning sharply, I let out a hiss when I saw Tim standing directly behind me in the very dark and very empty shop.

"I saw a pretty picture of you this morning," he said, leaning against the counter.

"Good for you," I retorted and went to push past him to grab my jacket and get the fuck out of there, but he stepped to the side, blocking my path.

"Thought about it all day."

"Get outta my way, Tim," I said, trying to hide the rising panic in my voice.

"So you fuck dickheads in bands, but you won't touch what's right in front of you?" he asked, taking a step toward me.

I narrowed my eyes, trying to keep a clear head. The shop was on a street that wasn't terribly busy, so the chance of someone walking by was slim to none. I'd have to kick the fucker in the balls, gouge his eyes out and run. Guess I'd be looking for the new job after all.

"Aren't I good enough for you, Blair?"

I froze, a cold sweat starting to break out all over. I hadn't heard those words in a long time. Those were words that came with the stench of stale alcohol and blood.

Tim strode forward and pushed me back against the wall, my head hitting the exposed brickwork with a crack. I was dazed for a moment and he took the opportunity to pin my arms behind my back.

"No," I said, struggling against him. "Let me go."

He rubbed his putrid cock against my hip and I almost gagged. He was hard and was having a grand old time showing me. Every time he grinded his crotch into me, he made this awful moaning sound that made me feel dirty.

He tried to catch my mouth with his, using his tongue to force my lips apart. Pursing my lips together as hard as I could, I twisted my head to the side and he began sucking on my neck instead. There was nothing I could do apart from trying to gouge his eyes out, so I tried to push him back to free my hands. That only made him madder.

"Don't struggle, baby," he whispered in my ear. "I know you want it."

"Don't make me fucking sick."

"I can make you gag with my dick in the back of your throat if you want."

I went to raise my knee and go for his balls, but the front door opened, letting in noise from the street. Tim was yanked off me and shoved across the floor, colliding with the opposite wall, the framed flash sheets skewing.

"West?" What. The. Fuck?

"Keep your hands off her, asshole," Dark and Dangerous growled, fists clenched at his sides.

"Who's gunna make me, big shot?" Tim glared right back.

The air was thick, like someone was gonna punch someone, and I found myself hoping West would fuck Tim up from here to eternity.

"She's a fucking tease," Tim said, rubbing salt into the wound. "Paraded her fine ass around here for years, cock blocking every step of the way. She likes being chased, but won't put out. Seems like she finally fucked someone like the cheap-ass whore she is."

West was standing there like someone had just kicked his kitten. His face twitched like he was struggling to hold himself back and then he just exploded. Grabbing Tim by the front of his shirt, he punched him square in the jaw, the flat packed sound of flesh hitting flesh echoing through the empty shop, but he didn't stop there. Tim fell to the ground, clutching his face and West was on him, punching again and again.

A part of me was cheering that the fuck finally got what was coming to his perverted ass, but there was a line and West was currently crossing it.

"West, stop it," I shrieked, running forward. I fisted my hands into his shirt, pulling back as hard as I could, and he fell backwards into the floor almost on top of me.

"Crazy fucking psycho," Tim cried, trying to wipe the blood from his face. "You're going down for this."

"Blair," West said, looking right at me, ignoring Tim's profanity.

"Get up," I hissed, scrambling to my feet.

"I've got security footage, you asshole," Tim was saying in the background.

I was already halfway across the shop floor, my mind on the same thing. Tim would try and extort money out of West and the last thing I wanted was my attempted rapist getting a load of cash. The "security system" was just an old-fashioned VCR with a series of tapes I changed every morning. I pressed eject and yanked out today's, the evidence firmly in my possession.

"This security footage?" I asked, waving it around as I crossed the floor again.

"A VCR?" West scoffed. "What, are we in the fucking eighties?"

Grabbing my jacket from under the counter, I said, "I think we're done here."

"Fucking bitch," Tim hissed at me, spitting blood on the floor. His face was cut and he was bleeding everywhere. Split lip, cracked eyebrow, grazed cheek. No doubt he'd have a swollen black eye tomorrow and I hoped he suffered.

West pushed him back against the wall, their faces an inch apart. "If you try to take me down, I'm taking you with me and you will never see a cent. I'll make sure you lose everything. Your reputation and your dirty fucking cock. Got it?"

Tim shoved at him. "Get offa me."

"You've been warned." He pointed a finger at my now ex-boss and backed away toward the door. Looking at me, he held out his hand. "Blair."

What was I supposed to do? My face was in some tabloid and I had a right to be pissed about it, but he'd just come in here and saved me from potential rape. Right then, I didn't want to know how he found me, but I was glad he did. I took his hand and he guided me from the shop, his touch gentle...safe.

"Don't think about coming back, Blair," Tim yelled out after us as the door slammed shut.

Gagging, I flipped him the bird as we passed the window, West guiding me toward a fancy black car parked a few spots down the street. Opening the back door, he gestured for me to get in. I think I owed him that much. Sliding into the car along the leather seat, he sat next to me, tapping the driver's shoulder.

"Get us out of here."

The guy looked at West's cut hand and then to him and nodded. "Where to?"

West glanced at me and I shrugged. I wasn't sure if I wanted to go home.

"Just drive back toward the city for now."

The driver nodded and pulled out into traffic.

Silence fell and for the first time in my life I didn't have anything bitchy to say. I began to shiver as I thought about what had just happened and what could've happened if West didn't show up when he did. I might've got away from Tim, but I might not have. I could've been on the way to the hospital or the police station right now. I remembered the day the police had come to my door and bile rose in the back of my throat.

I guess this was what shock felt like. You see it in movies all the time, but it's different feeling it in real life. You want to pull it together, but it's just impossible. The tough exterior I'd been wearing all day cracked and before I could rein it in, a sob escaped my throat.

"Blair," West breathed, pulling me against him.

I crumbled into his arms, my head resting against his hard chest, fingers curling into his shirt. I forgot how much I hated him, how pissed I was about the photo, how terrified I was that he'd break me and leave. He came back. _He came back_.

"It's okay," he crooned, resting a cheek against the top of my head. "I've got you."

We probably sat that way for ten minutes, my tears staining the front of his shirt. The poor driver probably thought I was some mental case.

"You would go down for me? Over that dirty fuck?" I asked, wiping tears away with the back of my hand.

"As long as it saved you, then yeah."

I didn't know what to say to that, so I reached for his hand, threading my fingers through his.

"I'm sorry about the magazine," he said after a moment. "But I can't promise that it won't happen again."

"I know." Of course I did. That was part of his life and it didn't mean that he liked it or wanted it. If I was going to spend time with him then it was bound to happen sooner or later. Like I'd been saying all my life, life's a piece of shit and some chunks are bigger than the others. The paparazzi and the people who printed that junk were in the extra-large category. West and I had to talk about it more before I'd be satisfied and I wasn't looking forward to that conversation.

"I want you in my life, Blair," he murmured, before kissing the top of my head.

My jaw tensed. I knew he meant longer than a week. I wasn't quite sure what that feeling was inside me, the churning that went from my fingertips to my toes and everywhere in between. Staring at our hands, I didn't know what to do about it, so I said, "Can I go back to the hotel with you?"

"Yeah," he sighed. "Of course you can."

## Eleven

# West

When we finally got back to the hotel, Furlough was waiting in the hallway outside my room, looking like someone had kicked over his sandcastle. I'd been hard on him the last few days and he'd been just as difficult, but right now, he could go to fucking hell for all I cared. My main concern was for Blair. She needed a quiet place to have a shower, have some downtime. The drama that was about to explode was the last thing I wanted to expose her to.

Furlough's eyes went straight to the cut over my eyebrow, then to my raw knuckles. His face was like an open book. Ignoring him, I unlocked the door and guided Blair inside. She'd tensed the moment she'd laid eyes on my manager and I didn't blame her.

"West? What the fuck did you do?" he exclaimed, following us into the room.

"What does it look like?" I was suddenly angry at his constant nagging. After what I'd witnessed at Blair's work, I could've punched him, too. I doubt he thought I'd go out and assault someone when he encouraged me to find Blair, but neither did I.

"West, fucking hell."

I spun on my heel, eyes blazing. "I walked in on Blair's boss trying to fucking force himself on her." Furlough's eyes widened, but I wasn't anywhere near finished. "What was I supposed to do? Let him have her even when she was fighting him and saying no? It's taking everything I've got not to go back there and put the asshole in the ground."

"You've got to calm yourself down."

I waved the tape Blair had pulled from the shop under his nose. "I've got all your precious evidence right here. He's got nothing unless he wants to go down with me. I know how to threaten people, Furlough." I slapped the tape into his chest and he took it, his usual calm exterior cracking.

"West, you need to think before you act. What if..."

"I can't fucking change who I am," I yelled. "I'll always be the fucker from that band, Affliction. I'll always carry around my mistakes no matter what I've done to redeem myself. That's who I am and I can't change it. I can't apologize for that. What I can apologize for is the fact that her face is in that magazine. I will not apologize or make excuses for beating the shit out of a rapist."

"Calm down, West," he said, holding his hands out.

"She never wanted any of it."

"She's standing right here," Blair said like we were fucking idiots.

"Get out," I said to Furlough and he just grimaced. A moment later the door closed behind him and I was alone with Blair. _Finally_.

"Drama-rama," she said, trying to make a joke.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry about everything. Furlough needs to apologize to you."

"You've got nothing to be sorry about." She shrugged. "Deep down I knew this was your life. Consequences matter more to you than normal people. And Furlough can go suck a dick for all I care."

"It doesn't make up for the fact that you're in that stupid magazine."

"West," she sighed, winding her arms around my waist. "Shut the fuck up."

I encased her in my arms, running my fingers through her wild hair. I couldn't think about what would've happened if I hadn't grown the balls to go find her. Seeing that jerk wad with his hands all over her body and rubbing his disgusting penis against her made my blood boil.

"I'm sorry I didn't get there sooner."

She stiffened in my arms, but didn't pull away. "You came, that's all that matters."

"Of course I came."

"I know I can't go to the cops," she said. "If I do, then you'll go down with him."

"You can do whatever you want," I breathed. "I don't care what happens to me." Maybe I should've cared, but we were talking about attempted rape here, not that stupid magazine article.

"When the guys see his face and I don't show up, they'll know what happened. It'll be enough deterrent for him."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, his business is his life. And if he tries anything else, we've got evidence we can doctor."

"Glad one of us thought of it."

She looked up at me with a frown. "Did you call and hang up on me today?"

I hesitated.

"You did, didn't you?"

"Yeah."

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"I thought my apology would've been better in person."

"Well, I'm glad the thought crossed your mind."

"Take a shower if you want," I said, kissing her forehead. "You can wear some of my clothes until we can get your stuff."

She looked down at herself like she was unsure. She'd had to deal with so much shit since I walked into her life and it'd only been four days. Four days and already she was shell-shocked. After what that asshole had tried to do at the tattoo shop, I didn't blame her in the slightest.

"I can send your clothes down to be laundered," I added.

"Okay."

As she wandered into the bathroom and the sound of running water filled the air, I rifled through my stuff and pulled out a clean T-shirt and some boxers. Placing them in the bathroom, I scooped up her stuff and called down for someone to come get them.

I could've stripped and taken Blair in the shower. I could've done a lot of things to her in there, but what kind of ass would I be? I looked at the guitar case sitting in the corner of the room and for the first time in ages, I actually felt like picking it up and playing. The concert the other night was different. That was business, like going to work. This was more like pleasure. I glanced toward the closed bathroom door and back toward the guitar. I felt the pull toward it like old times and knew something had changed along the way, and I wondered if it had anything to do with the firecracker in my shower.

Deciding not to think about it too hard, I picked up the case and flipped it open.

## Twelve

# Blair

I stood underneath the spray of hot water, watching the steam condense on the shower screen. There were no salmon tiles, no putrid mustard-colored carpet and no cheap brand soap on the rack. Instead there was expensive-looking body wash that smelled like West. I felt like I was standing in another reality and I was another version of myself. I'd slipped on another mask. This one was a shell to keep out the world, but somehow a certain Dark and Dangerous was clawing his way inside. I wasn't sure if I should let him, or kick him out.

Shouldn't I be having a breakdown right about now, considering all the crap that had gone on in the last four days? I should be a blubbering sookie la la, eating chocolate and ice cream, or at least in a corner somewhere rocking myself backward and forward. I should feel Tim's mouth on mine and that thing in his pants rubbing against me. I should still be in some kind of shock. Weird as it was, I felt calm. I'd let it out in the car and that seemed like enough for now.

I had no job, a couple of hundred bucks in my savings account and absolutely no prospects after West was gone. That terrified me more than Tim coming back and finishing the job.

Turning off the shower, I stepped out and dragged a towel around myself. It was one of those fluffy white monogramed numbers and didn't I feel all la di da. The soft sounds of music filtered through from the other room and I stilled, listening. It was an acoustic guitar, some mournful and depressing song, but I couldn't tell if it was a CD or not. The voice reminded me of West's and for the first time since the concert, I remembered what he'd been like up there on stage. Commanding, raw, passionate. All of the things he was in bed, he was on stage. No wonder all those woman wanted to fuck him.

I toweled myself dry, pulling on the T-shirt and boxers he'd left for me, and tiptoed across to the door. Cracking it open, I peered out into the bedroom and saw West sitting on the edge of the bed, a guitar in his hands.

I didn't recognize the song he was playing and I found myself wondering if it was something he'd written. It was delicate, not like the stuff I'd heard before, and when he sung my heart melted a little around the edges. His fingers slid along the strings and it reminded me of the way he'd touched me that night on the balcony. Fuck, he just commanded that guitar and bent it to his will. No wonder Affliction was this mighty megalith of a thing. Fame, money, world tours, it wasn't just luck, it was talent.

The stupidest thought crossed my mind and I almost snorted out loud, it was that ridiculous. The passion he put into playing that guitar was the same he'd put into me. It was then that I knew the moment he left, I would be the one who was broken. I'd never recover from West. Never.

This attraction was nothing like I'd ever felt, but somewhere along the line it'd changed into something more. I had no idea how West felt, but maybe I'd be better off not knowing. I sucked in a shaky breath and got a grip. I was not one of those women. I was badass Blair Hayden. The bitch of the century. I did not fawn all over men, they fawned all over _me_.

West must've sensed I was standing there staring, because he looked up and a smile spread across his handsome as fuck face.

"Are you feeling a bit better?" he asked, putting the guitar back in its case.

"A little," I said, walking forward.

"I like you in my clothes." He pulled me down onto the bed with him and it was then I noticed he'd ditched his jeans and boots and was just in his shirt and boxers. We looked like one of _those_ couples. You know, the kind that dressed alike.

I smiled thinly, the revelation I'd just had prickling my skin. I guess it was fear that I was struggling with.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked with a frown.

I shook my head, lying back on the bed, resting my head against the soft pillows. "No. There's nothing to talk about."

West stretched out beside me, wrapping his arms around my waist, his hands finding their way underneath to touch my skin. "What are you running from, B?"

Wow, he'd given me a nickname. That wasn't alarming, not in the slightest. All I could retort with was what classic defense mechanism Blair would say. "It makes me wet when you call me that."

"You didn't answer the question."

I frowned, turning over so I didn't have to look him in the eye. "Life." I shivered as I felt his hand slide between the boxers and my ass before slipping between my legs.

"Who else hurt you?"

"No one."

"I don't believe you." He slid a finger between my folds, dipping just inside.

I shifted backwards, trying to make him press deeper, but he pulled away.

"You can't fuck the pain away."

"Maybe not," I said. "But, I'm still gonna try."

"No," he whispered in my ear. "Not tonight. Not after... Being with you is enough."

"Why do you care?" I asked impulsively.

"I care about you more than you know."

I sighed, closing my eyes. Why did he want to talk? Talking never did anyone any good, most of all me. Besides, I didn't want to relive that bullshit. It was in the past where it belonged and opening it up would just ruin everything.

"You seem really unhappy," West murmured in my ear.

"Yes, I am. But, that's none of your business."

"Ex-boyfriend fuck you over?"

"I've never had a boyfriend." As soon as the words came out of my mouth, I instantly regretted them. Fuck West and this thing he'd done to me. He'd cracked me open with one strategically placed finger and I was pissed to the maximum.

"I don't believe it," he said. "Have you seen you?"

"Every fucking day."

"Why not?"

"It's not like I haven't tried," I sighed. "But, it always ends the same way."

"And what way is that?"

"Everyone leaves me."

His arms tightened around my waist, pulling by body back into his, our legs tangling. "Well, they're all assholes."

What I didn't say was after he'd had his little holiday and was back on the road, he would've done just that. Left me behind, just like everyone else. Just like my parents did, like every friend and boyfriend. Like everyone ever after they realized how broken I was. Would he look back or just keep running? Experience told me not to get my hopes up. Live the fantasy for as long as I could and when the time came, just let it the fuck go.

"So, you leave people before they can leave you?"

My entire body stiffened. That was the answer to the billion-dollar question. Bang, right on the head.

"That's why you left the first night. That's why you keep fighting me, isn't it?"

"Don't." I felt tears welling in my eyes and I didn't want him to see me so vulnerable. I couldn't let him.

"You can tell me, Blair. I want you to. You can trust me."

"I can't," I cried. "You were the only one who came back."

He didn't press the issue and for a little while—oh, about five minutes—I thought I'd gotten away with it. Then he let me go and sat up, and I don't know what it was, but I found myself sitting next to him, our bare legs touching. Sometimes he felt like a magnet and without thinking, some part of my body would just unconsciously connect to his. I wondered if it was the same for him, but I was too afraid to ask. I was letting fear take up too much of my time lately.

"If I tell you something about me, will you trust me?" he asked, his chocolate eyes searching mine.

"I can't promise you that, West. I can promise to try, but it's not that easy."

He nodded, running a hand over his face. It seemed to satisfy him because he just came out with whatever had been on his mind. "Six months ago, I almost died."

Out of all the things I could think of, that was definitely not the one I saw coming out of his perfect mouth.

"I was so empty," he said, running his fingers along mine. "I couldn't see a way forward and the only time I felt I had control was when I was high. You know how fucking stupid that sounds?"

His head fell to his knees and I combed my fingers through his hair, settling my palm on the back of his neck. What was I supposed to say to that? You just want to say the right thing and make it better, whether it be comfort, acceptance, denial, confirmation...but I didn't know which was the right one.

"Things had just gotten too much. We were touring nonstop, everywhere we went there were cameras shoved in our faces...money, drugs, women. There's a point where it gets too much, and it got too much. I drowned it all out to a dull roar in the most destructive way until even that wasn't enough."

I could see where this was going and there was nothing I could do to soothe the blow. I just had to watch him take it again. And it was all because he wanted me to trust him.

"We were in America. We'd just played a show in Florida and I went out and got high afterward. The entire leg of that tour had been a nightmare. I was in the papers again and Furlough was off his tree because of it. I couldn't deal, so I found something to take the edge off. I don't remember all of it, but somehow I made it back to my hotel room and there was this noise. This...pain in my heart that wouldn't go away. So, I just downed everything I had. Furlough found me OD'ing in the bathroom. If he had waited another ten minutes, I probably would've been dead. Afterwards, I told him that it was blissful...unconsciousness and death and all of that. I didn't really want to die or be a fucking addict, so I went to rehab."

"West," I sighed, leaning my head against his shoulder.

"Furlough is a fuck stain, I get it, but he's like that for a reason. He saved my life and saved the band in more ways than one. He's the reason the press didn't find out. No one outside of the band knows I even went to rehab. No one knows anything. It's probably one of the best kept secrets in the music business."

I thought I had a screwed-up life, but I didn't have an inch on West. I suddenly felt selfish for wallowing like I had for so long. For fighting everyone and everything, even myself.

"All those women," he sighed, running a hand over his face. "I didn't realize it until later, but I was looking for something I was desperate for."

"What?" I asked, almost too afraid of the answer.

"A connection." He looked up at me with hope and I felt my bottom lip quiver.

I had to be careful that he didn't latch onto me. For someone with such an addictive personality, he could want me for all the wrong reasons and by sticking around I could be enabling him. Maybe all he really needed was to get better on his own. At the end of this, I might have to be the one who walked away to save him from being broken.

"I fucked up that night," he continued. "I shouldn't have gone to that bar, I shouldn't have brought you back here, but I did."

"West." I didn't want to hear him say it. Was he realizing what a mistake I was? This whole deal he'd brokered with me in the back room of Billboard after... I'd break myself if it meant saving him the pain. I cared about him, of course I did. But I didn't even know when the hell my feelings had started to change.

"That's the thing, Blair. I did the wrong thing, but I'd do it again."

I couldn't tear my gaze away from his.

"I know I'm probably fucking this up, that it's too personal for you, but it's real. This," he gestured between us, "is the realest thing I've felt in a long fucking time."

All I could do was lean over and press my lips to his. Cupping his face, I stroked my thumb across the stubble on his jaw. I knew it was my turn, but I wasn't sure how to begin. I'd never come this far before. Not to the point of revealing deep dark secrets, anyway. I let the guy put his dick in me multiple times a day, but I couldn't give him this? I guess it was a different kind of intimate. Baring your body to someone was different to baring your soul.

Besides, West had taken a huge fucking risk telling me what he just did. If Furlough'd been right about me, then I could go straight to whatever magazine would pay me the highest and fuck off into the sunset a rich woman. I had no job and if I didn't get any cash soon, I'd have no home either. I had a strong motive, but I could never do that, not to West and not to anybody. I might be a bitch with serious social anxiety issues, but warm blood ran through my veins.

Pulling away, I cast my eyes down. I didn't want to see the pity in his eyes and I'm sure he didn't want to see mine for him.

"I know I'm a bitch," I said. "I know I'm cold and mean and push people away. I had a lifetime of people telling me how pathetic and useless I am. I don't have anyone. If no one's there, then no one can hurt me again."

"What about your family?"

"My parents are dead," I replied, playing with the edge of the sheet.

"How did they die?"

I shook my head. I hadn't thought about it in years and certainly not in the last few days. I locked it away in a deep dark chasm inside my brain and threw away the key.

"Nothing you say to me will ever leave this room."

That's the thing I should've said to him first. "Likewise."

He smiled, taking my hand again.

"My dad was an alcoholic," I began. "He did all the usual raging alco stuff. Beat my mum, stole, lied, sent us broke. More than a few times we went without dinner or electricity."

"Did he hurt you?" West asked, thinly.

"He never touched me," I replied. "Though sometimes I wish he would've hit me instead to save my mum the pain."

West tightened his grip, but didn't say anything, just waiting for me to work through it.

"When Tim grabbed me this afternoon, it reminded me of him. I would've fought if you hadn't come, but it was like his ghost had come back to start on me, you know?"

"What happened to him? Your dad?"

Sighing, I ran my fingers along West's jaw, feeling his stubble against my skin. He'd trusted me, shouldn't I trust him?

"When I was eighteen," I began, "I moved to the city to go to Uni at Monash. I got a scholarship for regional kids to help with housing and fees. Never in a million years did I ever think they'd be stupid enough to give it to me, but they did. I didn't want to leave my mum behind, but she told me to get out while I had the chance. A month later I got a knock on the door."

This was the part I had trouble with. The part where the cops knocked on your door and told you your parents were dead. For me, it wasn't the fact that they were gone that was the problem, it was the how that was the punch line.

"The police?" West prompted when I fell silent.

Nodding, I said, "Yeah. They were dead. Dad had a breakdown or was blind drunk or something. He shot my mum and turned the gun on himself."

I felt West's entire body tense, his muscles hardening like he was readying himself for flight.

"I guess that's why I'm like I am," I added before he could run. "People equal pain or some shit. Leave before I get hurt. It's happened my entire life, so why would it ever change."

Now was the part where West would freak out and leave, but all he did was wrap his arms around me, pulling my body tighter against his. It was the comfort I'd wanted all along and had never found.

"What?" he asked, when I tensed.

"I've never got to this part before."

He let a small smile pull at his lips and he whispered, "You're safe with me."

## Thirteen

# West

It was the weirdest thing, sleeping with someone without having sex. I couldn't think of a time I'd ever done it before and I wondered what took me so long. Maybe I had to wait for Blair for it to finally feel right.

Sunlight streamed through cracks in the curtains, lighting the room just enough so I could take in her sleeping form. Her expression was so peaceful, I didn't have it in me to wake her. Hard-ass Blair Hayden looked like the sweetest thing when she was asleep. That was a thought I was going to keep to myself because I could image what she'd do to me if she knew. I liked my balls just the way they were.

Talking of balls...Blair wasn't the only thing I'd woken up with and I couldn't help flexing against her tight little ass. She rolled over with a whimper and I caught her lips with mine, kissing her awake.

"Mmm," she mumbled. "Hello."

"Did you sleep okay?" I asked before pressing my lips to her forehead.

"Yeah." Her voice was husky from sleep, hair all tangled, and even without a stitch of makeup she was still beautiful. Fucking hell, when did I become every woman's marriage material fantasy? I was the bad-boy rock star. There went my street cred.

"What time is it?" she asked, stretching out beside me.

"Doesn't matter. You've only got one place to be and you're already there." Blair slid a hand down the front of my boxers, feeling my morning hard-on. I pressed into her palm, a groan rumbling through me.

"How about it?" she asked, sucking her bottom lip into her mouth.

"Anytime, beautiful."

I pulled my T-shirt off her and dragged the boxers down and off, my fingers circling her clit and my mouth firmly around a nipple.

"On your back," she murmured and pushed me on my back.

This time it was her turn to undress me. My T-shirt was gone in two seconds flat and hands were tugging my boxers down and off, my cock hard and free. Before I had the chance to pull her on top, her tongue was running the length of my erection and I sucked in a sharp breath as she encased my tip with her wet lips. I was not expecting _that_. Then she was sucking, licking, tasting...drawing everything out of me. Groaning, I fisted a hand into her hair as her palm wrapped around my hilt, moving up and down my length in rhythm with her mouth.

"Fuck. Me. _Blair_ ," I gasped. I'd been sucked off before, but never like this. Never with so much attention.

Her cheeks were hollowed as she sucked with just the right amount of pressure, not too hard, not too soft. Just enough to get me frustrated and hot. Her eyes sparkled with satisfaction when she looked up, catching my expression. Her lips around my hard-on was the most electrifying sight I'd ever had the pleasure of seeing. She moved faster, cupping my balls, and teeth grazed the sensitive skin of my cock as she fucked me with her mouth. It took all I had to hold back and not thrust deep into the back of her throat. Sitting up, I pulled her away and ripped open the condom I'd been grasping on to.

"As fucking amazing as your mouth is," I said, pulling her up and onto my lap, "I want to come inside you."

A satisfied moan rippled through her as she positioned herself over me, rubbing her wet pussy along my shaft. Taking control from her, I slid deep inside, right to the hilt, and a soft moan came from between her perfect lips. The same perfect lips that had been sucking my dick moments before. She began to move, sliding up and down, grinding her clit into my pelvis.

"West," she gasped against my mouth, tugging at my hair.

"You feel so good, beautiful." Every time I felt the tip of my cock hit deep inside her, a shudder ripped through my entire body.

"You taste fucking delicious," she gasped as she rode me. She fucking knew she had the control and was delighting in every stroke, every groan that came from me, and I was happy to let her take it...for now.

I sucked her bottom lip into my mouth, tasting myself on her as I kneaded her breasts, pinching and twisting her hard nipples. Fuck, I was hot and tight, right on the edge. I needed to move and I needed to move now. Flipping Blair on her back, I began to fuck her faster, spreading her legs up and opening her to me. _All_ of her. Her gasps and moans only encouraged me to thrust harder.

"Come for me, Blair," I growled into the crook of her neck. "Give it to me."

Her walls began to tighten, milking my own release, and any man who couldn't come inside Blair Hayden was a fucking pussy. I'd never let another man touch her, not while I was around. She'd feel where I'd been for the rest of her life. Blair was _mine_.

"West," she gasped, her fingers digging into my back, scratching deep. " _Fuck, yes_. Don't stop."

I began spilling hard inside her and I didn't know what else to say other than what I was feeling. "You are _mine_."

Her eyes met mine as the last of our orgasms washed over us and I didn't dare look away. She let out one last whimper and was still. Sensing I'd overstepped the line, I kissed her long and deep, flexing my pelvis against her sensitive clit.

"I can't be yours," she whispered. "Not when you're going to leave."

I pulled out, falling heavily on the mattress beside her. "Blair, I—"

My phone started ringing and vibrating across the bedside table, interrupting me. Rolling my eyes, I picked it up and saw Furlough's name on the screen. I let it go to voice mail, but a text came in straight after.

_I'll be there in twenty_.

"I better have a shower, then," Blair said quietly, reading over my shoulder.

" _We_ better have a shower."

She smiled thinly and climbed from the bed and I scrambled to follow her into the bathroom. We stood under the spray of water together, kissing, touching, washing each other, but something was different. A wall had gone back up and I knew it was because of that thing I said in the haze of my impending orgasm.

"I'm sorry if I overstepped the line," I said, circling body wash across Blair's chest.

"Don't worry about it." Her hands covered mine and she made me squeeze her breasts.

"I—"

"Don't sweat it, West. Furlough'll be here soon and I don't want him to bust in on me naked in the shower."

I knew she was avoiding talking about it, but it was my fault. We'd grown closer after last night, but there was still the fact that I had to get on a plane and go to fucking London in a few days. I'd be leaving her and after she confided in me, saying _that_ to her... Fuck, I was such an insensitive wanker.

Cupping her cheek, I ran a thumb over her lips and my cock twitched again as she closed her eyes and leaned into my palm. I wanted to ask her to come with me, but that was the most selfish fucking thing I could do. She'd lost her job in the most spectacular way and that wasn't any fault of her own, I'd complicated her life a billion times over with my insane need for a connection, burdened her with the knowledge of my fucked-up downward spiral, and I wanted her to come with me? Shit, I was such an asshole.

I didn't even consider what she wanted, and what if she wanted to leave at the end of the week? I wouldn't blame her if she did, but fuck...I would fight to keep her.

She stepped out of the shower and I followed, watching her every move. Why the fuck did Furlough have to come now? It was like he fucking knew the right time to come in and break us apart like an unapproving parent. Truth was, that's exactly what he was doing even if he wouldn't admit it. That man could go hot or cold in a millisecond.

Blair wrapped one of the hotel robes around her perfect body, tying the sash around her waist.

"How do I look?" she asked, trying to lighten the mood.

"I liked it better off."

A knock at the door broke us apart and I wandered out into the room, pulling on a clean pair of boxers and jeans. Letting Furlough in, I didn't bother saying hello.

"Reception asked me to bring these up," he declared blandly, in full manager asshole mode. He tossed Blair's clothes on the bed like he was annoyed that he had to touch her stuff.

"What do you want, Furlough?" I asked, wanting his ass out of here as soon as possible. He was eating into the little time I had left with Blair.

"We need to have a serious talk about accountability."

"Accountability?" I scoffed.

He nodded to my hand, which wasn't really that bad. I'd forgotten about it, it was that insignificant.

Blair sighed loudly and scooped up her clothes. "I'm getting changed while you have your lover's tiff." A moment later the bathroom door slammed closed.

"Do you have to do this now?" I asked, waving a hand after her. "Can't you leave it for the ride to the airport?"

"It's now or never, West. You know me. Schedules and shit." He leaned against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest. "Did you really have to beat the guy? I know what you're going to say, but did it have to go the way it did?"

"Fuck you. In hindsight, maybe I didn't have to punch him repeatedly, but he deserved it."

"You could've broken your hand."

And there it was. Broken hand equaled cancelled shows. Money is power and power is money. Blah blah, fucking blah.

"I'd do it again," I said and just to piss him off more, I added, "I told her everything."

"West," Furlough said, straightening up, a look of absolute douchewaddery on his face. "You didn't..." He glanced to Blair, who'd just come out of the bathroom dressed in her own clothes.

"I fucking did."

"And what's to stop her from going to the press, hmm?" He looked her over like she was a problem he didn't want to have.

"The thought never crossed my mind," Blair declared, catching on to what we were semi-arguing about. "Who's a fucking judgmental asshole now?"

"How much money are you after?"

"Get fucked," she hissed, getting all up in Furlough's face. "I don't want your stinking cash. You can wipe your ass on it for all I care."

Shit, Blair had some balls on her. I ran a hand over my face to stifle a surprised laugh.

"I think I might just stick around right until the last second so I can be a pain in your ass," she continued, the wildcat I'd met in that bar boiling to the surface.

They eyeballed each other for ages before he shook his head and glanced at me. "I can see why you like her."

"Her bite is worse than her bark." I winked at her.

"Duly noted." Furlough glanced to the door and back to me before he said to Blair, "How do you feel about nondisclosures?"

"Get out," I groaned. I knew that was his screwed up way of telling me he'd caved and accepted Blair was sticking around, but she wouldn't know that.

Blair just shrugged. "Whatever. I don't give a fuck. I'm not blabbing to those fuckstains."

The way she just dismissed the potential gold mine she was sitting on made my heart swell. She might be a raging bitch sometimes, but she knew how to pick her battles and deal the right cards. I'd unknowingly peeled another layer off her prickly shell and fuck, was I loving her insides in more ways than one.

"He'll be watching you like a hawk," I warned, once the door had closed behind Furlough.

"As long as he doesn't watch us fuck, then he can do whatever he wants."

"I want you all to myself, so I never see that happening, beautiful. Besides, it's fucking gross. Have you seen Furlough?"

"He's all right in an uptight asshat kinda way."

Laughing, I pulled her in for a kiss. "If you say so, B."

"Let's forget about that thing you said."

"Okay." I was more than happy to go with that.

## Fourteen

# Blair

Things kinda died down to a dull roar after that. West and I hung around the hotel and neither of us were fazed if we went out or not. The only exception was to go to my place and pick up some spare clothes. I was happier just lying around with his naked ass in bed, in the shower, against the wall. You know how it goes. That man knew what to do with his cock and he could do it to me all he wanted. No complaints here.

When we weren't fucking, we talked about stupid stuff like our favorite movies, books and even food. He went on and on about music and the band for forever and I could tell his passion had come back. I didn't know him well enough to know when that'd happened, but I hoped that I would some day. The thought made me a little disappointed. I'd never talked to someone like this before. When I was a kid, I'd always hidden my home life from everyone at school and I'd never really had any friends because of it. After I moved away I'd tried, but never really got past it. I guess I was too set in my ways or had just never learnt how to make friends when learning was important.

Today was day seven of "the deal" and tomorrow West was going to the airport and flying away to the other side of the world for another tour. I didn't know what I was going to do yet. I guess first order of business was to find another job. If I had an action plan then I wouldn't think about the fact that I was alone again.

The last few days had been hard, but good in a way. He'd helped me begin to work through some of my issues and I'd helped him with some of his. It was a nice fantasy we were living in, but reality was finally knocking. Tomorrow, I'd have to get up and answer the door.

I stretched out on the bed, flipping open the book I'd just brought. Furlough had borrowed West for some press thing and I couldn't think of anything worse than sitting in this room without him, so I'd gone out for a walk and a little shopping. Thankfully, I was left alone and no one chased me down with a camera. I was a nobody until somebody stood next to me and that was fine by me.

I'd seen one of those stupid unofficial official biography books on Affliction at the bookstore and couldn't help myself. Ten bucks on sale. I smiled to myself as I skimmed through the pages of photographs and read the introduction. I guess I could've asked West about the band, but whatever was written in here was common knowledge. It was the other stuff I wanted to hear from him. The stuff that no one else knew.

The door opened, breaking my trance, and I looked up as West walked in, dumping his wallet and sunglasses on the counter. I couldn't help perving on every inch of his body. That man was sex personified.

"What are you reading?" he asked, narrowing his eyes at the book in my lap.

"The Official Unofficial Affliction Biography."

"Any good?"

"It's juicy," I said suggestively. "I never knew your first name, Jake."

"You could've asked instead of reading that thing."

"I know." I winked. "This is much more entertaining. Is it all real?"

"Dunno." He shrugged, sitting beside me. "It's unofficial. Where'd you get it anyway?"

"The bookstore on Collins Street." He gave me a look. "What? I went for a walk."

"You weren't hounded, were you?"

"Nope. I know how to blend into the background."

"Good," he sighed, tracing the tattoo on my leg. "As long as you're okay."

"I am."

"I hope you didn't go out in that." He tugged at the oversized T-shirt I was wearing, then snapped the elastic along the edge of my knickers.

"I do own pants, you know," I said, tossing the book aside. Tracing the outside of his thigh with my foot, I pressed higher, rubbing in between his legs. When I brushed against his groin, he captured my foot and tugged me forward until I straddled his lap.

"You're wicked," he murmured, hands firmly on my hips.

"It's your fault," I said, tugging my bottom lip into my mouth. "You're wickedly delicious."

West's hands caressed my waist underneath the T-shirt, his thumbs brushing against the swell of my breasts.

"Mmmm," he murmured, pressing his lips against my neck. "No bra."

"You're wearing too many clothes for my liking."

"Finally, something we agree on."

Laughing as he pushed me back into the mattress, we stripped each other naked and this time it was like he was making love to me. Slow and tender, a different kind of raw.

Afterwards, we lay in bed together, my head on his chest, fingers tracing the tattoos along his stomach. West was built, but not ripped like those super beefcake guys at the gym. His abs had a soft definition to them, firm and just right.

"You're incredible, B," he whispered, his fingers combing through my hair.

Looking up at him, I smiled and traced the small scar over his lip, the one I'd noticed that night in the back room of Billboard. "What's this?"

He captured my hand and pulled it to his lips. "Farming accident," he chuckled.

"Bullshit."

"I was thirteen," he began, watching my expression. "I was at Joe's place."

"Joe?"

"He's the bass player."

"Oh." I cocked my head to the side. "Jake and Joe?"

"We grew up together," he continued with a laugh. "His family had a potato farm out in the sticks and mine owned the farm machinery dealership. John Deere."

"You're from the country?"

"Wouldn't have picked it, right?"

"Not in a million years."

"I was round his place after school and we got into a fight over something stupid. I gave him a black eye and he pushed me into the fence." He grimaced. "Barbed wire split my lip open."

"Shit, that's gotta sting."

"The tetanus shot sure did," he laughed. "The scar never went away, but it's pretty small now, so whatever."

"It adds to your dangerous image," I said, trailing my fingers over it.

He grabbed my hand again and lightly sucked my index finger into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it before letting me go. Hooking a leg over his waist, I shifted against him, brushing my lips against his.

"One day left," he breathed.

The week was almost up and today was day seven of our little deal, but somehow I thought it'd gone further than that. How had so much happened in such a short amount of time? I didn't believe in instant connections and whirlwind romances and what West and I had was definitely not a romance. I didn't know what to call it. Drama-rama? Daytime soap opera on acid?

"Then we should spend it wisely," I said, trying to keep my voice even. I knew he'd leave all along, so why did it hurt so much? After everything he'd confided in me, he'd go back on tour and that would be it. I wasn't capable of having a relationship and even less capable of having a long-distance one with a fucking rock star. What a joke.

"Come with me," he breathed, hands digging into my ass.

"What?" I pulled back sharply. That was the last thing I expected him to say. Maybe, let's have a nice dinner or go to the beach or something, not _that_.

"Come. With. Me."

My eyebrow quirked. "Somehow I don't think you're talking about an orgasm."

"I'm not."

"I can't just leave..." Even as I said it, I knew it was just an excuse. Something I'd made up to keep that wall between us. My life was empty without West. My apartment, my things, even my crappy job prospects. It was just a bunch of stuff. I'd throw a match on it in an instant. The day I'd walked into that bar looking for a quick fuck to take my mind off of the black hole my existence had become, I hadn't counted on West being the one to fill it up.

"Blair." His lips were against my ear, his tongue teasing.

"I..."

"No strings, if that's what it takes."

"West..."

"If you want to leave, you can leave. I'll take whatever you'll give for as long as you want to give it."

I had him by the balls and normally I'd revel in the thought, grab them in my hands and twist, but now I was terrified. Terrified because for the first time in my life...my heart was in it.

"You don't need to be afraid of me."

"I'm not afraid of you," I exclaimed, turning my back to him.

"Then come with me."

Fuck, he knew my buttons, and did he like to press them or what?

"Blair."

"No strings?" I spat. "I'm not a fucking prostitute you can call on a moment's notice."

"What the fuck?" West hissed, trying to turn me over, but I jerked away, sitting on the edge of the bed. "It's not like that. Why do you have to keep fighting me on everything?"

That was the million-dollar question, wasn't it? I hated my life, I actually hated it and West was offering me an out, and I was fighting him?

"Why me?" I asked, bunching the sheet around my naked body. "I'm a fucking nobody."

"Blair," he murmured, sitting behind me. "I want you. It's more than sex. You're not nobody. Not to me."

"Why?" I asked, turning my face toward his.

"I don't know. All I'm certain of is that I want you with me. I want to get to know you and figure out what this thing between us is." His hand cupped my cheek, a thumb running over my lips. "Do you want me?"

"Yes." Of course I did.

"Then that's all that matters."

"For now."

"For now," he echoed, then pressed his lips to mine.

I couldn't think about all that other stuff that came with touring with one of the biggest rock bands of the moment. Fans, photographers, interviews, schedules. All I could see was West and what a dangerous thought that was.

"Okay," I whispered against his mouth.

He drew back, his eyes running over my face. "Okay?"

If there were two things I was certain of, one was the fact I was terrified, the other that I had feelings for West. What those feelings were, I didn't have a fucking clue, but I wanted to explore them as much as he did.

West had told me that I'd brought him back to life, but little did he know he'd brought me back with him. If you wanted to get technical about it, he'd brought me to life. Period. I'd never truly been alive until now.

Brushing my lips against his, I whispered, "I'll go with you."

_Blair and West's story continues on tour in_ **Unexplainable** _..._
**Other Books in the Rock Star Affliction series...**

_**The series is complete!**_

**Rock Star Affliction** follows the story of rock star Jake West and fiery 'wildcat' Blair Hayden. Come with them on a whirlwind European tour and find out if they fall in love or crash and burn.

**Unexpected #1**

**Unexplainable #2**

**Unintended #3**

**Undeniable #4**

**Unbearable #5**

**Unstoppable #6**

**The Complete Collection #1-6**

**Keep reading for a sneak peek at Unexplainable: Rock Star Affliction #2!**
**ABOUT THE AUTHOR**

**AMITY CROSS** is the author of wicked stories about rock stars looking for redemption, gritty romances featuring MMA fighters and dark tales of forbidden romance. She loves to write about alpha males and the strong women who challenge them to fall in love.

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**FIND OUT MORE:**

www.amitycrosswrites.com

# Unexplainable: Rock Star Affliction #2

### A Sneak Peek...

**CHAPTER ONE - BLAIR**

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To say that I was terrified was the understatement of the century. I was shitting bricks, but I wasn't about to let anyone know, especially not Jake fucking West.

I stood at the threshold of the tiny storage shed in the outskirts of Melbourne, watching West as he dumped the last of my boxes inside. It really was a pathetic sight seeing all my worldly possessions all packed up. Five boxes, a bed frame and mattress, fridge and a sad looking couch. A suitcase sat in the back of West's rental car packed full of clothes and that was it. My entire life right there in a neat little package.

"All done, B," he said, sauntering over. West was just as badass as he looked. He liked to wear these tight black T-shirts that left nothing to the imagination and mine was currently running wild with the idea of running my tongue along each pec, then following the outline of his stomach tattoos right down to the part I appreciated most...physically of course.

I guess it was shallow of me, but right then at that point in time, the thing I liked most about West was his cock. I'd never met a man who could make me come as violently as that man did. Just thinking about it made my lady bits tingle and knowing that we were going to the airport after we were done here didn't help at all. The first stamp on my passport. The first time someone stuck around. The first time I began to care. For a long time it had just been Blair. Now it was Blair and West. My bitch rating had simmered down to a slow bubble and I was a fish out of water flip-flopping all over the fucking place.

"I know it's a head fuck," West said, reaching out for me. "Packing up everything like this."

"It's just depressing, I guess."

"Why?"

I gestured to the half-empty shed behind him. "Seeing how little of my life there is."

He frowned and pulled me in for what I assumed was a quick kiss, but he nipped my bottom lip lightly before plunging his tongue deep into my mouth. I'd learnt right off the bat that it was never just a small taste with West. He wanted the whole cake and he ate it in one sitting, too.

"It's just stuff, B," he said, pulling away.

"I know, but it's like I'm being bitch slapped by some fucked up metaphor."

"You promised me you'd try." He sighed, cupping my face in his strong hands. "Cynicism down to a minimum."

That's the other thing I'd come to realize about West. He said these things and normally I'd be all up in his face calling him a patronizing bastard, but he was right. He always seemed to be right on the money. I'd promised him and the bit that actually scared me was the fact that I wanted to keep it.

Anyway, when he was all hot and sweaty yesterday from helping me clean out my flat, it wouldn't have taken much for me to say yes. Wanna give me your kidney? Hell yes. Wanna try and give a shit for once in your life? Sure thing, hot stuff...as long as you stick that delicious dick of yours in me. What the fuck was it about sweaty men that got me every time?

"I'm trying," I whispered, more flustered from my dirty thoughts than anything else. "It's just..."

"Hard to break the cycle."

"Yeah."

There was a loud cough behind us and I turned to glare at the owner of the storage place. He was this little bald man with his beer belly sticking out the bottom of his T-shirt. They sure knew how to employ them in the northwest suburbs. "It's seventy-five a month. Direct deposit." The man looked me over then directed his attention to West. He probably took me for a gold digger or by the way Dark and Dangerous carried himself with his tattoos, a prostitute that was being looked after by her pimp. Either way, I wasn't good for the cash and anyway, fucked if I was paying for it.

"Put it in her name and I'll pay," West said to the guy and they wandered away down the row toward the office at the end.

Looking over my few measly boxes of crap and flea-bitten furniture, I let out a long sigh. I'd said it before and I'd say it again until the day I died-I'd throw a match on the lot without blinking and never look back.

I reached up, yanked the roller door down and it hit the concrete with a loud metallic boom. How was that for a fucking metaphor?

When we walked out the front of the storage place, Furlough was there waiting beside a sleek looking limo. The rental was gone and I wondered how many people Affliction's manager had at his beck and call. His smartphone seemed to be glued to his hand twenty-four seven, which made me wonder if it was powered by his aura of douchewaddery because I never saw him charge it. I rose an eyebrow and West chuckled.

"West," Furlough said, nodding. After a moment, he turned to me and said dryly, "Blair. I trust everything is in order."

"Furlough the fuck nut," I said brightly. "Always a pleasure."

It was common knowledge between the three of us that he didn't want me around despite giving West his blessing. To Furlough, I was a problem he didn't want to deal with. I was the volatile bit on the side that would turn into a PR nightmare at the slightest provocation. He didn't care that my head was screwed on; all he cared about was image and money.

He narrowed his eyes at me and turned his attention onto West. "We need to be at the airport in half an hour." He nodded at the limo and opened the front passenger side door and got in.

Taking that as our cue to get in, I went for the back door, glad that I'd be alone with West for the short ride to Melbourne's Tullamarine Airport. West beat me to it and held open the door and I got inside, just wanting this over. The moment I was on that plane, I wouldn't have the chance to run.

I'd never been in a limo before and sitting there on the black leather seat, I felt one hundred percent out of place in the posh interior. I was wearing a pair of beat up black jeans and boots, a cut up Def Leopard T-shirt and an orange zebra print cardigan with studs all over the shoulders. I definitely did not look like limo material. More like skeezy rocker wannabe.

"Are you okay?" West asked, sliding in next to me.

"I'm fine."

"I get it if it's overwhelming."

"As long as you're here," I said, pressing against him as the limo took off.

"That's the point." His chocolate brown eyes sparkled as they took in my features before dropping to my breasts.

Running my fingertips along his jaw, I relished the feel of his stubble scratching against my skin. West was rough around the edges with his unkempt beard and full on tattoos and I could never get enough. Touching him was electrifying. It made my skin tingle, my stomach churn and my pussy clench. I wanted to fuck him like an animal in the back of that limo, but knowing Furlough was up front with nothing but a pane of tinted glass separating us gave me the creeps. I'd never been afraid of a little exhibitionism, but this unexplainable thing between West and I...I didn't want to share it with anyone.

I drew West's mouth to mine and sucked on his bottom lip, pushing my tongue against his skin, forcing my way in. His hand found the back of my head and curled tightly into my hair as he kissed me back, trying to take control. His tongue invaded my mouth, clashing with mine as we held each other as tightly as we could.

"Blair," West moaned, the first to pull away.

"I win," I said with a wicked smile, teasing his swollen lips with the tip of my tongue.

"What I wouldn't give to have you ride my cock right here in this limo."

"I was thinking the exact same thing."

He slid his hand into mine, rubbing my wrist with his thumb. "Let's add that one to the list."

"There's a list?" I asked, my eyebrow quirking.

"There is now."

The airport was looming closer and I could almost hear the bang as the last nail in my coffin slammed home. It wasn't a bad omen, it was my old life being laid to rest like the flogged corpse it was. Pathetic, lonely, lost Blair Hayden was gone and I was being reborn kicking and screaming into the unknown. I had nothing to look back on and why the fuck would I want to? I'd taken a chance on West not just because he was my only option, but because I was attracted to him in a way I couldn't wrap my head around.

"It's gunna be mental out there," West said with a frown. "As soon as the paps see you, they'll go apeshit."

"Only because of that stupid photo," I groaned. It was only a week ago that I'd stood on the balcony at West's hotel room in the city, but it was still current gossip in the tabloid rags. Bad boy Jake West's new bit on the side. Groupie or gold digging slut? And it was on the fucking cover. Those shit stains didn't do things in halves and I'd been unwittingly pulled into the deep end and my head held underneath the surface. If I wanted to be with West and try and make this thing work between us, then I had to deal with paparazzi and the gossip. I couldn't have one without the other.

My guts began to twist and sweat prickled along my forehead. It was one stupid extreme to another. Oblivion to popularity by association. I was suffering the worst case of emotional whiplash there was. I squeezed West's hand, hoping he'd soften the blow.

"I'll look after you," he murmured, threading his fingers through mine. "Don't worry about the bags, we have Furlough to handle that."

"What about check in?"

"Airport authorities don't like celebrities to cause a scene in the terminal," he said. "We get special treatment."

"Because you're awesome, or they don't like you messing up the furniture?" I asked with a small smile.

"We're the rabble, B. We're going in the back door." He gave me a lewd wink and leaned over for a kiss.

I didn't have time to make a joke about anal sex, because the limo pulled up and my gaze fell straight on the throng of photographers that were rushing towards us, all of them readying their fancy cameras, pushing and shoving each other to get in the front.

Furlough came around, opened up the door and West slid out and it was like a bunch of sharks had just smelt blood in the water. They started yelling questions at him, snapping photos, trying to get the one picture that they could sell to the highest bidder. Turning back, he held out a hand for me as security guards from the airport pushed back the crowd allowing us room to breathe.

The moment they copped a look at me, they went into a frenzy. I squinted as dozens of flashbulbs went off, ducking my head low. I got that this was West's life, but having it shoved in your face when yesterday you were a pathetic nobody was a whole new slice of cake. I couldn't say or do anything because it would all fall back on West and he'd had enough heartbreak in the past six months without me creating a shit storm of controversy.

"Who's your friend, West?" a photographer called out.

"Is she the woman from the hotel?" another yelled.

"Are you together?"

"What's your name, honey?"

West grabbed my arm and yanked me into his side, the vein twitching in his forehead. "Fucking vultures," I heard him mutter under his breath. He guided me expertly through the desperate media scrum and into the terminal, where they seemed to be forbidden to go. I wondered how they knew we were leaving today, especially since West had changed his schedule at such short notice. I didn't get much time to contemplate the inner workings of gossip rags because as soon as the automatic doors opened, it revealed another group of people and when they laid eyes on West, they erupted in screams. One hundred percent women, one hundred percent hot for Jake West and despite not wanting to give a crap, jealousy reared its head and stabbed a red-hot poker through my heart.

"Sorry ladies, not today," West said and kept walking, not once removing his arm from around my shoulders.

All eyes fixed on me and I put my head down, embarrassed at the sudden attention. I never understood people who followed around famous actors and musicians. Screaming hysterically and decorum didn't really go that well together and mostly, I just wanted to slap some sense into them. Following an image was as shallow as a toddler's wading pool. Where the fuck was the reality in that?

Just past the groupies that now saw me as enemy number one, stood an airport official who greeted us with a friendly smile and took us to a private room so we could go through the formalities without a crowd watching over our shoulders.

Once our passports were checked and we had our boarding passes in our hands, we were free to go into the terminal and wait for the flight to board. West led me through duty-free, bypassing all the perfume and booze, past surprised looking sales assistants and passengers, and straight into the part of the airport where all the gates were. I'd never been this far before, so my gaze flickered over everything, wondering what people saw in all that junk. Designer stink I couldn't fathom, but booze on the other hand...

I must have looked shell shocked by the whole experience because West took my hand and tugged me towards a set of fancy looking doors. "First Class lounge," he explained. "It'll be quieter in there."

"First class?" I asked, a little hesitant.

"What, did you think I'd stick you in economy next to a screaming baby?"

"I don't know," I said. "I've never been on a plane before."

"What? Never?" He seemed genuinely surprised and it made my hackles rise.

Once, I'd dreamed of going overseas and backpacking, doing the whole working holiday thing in the UK. When my parents died, I inherited the house, but it had to be sold to pay out the mortgage. Ended up that I was out of pocket and I had to pay for the funeral for my beloved Mum and the fuck stain deadbeat asshole that was my father. Talk about one last epic slap in the face. I was broke in all senses of the stupid word. No grand overseas adventure for me. No nothing. To date, I'd never been able to scrape myself off the bottom, not on my own.

I shook my head and that was my final explanation.

The woman at the door of the First Class Lounge was dressed in that perfect flight attendant way, with a fancy little hat, her blonde hair in an impeccable up-do, red lips and flawless eyeliner. Everything I wasn't with my punk rock threads and tattooed skin. Compared to her, I looked like I'd been out back rolling in shit.

When she laid eyes on West, her eyes widened slightly and she stood taller, obviously readying herself to offer her 'services'. Blatantly ignoring me and the fact that my hand was firmly wedged in West's, she let her gaze wander over his entire body, before smiling with her stupid perfect red lips and white teeth.

"Good morning sir," she purred, battering her eyes. "May I please see your boarding pass?"

West handed her our boarding passes and her gaze flickered to me. A look that said, 'what the fuck' passed over her features for a split second before she looked back at my Dark and Dangerous. Obviously she saw me as less than competition and I began to feel it.

"This way, Mr West," she said, her eyes travelling the length of him again.

When the attendant's back was turned, I ran my eyes over her wondering if she would've got lucky if I wasn't in the picture. A fucked up burning rage flared through me and I felt my face contort into a scowl. Mr West? I mouthed at him and he just chuckled and shook his head.

The attendant guided us inside and my eyes fell straight onto the bar. I could've gone a stiff drink or ten...hell, just give me the fucking bottle. I hardly took in anything else about the lounge, I felt so out of place in the poshness of it. Blair Hayden was not a first class woman. She sat down in the cargo hold or at best, economy.

West sat at the bar, putting our bag in the floor as I dared myself to look over the place. I was in the first stages of catatonia after our grand entrance and severely pissed at the way other women threw themselves at Dark and Dangerous everywhere he went. I knew it was the way things were, but seeing it was a head fuck to the extreme and I didn't like the way it was making me feel. I was jealous which meant I cared about West more than I was letting on to myself. Had I made the right decision or was I just fucking dreaming?

"Well, I didn't fucking exist," I said haughtily, digging my fingernails into my palms. "If she thinks she can flirt with you while I'm standing right here..."

"I didn't even notice," West said with a shrug. He sat down on a stool and tugged at me until I was standing in between his legs.

"Of course you fucking noticed. You have a dick. She wants you to put it in her. There is no way that went over your head."

"That burning jealousy you're feeling right now," he whispered into my ear, "is making me hard. Knowing you'd cut the bitch if she looks at me the wrong way."

"I would literally cut the bitch," I said, my thighs clenching together, "and I'd punish you for it later."

"If we weren't about to get on a twenty six hour flight, I'd take you over my knee."

"Over your knee? I thought you were more inventive than that?"

West groaned into the crook of my neck and satisfaction coursed through me, right smack bang into my pussy. It turned me on knowing that I could get him hard with words alone. He wanted more and I was finally ready for it, but the sex would never go away. Sex was what brought us together and maybe it would be the thing that kept us that way, but working on an emotional connection was priority number one. That's what made this whole thing healthy, after all. But as always, I still couldn't stop thinking about his cock and what he could do with it.

Threading my thumbs through the belt loops on his jeans, I murmured, "When they turn down the lights, I could always..."

"Don't finish that sentence, Blair." He pulled away and stared at me with dark eyes, cupping my face and tracing my lips with a thumb. "You're in so much trouble."

"How much? Because if it's not deep enough, I'm prepared to keep on going."

"Blair, tell me what's wrong."

"Nothing's wrong."

"I may not know you that well, but I know enough to see that you're worked up."

Was I that transparent? I thought I'd perfected my facade down to the last detail. It was so impenetrable it was like Wolverine's adamantium skeleton. Was I cracking already? Fuck that.

"B?"

"Leave it." I sighed and kissed his thumb.

He gave me a look that suggested he was going to shelve it for later and ran his hand down my neck, pushing my hair back over my shoulder. The gesture was tender and West didn't do tender. I wasn't sure what I should be worried about more, random groupies throwing themselves at him, the fact that he seemed to care about my feelings, or if I should even worry at all. Fuck, and we hadn't even left the country yet.

"What's this?" he asked, running his fingers along the silver chain around my neck. "I don't think I've seen you wear jewelry before."

I'd hidden the pendant under my top and the chain was long enough that it sat in between my breasts, but I let him pull it out. When we'd packed up my stuff, I'd gone into my bedroom and taken it out of it's hiding place and stuffed it in my pocket where he couldn't see. I don't know why, but it was the only thing I had left that was my Mum's. I guess I wanted to keep her to myself and not let anyone's grubby mits touch something that was ours.

West held the piece of rose quartz in his hand and turned it over in his palm, studying all the little swirls of pink and white crystal. "It's pretty," he said. "It suits you. It's simple."

"It was my Mum's," I said, looking out the window at the planes along the tarmac. "After she got married to my Dad, they went to the coast for a holiday. She got it at one of those hippy market stalls. You know the ones with the crystals and incense and hemp bags and shit. I guess it was her reminder of better days."

"And what does it mean to you?"

It felt easy talking to him about it because he knew what had happened to them. I didn't need to perform my little avoidance trick. West would call bullshit at the slightest hint, anyway.

"I remember her wearing it before things got bad. After a while, she stopped. I always wondered if she'd just given up, but I was too afraid to ask. I guess it reminds me of when she was happy, too."

"Thank you," he said, dropping the pendant back down my top. "I know you don't like talking about your family."

I shrugged, casting my eyes back out across the planes waiting outside. I didn't have much to say about them that was happy. From the time I was old enough to understand that my Dad was a raging alco and beating my Mum wasn't the norm, I don't think I'd smiled that often. I certainly didn't have any friends because who would want their kids to hang out with me? It wasn't my fault that my Dad was a prick but it didn't seem to matter. I'd tried to pick myself up and live after they were buried, but I never seemed to be able to make it. Financially or emotionally. A lifetime of being told how shit I was had amounted to this. Blair Hayden, Queen of the Bitches, long may she reign. My royal motto being, 'hurt them before they can hurt you'.

Nobody looked twice. Nobody stuck around. Nobody cared. Not until I picked up Jake West in a dingy bar and fucked his brains out.

"C'mon," Dark and Dangerous said, tugging at my hand. "Time to board. Are you ready?"

I snorted at the irony of another screwed up metaphor. "As I'll ever be."

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**Unexplainable: Rock Star Affliction #2 is OUT NOW!**
**OTHER SERIES BY AMITY CROSS**

****ALL SERIES ARE COMPLETE!****

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_**Book One** in many of these series are **FREE** or exclusive to certain retailers, so please click through to check!_

**ROCK STAR AFFLICTION** follows the story of rock star Jake West and fiery 'wildcat' Blair Hayden. Come with them on a whirlwind European tour and find out if they fall in love or crash and burn.

**Unexpected #1**

**Unexplainable #2**

**Unintended #3**

**Undeniable #4**

**Unbearable #5**

**Unstoppable #6**

**ROYAL BLOOD:** Xavier 'X' Blood is a hitman for motorcycle club, Royal Blood. When he meets Mercy Reid, things begin to unravel in the worst way possible. Will Mercy's love be enough to save him?

**Royal Blood #1**

**Bad Blood #2**

**Blood Rites #3**

**Devil's Blood #4**

**Love Like Blood #5**

**Blood and Bone #6**

**ROCK STAR HEARTS** follows the tumultuous romance of small town woman Juniper Rowe and bad boy rock star Sebastian Hale.

Will love conquer all? Or will the price of fame be too hot to handle?

**Whole Lotta Love #1**

**Whole Lotta Lust #2**

**Whole Lotta Sin #3**

**Whole Lotta Heart #4**

**FORTITUDE MC** is a fast paced MC romance that will have you on the edge of your seat.

It contains all the gritty love, action, thrills and hot sexy times you expect from an Amity Cross novel... _and then some_.

**Ride Hard #1**

**Ride Long #2**

**Ride Forever #3**

**THE BEAT AND THE PULSE** is an Australian MMA Fighter romance series that's full of grit, glory and love!

Follow the men and women of Beat and Pulse as they fight for love... in and out of the cage.

**It's time to fight for the broken hearted.**

**Beat #1**

**Pulse #2**

**Crash #3**

**Spike #4**

**Rebel #4.5**

**Steel #5**

**Flow #6**

**Surge #7**

**Quake #8**

**Rush #9**

**Strike #10**

**Ignite #11**

**STAND ALONE ROMANCE:** Quirky writer Lux doesn't expect a comic convention to turn her life upside down. But that's exactly what happens when she gets stuck in an elevator with the hottest ticket in town, actor Jude Atwood... A fun, steamy read!

**L is for Luminous**

**THE DEVIL'S TATTOO ROCK STARS!**

When **Zoe Granger** started playing guitar to get over her heartbreak, she never thought that her band would hit it big. Now she's on the road with indie legend **Will Strickland** —who can't keep his eyes off her. Can she trust a rock star with her heart?

**The Devil's Tattoo #1**

**The Fire Walker #2**

**THE THORNFIELD AFFAIR** is a modern reimagining of Charlotte Brontë's classic Jane Eyre.

Orphaned as an infant, **Jane Doe** has nothing, but desires everything life has to offer.

When she's offered work at Thornfield, a grand English manor turned hotel, she meets her match in the dark and brooding proprietor, **Edward Rochester**.

**Euphoria #1**

**Paradox #2**

**Zenith #3**

