Taming the Storm (The Storm, #3)

“Ugh!” I shove him hard in the chest. “Screw you!”


“Please do. It would make my fucking year to see you riding my cock,” he says with a masculine groan, smirking at me.

“Ah! You’re a nightmare! Don’t you ever stop?”

“When it comes to you, Firecracker, I’ll never stop. Never.”

Flustered and turned-on and angry and confused, I press my thighs together trying to keep my virginia in check, and I wrap my arms across my chest. All the while, I’m firing daggers from my eyes straight into Tom’s.

He stares right back. His chest is heaving up and down.

Then, my anger suddenly deflates, and I’m just left feeling flat.

Way to kick off the first show of the tour.

I rub my nose. “It’s only been one day, Tom, and we’re already yelling at each other. It’s not good—at all. And what you just pulled back there…Jesus, that was way out of line.” Disappointment drags my voice down.

Tom lifts his eyes to mine. In this moment, I see a shade of real in them that I don’t think I’ve ever seen in him before.

“Okay,” he exhales. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

I can’t imagine that Tom Carter apologizes to many people, if any, so I take the fact that he just apologized to me as he really means it.

“I crossed the line. I didn’t exactly dissuade Shannon of her assumption that you and I were sleeping together. In my defense though, technically, I didn’t actually say anything.”

I unfurl my arms, stretching them out in his direction. “But that’s worse!”

“How so?”

“I don’t know!” I say, flustered. “It just is!” I shove my hands through my hair. “I don’t get you, Tom. Why would you even want Shannon to think that you and I are seeing each other?”

He shifts his stance and shoves his hands into his pockets. He actually looks uncomfortable.

Interesting.

“Because I don’t want to have sex with Shannon. If you didn’t gather, she doesn’t take no for an answer, but she’s a good girl, and I’ve known her for a long time. I didn’t want to hurt her feelings, and I knew the only way she would back off was if she thought I was seeing someone.”

Ah…

I actually soften to him.

I know. I could slap myself, too.

“But you could have said you were seeing someone else. It didn’t have to be me.”

He gives me a confused look. “But you were the only other person in the room.”

I let out a laugh. “Tom, for you to be seeing a woman doesn’t mean that she has to be in the room at the time. If you made up a name, I’m pretty sure that would have been good enough for Shannon.”

He shrugs, his lips pressed into a grin. “Kinda didn’t occur to me.”

I roll my eyes. “Yeah, well, just make sure it does next time, okay?” I lean against the wall, eyeing him. “Do you do that often?”

Mirroring me, he rests his back against the opposite wall. “Do I do what often?”

“Create imaginary girlfriends to dodge having sex with women? You could just tell them no, you know.”

“I’ve never dodged having sex with a woman who has laid it out for me—before today.”

I don’t like the way his admission makes me feel.

“So, why dodge this time? Why not just have sex with her? I thought that was your thing.”

He pushes off the wall and comes close to me again. “Sex is my thing. It just…” He pushes a hand through his hair. “Things just change is all.”

I stare up into his eyes. My mouth is suddenly dry, and my brain is fogged up with the clean scent of his cologne.

“I’ll make sure Shannon knows that we’re not seeing each other.”

His words lift me out of my fog.

“Good.” I straighten my back and step away from him. “And make sure you do it soon. I don’t want Shannon telling other people that you and I are together.”

He follows me forward, closing the gap between us again. “Why is the thought of being with me so bad?”

It’s my turn to lift an eyebrow. “Really? I thought that would be plainly obvious. One”—I tick off on my finger—“this is my first tour, and you’re my tour manager. I don’t want to get a reputation in the industry as someone who tries to sleep her way to the top. Two, you’re my tour manager! And three, I hate beards!”

I don’t actually know why I said that last bit because I don’t really hate beards. I do kind of like the way Tom looks with his.

His expression is wounded as he runs a hand over the growth covering his chin. The sound of his coarse hair scratching against his rough fingers brings a shiver to my body.

“Come on, Firecracker, don’t hate on the beard. I’m going for the roadie look. Don’t you think it’s working for me?”

“No. You look like a hobo.”

He throws back his head and roars out a laugh.

The sound hits me like rapid fire. I feel it in every one of my censored hot spots.

I bite my lip to stop the giggle that wants to escape. “Your hair is okay though. I like it longer.”

“Whoa there, Firecracker. Was that a compliment?”

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