Managed (VIP #2)

My steps halt, and I glare at his smugly grinning face. “That is not something you want to say to a woman who can nut you in two seconds flat.”


He winces but doesn’t look very contrite. “Brenna’s always saying I need to learn better manners.”

“You should listen to her.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” He follows me down the hall as I march to my room. “Anyway, I’m all for you getting some. Touring is exhausting. Have your fun when you can, you know?”

The big lug looks so earnest, I give his meaty arm a pat. “Thanks for the advice.”

“So…” He waggles his brows. “Who’s the lucky guy? Or was it a girl? Please say girl. That fantasy will keep me satisfied for weeks.”

“What fantasy?” Whip’s voice comes from behind us, and we both jump.

Jesus, are they all chipper morning people?

“Where the hell did you come from?” Rye asks, clutching his chest.

“My room.” Whip nods to the door we’re standing closest to. The duh is heavily implied. “And you two are making enough noise out here to raise the dead.”

Another door opens, and Brenna’s head pokes out. “What the fuck is this? A hall convention?”

“Whip is right,” Rye says. “The dead are rising.”

Brenna hisses at him, baring her teeth like a vampire.

I take the moment to edge away from them all. My door is so close.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Whip’s cool blue eyes pin me. “You haven’t answered the question.”

“What question?” Brenna pipes up.

“What kind of fantasy Rye is having of Sophie,” Whip says with an evil smile. The fucker. I now know who the instigator of the group is.

Rye scowls at him as Brenna’s happy face falls flat.

Rye gives Whip a not-so-gentle punch on the shoulder. “We were talking about Sophie hooking up with a girl. I doubt I’m the only one who’d find that fantasy hot.” His gaze lands on Brenna.

A flush hits her cheeks but she shrugs. “Sophie is definitely fantasy worthy.”

Well, okay then.

They all turn to me, and Brenna gives me a kind smile. “But her sex life is none of our business.”

“Like that’s going to stop us,” Whip says with a laugh. He nudges me. “I’m kidding, Soph. Run while you can.”

“No way,” Rye says. “Dish the dirt. Or we’ll make assumptions.”

Another door opens down the hall, and Jax glares at them before giving me a level look. “Sophie was out getting me a muffin. But she forgot the cash.” He holds up a wad of pounds. “Sorry about that.”

I sigh. “Oh, for crying out loud. I don’t need you to cover for me, Jax. I have insomnia, okay?” I back up to my room. “I was out walking all night.”

“In the rain?” Rye squints at me as if to better see through my lies.

“Yeah.” I finally reach my door. “In the rain. All night.”

Whip looks at Jax. “You were the last person I thought would make a move, man.”

Jax frowns. “Why? Sophie’s hot.” He smiles at me. “And I totally respect you this fine morning, Sophie. Don’t ever doubt that.” He winks.

I groan, thumping my head against my door. “I’m in a nightmare. A bad nightmare.”

“Don’t worry about it, Sophie,” Rye says. “Everyone makes regrettable sex mistakes.”

“Yeah,” Jax drawls. “Just ask Rye. He leaves tons of women lamenting theirs.”

Rye gives him the finger.

Whip grins my way. “See? No harm admitting it.”

“Fine,” I snap. “I was with Jax. And the experience was so moving, I just had to run around the block to get it all out of my system!” I let myself into my room and slam the door before they can say anything else.

Jax’s voice drifts through the wood. “Anytime you want a repeat, sweetheart, let me know. Me and my moving dick make house calls.”





Chapter Eight





Gabriel



* * *



Getting the band ready to start a tour is like herding wild cats. There is noise, there are squabbles, and no one is where they’re supposed to be. I gave up overseeing the details a long time ago. I’ve underlings to perform that thankless task now. And I pay them well. But it still falls to me to make final checks.

I watch stagehands moving to and fro, carrying crates and laughing along the way. For them, this is the experience of a lifetime—a chance to rub elbows with the band they idolize. I envy their joy. My joy ended around six this morning when I woke up and realized I was yet again, as though my life depended on it, wrapped around the woman I had intended to hate. And it had been a bloody uncomfortable realization.

It was bloody uncomfortable to ease my swollen, aching cock away from the swell of her arse and roll myself out of that warm, fragrant bed when all I really wanted to do was wallow there, ease between soft thighs and push…

“Where are we putting Sophie?” I ask Brenna, who stands next to me as the buses are loaded up.

“Why do you care?” She takes a long sip of her coffee.