Nalini Singh - Rock Addiction

“If you want me to continue putting out fires for you,” she’d told the band before she left, “do not do anything that interrupts my vacation.” The terse words had been directed particularly at David, whose black eye had been spectacular by that stage. “And next time someone tells you to put ice on a bruise, you listen!”

Molly had found the tone of that last pithy comment intriguing to say the least. Now, vowing to keep her nose out of whatever might end up going on between the drummer and her sister, she crossed her fingers for them both and typed a short reply: Was it a good memo?

Thea’s response was quick-smart. Bullet-pointed! With an introduction and a conclusion.

Are you memo’ing him back?

Of course I am. I have to see what he does next.

Stifling her laugh again, Molly said, Keep me updated. And have fun in Bali.

I will—after I write this memo.

Leaving Thea to her rebuttal memo, Molly messaged Charlotte. Hey, what’s happening? I’m backstage at a rock concert. Surreal. As surreal as the fact the incredible lead singer would be in her bed tonight.

I’m at work. Yes, on a Saturday night. The good news is, T-Rex hasn’t yelled at me once in the past eight hours. I think he might be depressed.

Caught by the primal power of Fox’s voice, it took Molly a few minutes to reply. Ask him to dinner. Or dessert.

T-Rexes only eat raw meat. But I ordered him takeout from a restaurant he likes. Now I’m going home. Enjoy the concert—and Fox. xoxo

Sliding the phone back into her pocket, Molly let the music sweep her away into a wild jungle of a world, passionate and furiously beautiful, just like the man who held the mike close as a kiss.

While Molly helped the crew pack up sensitive gear after the concert, Fox and the rest of the band came out to sign autographs and take photos with the die-hard fans who’d stuck around well after the show ended. Though she tried not to, she couldn’t help but notice the number of adoring women in the group—the one about to take a photo with Fox was a raven-haired knockout with a beaming smile.

“Oh, I can’t believe I get to meet you!” she squealed when Fox put his arm around her waist for the shot.

He wasn’t the only one being showered with female attention; all four men had their own groupies. Suddenly, Molly wasn’t so sure she’d done the right thing in encouraging David’s pursuit of Thea. “Damn it,” she said as she broke a nail while rolling up one of the cables that crawled across the back of the stage.

Forcing herself to pay attention, she tried to keep her eyes off the tableau out front, but it was no use. This time when she looked up, it was to see Fox exchanging fist bumps with a tattooed biker type who turned around to have Fox sign his back with a black marker. Next to him was a brunette who tucked a piece of paper into Fox’s jeans pocket, blatant invitation in her eyes and her assuredly collagen-enhanced lips.

The bitchy thought would’ve normally made Molly feel bad, but not tonight, with the woman licking her tongue around her pouty lips in a message a man would have to be comatose to miss.

Gritting her teeth against the urge to stride over there and slap her straight, Molly took the wound-up cable to where another one of the crew was putting them neatly into a gear truck. The charity volunteer crew was handling the big items, all of which had been hired, but much of the more delicate equipment was the band’s and needed to be handled with care.

“Here you go, Jen.”

“Thanks.” The model-tall and slender black woman took the cable off her hands. “You want to schlep some water out to the guys? It looks like these fans aren’t leaving.”

Joining the cluster of fans was the last thing Molly felt like doing, but since she couldn’t exactly say that, she stalled. “They always go the extra mile?”

“Depends on how tired they are, how far along in the tour it’s been.” Jen nodded at the crate of water that had just come out of the portable fridge now being loaded for transport. “Go on.”

Reluctantly grabbing four bottles, Molly made her way through the small crowd after tugging down her crew cap and was soon at David’s side. He was talking music with an eager young male and smiled his thanks at her for the water. When he leaned in close to whisper, “I sent her the memo,” she decided her first instincts about him had been right. A guy who was still thinking about her sister, even surrounded by copious amounts of near-naked female flesh, was seriously gone.

Noah took his water with his usual charming smile, while Abe nodded quietly. Heading toward Fox, she found herself stopped by an exquisitely made-up blonde in skinny jeans and a plunging black top. “Are you like one of Fox’s assistants?”

Molly nodded.

“Oh my God! I would die for that position.” The blonde pressed her hands together and jumped up and down. “He is soooo hot.”

Realizing the woman was a girl despite the illusion created by her makeup, Molly gave her a gentle smile. “I better get him this water.”

“Oh, sure. Tell him to call me! I put my number in his left back pocket.”

Molly touched Fox on his lower back through the white T-shirt he’d pulled on and was surprised by his frowning look when he turned his head. It changed into a smile the instant he saw it was her. “Is that for me?”

Nodding at the straightforward comment that sounded like a caress, she gave him the water just as another woman, this one definitely an adult, laid her hand on his chest, her turgid nipples plainly visible through her spaghetti-strap top. “Hi”—a breathy sound as she pressed those nipples against his arm—“I’ve been waiting to talk to you all night.” Her eyes dropped to his groin. “Do I get a reward for my patience?”

Stomach churning, Molly walked away before she punched the groupie’s lights out.

It was hours later before the crew’s work was finally done. Fox had left with the rest of the band a while ago; it would’ve looked suspicious for Molly to go with them when the breakdown was only halfway complete. The truth was, she wasn’t sure she was in the right frame of mind to be with Fox just then. When the other crew members invited her out for a drink afterward, she went.

“Is it always like that?” she asked Jen as they sat at the bar, Molly with a pretty virgin cocktail, Jen with a margarita. “The women I mean?”

“That was nothing.” Jen sighed at the first sip of her drink, the salt from the rim of the glass a shimmer on her lips before she turned them inward to lick it off. “Rock star equals catnip for a lot of women.”

Molly couldn’t exactly argue, though it was only one particular rock star who was her personal catnip. “I guess that’s why real relationships don’t work in that life,” she said, and it hurt to speak the words.

Jen shrugged, her slender shoulders graceful against the black band T-shirt. “I dunno. There are plenty of long-term relationships in the business. Some of ’em the woman looks the other way, but a rare few are solid to the core. Depends how hard you want to work and how much you love, I suppose.”

Molly imagined living with a man—with Fox—knowing thousands of other women would be happy to crawl into his bed should he so much as crook a finger, and knew she couldn’t do it. The jealousy would eat her up. As it was doing now. “I think I’ll head back,” she said, conscious she was the one who’d created the distance tonight. Stupid, when she had so little time with him anyway. “I’m exhausted.”

“You did good for a rookie.” Jen finished off her margarita and swiveled off the stool. “I’ll come, too. Maxwell and I want to go see the opera house tomorrow.”

They walked back across the road and into the hotel, the crew having deliberately picked a place nearby so no one had to worry about driving. Molly was crossing the lobby when she spied Fox inside the small hotel bar; he was leaning against the bar itself, the sex-kitten who’d wanted a “reward” in the seat right next to him.

It felt like being punched in the stomach.

The ding of the elevator had her snapping her head away from the cozy tableau. Punching in the number for her floor, she tried to keep her face from crumpling, Jen thankfully too tired to pay her much attention. “Good night,” the other woman said one floor down from Molly’s. “If you want to check out the opera house, too, meet us downstairs at eleven.”

Molly nodded. “Thanks.”

Managing to keep herself together with the same furious will that had allowed her to survive that year of hell in high school, she entered her room and, striding across to the connecting door, locked it on her side. Only then did she give in to the urge to kick at the wall. It didn’t help.

Damn him. Damn him. Damn him!

She ripped off her Schoolboy Choir T-shirt, toed off her sneakers and, leaving a trail of clothes on the carpet, walked into the bathroom. Choosing a water temperature so hot it was almost unbearable, she was about to step inside the shower cubicle when there was a banging on her door.

Molly’s heart leapt, but she knew it was likely a guest who had the wrong room. Wrapping herself in the hotel robe and switching off the shower, she frowned as the banging came again.

Not about to make herself vulnerable if the person was a drunk or otherwise aggressive, she padded out quietly and put her eye to the peephole—to see the last person she’d expected. Wrenching open the door when Fox went to pound again, she said, “What are you doing?” through clenched teeth. “You’ll wake everyone on the floor.”

Striding inside, he watched her close the door, then imprisoned her against it by slamming his hands palms-down on either side of her body, six feet four inches of pissed-off male. “What the fuck, Molly? You blow me off after the show and now you lock me out?”

Instead of being intimidated, she shoved at his chest. The fact it was a futile effort only ratcheted up her anger. “I didn’t think you’d notice.” Her eyes burned with furious tears. Blinking them back, she said, “You looked plenty busy at the bar!”

“Seriously? A groupie sneaks into the hotel with the intention of getting into any bed she can, and you—”

“And I what?” She thudded her fists against his shoulders. “I shouldn’t wonder what the hell you were doing the hours I was at the site?”

Grabbing her wrists, he pinned her arms above her head with one big hand. He gripped her chin with the other, the green of his irises violent and his breath hot against her skin as he said, “You trust me, that’s what you do!”

Kicking out at him, Molly tried to wrench away but he pressed his body so close that she couldn’t move. “Trust you?” She sucked in ragged gasps of air. “Why? What do I know about rock stars?”

“I don’t fucking care. You know about me!” It was a growl. “I made a promise and I don’t break my promises.” His kiss was a wild storm, his mouth demanding her response.

A red haze across her vision, she bit him on that luscious lower lip. Hard enough to hurt. Pulling away with a hiss, he shook his head. “That was not a good idea, baby.”

Dark and low and rough, his warning rasped over her skin. “What,” she said, hating that she was still so susceptible to him, “your little playmate didn’t scratch your itch?”

His fingers tightened on her wrists, his other hand curling around her throat. “Don’t push me.”

She could almost see him throttling back his temper, and it infuriated her that he could remain in control while she was falling apart, hot, angry tears rolling down her cheeks despite her every attempt to rein them in. “I’m not the one being pushy!” Twisting in his hold, her chest heaving, she was angrily aware of his jean-clad cock shoving against her abdomen. “If you think I’ll let you in me after you’ve been inside her—”

His temper snapped with a snarl, his mouth slamming down on hers and his hand shifting to hold her jaw so she couldn’t bite him again. Molly sent her knee up between his legs instead. Blocking her by pressing his body against hers, he thrust his hand into her robe, palming her breast with blunt possessiveness—as if he had the right to handle her however and whenever he liked. “Why didn’t you answer my calls?”

“I didn’t want to talk to you, that’s why.” Molly twisted again but only managed to open her robe even more. “You let her touch you!” Images assaulted her of that woman’s fingers on his chest, her skanky breasts rubbing against his arm.