Excerpt
#1
Speaking of which, we’d
better get the fuck out of this car and into her house before one of those tour
buses stop by and the lucky bastards end up with photos worth way more than the
chump change they paid for the tour.
I reluctantly pull away from
her, loving the sound of the whimper I hear before I throw the door open and
slam it shut. I run around the car to help her out and lead her toward one of
the few places where we will be safe from prying eyes. We both move quickly,
ducking our heads in a now natural response, even when there aren’t any cameras
around.
Taryn already has her
keys in hand and opens the heavy wooden door. Thank the fuck she has an alarm
system at least, which she turns off while I close the door behind us. As soon
as the door clicks closed, I turn toward her and I have no doubt that the look
in my eyes as they meet hers would be described as predatory. But instead of
looking like frightened prey, I only see pure lust emanating from those staggeringly
beautiful eyes. I’ve always thought Taryn’s eyes changed color depending on her
mood and now I’m sure of it. Right now, they look like they’re on fire, with
gold flecks bursting through the wild and intense green, a forest on the verge
of erupting in uncontrollable flames.
I stalk closer and she backs up against the
foyer wall, where I cage her in, my hands beside each of her shoulders. I lean
in, bypassing her lips and moving mine toward her ear. Although her eyes are
telling me one thing, I need to hear what her mouth says.
“Do you want me?” I whisper. She leans her
head back against the wall, further exposing her neck, and I take the
opportunity to trail kisses from her ear down to her collarbone. I kiss across the
delicate area, which judging by the sounds she’s making, is also an erogenous
zone for her. Then I proceed to kiss my
way back up her neck before whispering in her other ear, “Although I like that
answer, I need to hear you say it, sweetheart. Do. You. Want. Me?” I ask,
nibbling on her earlobe with each word spoken.
“Yes, dammit, I want you,” she says forcefully and
reaches down to pull my shirt apart, ripping the buttons, before tearing it off
me. That’s all the answer I need.
Excerpt #2
The limo driver opens my door
and just as I’m about to swing my legs out, I catch a glimpse of the guy who
snaked my award. He and his entourage are working the carpet, though instead of
keeping their distance from the masses who are screaming his name, they’re
actually hugging and kissing everyone they come in contact with. You have got
to be kidding me. “Ridiculous,” my mom says, the distaste evident in her voice.
“Couldn’t they have more class?”
Ignoring her, I continue to
carefully exit the vehicle, and soon the crowd collectively starts to holler my
name. After waving, I start my walk and can’t
help but notice he stops just outside the doors and turns around. Obviously
disappointed the crowd is no longer all about him. I happily sign a few autographs while feeling
his gaze on me from the corner of my eyes.
Trying to ignore it, I continue signing, waiting for him to make his way
inside. “That’s enough,” my mom tells
the young girl holding her paper and pen to me.
Shooing her hand off the paper, I smile and sign anyway, handing it back
to the girl. Her ecstatic yelling and
jumping is enough to make me giggle.
My mom, not willing to take
any chance of me disobeying her again, firmly places her hand on my elbow and
leads me back up the carpeted walkway.
My laughter quickly quiets and my smile turns down when I spot him still
standing there, staring directly at me. Other
than his two bodyguards standing at either side of him, no one else is around. Those mesmerizing blue eyes bore into me the
closer I get. Swallowing hard, I will my
heart to calm down before I reach him.
He places his hand on the
door handle and opens it for me. I
quietly give him my thanks and enter with my mom following close behind. When
the doors shut, he comes alongside me. “I just wanted to say congratulations on
the award.” He holds his hand out for me to shake and when I place my hand in
his, I’m amazed how soft his hands feel. I guess if I wasn’t plucking guitar
strings all day, that’s how my hands would feel too. Unexpectedly, he pulls me
into him and his lips brush against my cheek as he whispers, “But it should
have been mine.” With a chuckle, he walks away, once again leaving before I
have a chance to respond.
Excerpt #3
My
guitarist, huh? I can’t help but wonder what else he is to her. Considering his
close proximity and the adoring way he’s looking at her, it doesn’t take a
genius to figure out what he wants to
be. Question is, what does she want? Or rather, who? And why the hell do I care
anyway?
“Trace?” I snap out of my
ridiculous thoughts to see both Taryn and Ryder staring at me. I also don’t
miss the curious look her mom is shooting my way, arched eyebrow included.
“Nice to meet you,” I say,
using my most polite voice. It’s a good thing my boys aren’t listening in or
they’d be giving me shit for sure. “You must be a hell of a guitar player to
get to back up this girl.” Okay, that was a dig I just couldn’t help.
“I do what I can,” he says
with a smirk, and I have the unexpected urge to knock that grin right off country
boy’s face. My label would love that, me starting a fight right here at the
home office. “Oh, and congrats on the win, by the way, even if you did beat my
girl here. Then again, she did take home the grand prize so it’s all good,
right?”
If Taryn was a fire hydrant,
he just pissed all over her. Yeah, I better get the fuck out of here and fast.
“Yeah, we’re good. Look, it’s good to meet you, but I gotta jet...literally,” I
say and notice the way the corner of Taryn’s perfect pink lips turn up at my
words. “Tour starts tomorrow.”
“I heard about your tour,” he
says and I raise my eyebrows. This should be interesting because I know this
redneck doesn’t listen to my music. “What’s it called again?” he asks, and I
see his eyes shift to the right where there is a newly-released tour poster
covering half of the damn wall. The words “This is Me, Motherfuckers” are
emblazoned across a life-sized version of me giving two middle fingers to
anyone who sees it. Ironically, this poster doesn’t really represent me at all,
but this asshole doesn’t need to know that. I’m not sure why exactly, but he is
definitely trying to make me look bad in front of Taryn. Well, two can play at
that game.
“I guess they don’t teach you
how to read down where you’re from, huh?” I ask, indicating the poster. I don’t
miss Taryn’s mouth drop open in shock at my words. So much for being polite, I
think.
“Actually,” he says, the
ever-present smirk still firmly in place, “our
home state is known for its high literacy rates.” And there he goes pissing
again.
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