Groupie Love (A Rock Star Romance) (Love in Shades) (4 page)

Chapter 9

Mackenzie

The opening act is on stage, belting out a song about a threesome. It’s funny although I’m not sure it’s meant to be. Still, I like the infectious melody and I find myself tapping my foot and nodding along to the music. I’m having a decent time, I’ve got to admit.

Willow and I are hanging out at the bar in the VIP section watching the sweaty, enthusiastic crowd at the base of the low stage, dancing and jumping about in time with the song. Meanwhile, Julia is flirting with the drummer from Everson’s band, ordering all kinds of ridiculous-sounding beverages and daring him to drink them.

“Something tells me she won’t be coming home with us tonight,” Willow clucks into my ear. I laugh too because she’s probably right.

I turn back to the bar and find the bartender checking me out. I bat my eyes flirtatiously at him as I order another beer. “Drink’s on me, sweetheart,” he says offering me a sexy, gap-toothed grin.

“Thanks,” I smile as I take it from his hand.

I know I look good tonight even though I’m dressed casually in a plain white t-shirt under the black leather jacket that I’ve paired with some dark-wash jeans.

After Everson dropped by, my friends spent the afternoon primping and preening me. Julia worked on tussling my long, dark tresses into a sexy mess while Willow gave me a much-needed mani-pedi. I basked in the attention and let them have their fun, interrupting them every now and then to remind them that
this is not a date
. Everson invited
all of us
to the concert to see him
and
his band play. Still, my friends fussed and fretted over me like they were prepping Cinderella to send her off to the ball. All this, despite my protests that they were interrupting my meticulously planned-out rehearsal schedule.

I try not to think about the fact that I virtually abandoned my routine the minute they showed up…I’ll get back on the horse tomorrow.

I feel a presence just over my shoulder. I glance back and find Everson grinning down at me. “Good evening, ladies.”

Willow glances from Everson to me and back again. “I’m going to the ladies’ room,” she announces abruptly as she totters off of her bar stool.

“I’m coming too,” I say trying to follow her.

She wheels around and gives me a pointed look. “No – you’re not.”

She and Everson exchange a conspiratory glance before she disappears into the crowd and he slides onto the stool that she just vacated.

Willow, you traitor!

Defeated and lacking an excuse to flee, I stare over at him.
God – is it possible that he’s even better-looking up close?
His thick brown hair is brushed away from his face and dark bristle covers his jaw. And – guess what? – it appears that he
does
own a shirt after all. It’s a denim button-down that stretches across his broad shoulders and molds to each ridge of his sculpted torso. Worn black jeans hug his muscular thighs. 

He looks kind of insanely, fucking hot…Kind of. No, fuck it. He’s insanely, fucking hot.

“Glad you came out tonight, Mackenzie,” Everson drawls, his cockney accent hugging every word. He turns to the bartender, “Get me whatever she’s having.” He tips his chin towards my drink.

With a quick nod, the bartender slides a bottle of beer across the counter to Everson. There’s no mistaking the look of indignation on the guy’s face; after all he’s been flirting with me all night then Everson just pops up out of nowhere and steals his thunder.

“Pretty decent opening act, wouldn’t you say?” He nods towards the band on stage as he speaks.

I bring my beer to my lips. “Yeah – they’re okay.”

“Heard the main act are pretty fucking spectacular, though,” he says facetiously, lightly bumping his shoulder into mine.

Arrogant much?

I decide to take him down a few notches. “I googled some of their stuff. Personally, I don’t see what all the hype is about.” There’s a playful tone to my cutting remark.

He looks offended for a split second and I wonder if my joke went a bit too far. But then, his hand slides suggestively across the back of my barstool and he lowers his mouth to my ear so that his breath is tickling my cheek. “Not impressed? I’d be glad to give you a private show and change your mind.”

And now, my skin is buzzing. I lean back an inch and try to convince my pounding heart to simmer down.

But Everson only comes closer, talking above the ruckus coming from the band on stage. “I want to take you to dinner. And to a movie,” he announces confidently. I look at him, and I swear his dark eyes are glittering. There’s something magic about him.

Still, I guffaw. “I don’t think so.”

His dark eyes flicker at me again. “No? Why? Do you have a boyfriend?”

I look straight ahead, tapping my foot to the music, and take another gulp of my beer. “No.”

Silence. No eye contact.

“Aren’t you gonna ask me if I have a girlfriend?”

“No.” I’m trying to come across as aloof, unaffected by his flirtations. I’m not sure it’s working.

He laughs a throaty laugh. A smile forces its way to my lips.

“So, why won’t you go to dinner with me?”
He’s a persistent little bugger, huh?

“I don’t associate with known man-whores,” I say, keeping my voice poised and level.

“Man-whores?” he laughs.

“Yes. Man-whores,” I insist, swiveling in my seat to face him. “What? Are you gonna deny it? Claim to be in a committed relationship with the two blonds I saw saunter onto your patio in their thongs the other day? Or how about the gaggle of sloppy drunks that stumbled out of your house the very next morning?”

He grimaces. “Hey – you’re being judgmental.”

“No, I’m not,” I say with a laugh. “I’m just pointing out the obvious…You’re a man-whore.”

His frown deepens. “How do you know I haven’t been hurt before and I’m now just trying to fuck the pain away?” There’s amusement in his voice, but I see pain flash across his eyes.

I shake my head, determined not to give in to him.

He’s a siren, I remind myself. A modern day lothario. If he didn’t have the voice to serenade women into submission and fingers that make you imagine your body as the guitar he strums so passionately, he’d find
some
other way to make a living seducing weak-minded women.

I’m not a weak-minded woman. Not by a long shot.

“No offense,” I say, “but, I have a lot on my plate this summer. I don’t have time for a little
fling.
I find you very attractive but I have no intention of acting on that attraction. So, to answer your question, no – I won’t go on a date with you.”

Everson looks like he’s about to take another shot at convincing me, but just then, the drummer, Kid, saunters up to us. “We go on in less than five minutes, bruv.”

Everson gives me a determined look before he slides out of his seat and bends towards me. So close I can smell the musky body wash on his skin. That magic of his wraps itself around me, binding me under his spell. “This conversation isn’t over,” he whispers, his lips touching my ear, sending shivers across my skin. I drag a sharp, audible breath into my lungs and I have to bite my bottom lip to keep from moaning. Everson winks knowingly as he follows Kid through the crowd.

I scrub my hands down my arms to brush away the goose bumps as I watch him walk away.

We’ve got chemistry. I hate to admit it, but we do.

Chapter 10

Mackenzie

I’m still slightly disoriented when Julia and Willow appear by my side moments later, both panting excitedly to see the White Hot Coals perform.

The lights in the club dim down as shadowy figures take the stage. “Show’s about to start,” Willow says, giving my hand an excited squeeze.

The low, rhythmic thump of the bassline drowns out the indistinct voices chattering in the room. A hush quickly spreads over the place as the kick picks up speed. The anticipation is so heavy in the air that it causes the hairs on the back of my neck to stand on edge. Suddenly, the drums and guitars explode into the silence as the spotlights blink on.

The crowd goes absolutely wild, shouting and yelling for each of the band members by name. I thought that the audience was rowdy when the opening act was on stage, but now, it’s utter chaos. They’re flailing their arms and pumping their fists, the energy frenetic in the room.

It isn’t long before a lacy red bra goes flying by my face.

Things are getting crazy in here.

“I can’t see a thing,” Willow complains, standing on her tiptoes.

“Come on, let’s get closer.” I can barely hear Julia’s voice over the thunderous music and the screaming fans. I open my mouth to protest – I’d rather cling to the safety of the nearly-deserted bar than venture out into the pandemonium. But Willow’s hand wraps around my wrist as she follows Julia, pulling me towards the stage.

We wedge our way through the overzealous crowd, risking serious bodily harm. Flying elbows. Moshing head-bangers. A topless blue-haired girl just crowd-surfed by.

These folks really need to get a grip.

Then, Everson’s rugged, handsome face comes into view. I freeze.

My heart.

My poor, poor heart.

His expression is solemn, his eyes closed. He seems oblivious to the crowd around him. His large hands are wrapped around the microphone as he waits for his cue.

Ah, god – he’s sexy.

Willow pulls me all the way up to the front of the stage just as Everson’s gravely baritone fills the room. It’s a song I haven’t heard before but – damn – I could listen to it rumble out of his chest all night.

It’s a song about loving a woman from a far, fantasizing about finally having her in his arms. Passion wraps around each lyric, as if he’s making love to each word. The low notes of his voice hit me right between the legs. And there’s something savage about the way he grips the mic stand, causing the veins in his toned forearms to bulge beneath his tattooed skin.

The music crescendos and his roars echo through the room. The fans are going absolutely crazy, shouting the lyrics as he reaches the chorus. Then, the tempo of the song slows down and he strums a soulful rhythm on the guitar slung around his neck.

I vaguely hear Willow calling my name but everything around me has been drowned out by the sight in front of me.

I hate to admit it to myself, but I
definitely
see what all the hype is about.

This man has got presence. And talent. And sex appeal. And if my foolish pride wasn’t standing in the way, I’d probably be one of the women stripping off her shirt and rushing the stage.

Everson’s eyes shut again just as the guitarist plays the final notes of the song. And when his eyes blink open, they lock right on mine.

The entire room seems to stand still as he takes slow, deliberate strides towards me, his eyes riveted to my face. My brain shuts down, my lungs quit working, my knees give out. His hand stretches out to me and I freeze. I hear Julia squeal my name as she and Willow push me towards the low stage. Everson’s fingers curl around my wrist and I find my body moving onto the platform. A barstool appears out of nowhere and Everson gently guides me to it.

Then, I’m perched there as the band plays the opening notes of a familiar song.
Pretty, Wild Thing
it’s called, I think. It’s the number one song in the country.

The crowd thunders around me as Everson begins to croon, staring deep into my eyes, stripping every defense away from me.

Pretty, wild thing, you cry kaleidoscope tears…Your heart’s full of music, but your mind’s full of fears…Don’t let the word break you down…‘Cause you were meant to be a star…And even when they all doubt you, I know that you are. I know that you are…Stay wild. Stay free…Don’t let the world tell you who to be…Wild thing…Sexy thing…Pretty thing…My favorite thing.

As if in slow motion, his face inches towards mine. My core throbs wildly. I know he’s going to kiss me and I want to resist him, but my body doesn’t move. And right there, under the glaring strobe lights in front of the mob of screaming fans, he yanks a fistful of my thick, dark mane, angles my face upward and sweeps his lips against mine.

The crowd roars.

A shockwave tackles my entire being. I feel like I’m high on the most potent drug. I’m acutely aware of the arousal pounding through my every cell. I feel like I’m about to melt to the stage.

His lips are soft, but the kiss is rough, the bruising intensity of it setting off alarms at my core. His fingers tighten in my hair, pulling me closer while his tongue nudges its way past my lips. He licks, strokes, fucks my mouth with his in a way that makes my poor pussy throb relentlessly.

My brain panics.
Oh god – can you lose consciousness from a kiss? I feel like I’m about to lose consciousness
.

I grab onto the collar of his shirt to steady myself as the kiss intensifies. His fingers wrap around the back of my head, pulling me closer. Our tongues curl around each other. I groan into his mouth and he nibs at my bottom lip. The audience hollers riotously and I swear that I hear Julia’s ecstatic hollers rise above all the noise. “Get it, Mackenzie! Get it!”

When he finally releases me from the kiss, my head is light. Expecting my brain to formulate coherent thoughts is a lost cause. I can’t decide whether I want to drop kick him in the chest for putting me on the spot or rip off my soiled panties and stuff them down his smug little throat.

His lips don a triumphant smirk as he stalks off to the other end of the stage, continuing his performance. He dramatically rips off his shirt – buttons flying everywhere – before grazing hands with the screaming women in the front row.

How could he be so utterly unaffected by this kiss that completely robbed me of my good sense?

I’m still dazed when I get up off of the stool and walk gingerly towards the edge of the stage, headed back to my friends in the audience. But, Everson’s fingers intertwine with mine again and he pulls me back towards his bare chest. His lips touch my ear. “Not so fast, Babes. I need to taste you again.”

An ache resonates throughout my body as his mouth claims mine once more and the song fades to an end.