Snare (Falling Stars #3) (33 page)

She laughs, hard.

"Whew," she exhales. "Vada would definitely self-destruct if I tried to drive her that far."

"You named your car Vada?"

"Darth Vada." She nods and lifts one shoulder.

"Darth…" I don't finish; instead, I demand, "I need to see this car."

"Okay." Sid moves to the door, grabs keys off a hook on the wall, and leaves the apartment.

Quick on her heel, we go down the stairs and outside to a small garage next to the building. She unlocks the large brown door and lifts. It gives a couple protesting moans, but stays open.

Stepping inside, Sid disappears around a black car, then the lights come on.

My eyes first land on the monster decal on her back window.

"What kind of car is this?" I ask, amused.

"Xterra," she answers, opening the driver side door.

Coming around the car, I step into the open door and look inside.

Then, I laugh.

"You're such a geek," I tease, turning and looking down at her.

She grins.

"Star Wars is a classic. Just like my Vada."

I reach out and cup her face.

"Is it weird that I really want to fuck you in the back seat of your car?"

"I'd think you were weird if you didn't," she responds, quickly opening the back driver's side door and jumping inside.

Chuckling, I follow her.

She shoves her leggings to her ankles as I settle into the backseat.

Thankfully, there's a bit of space back here, making it easier to push my sweats over my hips.

The moment I have them mid-thigh, her hand is wrapped around my hardening dick. She strokes while straddling my legs.

I'm not even sure where she got the condom, but Sid slips it on with an expertise I should hate. The truth is, I fucking love that she knows what to do and what she wants.

While she positions me against her, I lift her shirt and yank the cups of her bra down. As much as I love her naked body, there's something to be said about seeing a woman with her bra yanked under her tits. There's also a lot to be said about watching Sid shove the crotch of her panties to the side so my dick slides into her.

She drops down, causing us both to moan.

Grabbing both her tits, I squeeze, making her nipples harden.

I suck one into my mouth and rub my thumb over the other.

Up and down, she rides me hard and fast. One of her hands slaps to the ceiling, the other grabs the back of my head, holding me to her breast.

Her moans turn into dirty exclamations and then a deep guttural call.

Gripping her hips, I guide her through the orgasm, making sure that every single spasm, twitch, and shudder happens on my cock.

I focus on her tits, the bounce and sway of the gorgeous globes pushing me over the edge. I bury my face between them, wrap my arms around her body, and come so hard, my thigh muscles protest.

"Tell me again why we can't take Vada?" I pant.

"She'd never make it," she responds breathlessly.

I run my tongue between her breasts before releasing her body and sitting back against the seat.

I could get used to fucking her in a million places and being with her all the time.

The thought brings a lingering question back to mind.

Can't be with her all the time when you live on different coasts.

Knowing now isn't the right time, I fight the urge to ask. But soon, we'll have to talk. Soon, I'm going to have to say the words—words I dread telling her, knowing she'll push harder than ever to get away.

The drive to Philadelphia is long, the rental car has that weird rental car smell about it, but road tripping with Sid is making it more entertaining.

Her insisting we play fucking road trip games was the first battle I lost. Second, it was the Have I Never game. I swear to fucking God, even with all the shit I've done on the road after my divorce and when I was young, I still lost to her.

Then, she decided to make up stories about cars we passed on the road. She even made me speed up at one point so we could both get a good look at one family in a car and proceeded to make them super villains on their way to a secret location to plot with other villains. The story was fucking crazy, but should be a movie.

With two hours to our destination, Sid tried to take a turn driving—again. She'd done this early on in the trip, but after being scared shitless at her recklessness, I wasn't letting that happen again.

Now, she's curled up in the passenger seat, reading on her tablet.

Turning down the radio, I man up and finally ask her what I've been dying to know.

"So, what are you going to do about L.A.?"

I keep my eyes on the road.

"What about it?" she asks, distractedly.

"Are you going to move?" I go straight in for the kill.

The car falls into an awkward silence.

"I don't mean to—"

"I'm not sure," she finally answers.

"Okay," is all I can think to say.

"Liza would love it," she continues. "It would be nice being close to her again. Red would be fucking thrilled if I were close enough to do more of his shit," she mumbles.

It's childish and insecure, but at her mention of how Red would feel about it, I grip the steering wheel tighter.

"And with the new deal with your mother for Toy BoXXX, I'm sure L.A. would make sense, but…"

"But?" I urge.

"Well, my parents for one. They'll still be in Pennsylvania. And part of the Toy BoXXX distribution will still come out of the company I work with here—at least, for now, it will."

She sighs, her head falling back to the seat.

"Sounds like a lot to think about," I state, hoping I don't give away how fucking much it hurts that I'm not a factor for her.

"Maybe I'll keep my apartment and just crash with Liza and Jack when I need to," she says, her voice flat, unsure.

My throat tightens.

We fall back into silence, but this time, it's filled with a tension neither of us will address.

When we arrive at the hotel, the concierge assures me they can return the rental for us. After tipping him for his assistance, we take our bags to the front desk.

"Sidra Campbell," she says to the hotel desk person while getting her wallet out.

"I'm sorry, Ms. Campbell, but I don't have—"

"Xavier Stone," I say, moving in next to Sid. "Room for two," I continue.

"Yes, Mr. Stone, I have you for—"

"Wait a second," Sid interrupts, "why don't I have a room?"

I look down at her irritated face.

"Because you'll be in my bed, so what's the point in two rooms?" I explain and turn back to the woman.

"I, uh," she stutters, uncomfortable.

"Yes, king size bed, need two keys." I reach into my pocket for my wallet and slide my credit card to her. "My card."

She slips it off the counter and taps away on her keyboard.

"You could've asked," Sid grumbles.

I turn to her, leaning on the front desk.

"Sid, will you please share a room with me?"

Her eyes narrow.

"A little too late to ask me now," she growls low.

I grin.

The lady hands back my credit card along with the keys. While listening to her ramble on about where the elevators are, I hold out one key card for Sid.

She snatches it from my hand and practically sprints to the elevators.

"Are you really mad that I want to share a room with you?" I ask as she repeatedly presses the call button for the elevator.

"No," she mumbles, darting in the first doors that open.

Biting back a smile, I follow her onto the elevator.

"Your hair is everywhere," she yells from the bathroom.

"I had to trim this morning," I shout back.

Sid's been doing her damnedest to be bitchy. I know exactly what she's doing and why. Not only what happened at her parents', but my question about moving to L.A. She saw through that shit and now, I'm paying a fucking high price—one she's making me wonder if it's worth the cost.

"You are such a girl," she insults. "Is that why it took you as long as a teenage girl in here?" She stomps out of the bathroom, brushing her long dark locks. "You had to primp," she whimpers, taunting.

"Yep," I force a smile and slip my shirt over my head, "gotta make sure I'm beautified for the adoring, loving fans." It's a shitty thing to say, knowing she's got reasons to be reluctant with loving someone. I'm also acting like an immature asshole.

Her face turns to stone and her jaw tightens, causing a small twitch near her eye.

I've hurt her and it feels like shit. I need to apologize and just get all this shit out in the open with her—no matter if she runs for the hills and away for good.

"Sid—"

"I've got to go," she interjects, voice tight.

She throws the brush on the bed and grabs her bag.

"Sid, wait," I call out as she rushes from the room.

"Fuck," I yell, punching the air.

Sitting down on the bed, I drop my head into my hands. I want her, but this pushing, shoving me away…it's too much.

After meeting up with Red for breakfast, both Randy and Corbin being no shows, we head over to The Fillmore music hall.

Backstage, I take twenty minutes to look for Sid, but can't find her anywhere.

Knowing I'm too distracted to focus on our rehearsals and pre-show interviews, Red tries to get her on the two-way radio.

"Sid, where are you?" he speaks into the walkie-talkie.

"Why?" she clips through the static.

"I've been looking for you and can't—"

"I'm busy," she states, "bother someone else."

"Shit, dude," he looks at me, brows raised, "what the fuck did you do?"

"Nothing," I growl, slamming the dressing room door open and marching into the hall.

"Fuck," Randy yells when I bump into him.

Catching him by the shoulders, I look him over.

"You look like shit," I say, taking my anger out on him.

"Thanks," he says, swaying.

His skin is ashen and covered in sweat. The dark circles under his eyes are so deep, they're almost purple.

"Christ, what the hell are you on now?" Red barks from behind me.

"Nothing," he tries to sound pissed.

"You can't fucking play like this," I groan. "We need to find a replacement," I say to Red. "He's so trashed—"

"I'm not high!" he shouts, grabbing a wall for support.

"We're not stupid—"

"I'm detoxing," he snaps. "I started weaning myself off shit."

"You're doing this without any help?" I ask, disbelieving.

"Who the fuck wants to help me, huh?" The sadness in his eyes ratchets my guilt.

"Randy, I want to help." I step forward and grab his shoulders. "You can't just quit like this without getting a doctor involved."

"I can do this," he demands, brushing my hands off.

"I'm calling an ambulance," Red says.

"No," Randy protests, "I can do this. I just need some coffee and food. I'll be fine."

"Fine," Red agrees, making me raise my brows at him. "But I'm getting a doctor here to check you out and you aren't going to say shit about it." He points to Randy and puts his cell to his ear.

"Let's get you a place to lie down for a while," I offer, guiding him into our empty dressing room.

"What's wrong with him?" Corbin asks from the dressing room door.

"The idiot's trying to detox himself," I answer.

"Fuck you," Randy groans, balling up on the couch.

"Cold turkey?" The surprise is evident in Corbin's voice.

"Yep," I respond. "Red's got a doctor coming to check him out."