The Complete Rockstar Series (51 page)

“And,” Cole interjects, “most of the IOC will in attendance, as will the London organizers of the games, and the mayor.”

“IOC?” Adam asks.

“International Olympic Committee,” Scott fills in for him.

“So what you’re saying is that this is a party for all of the Olympic VIPs and what not?” I ask, trying to sound less threatening this time.

Scott smiles. “Exactly.” He opens up the door to a very nice private dining room. “Your instruments are ready in the main room. You can wait here while we introduce you. It shouldn’t be long. A server will be around to see if you need anything before you go on.”

“I’m going with Scott to mingle with the ‘
VIPs’
,” Cole says, smiling. “Text me if you need anything, but like he said, your wait will be short. You play, there will be a few speeches, the reveal, food and drinks, then done.”

We nod and agree and the two of them are gone.

“Bloody hell.” I collapse into a nearby chair, rubbing my forehead. “I didn’t know we were playing for the entire Olympic Committee in a tiny bloody restaurant with them all crammed up close. This is a huge deal.”

Adam grins. “Yep. I can’t wait. I’d love to pick the brains of the people who make the Olympics a reality. That’s really impressive.”

Jesus. Man up, Davies. You’ve played stadiums with tens of thousands of people. You can do this.

A man brings us all water and asks if we need anything. Adam orders a PG Tips with honey. The rest of us stick with the water.

“Ready?” Scott pokes his head in, his smile somewhat nervous. I note a light sheen of sweat on his forehead.

Hmph. Seems I’m not the only one who’s nervous tonight. Of course, he’ll probably be made redundant if this doesn’t go well.

Adam puts down his tea and stands up. “Let’s go.”

We’re lead down a short hall into a much larger dining area. The end nearest us is set up with a fairly large stage, our instruments in their usual spots.

Adam hops right up on stage and grabs the microphone. He immediately starts working the crowd, chatting on about the games, London, and anything he can think of while we take our places. Like I’ve said, when Adam is performing, he’s bloody brilliant. The audience is eating it up.

He shrugs on his own guitar and waits for Hawke to start us off. It’s our first time playing this song in public, one Adam wrote in rehab. He hasn’t outright said, but it’s clearly written for Ellie. In my opinion, it’s the best thing he’s ever written.

Hawke signals to start and the place fills with sound. The guitars, the drums, Adam’s clear voice—it’s perfect. At the end of the first song, I’ve relaxed enough to unkink the knots in my back. After the second song, I’m starting to have a good time. By the time we finish our set I can’t stop grinning. This is the most fun I’ve had in a long time.

We’re shuttled back to the small room to clean up and get a quick drink before Cole herds us back into the party.

“They’re doing the unveiling now,” he tells us right before ditching us to suck up to more VIPs.

The people who have surrounded us to chat turn their attention to the stage when Scott takes the mic.

“Thank you all for being here.” Scott looks out over the crowd, exuding appeal. Not in the naturally captivating way Adam works an audience. Scott is less genuine, more rehearsed. He goes on and on thanking various people and organizations, causing me to check the time more than once.

Just as people become restless, a massive screen drops behind Scott on the stage. The lights dim and Scott begins his introduction.

“I’d like to unveil our 2012 Olympic Issue, featuring Women’s Soccer, I mean Football player, Katherine Campbell of team Great Britain.”

I stagger in shock and my hand clenches around my drink. I’m frozen in place as Kate,
my Kate
, appears on a twelve-foot screen wearing only a teeny tiny scrap of a bikini with the Union Jack printed on it.

When the real-life Kate walks out on the stage in a low-cut, too-short red dress, waving and smiling for the cheers of the audience, I nearly lose it.

I grab the back of Adam’s neck, pressing my fingers down tight.

“Ow! Sod off!” He tries to shake me off but I hold on.

“Did you know about this?” I hiss under my breath.

“What? No! How would I know? They’ve kept the bloody cover a secret! No one knew who was on it, just that it was an Olympic athlete.”

“Fuck!” I release his neck, only to fist my hands at my sides. My eyes turn back to Kate, who is finished with her speech already and is making her way down the stairs and into the crowd.

Scott holds out a hand to keep her from tumbling in her heels. The insane urge to rip his arm off and beat him with it roars through me. Kate has always been beautiful, gorgeous even. But she’s always had a shyness about her, an insecurity that held her back from reaching her full potential.

Tonight, I see none of that. All I see is an absolutely stunning young woman, confident and successful and proud of her accomplishments. That confidence is dead sexy and every guy in here is thinking the same thing.

The thought of all these men mentally undressing her—fuck, they didn’t even have to do it mentally with a twelve foot picture of her stripped down to nothing. It makes me want to wrap her up in my coat and drag her out of here so no one else can touch what’s mine.

She’s not yours, Davies. Hasn’t been for years.

And doesn’t that just make it worse.

“She must know we’re here, mate,” Adam says, tearing me away from my gawking. “She had to have watched us perform.”

He’s right. She knows we’re here. Should I go over to her? I’m at a loss as to what to do next.

Adam shoves me forward. “Right, we’re going to chat her up. I haven’t seen her in ages.”

“But—?”

My argument is short-lived when I see that Gavin and Hawke have already approached Kate and are exchanging hugs and kisses. My body goes rigid as their hands touch her bare skin.

Adam leans in to speak quietly in my ear. “Calm down, big guy. I can practically see the smoke coming out of your ears.” He pats my back and continues pushing me along.

Kate is smiling at Gavin and Hawke, but it’s strained. She’s uncomfortable. This is supposed to be one of her proudest moments, a crowning achievement in her life, and I’ve gone and messed it up by existing.

Then those clear, green eyes meet mine and I no longer care—I don’t care who’s here or what the right thing is that I’m supposed to be doing, all I care about is her.

“Dax.” My name comes out on a quick breath. That raspy voice of hers still does things to me. The memories send blood rushing south.

“Kate.” The rest of the room fades away, like one of those cheesy Hollywood films. Until, that is, a swaggering bloke comes up, slides an arm around Kate’s waist, and introduces himself.

“Hi, I’m Blake Marshall, Miss Campbell’s date.”

That’s the last straw. I lose it. The anger, the frustration, a lifetime of denying any of my true feelings, it all comes pouring out in one lightning fast movement.

My hands find the lapels of Blake Marshall’s jacket and I have him shoved against the nearest wall, snarling in his face, before anyone can react.

“Take your hands off of her, mate. Unless you want to lose them in an incredibly painful manner.”

“Dax, stop it!” Kate is futilely trying to pull me off of her date, while Adam and Gavin successfully manage to separate me from the tall, dark-haired man.

“Calm down, Dax,” Adam growls in my ear. “You’re making a scene.”

“I don’t fucking care. He’s touching my—” The harsh untruth of my outburst stops me cold. She’s not mine. I seem to keep forgetting that bit.

My clenched fists relax, allowing Blake to stand on his own two feet. “Christ, Kate. Forget any more favors after that…” he snarls, shooting an appalled sneer my way, “disgusting display.”

“Fine, Blake. It wasn’t my idea for you to come here with me. Go.” Kate shoos
Blake
away with a toss of her hair over her shoulder.

“Fucking hell. It was a setup and not a real date?” I ask.

Kate turns her furious gaze onto me. “Why hello, Dax. Nice to see you. How have you been?” she hisses so sarcastically I actually flinch. “Yes it was a bloody setup. Blake is on the Men’s Football team and the committee thought it would look good for us to come together.”

“Okay, so I could have handled myself better,” I admit.

Kate’s mouth drops open but no sound emerges. Her face begins to turn an interesting shade of crimson while the four of us look on.

Blessedly, Gavin breaks the silence. “Let’s move to the back room. People are staring.” He takes Kate’s hand and nods to Adam who then grabs my shoulders. Adam spins me around, giving me a hard shove down the hall to once again end up in the smaller room.

The door slams shut. I glance back to see that Gavin and Adam have ditched us. We’re alone.

Kate has her back to me, the gentle curve of her spine torqued into a straight line. I take a step closer, close enough to see that her hands are shaking at her sides. Kate’s shoulders are shifting up and down with each rapid, shallow breath she takes.

The tension in the air is so thick, I can feel it vibrating, wrapping around my body and worming it’s way into my empty heart. It swells with emotion, overflowing after years of forcing it to remain hollow.

When Kate turns to face me, I move on instinct. Stepping forward I take her beautiful face in my hands and lower my mouth to hers.

Okay, so I wasn’t thinking. The kiss could have gone horribly wrong, with Kate getting angry and slapping me across the face. She had every right to do just that.

She doesn’t. Instead, she sinks into it, her body relaxing against mine as she opens up to me. Pure animal need overtakes my brain, the desire to make her mine so overwhelming I can hardly think straight. My hands go to her backside, pulling her hips against me as I devour her mouth.

Kate is like a live wire, opening those sweet lips so I can taste every bit of her with each sweep of my tongue. A soft moan escapes from her throat. It vibrates though me, igniting a primitive fire deep inside. I growl, leaving her mouth to lick and suck my way down her neck. When I reach the tender spot where her neck meets her shoulder and give it a sharp bite, Kate gasps and pulls away.

My eyes find the dark red mark I left behind and a rush of pride fills me. Now everyone will know she’s mine.

“Dax,” she pants, her breath heavy and erratic. She’s gorgeous—her hair mussed from my hands, her lips swollen and red, her cheeks flushed with desire. But those green eyes, they look hesitant, sad. The sight sends a spike of fear into my chest.

“Kate, no. Please, don’t make me stop. I—”

Do it Davies, man up and tell her. Shit, here goes.

“I love you, Kate. I haven’t stopped loving you since we became friends in school. Just, don’t leave.”

“I-I’m not leaving,” she whispers. “I have to go back to the party.”

“Can we meet after? To talk?” Kate looks wary. I can’t let her go without a promise to see me. “Hell, I’m not above begging, angel. Just say the word and I’m on my knees for you.”

A smile breaks through. Kate averts her gaze as her cheeks stain crimson once more.

“Christ, you’re even more gorgeous than you were at eighteen.”

“You’re different,” she says softly.

God that sexy voice. She’s trying to kill me with it.

“Different?” I ask, worried that this is a bad thing.

Kate smiles. “Yeah. Not only are you telling me how you feel, but I can finally
see
how you feel. No more Iceman,” she says with a giggle.

I grimace. “Iceman? I don’t think I like that.”

Kate leans up and presses a small kiss on my mouth. “I don’t like it either. This is much, much better.” She pulls back and turns for the door. “I’ll meet you here after the party, we can talk then.”

She slips out of the room and disappears.

I can’t help the ridiculous grin that stretches across my face. Then one of my dad’s rules pops up in my head.

Rule 2—Never let your emotions show.

I continue smiling like an idiot. I’m done with that rule. Holding everything in has caused me nothing but pain and heartache and hurt Kate as well. If I have to turn into a romantic, sappy, love-song writing bitch to have Kate back in my life, then that’s what I’ll do.

I’ve finally figured it out.

Rule 1—Do whatever it takes when you love someone.

K
ate

I
t’s
quiet in the back of the car as it makes it way to Dax’s hotel. We have to talk. I need answers to so many questions I don’t even know where to start. So instead, we sit there silently in the dark, ignoring the colossal number of issues that suffocate us like a heavy blanket on a hot day.

Dax escorts me through the lobby of the posh Warren hotel, guiding me with a hand on my lower back over to the lifts. Once inside, he slips his rough hand into mine, glancing over to make sure I’m okay with it.

I smile at his uncertainty. It’s odd to see something other than brash confidence on his handsome face. Yet the fact that he can be vulnerable is endearing. It makes him more human.

“Here we are.” Dax only releases my hand to fish out his keycard and open the door to his suite.

“Thank you.”

“Drink?” he asks, making his way to a small bar area.

“White wine if you have it.” I glance around the room. It’s gorgeous. “You can see the river from here. There’s the London Eye! Wow, and Kensington Palace.”

Dax comes up next to me at the window, putting a glass of wine in my trembling hand. “I haven’t looked.” His large palm covers the hand holding the wine, steadying it. “I’d rather look at you.”

My eyes jerk away from the view to meet his dark, soulful gaze. I’ve always been able to read his eyes… most of the time. But tonight the door that had been keeping me out has been blown wide open. I can not only read his eyes but his body and even that striking face of his. Everything is laid out for me to see.

He loves me. Of that, I no longer have any doubts.

There are still questions, of course.

“I’ve missed you so much,” Dax says, sliding his hands up my shoulders to rest at the base of my throat. His fingers curl around behind my neck leaving his thumbs below my jaw, resting over my fluttering pulse.

I know he can feel the shudder that wracks my body, the hitch in my breath as I struggle to speak. He can definitely feel the way my blood is flying through my veins, pounding out a staccato rhythm under his hands. I ache for him to touch me, to bring us together physically and make me his again.

Questions can be answered later.

Reaching up, I thread one hand into that thick head of dark blonde hair, fisting it tight. A throaty growl rips from Dax’s chest and that loving gaze turns primal. He relieves me of my glass and places it on the bar behind him without looking. Taking advantage of my empty hand, it joins the other one in Dax’s hair, gripping it hard to yank his mouth down to mine.

We crash together, devouring each other in wet, messy kisses. Dax uses his bulk to muscle me back until I’m pinned against the cold glass of the floor to ceiling window.

“Fuck, I’ve missed this. Missed you… your scent, your voice, the feel of your skin.” His hands are everywhere, touching, squeezing, caressing every part of me.

“Dax…I need you,” I pant as he attacks my mouth again. His tongue forces it’s way in, dominating the kiss in a way Dax does so well. “I want you to take me.” I need him to erase what happened with Wes. For him to be the last man to have touched me.

He releases me, putting a hand on the window on either side of my head. Dax lowers his forehead to mine. Both of us are out of breath, struggling to control our desires. “Are you sure?” he asks with his eyes screwed shut.

He’s so attentive to my needs. Even now, with his hair all disheveled, his dark shirt rucked up on one side, exposing a sliver of tan skin, and an unmistakable bulge straining in his jeans—he’s worried about pushing me into something I may regret.

“Look at me.”

He opens his eyes and those gorgeous dark irises lock onto mine. I put a hand on his chest, sliding it down until my fingers are hooked in his waistband. Dax’s breath stutters and his hips instinctively jerk forward.

“I love you, Dax. Always have. I always will.”

Those eyes widen, shimmering with disbelief. As quickly as it appears, the surprise is gone, replaced with naked lust.

“Dax!” I squeal.

In one swift motion, he has scooped me up, throwing me over his shoulder like a rag doll. I laugh, my hair hanging down and my face against his lower back.

Turnabout’s fair play!

I lift the back of his shirt and lick a hot swath across the skin above the waist of his jeans. When I get to his side, I bite down on the muscle and suck—hard.

I’m rewarded with a grunt right before I’m tossed onto a massive bed. Shocked, he tries to see where I marked him while I giggle.

“You little—”

I crook a finger, inviting Dax to join me. “Do you want to talk or do you want to come here?”

With shaky hands, I reach back and unzip my dress, wriggling out of it until I’m naked. Dax stares with blatant lust in his eyes and quite a bit of shock on his face when he sees I have nothing underneath.

I shrug and smirk wickedly. “The dress was too tight for proper undergarments.”

“Jesus, Kate.” His voice is husky and laced with hunger. Dax hurriedly sheds his clothes, quickly losing each piece while I take in every familiar—and unfamiliar—inch of him.

I’m in awe. “You have a tattoo.” I scoot over, climbing to my knees so I can run my hands over his shoulders to his back. I wish I could feel the ink that marks his skin, but it’s just as smooth as the rest of him. “What does it say?”

Dax turns around so I can see his glorious back, wide, cut and now, inscribed with a large tattoo.

I read it aloud as my fingers lightly trace the heavy, black Old English letters. “NO MORE RULES.” Dax twists his head so he can see me over his shoulder. “What does it mean?”

He turns back towards the bed, taking my mouth in a passionate kiss. Assertive and unapologetic, Dax keeps kissing and moving forward until I’m corralled beneath him on the mattress.

He breaks the kiss with a gasp. “It means I’m living my life for
me
, not anyone else. I’m going to do what
I
want.”

“And what is it that you want?” I ask breathlessly.

His sharp gaze pins me down.

“You.”

D
ax

N
ow that I
’m not holding back anything, the longing, the craving, the need for Kate burns my insides. My emotions are like an out of control car speeding towards a brick wall.

When I lower my body down on top of hers, skin touching skin, the car slams into the wall and explodes in hot, flickering flames. Kate’s hips arch up into mine and I break our kiss with a huff.

“God, angel…” I groan long and deep from the tortuous friction of her slick flesh on my cock.

She tugs on my neck, bringing our mouths back together. I could literally devour her right now. Kate sucks on my lower lip, bringing it between her teeth.

“Ow!” I pull back, putting a hand up to where my mouth stings. “You bit me!” My finger comes away with a dot of blood. Even though it hurt, that was the sexiest thing I’ve ever had done to me

“My, my,” I whisper, trailing a finger down her neck and between her breasts. “Someone has turned into quite the little deviant.”

“I’m not a deviant,” she rasps, “I just want to—”

“Want to do what, Kate?” I thrust my hips down hard, dragging a moan from her. “More of this?”
Thrust
. “Is that,”
thrust
, “what,”
thrust
, “you,”
thrust
, “want?”

“Yes!” she shouts, wrapping her legs around my waist. “I want it and everything else! I want you!” Her heels dig into my backside and she uses her powerful legs to lock us together.

“Oh fuck. Kate, stop.” She keeps grinding up on me and I’m a hairsbreadth away from coming. “Stop!”

Those toned legs fall to the bed, freeing me to sit back. “Christ. We were almost done before we began, angel.” I stand up and locate my wallet, pulling out a condom.

“Come back,” she groans wantonly.

“Fuck you’re so bloody gorgeous, Kate.” I stand there, appreciating her exquisite beauty as I roll on the protection.

“Stop talking and fuck me, Dax Davies.”

The curse coming out of that sweet mouth stuns me. It sounds so perfectly filthy when she says it. Then she sticks her finger in her mouth and sucks on it, moaning as she closes her eyes and makes it a show.

A choked noise comes from my throat. It’s all I can manage, what with Kate having turned from innocent schoolgirl to smoking hot seductress. Talking is unnecessary at this point. I climb up on the bed and lie next to her. Her eyes fly open.

“What—”

“Shhhhh,” I pull her over to straddle me and thrust up into her tight heat before she can say another word.

“Oh god,” she moans loudly. Kate sits up, bracing herself by spreading her hands across my chest. She rolls her hips slowly. “Oh, god.”

I practically swallow my tongue, stuttering uncontrollably. “Y-you feel so g-goooood.” Kate tilts her head back, those wicked hips never stopping in their mission to drive me insane.

We never tried this position before. Kate was always too insecure to be on top. My how things have changed.

I glide my hands up and down her smooth skin. “You look stunning riding me, angel.”

Kate moves faster, moving her hands from my chest so she can bend back, putting her them on my thighs. I can feel the gyrations of her body all the way down in my toes. Too soon, the delicious tingle begins in the base of my spine, quickly building in intensity.

“Kate, Kate…shit.”

I know I won’t be able to hold it back, and from the noises Kate is making, she has to be as close as I am. With my hands on her hips, I thrust up and drag her back and forth while bucking into her to give her the friction she needs to come.

That’s all it takes to send her over the edge, crying out my name as her entire body shakes with pleasure. The sight of Kate shattering so spectacularly while riding my cock is enough to pull me right along with her. Two more deep upward thrusts and I explode, shouting loudly and filling the condom with my release.

Kate collapses on top of me, her long hair scattering over my skin in soft wisps. I wrap her up in my arms, determined to never let her go. This moment is perfect. Truly perfect.

Kate stirs, sated eyes meeting mine. She gives me a small smile and a peck on the lips.

“We need to talk.”

Moment ruined.

K
ate

A
fter getting dressed
and grabbing our forgotten drinks, Dax and I curl up on one of the sofas in the lounge of his suite. I can see the anxiety on his face, something that will take some getting used to. Stone cold is the only expression I recognize on him.

“So, err, what did you want to talk about?” Dax asks, rubbing the back of his neck in a classic display of stress.

My ears heat up. “Why, Dax?”

He looks up, his confusion plain as day.

“Why what?”

I swallow thickly. I can do this. I deserve answers.

“Why did you leave?”

I watch as this big, tough man, a man who never showed a hint of emotion until now, pales and his eyes shine with unshed tears.

He opens and closes his mouth several times before he can speak. “I…shit, Kate. I didn’t want to ruin your life.”

That is so far from the answer I expected to hear, I have no response prepared.

“I don’t understand.”

Dax shifts closer on the sofa, putting a hand on my knee. “The cameras, Lila, groupies, the stress…” He blows out a long breath. “After that disaster at your game, a game that was important to you, I realized that being with me would destroy everything you loved.”

I reach out, skimming a finger down the sandpaper stubble of Dax’s cheek. He leans into my touch, his eyes fluttering closed.

When his dark eyes open and focus on mine, the depth of the emotions behind them nearly steals my breath away. “Dax, the only thing I loved was you.”

That’s when the impossible happens. The Iceman sheds a tear.

K
ate

I
check the clock again
. The ninety-minute mark has come and gone. If we don’t score soon, Brazil will win and our Olympic run will be over in the semi-finals.

One of our midfielders steals the ball and drives it down towards me. She feints, confusing her opponent, and chips it in the direction of our other striker. Using her body to stop the ball, the striker quickly turns to take it to the goal.

When she realizes that there’s a defender between her and the goalkeeper, she arcs the ball my way. I’m known to be tough in the penalty zone, able to score in ways most strikers can’t even fathom. Brazil knows this, so with the game on the line they’re desperate to keep the ball from getting to me. And we all know that desperate people do stupid things.

I get under the ball, set up perfectly to send into the net with a perfectly timed header. As the ball comes down into play, a searing pain tears through my calf and I stumble to the ground.

The refs whistle sounds off, loud and long. I can only assume the referee holds up a red card, because while I’m gripping my leg where the player dug her sharp boot into me, holding back the scream that wants to burst from my lungs, half of the arena begins to boo and the other half cheers loudly.

Coach Lewis and our medic rush out on the pitch. Players circle around, watching as they help me hobble to the bench. While our medic tends to my leg, tears prick my eyes. My Olympic career is over.

Less than a minute later, the game ends and so does the United Kingdom’s run in women’s football. The team surrounds me, exchanging hugs and cheers for the hard work everyone put in. A few tears are shed as well. We went farther than most experts predicted. I couldn’t be prouder to be a part of this team.

“Kate!”

I struggle to my feet—foot actually—as my left calf is swathed in white gauze, bright red blood already showing through. My name is called again, and this time I see him.

Dax strides purposefully down the sideline, his face a mask of concern. I’m not the only one who notices his distress, because the crowd of players and officials melts back to allow him through.