[English] BACKSTAGE PASS (Vượt Qua Qua Khứ)

Tác giả: Olivia Cunning

Nhằm mục đích thư giãn cũng như nâng cao khả năng đọc tiếng anh của mọi người, mình xin lần lượt post các truyện tiểu thuyết tiếng anh nổi tiếng trên thế giới. Nếu có gì sai sót mong mod nhắc nhở. Thanks nhiều ạ !

Backstage Pass
Page 1



Chapter 1

A stack of handouts tumbled from Myrna’s laptop case to the floral-patterned carpet. Un-freakin'-believable. She’d forgotten to zip the compartment in her haste to flee the seminar room. With a loud sigh, she bent to gather the scattered papers. Could this day suck a little more, please?

A chorus of “chug, chug, chug, chug,” fol owed by enthusiastic cheers came from across the lobby near the elevators. Wel , someone was having a good time tonight. It certainly wasn’t her.

She crammed the papers inside her bag and jerked the zipper closed before continuing through the overdone hotel lobby on her way to her sixth-floor room. A long, hot bath sounded like heaven. How had she let her associate dean talk her into presenting at this stupid conference in the first place? What a total waste of time. The other professors in her field wouldn’t know an innovative idea if it stood on its head and sang “The Star-Spangled Banner.” And why did she care what her col eagues thought of her methods anyway?

Students loved her classes. They were always ful . She had waiting lists for—

Steps echoed hers. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. She paused—her heart racing, palms damp. Whoever fol owed stopped several steps behind her. She could hear him breathing.

Jeremy?

No. It couldn’t be her ex-husband. He didn’t know how to find her. Right? Tel that to the cold sweat trickling between her br**sts. She clutched the handle of her laptop case, prepared to clobber whoever was dumb enough to sneak up on her.

“You gave a great seminar, Dr. Evans,” an unfamiliar voice said to her back.

Not Jeremy. Thank God. She took a deep, shaky breath and glanced over her shoulder. A lanky, fortyish man extended his hand in her direction. “Who would ever think to use guitar riffs in discussions of human psychology? Not me. I mean, I’m sold on the method. I’m just not sure I can pul it off with your level of, uh…” He cleared his throat.

“… enthusiasm.” He grinned, gaze dropping to the neckline of her tailored, gray suit. Her heart stil hammering in her chest, Myrna suppressed the urge to throttle him and extended her free hand to accept his handshake. “Thank you, Mister uh…”

When his fingers wrapped around hers, his smile spread ear-to-ear. “Doctor. Doctor Frank Elroy from Stanford. Abnormal Psych. Head of the department, actual y.”

Ah, Doctor Ass. Doctor Pompous Ass. I’ve met you before. Thousands of times.

She nodded and plastered a weary smile to her face. “Nice to meet you, Doctor Elroy.”

“Say, would you like to have a drink with me?” He nodded toward the ****tail lounge to her left, his thumb stroking the back of her hand.

Myrna cringed inwardly while maintaining her smile. This guy was the antithesis of her type. Boring. No, thanks. Her present aversion to boring existed at a visceral level. “I’m sorry, but I’l have to pass. I was heading up to my room to crash. Maybe some other time.”

He deflated like a punctured bal oon. “Sure. I understand. You must be exhausted after that lively…” He grinned again. “…

discussion.”

Discussion? Had he been there? “Bloodbath” seemed a more fitting description and she felt particularly anemic at the moment.

“Yeah,” she muttered, eyes narrowing. She yanked her hand from his, spun on her heel, and continued toward the elevator, walking around the edge of the hotel’s bar and skirting several bushy, potted plants. A loud round of laughter drew her attention to the ****tail lounge. Four men sat in a semi-circular booth, laughing at a fifth man who was lying on his back in the center of their table. The table, covered with glasses containing various amounts of amber liquid, tilted precariously under the man’s weight as he leaned to one side. His companions scrambled to rescue their beers from certain demise.

“Tel the room to stop spinning,” the lounging man shouted at the knock-off Tiffany lamp above the table.

“No more beer for you, Brian,” one of his friends said.

Brian held up a finger. “One more.” He lifted another finger, “or two,” another finger, “mmmmmaybe four.”

Myrna grinned. The five of them didn’t exactly “blend” with the conference attendees, mostly professors, scattered throughout the lounge and lobby. The unconventional crew in the booth drew more than their fair share of animosity and stares. Was it the tattoos?

The various piercings and spiked jewelry? The dyed hair, strange haircuts and black clothing? Whatever. They were just guys being guys. And not a boring one in the bunch, she’d wager.

Myrna took a hesitant step toward the elevator. She’d love to go hang out with them for a while. She could use a little fun—

something other than stimulating conversation with an intel ectual. She got enough of that at work. Brian, stil lounging in the center of the table, vocalized a riff, while playing masterful air guitar on his back. Myrna recognized the series of notes at once. She used it in her class discussion on male sensuality, because no one on earth played a guitar more sensual y than Master Sinclair. Hold the phone! Could that be…? Nah, what would the rock group Sinners be doing at a col ege teaching conference? They were probably just fans of the band, though the name Brian made her lead guitarist senses tingle. Wasn’t Sinners’ lead guitarist named Brian Sinclair?

One of the men seated in the booth turned his head to scratch his chin with his shoulder. Despite his mirrored sunglasses, she instantly recognized vocalist Sedric Lionheart. Her heart rate kicked up a couple notches. It was Sinners.

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“I am so f**king drunk!” Brian yel ed. He rol ed off the table, knocking over several empty beer glasses, and landed on the laps of two of his companions. They dumped him unceremoniously on the floor.

Myrna snorted and then glanced around to make sure no one had witnessed her produce such an unladylike sound. She had to go talk to them. She could pretend she wanted to meet them because of her seminar. In truth, she loved their music. They weren’t too hard on the eyes either. The definition of exactly her type. Wild. Yes, please. Guaranteed to give her exactly what she needed after the day she’d had.

Abandoning her plan to hide in her room, Myrna skirted the low wal that separated the lounge area from the corridor. She paused in front of Brian, who was struggling to crawl to his hands and knees. She set her lumpy laptop case on the floor and bent to help him to his feet. The instant she touched his arm, her heart skipped a beat and then began to race. Animal magnetism. He had it. Hello, Mr. Welcome Diversion.

His gaze drifted up her legs and body, his face slowly tilting into view. He had features a sculptor would love: strong jaw, pointed chin, high cheekbones. Would it be presumptuous of her to examine the contours of his face with her fingertips? Her lips? She forced her attention to her hand, which gripped his wel -muscled upper arm.

“Be careful with this arm,” she said. “So few guitarists have your skil .”

He used her support to stagger to his feet. When he stumbled against her, she caught his scent and inhaled deeply, her eyes drifting closed. Primal desire bombarded her senses. Did she just growl aloud?

His strong hands gripped her shoulders as he steadied himself. Every nerve ending in her body shifted into high alert. She couldn’t remember that last time she’d been instantaneously attracted to a man.

Brian released her and leaned against the back of the booth for support. He blinked hard, as if trying to focus his intense, brown eyes on her face. “You know who I am?” he asked, his voice slurred.

She smiled and nodded eagerly. “Who doesn’t?”

He waved a hand around theatrical y, which set him even further off balance. “Every stuffed-shirt geek in the whole damned place, that’s who.”

He snarled at a gray-haired woman in a heavy cardigan who sat openly gaping at him. The woman gasped and turned her attention to her ocean blue ****tail, slurping the blended beverage through a tiny, red straw as nonchalantly as possible.

“Brian, don’t start ****,” Sed, the group’s lead singer, said.

The acidic look Brian shot at Sed could peel paint. “What? I’m not starting anything. These people al have f**k-king staring problems!”

True. They were staring. Most of them at Myrna now. Probably wondering how to best rescue her from enemy territory.

“Do you mind if I sit with you for a while?” Myrna asked, hoping to become less noticeable by sitting. She tucked the lock of hair that had escaped her hairclip behind her ear and smiled at Brian hopeful y. He stroked his eyebrow with his index finger as he contemplated her request. She knew what he must be thinking. Why would a stuffy-looking chick in a business suit request to sit with five rock stars?

Sed scooted over in the semi-circular booth and patted the empty expanse of forest green vinyl beside him. She tugged her gaze from Brian to look at Sed. Sed’s boy-next-door good looks contrasted his bad-boy, womanizing reputation. She didn’t fol ow the personal lives of the bands she admired, but even she knew Sed’s rep. His smile, complete with dimples, could ice a cake, which was likely why he covered it so rapidly with a scowl. A quick veil of indifference returned his cool status. Those darling dimples didn’t quite fit his image.

Myrna slid into the booth next to Sed, wiping her sweaty palms on her skirt as she settled beside him. Okay, I’m in. Now what?

“Are you some kind of business woman or something?” Sed leaned back to examine her professional attire. Myrna didn’t mind his twice over. “Or something. Actual y, I’m a stuffed-shirt geek. A col ege professor here at the conference.”

“No ****?” She recognized the speaker, who sat across from her, as Eric Sticks, the band’s drummer. “If I’d have known col ege professors were hot, I might have considered an education.”

Myrna laughed. She glanced up at Brian who stil leaned against the booth next to Eric’s right shoulder. Her heart gave a painful throb. God, he was gorgeous. “Would you like to sit down, Brian?”

Myrna scooted closer to Sed, her knee settling against his beneath the table. Brian col apsed on the seat beside her, lodging her between two of the ***iest and most talented musicians in the business. She’d died and gone to heaven. Play it cool, Myrna. If you start spazzing out like a fan girl, they’ll tell you to get lost. And she certainly didn’t want that. Brian leaned forward and rested his forehead on the table with a groan. It took al of Myrna’s concentration not to offer a soothing touch. She knew who he was, but he didn’t know her from Adam. Wel , hopeful y, he could tel her from Adam, but, uh…

She took a deep breath to col ect her scattered thoughts and forced her attention to Eric. She could look at him without getting al giddy, but found she couldn’t stop staring at his insane hairstyle—half-long, a center strip of short spikes, the rest various lengths and just plain strange. A crimson, finger-thick lock curled around the side of his neck. Rock star hair. She stifled an excited giggle.

“So what do you teach?” Eric took a sip of his beer, his pale blue eyes never leaving her face. Wel , maybe he checked out her chest a little, but he mostly kept his gaze above her neck.

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Myrna winced at his question and lowered her eyes to the table. Any chance of her earning their respect would evaporate the moment she revealed what subject she taught. “Do I have to say?”

“Come on.”

She sighed heavily. “Human ***uality.”

Eric sputtered in his beer. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “**** me.”

“Wel , yeah, I guess that is my subject matter,” Myrna said, with a crooked grin. The guys laughed. Except for Brian. Unmoving, his head stil rested on the table in front of him. Had he lost consciousness?

Wasted didn’t come close to describing his current con***ion.

“Is he okay?” Myrna asked.

“Yeah, he’s just a little f**ked up,” Eric said.

“He’s a lot f**ked up,” said Trey Mil s, the band’s rhythm guitarist, who lounged in the booth next to Eric.

“Shut up,” Brian murmured. He turned his head to look up at Myrna. He held one eye closed as he tried to focus on her. She had an inexplicable urge to straighten his tousled, jet-black hair, which fel just below col ar-length and stuck out at odd angles al over his head. “What’s your name, Professor ***?”

She smiled. Maybe he was interested. “Myrna.”

He chuckled. “That’s an old lady’s name.”

Or… maybe he wasn’t. She hoped she hid her disappointment wel .

Sed reached behind Myrna and slapped Brian on the back for his insult. Brian didn’t even flinch. He most certainly wasn’t feeling any pain.

Myrna shrugged. “He’s right. I was named after my great-grandmother. She qualifies as an old lady.”

Brian turned his head so his forehead rested against the table again. He swal owed several times. “I think I’m gonna be sick.”

“Eric, take him to the bathroom,” Sed said. “The last thing we need is a table covered in Sinclair puke.”

Eric groaned. “I want to stay and talk to the pretty lady. Nothing but the same boring dudes at this table al night.” Despite his protests, Eric slid from his end of the bench and hauled Brian to his feet.

“I’l stil be here when you get back,” Myrna promised.

“Buy her a drink, Sed. Or, since they’re al on you tonight, buy her two.” Eric looped Brian’s arm around his shoulders and walked his staggering friend toward the bathroom.

Myrna watched them go, her appreciative eyes on Brian’s perfect, black-denim-encased ass.

“Don’t hold it against him, Myr. He’s not usual y like this. He just… uh… got out of a relationship,” Sed said. Trey rol ed his eyes and shook his head. “Yeah, you might say that.”

“Not sure why this keeps happening to him.” Jace Seymour, the bassist, massaged the silver hoop earring in his earlobe. He was the only blond in the group—bleached, if his dark brows and beard stubble were any indication. The smal est member of the band, he had a James Dean tough guy thing going on. Probably trying to understate his natural cuteness. Myrna just wanted to squeeze him.

“Dude gets dumped more than any guy I know.” Trey just looked damned ***y. Whenever his sultry bedroom eyes met Myrna’s, a tingle settled at the base of her spine.

“That’s because he’s a f**king retard when it comes to women.” Sed ran a hand over his shorn, black hair. “He fal s for these bimbos one right after another. He’l never learn.”

“Or maybe his problem is that someone keeps f**king things up for him,” Trey said. “Just a thought.”

“That bitch wasn’t worth his time. Brian’s way too good for her,” Sed growled.

Myrna looked from one man to the next. There was something more to this story than they were saying aloud. Or maybe…

“Brian’s a hopeless romantic, isn’t he?”

Sed leaned close to her ear. “Shhh. That’s a secret.”

A thril raced up the side of her neck. She turned her head and found Sed’s nose less than an inch from hers. She could see the fringes of his lashes just behind the mirrored surfaces of his shades. Finding it disconcerting to be stared down by a guy in sunglasses, she reached up and slid his eyewear down his nose. She’d like to think it was better to look him in the eye, but his probing blue-eyed gaze made her heart go pitter pat. He grinned, undoubtedly aware of the affect he had on women. Sed lifted his arm in the air to signal the ****tail waitress. “What’s your poison, Myrna?”

“Just water for me.”

“Don’t you need something stronger to loosen up a little?” ****ing an eyebrow at her, his eyes scanned her conservative suit.

“Total y unnecessary. I’m always loose.”

“You don’t look loose.” He fingered the top button of her jacket. It just happened to be situated directly between her br**sts. This guy was trouble with a capital T.

Must. Avoid. Hot. Vocalist.

“Looks can be deceiving.” She twisted away from him to look up at the waitress and break the contact between their knees. Sed chuckled. “Somehow, I believe that in your case.” To the waitress, he said, “Two waters, please.”

“Oh, I just need one.”

“The other one is for Brian.”

Myrna flushed. “Of course.”

The waitress set a glass of water before her. Myrna gazed towards the men’s restroom and hoped Brian would be okay. He hadn’t looked wel at al . And she’d much rather concentrate on him instead of Mr. Player here, who was currently rubbing his knuckles against the side of her knee. When his fingers found their way under the hem of her skirt, her eyes widened and she shifted sideways a few more inches. Trey looked safe lounging across from her, sucking on his red lol ipop. Maybe she should move to the other side of the table. She lifted her glass of water to her mouth.

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Sed squeezed her knee. Myrna choked and reached beneath the table to remove his hand from her leg. Undeterred, he leaned closer. She got the feeling this guy wasn’t used to being rejected.

“Would you like to go upstairs with me?” Sed whispered into her ear, his nose brushing against the side of her neck as he lowered his head.

“Uh…”

Chapter 2

Brian flushed the toilet and leaned against the stal door. He pressed the back of his wrist against his mouth and swal owed several times to fight his nausea.

No good.

He rushed forward and vomited into the toilet again. One day he would learn the limit of his alcohol tolerance. Apparently, today wasn’t the day.

“Dude, do you need me to hold your hair for you?” Eric cal ed from outside the stal . He snickered.

“**** you,” Brian gasped, and threw up again.

“That’s a lot of perfectly good beer you’re wasting.”

“If you want it, come get it.”

Brian leaned against the cool, metal partition and flushed the toilet with his foot. He stood there for a moment and final y decided he felt wel enough come out of the stal .

Eric looked at him hopeful y. “Better?”

Brian nodded slightly.

“You’ve gotta stop letting chicks get to you.”

Tel him something he didn’t know.

Brian moved to the sink and rinsed his mouth with water several times before glancing in the mirror. Bloodshot eyes. Pale and waxy skin. He ran a hand over his slack face. “God, I look like ****.”

“I don’t notice any difference.”

Brian held up the three centermost fingers of his right hand. “Read between the lines, ass**le.”

Eric looked more puzzled than usual. “I never learned to read.”

“Here, let me help you.” Brian bent his ring finger and index finger down, leaving his middle finger extended. “Do you know sign language?”

“Nope. Sorry.” Eric punched him in the arm, thumbed his nose, and punched him again. Brian knew he’d feel those in the morning. Eric never held back in his blows. “You ready to go back? You sure made an ass of yourself in front of that classy babe.”

“Thanks for the reminder.” Luckily, Brian probably wouldn’t remember any of it tomorrow.

“Come on. Let’s go.”

“What’s your rush?” Brian asked.

“How often do you get to hang out with a sophisticated ***pot like her?”

“Besides last night when I boned your mom?”

“Dude, if I had a mom, I might take offense.”

Brian scowled. Why had he said that? Being drunk was no excuse. “Sorry, man. I didn’t mean…” He rubbed his face vigorously with both hands. “****.”

“If we don’t hurry back, Sed wil be al over that sweet piece of ass.”

Brian splashed some cool water on his face. “Yeah, so what’s new?” Sed was al over every sweet piece of ass.

“It’s total y unfair. Sed gets al the pu**y.”

Al of them did fine with that. Couldn’t complain. Actual y, it would do Brian good to lay off the pu**y for a while. “We al get plenty.”

“But Sed gets al the good pu**y. This is Certified Grade A pu**y we’re talking about, Be-Rye. He’s probably already got her on her back with her ankles around his neck.” He tilted his head back and did his best chick-getting-laid-by-Sed impression. “Oh Sed. Yes. Yes. Sed. Ohhhh!”

Brian rol ed his eyes and shook his head. “You’re an ass, Eric. You know that?”

“I’d like a piece of ass. I do know that. Hurry the f**k up or I’m going back without you.”

Brian dried his face on a paper towel and headed for the bathroom exit. “Al right then, let’s go get you some Certified Grade A pu**y.” He clapped Eric on the back, walking without any assistance now. Eric had no chance with Myrna if Sed had his sights on her. But hey, a guy could dream.

When they reached the table, Brian found Myrna sitting demurely next to Sed. Al her clothes were stil in place. Sed’s hand wasn’t up her skirt. They weren’t even making out. In fact, they were talking and laughing. Even Jace, who said fewer than five words in the average day, chatted quietly with the Certified Grade A *** Professor. When Brian’s shadow crossed her face, Myrna glanced up at him and smiled brightly. She had a great smile, flashing perfect, white teeth between soft, kissable lips.

“Are you feeling better?” She looked him over with genuine concern.

Don’t do that, he thought. I’m still trying to get over what’s-her-face. Angie. Yeah. I’m trying to get over Angie. Brian glanced at Sed, who avoided his accusatory glare by finding Jace uncommonly interesting. Angie… Brian’s heart panged unpleasantly and he clenched his fist.

That f**king slut.

“Yeah, I feel a little better,” he said to Myrna.

“He blew chunks,” Eric found necessary to inform everyone.

Myrna patted the seat next to her, which apparently signaled Eric to shove Brian out of the way so he could sit next to her. She laughed and hugged Eric’s arm. “Thanks for taking care of Brian.”

Eric beamed. “Hey, no problem. That’s what friends are for.”

****head.

Brian took a seat next to Trey, who lounged on the bench across from Myrna with a lol ipop stick protruding from his mouth. Trey had to be the only guy on earth who could make sucking on a lol ipop look cool. He’d given up smoking a few months ago, but stil needed something in his mouth at al times. His dentist made a kil ing.

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“So are you real y a fan of ours?” Eric asked Myrna.

“Yeah, for years. Even before you made it real y big. I use snippets of your guitar music in my classes to discuss male sensu…”

She glanced at Brian, her eyes widening as if she’d been caught doing something wrong. She never finished the thought, because Jace decided now was a good time to break his regular silence. “She even knows al of our names.”

Looking relieved about the subject change, she pointed to each of them in turn. “Eric Sticks−drums. Three bass drums, fourteen cymbals. He does it with perfect rhythm.”

“Every time,” he said, tapping the table with his palms.

“Sedric Lionheart. Lead vocals. The sound of his voice makes the ladies cream their panties.”

Sed leaned closer to her and said in his signature, baritone growl, “Yours included? I could sing a few bars, if you like.”

“That’s entirely unnecessary.”

“Ah, you’re kil ing me, Myr.”

She grinned deviously. Brian wondered what he’d missed while he’d been worshiping the porcelain god. Just like Sed to move in for the kil immediately.

She continued, “Jace Seymour. Bassist.” She paused, contemplating the newest member of their band.

“Hey, don’t I get a byline?” Jace complained.

Myrna leaned across Sed and beckoned Jace closer. She whispered something in his ear and he flushed to the roots of his bleached hair. “Seriously?” he sputtered.

She stared into his eyes and nodded. “Seriously.”

Now that was just wrong. What had she told him?

“Trey Mil s. Rhythm guitarist. Dreamy green eyes to melt hearts. Nimble fingers to, wel , get a lady’s thoughts going in al sorts of inappropriate directions.”

Trey winked and wriggled his fingers at her.

Her eyes moved to Brian. “Brian Sinclair.” She paused. Brian’s gaze focused on her pouty, pink lips. He wondered how many of her male students sat through her class with wood in their pants. Captivated, he waited for her words. A slow smile spread across her lovely face. “A musical genius.”

No way! He didn’t get something ***y said about him? He might melt under the heat of her gaze, however. She wanted him. He’d been around enough women to know that look. Why had he drunk so much? He was in no con***ion to pul off any level of seduction.

“I guess she does know who we are,” Eric said.

“Did you think I was lying?” Myrna’s gaze moved to Eric.

“You just don’t look like a rocker. Like, at al .”

“What does a rocker look like?”

“More makeup. Fewer clothes. Piercings. Tattoos.”

“Who says I don’t have any piercings?”

Sed traced the edge of her ear with his fingertip, drawing attention to a pair of smal diamond studs in her earlobe. “Ear piercings don’t count.”

“I wasn’t talking about my ears.”

Sed’s eyes searched her face. “Then where? I don’t see any oth-Oh…”

Brian shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

“So where is it?” Eric asked excitedly. “Navel? Nipple?”

“Clit?” Jace asked, his eyes downcast as he grinned crookedly.

That’s what Brian expected, too. Her clit. **** me. He found it chal enging enough to stay upright with his head swimming from the booze. He sure didn’t need blood vacating his brain to engorge more attentive pieces of his anatomy. He clutched the table as the room tilted.

Myrna grinned, her hazel eyes moving to Brian’s face. “I’l never tel ,” she said, but her eyes said I’ll show you, Brian. She was toying with him. She had to be. He practical y had “drunk loser” tattooed on his forehead at the moment. Sed leaned closer to her and whispered something in her ear. She shook her head.

“You’re kil ing me, Myr.”

“Do you have any tattoos?” Eric asked.

“Not as many as you do.” Myrna’s eyes widened. She pul ed Eric’s hand above the surface of the table and released it. “You do not have permission to touch me.”

Brian bit his lip to hold back his laughter and lowered his gaze. Harsh! Surprisingly, none of the guys ripped on Eric for Myrna’s blatant dismissal. This chick was as intimidating as hel . Brian couldn’t remember the last time a woman had rattled his selfconfidence. High school?

“I assume your body art isn’t visible either.” Sed tugged the col ar of her suit to one side to reveal an unmarked col arbone. Her elbow in his ribs convinced him to cease his inspection.

“I am a col ege professor. I have to maintain a certain level of propriety.”

“And you hang out with us in public?” Trey snorted and chuckled.

She glanced at her companions, considering each individual y. “Good point.” She laughed. Delightful. Warm. Brian bet there were other things about her that were delightful and warm. “I need to head up to bed. It’s been a long day.”

“Don’t go yet,” Eric protested.

Brian’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. Hadn’t she just publicly rejected him? And he wanted her to stay?

“Are you coming to our concert tomorrow night?” Trey asked.

Myrna’s jaw dropped. “You’re playing live? Oh my God. I’d absolutely love to go!”

“It’s sold out,” Sed said.

She scowled. “That sucks. Wel , I mean, it’s great for you, but it real y sucks for me.”

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“We’l put you on the guest list. Come to the back door and give them the name Myrna Suxsed,” Sed said. “They’l hook you up with a backstage pass.”

Eric snorted with laughter.

“That would be fantastic,” she said.

Brian found it hard to believe that she hadn’t caught Sed’s connotation. Or maybe she had. She hugged Sed’s arm and somehow managed to avoid his questing lips. “Okay, scoot, Eric. I’m going up to my room now.”

“If I refuse to move, you can’t go anywhere,” Eric said smugly.

“Oh real y?”

“Real y.”

“I’l just take a page from Brian’s book.”

Brian couldn’t, for the life of him, figure out what she meant until she crawled up onto the table. She rol ed off the table onto his and Trey’s laps. She smel ed fantastic–coconut, vanil a, and something uniquely Myrna. His mouth went dry, his palms damp. My God, he was a glutton for punishment. He’d already had his heart broken once this week.

Myrna leaned close to his ear and whispered, “I’ve got something for you up in my room if you’d like a little help with your con***ion.”

His con***ion? He’d love her to help him with his con***ion. She’d gotten him in this con***ion after al . His self-confidence restored, Brian smiled. His hand wrapped around her narrow waist.

“Room 615,” she whispered, her breath tickling his ear. “Don’t wait too long to come up. I want to get to bed soon.”

“Room 615.”

“That’s right.” She climbed from his lap and straightened her skirt before glancing over her shoulder at Eric. He was banging his head repeatedly on the table.

“You’l stick around after the concert tomorrow, won’t you?” Sed asked.

“Of course.”

Trey saluted her with two fingers to his brow. “Good night, Professor.”

“Good night, Trey, Jace, Sed, Eric.” She nodded to each of them in turn. “I had fun talking to you. Thanks for indulging me.”

She picked up her laptop case and left the lounge, the eyes of every man in the room fol owing the gentle sway of her hips.

“And thank you for en-bulging me,” Sed muttered.

“She wears garters under that suit,” Eric groaned.

“I saw that,” Sed murmured. “When she climbed up on the table.”

“I felt that… when I slid my hand up her skirt.” Eric banged his head on the table again.

“You didn’t make much progress, did you?” Sed said. “She’s good at throwing off a guy’s advances without making it obvious.”

“Or in Eric’s case, making it total y obvious.” Jace laughed and ducked to avoid Eric’s wild swing across the table.

“None of that here, Eric,” Sed said. “You’l end up getting arrested again.”

“Why didn’t she say good night to you, Brian?” Trey, ever perceptive, asked.

“She wants me to come up to her room.”

“You lucky bastard.” Eric reached across the table to grab Brian by the shirt. Brian slapped his hands away. He sat there for a moment, fighting the urge to put his head down on the table again. He massaged his face, but it was entirely numb. “I just wish I wasn’t so drunk. Christ!”

“You’re stil going, aren’t you?” Trey crunched his sucker between his teeth and tossed the empty stick into an ashtray. “Rebound pu**y?”

Brian glanced at his best friend and fel ow guitarist. “What do you think?”

“I think we should tie you up and hide you in the tour bus,” Eric said. “She’l think you stood her up. Then I’l go console her and move in for the kil .” He opened his mouth and tapped the tips of his index and middle finger on his tongue.

“Dream on, Sticks.” Brian chugged half his glass of water and checked his breath by blowing into the palm of his hand. He winced. He pul ed a sucker out of Trey’s jacket pocket, unwrapped it, and stuck it in his mouth. Too sweet. Bleh. He started to toss it in the ashtray, but Trey rescued it.

“I was gonna eat that.”

“Anyone have breath spray?” Brian asked. “My mouth tastes like road kil .”

Sed dug various tubes of spray, a tin of breath mints, and some gum out of his pocket.

“Sed’s make-out arsenal,” Eric said.

Brian spritzed some peppermint spray in his mouth, hurled the tube at Sed, the jerk, and then hauled himself to his feet by grabbing the edge of the table. He stumbled sideways into the bench’s back, but quickly regained his footing. Get it together, man. There is a seriously hot chick waiting upstairs to help you with your con***ion.

“Twenty bucks says he passes out before he can get his dick out of his pants,” Sed said.

“I’l take that bet,” Eric said. “There ain’t a man alive who’d pass out before sliding into that Certified Grade A pu**y.”

“He’l get it out of his pants, but he’l pass out before he does anything with it,” Jace said.

“He won’t even find her room.” Trey entered his bet and polished off his beer in three gulps. He stuck the cherry sucker he’d rescued from Brian in his mouth.

Brian shook his head. The company he kept. Sheezus!

He concentrated on walking a straight line to the elevator and, once inside, pushed the button to the sixth floor. He leaned against the wal as the car rose, his stomach settling in his boots. What was her room number again? Six something teen. Fifteen. Sixteen. Fourteen? He should have written it down. His eyes drifted closed as he thought about the feel of Myrna’s breath against his ear. Her soft voice played through his head.

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Six fifteen. He remembered now. He knew he wasn’t at his best. Why had she picked him? What could she possibly find attractive about him at the moment? Not that he was complaining. He just didn’t get it. And she’d been sitting next to Sed. The guy drew chicks like moths to a flame. Even unavailable chicks. Like Angie.

That sucking flut.

He needed another beer. Or three. Maybe he could raid Myrna’s mini-bar. Or maybe she could use those pouty lips of hers to wipe the image of Angie sucking Sed’s dick from his memory. Yeah, he liked that plan better. What had Trey cal ed it? Rebound pu**y. Exactly what he needed. He just had to keep his head together and not fal for this one. Once off the elevator, he fol owed a sign to the correct corridor, stopped at the door labeled 615, and knocked.

“Just a second,” Myrna cal ed from inside. A smal victory. Trey lost the bet.

Brian leaned his forearm against the doorframe to keep himself on his feet and rested his forehead against his arm. He real y needed to sleep this off. He hoped she wasn’t hard to satisfy. He wasn’t even sure if he could maintain an erection in his con***ion. She final y opened the door and smiled when he lifted his head to look at her. She’d removed her suit jacket, revealing a silky, white camisole and al sorts of creamy white flesh begging for his touch. God, she was f**king hot. Score!

“You real y aren’t feeling wel , are you?” she asked, her brow furrowed with concern. He didn’t want to lie, so he said nothing.

She stepped aside. “Come in.”

He pushed off the doorframe and entered her room. She closed the door behind him, and he knew he had to move quickly or Sed would win the bet. Or worse, Jace would win and he’d pass out with his pants around his knees. He turned Myrna to face him and pressed her up against the door with his body. She gasped in surprise just before his mouth claimed hers in a passionate kiss. She wrenched her head to the side, breathing hard. “What are you doing?”

“Kissing you.”

“I never kiss on the first date.”

“This is our second date.”

She hesitated, her expression thoughtful. “Good point.”

Her fingers slid up his back and tangled in the longish hair at his nape. She closed her eyes and leaned closer. He rested his forearms on the door on either side of her head and tested her eagerness with a gentle brush of his lips against hers. Though his body told him to devour her, his partial y functioning brain wanted to treasure the feel of her soft lips against his for the first time. His hands curled into tight fists over her head so they wouldn’t rip off her clothes. He watched her through half-closed eyes as his lips caressed hers. She responded with total submission—mouth open, body limp, fingers digging into his scalp as if she were trying to control herself. It drove him crazy. And that wasn’t the only thing driving him crazy. The taste of her mouth, her scent, her warm, soft body against his, the barely perceptible sound of longing she made in the back of her throat. Her tongue brushed his lip. His body tensed as if he’d been struck by lightning. She withdrew her tongue, coaxing his into her mouth with gentle strokes. He eagerly fol owed, caressing her lips with the tip of his tongue, and then touched her tongue with his. When her tongue tentatively caressed his in return, his eyes drifted closed. After several moments, he pul ed away and gazed down at her in the low light coming from the bathroom.

“I didn’t ask you to come to my room for this,” she murmured.

“You didn’t?”

She shook her head. “No, but you’re such a good kisser.” Her gaze dropped to his mouth. He grinned and lowered his head to kiss her again. He pushed off the door and pul ed her against him, his hands sliding down over the swel of her ass as he molded their lower bodies together. When was the last time a woman had worked him into a frenzy so quickly? Uh, never. He moved backward, toward the bed, drawing her along with him. She dug her heels into the carpet and wrenched her head to the side.

“I never have *** on a second date,” she said firmly.

“This is our third date.”

She wagged a finger at him. “That only works once, Master Sinclair.”

Her use of his stage name cooled him off significantly, but he stil wanted her. Desperately. What was it about her that made his blood boil? She was so different from the girls he usual y dated. So… proper? But no, not proper at al .

“How about I step into the hal for a couple of minutes and then return?” he suggested. She laughed. “Brian, you’re drunk. I don’t sleep with drunks.”

He scowled. “But I’l be sober in the morning.”

Her hands slid down his back to his ass. She pul ed him closer, crushing his partial y engorged c**k against her pubic bone.

“Promise?”

He gazed down at her, a lazy smile on his lips. “Oh, I get it. You’re a c**k tease.”

She grinned. “****s were made to be teased.” She rotated her hips, rubbing against him. He groaned, growing harder. More distracted.

“Besides… you like it,” she said.

Her naughty streak was showing, twinkling in her green-flecked, hazel eyes. And yeah, he liked it. He liked it a hel of a lot. “Are you sure?”

“Positive. I have a PhD in ****-tease-ology.”

“Was that an honorary degree?”

She laughed. “I’ve studied it for years. I’m something of an expert.”

He sighed. “Okay. So if I’m not going to get laid, why did you ask me to come to your room?”

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“I already told you. I want to help you with your con***ion.”

“So you said. And that’s why I hurried up here, instead of passing out under the table in the lounge.”

“Sit down.”

He didn’t want to let her go, her soft curves fit against him so perfectly, but she wriggled out of his arms and disappeared into the bathroom. He sat on the edge of the bed to stop the room from spinning.

She returned a moment later and pressed two pil s into his hand. “Ecstasy?” He tossed the pil s in his mouth without looking at them. She handed him a sports drink and he swal owed the pil s.

“Actual y, that was Vitamin B and Vitamin C,” she said. “Drink that entire bottle.”

“You’re giving me vitamins?” He ****ed an eyebrow at her and took another drink from the bottle.

“They’l prevent a hangover.” She went over to a side cabinet and returned with a banana. He eyed the piece of fruit warily. “I’m not that kinky, Professor ***.”

She grinned. “I was hoping you are.”

“Okay, I am.” His c**k throbbed. Ful y erect now, it tried desperately to break free of the fly of his jeans. Was she real y going to leave him in this con***ion? She’d said she would help him with it. And this wasn’t helping. At al . She stood close to him, his knee between hers. The hem of her skirt brushed his thigh. He wanted to put more under that skirt than his knee. The silk of her top pul ed against her br**sts when she moved. Such nice br**sts. So soft against his chest. The only thing keeping his hands off them was the orange-flavored sports drink he gripped with both hands. Wel that, and the fear she’d tel him he did not have permission to touch her.

She peeled the banana, broke off a chunk, and slid it in his mouth. “Eat it. It wil settle your stomach and also help prevent a hangover.”

He chewed the piece of banana and swal owed. “You’re taking care of me?”

“Trying to. Are you resisting?”

Taking her hand, he kissed the inside of her wrist gently. “I like it. Can I do something for you?” He flicked his tongue against the inside of her wrist suggestively while looking up at her.

Her fingers curled involuntarily and her ni**les hardened beneath her thin, white top. He found himself completely immersed in her. Her scent. The sound of her soft voice. The taste of her skin. And her body? Perfect. How much resistance would she offer if he tossed her down on the bed and tried to have his way with her?

“Grrrr.” Uh… Did he just growl? He hoped he’d imagined it.

She tugged her hand from his and took a step away. She seemed to realize he wasn’t as harmless as she’d first gauged. “Sleep it off, Brian. And I might let you make it up to me tomorrow.”

She broke off another piece of banana and pressed it into his mouth. He chewed, swal owed, and chased the banana with the rest of his sports drink. He set the empty bottle on the side table and placed a hand on the back of her leg, just above her knee. She emitted an excited little gasp.

He grinned up at her. “You’d better get some rest then. You’l need your stamina.”

“So wil you.” She fed him more banana and shifted sideways out of his grasp. “Do you need me to help you get back to your room?”

He frowned. “I can’t stay here?” If he returned to the band’s hotel suite tonight, he’d never hear the end of it from the guys. It made his head swim to look up at her, but he did it anyway. He liked to look at her. Gorgeous. Feminine. Mature. No girl, she was al woman. She maintained an outer appearance of propriety, but he sensed an undercurrent of blazing-hot ***uality. He’d never been with a woman like her. Sophisticated sensuality. What would she be like in bed? Reserved? Kinky? Passionate? Placid?

Dominant? Submissive? He had to know.

She touched his lips with her fingertip. “If I let you stay, do you promise to behave?”

“Absolutely not.”

Her finger moved from his lips to trace his eyebrow. “In that case, I insist.”

He moaned and fel back on the bed, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes. “Why did I have to get so drunk?”

“Take off your boots and climb into bed.”

“Do I get a goodnight kiss, at least?” he murmured. His eyes refused to open. His body went limp as he lost awareness.

***

Myrna leaned over Brian and pressed a goodnight kiss to his forehead. The poor guy had passed out cold. She bent to remove his black leather boots, took the spiked bracelet off his wrist and removed a long, silver chain from his belt loop. She rol ed him onto his side, in case he threw up in the middle of the night, and covered him with a blanket. She watched him sleep for a moment.

Brian Sinclair.

Brian Sinclair, the renowned guitarist.

Brian “Master” Sinclair, guitar hero, rock god, perfect specimen of a man, was passed out in her hotel room! He’d kissed her. God, how he’d kissed her. If she didn’t have rules about when she al owed herself to have *** with a new acquaintance, he’d probably be making love to her right now. She seriously needed to amend her rules. Her body ached with wanting him. The man was too ***y for his own good.

She gnawed her lower lip as she watched him sleep. Would he stil be interested in her when he wasn’t looking at her through beer goggles? Their age difference weighed heavily on her mind. She was at least seven years his senior, but she looked younger than 35. Everyone said so. Maybe he wouldn’t realize… He’d probably figure it out tomorrow, though. She didn’t have the body of an eighteen-year-old anymore. She’d just have to show him that being with an older woman had certain advantages. Assuming he was interested. The way he looked at her had made her bones melt. And his strong, yet gentle, touch? Her legs had almost given out on her when he’d placed a hand on the back of her thigh. It had been way too long since she’d last had ***. That had to be the explanation for the lustful creature he’d awakened in her. She’d just get him out of her system and send him on his way. Myrna drew away from the bed to get ready to sleep with him. Heat rose to the surface of her skin. No, not sleep with him, sleep next to him. The ache between her thighs intensified. As she changed into her nightgown and hung her suit in the closet, she wondered if she’d ever get to sleep tonight. If she had any sense at al , she would have made him go back to his room, but he’d kissed her entirely senseless. She went through her nightly routine and then climbed into bed next to Brian, suddenly grateful that she’d taken a suite with a single king-sized bed, instead of one with two queens. With only one available bed, she had a perfectly good reason to share it with him. Right?

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And with him passed out, he’d never know what she did to him while he slept.

She reached across the bed and took his hand, tracing his fingers in awe. She hadn’t just been making smal talk in the lounge. The man real y was a musical genius. These fingers worked magic on a fret board. She didn’t doubt they’d work magic on her skin. She gently kissed each fingertip of his left hand, and cradled it between her br**sts. She closed her eyes and tried to clear her head enough to sleep. When Brian shifted and buried her under his hard body, she decided sleep was highly overrated.

Chapter 3

Moist heat trailed up the side of Myrna’s neck. She sighed, more asleep than awake. A gentle suction just under her ear drew a shudder from her body. She gave herself over to the feel of his mouth against her skin and the warm strength of his hard body behind her. The backs of his fingers brushed over the bare skin just beneath her navel. Her body tensed with need. His fingers slid beneath the waistband of her panties, teasing curls of hair as he sought her clit. She was so hot and swol en. How had he gotten her so worked up so quickly? His fingers stroked her with the speed, pressure, and rhythm required to bring her to orgasm in seconds.

“Oh God!” she cried as her body convulsed with release. She’d never climaxed so quickly in her life. She turned her head to seek his mouth with hers. She reached for him, her hand finding the warm skin of his arm. He’d removed his shirt while she’d been sleeping. A little more exploring found he stil wore his jeans. Damn. He kissed her, and then shifted her back against his chest with one hand splayed over her bare bel y. His other hand cupped her breast through her nightgown. He rested his chin on her shoulder and sighed.

“How do you feel?” she asked.

“Horny.”

She chuckled. “I meant your hangover.”

“What hangover?”

She smiled and her hand slid between their bodies, cupping his erection through his pants. She’d suspected it last night when he’d pressed his bulge against her mound, but her fondling confirmed it. Oh yes, huge. Her entire body throbbed. Brian caught her hand to prevent her from stroking him, but didn’t move it away.

“Hold on,” he said. “You left me in quite a state last night. I’m about to explode already.”

“Do you even remember last night?”

“Every moment, Myrna.”

She was surprised he remembered anything, much less her name. “There is something warm and wet between my thighs that wants to be fil ed with this.” She squeezed his c**k gently, her hand stil trapped in his. He groaned and moved to climb from the bed.

“Where are you going?”

“I gotta go to the bathroom and jerk one out or I won’t last five seconds.”

“Oh no, you’re not.” She clung to his waist to prevent him from climbing from the bed. “I’l take care of that for you.”

She unfastened his belt buckle and unbuttoned his fly, before freeing his c**k from the confines of his boxers. At the sight of his thick erection, her pu**y twitched with longing. “Beautiful,” she murmured.

“Beautiful?”

She supposed guys didn’t want their ****s referred to as beautiful. She hadn’t cal ed it cute at least. It wasn’t cute though, it was at least ten inches of smooth, gorgeous man flesh. Veins strained against the darkened skin. She couldn’t wait to taste him, to run her tongue along the rim of the enlarged head. She tore her gaze from his c**k to look at him.

“It’s a f**king beast, Brian. You’re going to tear me in half with that thing!”

He looked stunned at first, but then laughed. “The only way to save yourself from my beast is to put it in your mouth.”

She kissed the tip, sucking one side gently, and then moved away to peel his pants, boxers and socks off in one sweep.

“Just lie back and relax,” she said. Her ex-husband’s accusatory voice filtered through her thoughts, Go ahead, Myrna. Suck his ****. Prove me right again, you whore.

She paused, glancing up at Brian uncertainly. He propped a pil ow against the headboard and leaned back, spreading his legs, trusting her with his most sensitive areas without hesitation. He’d think she was a whore, too, wouldn’t he?

“What’s the matter?” Brian touched her hair gently. “If you don’t want to…”

But she did want to. She ran her hands up the insides of his thighs and spread his legs farther apart. She cupped his bal s in one hand, finding them ful and tight, the skin cool to the touch. He gasped. She gently raked her fingernails over his scrotum, and then lowered her head to draw the loose skin into her mouth, sucking and licking his flesh until his entire body tensed. She nipped the wrinkled skin with her teeth. He jerked.

“What the—?”

Go ahead, Brian, call me a whore.

When his body relaxed again, she lifted her head and took his c**k in her mouth, sucking him deep into her throat. She swal owed. He groaned. She sucked hard as she pul ed back, and rubbed the rim of the head with her tongue before drawing away completely. He grunted in protest when he fel free of her mouth. She blew a breath of cool air over the moistened tip. He sucked a breath through his teeth.

“Mmm,” she murmured, and then lowered her head *****ck on the skin of his scrotum again.

“Myr, you’re kil ing me,” he whispered.

She sucked a testicle into her mouth.

“Whoa!” He clutched the bedclothes in both fists and banged his head back against the headboard. She released his flesh from her mouth and touched his c**k with her fingertips. It jumped in response.