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HAVING HOPE
No
one’s promised tomorrow. And Chet Rhodes, the drummer of Blow Hole, is all
about living for today. Sex, drugs, and rock ‘n’ roll ... anything to help him
forget his deadly secret and keep him detached. But when he meets Hope, a
bitchy brunette with sarcastic wit and a deadly right hook, his carefully
constructed defenses break down. For the first time ever, he wants more than a
one-night stand.
Hope
Iverson holds a secret that could potentially destroy everything she's built.
Hardened with a short fuse, her past has left her emotionally unavailable. That
is until the charismatic drummer for Blow
Hole bursts into her life. His smart mouth has the ability to make her smile,
and his inked body makes her feel things she’d rather not. But scars leave you
changed, and Hope isn’t sure there’s enough of herself left to give.
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“Are you ready to get your
ass kicked?” she asked over her shoulder with a grin.
She pulled her shirt over
her head, revealing a black tank, and I had to swallow past the desire that
rushed through me. She looked so fucking hot in only her boots, jeans, and a
tiny tank. She obviously wasn’t wearing a bra, but with tits like hers, she didn’t have to.
My mind went back to the
moment she was on stage in only her black sports bra. She was soaked. She was
sexy. And for the first time in a couple of days, my cock grew hard.
“Let’s see what you got.”
I stood to the side as
she sat behind my set. I didn’t usually let anyone play my drums, but I trusted
Hope with my babies. I’d watched her play. I knew she knew what she was doing,
and I also knew she respected her own set and would do the same with mine.
She spun the sticks
between her fingers, her glassy eyes all over me as she lifted a brow in challenge.
And then she brought the
sticks down and beat out a fresh rhythm I’d never heard before. It was fast
paced and strong, the percussion shaking the stage as she went crazy hitting
any and every spot on my set yet still somehow making it sound amazing.
Her head fell back, and she closed her eyes as she continued
to play, beating the drums unmercifully and turning me on beyond belief. Her
arms moved, the small feminine muscles popping out with her movements, making
the tattoos on her arms come to life.
I couldn’t do this with Hope.
I couldn’t let myself get into her. She was turning me on more than any woman
had in years. Not since my Blackbird five years earlier.
Women were a dime a dozen
in my job. Hell, they were waiting just outside the venue ready and willing to
let me fuck them senseless, but I was moving past that bullshit. After
everything I’d been through since we started the tour, I needed relief. But I
didn’t want it from just anyone.
The more I watched Hope
play my drums, her arms flying and her eyes closed in ecstasy—the realization came crashing over me.
I wanted Hope.
I wanted Hope the way I’d
wanted Blackbird for the last five years.
Watching her only
intensified my craving for her.
I wasn’t sure I could
control myself. I was feeling better, my painkiller finally doing its job, and
my head wasn’t being ripped apart. I could think about more than the pain for
once. I could think about Hope and how amazing she’d feel wrapped around me.
Wet.
Hot.
Ready.
Moving from my spot, I
moved toward her. Her rhythm moved through me, vibrating my core and making me
feel even more alive. I didn’t stop until I was standing right beside her. She
kept her eyes closed; playing with so much beauty
it was breathtaking.
I reached out and took a
strand of her hair between my fingers, and the colors blended together when I
rubbed my fingers together. Her playing came to an instant halt, and I smirked
down at her when her eyes popped open,
and one of her sticks fell to the ground at my feet.
Sweat dotted the top of
her lip, and her cheeks were flushed with pleasure. Her expression was one of
happiness and release, and I knew playing did that for her. It did the same for
me, but I wanted to give her that look. I wanted to do it with my hands and my
mouth … my cock.
I moved closer, taking
her cheeks in my palms and spending a minute looking at her. I didn’t want it
to be like the last time I felt this way. Unlike with my Blackbird, I took the
time to remember everything about Hope.
I wanted to look at her face.
I wanted to look into her eyes and see
her when she came apart. It was going to be amazing. She was going to be
amazing. We were going to be a match sexually. But before anything could go
down between us, we would have to talk about it. I wanted to make sure she
understood it would be a one-time thing.
Before I moved in, I
wanted to be sure that this wouldn’t affect the tour.
“What are you doing?” she
asked.
I didn’t miss the catch
in her voice.
“I don’t know.”
And I didn’t. I didn’t
know where this was going or what I was doing. My body was taking control of
the situation, and I was letting it
happen.
I wasn’t much for
kissing. I’d probably kissed a handful of women in my time, but Hope’s pouty
lips called to me. She was begging me to kiss her without even opening her
mouth.
I leaned down, ready to
taste her, but she placed her palm against my chest and stopped me.
“Wait,” she whispered.
I shook my head. “No, I
suck at waiting.”
So I kissed her.
Hard.
She tasted like the
night—liquor and sweetness with a touch of sin. It was wrong to taste her, but
I’d never been one to follow the rules. All the boundaries I’d set forth in regards to Hope were being
crossed, but when she began to kiss me back, her tongue moving against mine, I
didn’t give a fuck about any limitations.
Her mouth opened, and I sucked her tongue into my mouth. Her
moan vibrated through me and shot straight to my groin.
I felt her pull back, so
I pressed for more, capturing her head in my hands and kissing her so deeply
that I was losing myself.
My head wasn’t pounding
anymore, but my heart was. It was beating so hard I could hear it in my ears.
My blood moved through my body like a freight train, the horns whistling loudly
in my ears. I hadn’t felt this kind of excitement for a woman in years. Not
since my Blackbird.
I couldn’t stop.
I wanted more.
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“Lady, if I were you, I’d get the hell away from here ‘cause
when I make it up this hill, I’m gonna be looking for you.” Lucky Coalson’s
luck has run out. His ex-wife turned out to be a con artist; his business
is in a shambles; and he’s been tossed into a muddy river by a smart assed
feminist with a chip on her shoulder. Things couldn’t get much worse…or
so he thought.
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