Rock Dirty (Rock Candy #2) - Virna DePaul

Table of Contents Title Page Book Description More from Virna DePaul Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen Chapter Fourteen Chapter Fifteen Chapter Sixteen Chapter Seventeen Chapter Eighteen Chapter Nineteen Chapter Twenty Chapter Twenty-One Chapter Twenty-Two Chapter Twenty-Three Epilogue Books by Virna Rock Candy Series Say You Love Me Series Bedding the Bachelor Series Home to Green Valley Series

About the Author Copyright

ROCK DIRTY Rock Candy Book 2 by Virna DePaul

BOOK DESCRIPTION As one of the hottest drummers in the world, rock star Tucker “The F***er” Benning lives life hard. But when his band’s world tour is cancelled, Tucker finds himself stuck in an airport with no destination in mind…until he spots a red-headed knockout hurrying through the airport on her way to Paris, France. She’s classy, sexy, and turns heads. Why not buy a first class ticket and follow her? That’s when the real fun begins. Dominique “Nikki” Lorenz, heiress to

her mother’s magazine empire, is headed to Paris, hoping to leave behind her celebutante tabloid reputation and make a new name for herself. She’s amused when the famous Tucker Benning sits next to her and starts flirting—could he BE any more of a rock star? But when he presents a naughty proposal, she figures why not have one last wild experience before settling down? Once they land in Paris, though, Nikki makes a stand—no more naughty stuff. She has a fresh reputation to build, and being seen with Tucker won’t help. Yet Tucker’s bad boy allure is impossible to

resist and so is his softer side, which makes her feel cherished and worthy. Tucker has a decision to make—does he fight for his band, or does he commit to the woman he’s come to care about, a woman who longs for love and stability his rock star lifestyle can’t give? Tucker’s life has always been about fame, fun, and f***ing around. But now Nikki needs him and he’ll do whatever it takes to win her heart…including fighting dirty. Because love is worth risking everything.

MORE FROM VIRNA DEPAUL ROCK CANDY SERIES SAY YOU LOVE ME SERIES BEDDING THE BACHELORS SERIES HOME TO GREEN VALLEY SERIES

CHAPTER ONE Tucker Life sucks and then you die. At least that was how I felt at the moment. And I was a rock star, for fuck’s sake. Only I was the band’s drummer. The Ringo to our band’s Paul. That meant in the end I was pretty much filler. And the fact that I even thought that, when I knew I was one of the luckiest sons of a bitches on the planet, made the nickname I’d been given way back in high school

—Tucker the Fucker—completely justified. I was a fucker. A selfish prick who had money, women, and fame, all the things a guy could want, and I was still pissed my best friend, Liam Collier, lead singer of Point Break, had decided to risk everything for a girl. I’d been tight with Liam for years. Together, we’d started the band in a basement (we weren’t good enough at the time for garages), and it had been our baby for seven damn years. Now we’re one of the hottest bands around but thanks to Liam that might not be true for long. We’d just completed an encore

show at Madison Square Garden, finishing the North American leg of our first world tour, and now it was over before it had barely begun. And all because Liam was in love. Earlier in the tour, he’d rekindled his fiery passion with his cute little Asian Persuasion, aka Abby Chan, the band’s back-up cellist, but it wasn’t until a few weeks ago that he’d dropped the bomb, wanting to postpone the international leg of the tour to think things over but mostly to spend time with Abby here in New York. Me? I was headed back to Southern California, even though I had fuck all idea what I was going to do there. Our

future really was up to Liam. If he decided after a few months of R&R with Abby that he was done with the rocker lifestyle, then I wasn’t sure that Point Break could go on without him. Sure, we could get a new front man, we could change the band’s name and rebuild everything from scratch, but it wouldn’t be the same. It wouldn’t be as fun. Chances were it wouldn’t be as successful. I was twenty-three, a high school dropout and I could beat a mean lick on drums. Just like a billion other dudes on the Sunset Strip.

Without the draw that was Liam and his songwriting skills, I was afraid we might be cooked. As if all that wasn’t enough, now I was stuck in a huge ass line checking in my luggage for my evening flight. It was a pain in the balls to be stuck in a line a mile long anytime, but especially when I was nursing a hangover—and I’ll admit, I was always nursing a hangover. Admittedly the First Class line I was in was way shorter than the coach lines, but still. Too bad that even as huge as Point Break was, we weren’t huge enough to have our own private jet. Not yet.

If Liam pulled his head out of his ass? Who knew. But for now, nothing beat the fun of looming unemployment like being stuck in line with a shitload of cranky people while praying no one recognized me. I loved our fans, I truly did, but I was tired. Hell, I was fucking depressed. I just wanted to get on the plane, order a drink, and go to sleep. Twenty minutes later, as I reached the front of the line, I had to admit Lady Luck or God or the Universe was at least throwing me one small bone. At the check-in counter to my right, I’d just spotted a woman that was very easy on the eyes. Tall. I’m about six feet and she

looked to be about the same. She had curves that went on for days, especially a firm little ass that I’d love to wrap my hands around, and a mane of curly red hair. I couldn’t see her face from where she was talking to the desk staff, but somehow I knew it was as epic as her body. Tapping my foot and pretending to play with my smart phone (there are incognito ways to check out babes, and guys who can’t just aren’t trying hard enough), I took a good long look at her luscious ass then gulped at the boots she wore. I was going to have to scratch that “she’s tall” theory. Nope, she just had

massive boots. They weren’t chunky or army style. They had six or seven-inch heels, were made of red leather, and laced up the back. They forced her onto her toes, like those fancy ballet shoes. It was some extreme footwear, but the girl owned it and moved as fluidly as if she was wearing sneakers. She was getting more interesting by the second. The woman finished her business. She was just about to walk past me when I “accidentally” stepped forward and bumped into her. “Whoa,” I said, reaching out to steady here even though she didn’t really

need steadying. “Sorry, I didn’t even see you,” she said, removing huge bug-eyed sunglasses from her face. It should be a crime for women with blue eyes that gorgeous, that much like a crystal mountain lake, to keep them covered. Her face was pale with a perfect cupid’s bow mouth and thick, red-lined lips that I already wanted around my cock. She wasn’t just a ten from behind. She was off the charts at all angles. “Well, it’s hard to see in the dark,” I said, smirking down at her feet. “Nice boots.”

“These aren’t even my A-game,” she mused, winking at me. “Gotta go,” she said. She slipped her glasses back on and walked away, presumably headed to the security line. I rushed through my own check-in as fast as I could and double-timed it over to the spot next to her in security, and yes, that involved apologetic smiles and cutting to get there. She was talking in French of all crazy things to someone on the phone or, at least, that’s what it sounded like. Don’t quote me on it. All I know about French comes from a few Pepe Le Pew cartoons. I wished she was still available to flirt with, but I settled

for watching her. I wondered what her story was. Clearly she had some fashionista taste in footwear and she was very polished. She was a man-eater if ever I’d met one. Still, that didn’t answer the big questions like who she was or whether I had a chance in hell of getting her into bed. She finished up her conversation and juggled through her purse, taking out her wallet and…hello. A passport? Obviously she wasn’t heading toward LAX and the sunny beaches of the City of Angels. She finished going through TSA, even that damn machine that shows off

everything. I hate those fucking things, but I’m not fond of having random dudes in blue latex gloves touching my junk either. I was also rabidly jealous of whomever was reading the scanner. Any extra glimpses at Little Miss Hard Body would be appreciated. As she rushed to whatever far flung locale she was headed for, though, she dropped a piece of paper. The voluptuous redhead didn’t notice and started pounding down the tarmac toward her gate. She took the turn toward the International Terminals so at least my Sherlock deductions over her passport had been accurate. I made my

own small talk with the agents, shoved my phone and tablet into the tray and took off my shoes. As I was reaching down to slip off my left boot, I made sure to discreetly sweep up the paper the redhead had dropped. It was her baggage ticket, but before I could read it, a now-familiar squeal caught my attention. “Oh my God! It’s Tucker Benning!” someone screamed. I groaned inwardly. As much as I loved the fans, and as scared as I was that it wouldn’t be like this for much longer given Liam’s love connection, this was not the time. I had a hot honey

to track down and didn’t need the Tiger Beat brigade slowing down my game. Still, this came with the job and the territory. Turning around, I gave the three girls wearing Point Break concert shirts the biggest megawatt smile I could. Looked like they’d come to New York for our big (and possibly last) show at Madison Square Garden. The tallest girl looked Hispanic with long brown hair and big brown eyes. Her friends were shorter, one was blonde and the other a brunette with braces. They were probably no older than fifteen. “Hey, did you come see our show?”

The three of them looked at each other and burst out giggling. I tried not to recoil overly much at the amazing pitch and frequency. I’d built up a tolerance over the years in screeching amphitheaters but standing only five feet from it is an in-your-face experience. “Can you take some quick pictures with us? We tag this on Instagram and everyone’s going to be following us!” the tall girl added. “Yeah, this is going to make everyone back in Illinois so jealous.” The braces girl—her words whistled a bit through the metal as she talked— clapped her hands.

I nodded and kept my smile planted tight. It was always “on” time, always another chance for good PR. In this world of tweets and instant media, you couldn’t afford to be rude to any fans or it’d be on the news in under an hour. Besides, it was just polite. Sometimes I’d ask for privacy if I was out eating with friends or something, but my flight wasn’t coming up soon, and they were nice enough kids. Offering up a trademark smirk, I wrapped my arms around the girls and posed for selfies. Predictably, we attracted attention and I had to pose to take other pictures. Then the questions

started. When is your next album? What’s your favorite song to play? Did you ever want to sing? I played nice for a few minutes and eventually the crowd dispersed, leaving me with my three teenage fans. Then tall girl asked a question that bit right into me. “So,” she asked, pushing a thick braid behind her ear. “Is Liam Collier here too? He’s so cute. It was so adorable how he ended the concert on stage with him and the cello girl.” My smile fell and the girls seemed to notice my change in mood as they got

more quiet and reserved too. “He’s not. He’s taking some hiatus time, but I’ll let him know the fans are thinking about him.” If the prick gets his head out of the love nest long enough to answer some damn texts… “That’s good,” the blonde replied then eyed her cellphone. “We have to go or we’ll totally miss our flight. Thanks so much.” “No prob,” I said, glad they scattered once the big Liam question came up. I had to stop thinking about Liam’s actions as betrayal or the end of the

band. He couldn’t help who he fell for and Abby was good for him. I was happy to see my bud happy, but I just wanted my band to be standing at the end of it. That didn’t seem like too damn much to ask. Did it? Flipping over the baggage claim ticket was enough of a distraction for me. Hmm, some lucky lady was flying to Charles De Gaulle. Paris. Nice. I’d been there once, years ago, and had always wanted to go back. So the insane thought hit me—why not? It would be a crazy thing to do, but a

little crazy was exactly what I needed at the moment. It’s not like I had plans. And hell, I had loads of money thanks to what Point Break had been raking in the last few years. If I wanted to divert to Constantinople or Tokyo for a few weeks, I could. That settled it. I was booking my fine ass back to the counters, buying a First Class ticket, and rerouting my luggage. I had the money, I had the time, and I had one amazing and sexy woman to track down. ***

The beauty of the set up at LGA was that the First Class lounge for international flights was swank and spacious. I was pretty sure I’d find her there. Her clothes, especially her couture boots, screamed she was definitely not a coach kind of girl. I almost patted myself on the back when I found the buxom beauty sitting in a leather seat and sipping preflight champagne. She was thumbing through her phone and I wondered if she was the workaholic type or just bored and playing Angry Birds. I was going to find out. Tucker Benning, intrepid explorer, was so me especially if it was the digits

or address of a lovely lady I was looking for. I coughed to get her attention. She looked up and frowned back at me. “Hi, I’m Tucker Benning and you’re the sexiest woman I’ve ever seen.” She arched an eyebrow and her frown melted into a small smile. “Are you stalking me?” “No way,” I answered, hoping I was playing it all off as well as I wanted to. “I’ve got a friend in Paris.” Well, I could make one, anyway, so not that big a lie. Groupies were everywhere. Besides, I’d always wanted to check out Morrison’s grave. Paris would be a kick. “However,

you did manage to drop your baggage ticket, uh, Dominique Lorenz.” I held it out to her and she took it with a huge sigh of relief. “You just saved my life. You have no idea how big a favor you did me. Not that I necessarily need the ticket, but you can never be too sure. I’m carting precious cargo, and I really need this to go off smoothly. Come on, sit. You’re like my white knight in leather and cut off sleeves.” I laughed and, maybe just a little, flexed my biceps to accentuate the tribal tattoo on my arm. It seemed to drive women crazy. The blush on Dominique’s

face told me right off that she wasn’t immune to my charms. “I’ve never been called anyone’s white knight before.” It was true, and I found I liked the moniker. She nodded. “Well, I’ve rarely been called Dominique. That’s what Mom calls me. I’ve never liked it. I’ve been Nikki since I was a kid,” she said. She extended her hand and I shook it, just barely refraining from kissing her knuckles. I couldn’t be that predictable. “So Tucker, what’s your story?”

CHAPTER TWO Nikki I wasn’t quite sure what to make of the rocker-wannabe in front of me. He was cute, that much was true. Not overly tall, just an average six feet with a sleek build and the most piercing green eyes I’d ever seen, like emeralds sparkling in the sun. He had torn jeans, thick motorcycle boots with loose laces, and a leather vest over a white tank top. The series of inked spirals on his left bicep could be one of those “I was super drunk

and the tattoo artist said it was cool” mistakes. Looking at him, the kid couldn’t be more than twenty-two. Far too young for me. Granted, I was only about to hit twenty-seven, but when you were trying to build an international brand and working your ass off to design runway shows and open stores, well, twenty-two and tatted up seemed even younger than it already was. Still, he was trying very hard, coming up to me with his swagger and bluster set on eleven. “Nikki, huh? I like that,” he said, and when he smiled it highlighted his eye teeth, making me think of fangs in the

most sensual, give-it-to-me-Dracula, kind of way. It was charming, but the rocker type wasn’t my thing anymore. At least that was what I kept telling myself even as heat flared through my belly. “Well, Tucker’s not so bad.” He laughed. “That’s not a ringing endorsement there, either, princess. So, Nikki, first you have to tell me what you do. Then you have to tell me how the hell you walk in those kick-ass boots.” I blushed. My shoes had been the talk of fashion week in Milan last year, and I was making a name for myself apart from my mother, Anna Lorenz, and her

fashion magazine empire over at Lifestyle. That was great. I was on my way to becoming a couture shoe fashion maven and I was thrilled, only I knew I was gaming the system a bit. I had noticed that the more outrageous and impractical the designs at fashion shows, the more critics (and that included my mom) went ape-shit over them. The boots I was wearing now would be perfect if the heel was an inch lower, but it was that extra inch that took them from fabulous to kick-ass, just as Tucker had said. They were a prototype for what I’d be headlining in Paris, but they were uncomfortable as hell to walk in and the

only thing that kept me from falling on my ass when I wore them was the fact I’d taken years of ballet. But they were extreme and extreme sold, even if it wasn’t exactly what fulfilled me as an artist. Someday, however, once I’d made a big enough name for myself, I’d get back to designing shoes with a better balance of flair and function. My mental musing had obviously gone on too long because Tucker suddenly looked uncertain. “Did I say something wrong? I’ve been on the road, and I’ve seen a lot of group…women in all sorts of platform boots or pleather

numbers. They look like they’re either strippers or superheroes, but I’ve never seen anything like yours. I’m amazed you don’t fall right over.” I sighed and stuffed my phone in my purse. “I designed them, actually.” He grinned and hunched down while leaning back. “You what? Tell me more because I’m impressed.” “I’m impressed you could take up the whole damn row. Talk about manspreading,” I said, eyeing his lean form and imagining what fun lay underneath. “But you stopped to chat with me, so you go first. You were talking about being on the road. You’re in a band, right?”

He frowned back at me. “I told you my name. You’ve really never heard of me?” “Well, no. Tucker Benning, right? Oh wait! Tucker! Oh my god!” I slapped my forehead with my palm. “You’re the drummer for Point Break.” “Are you going to squeal now and ask for selfies because I got that from the fifteen year olds at the security check and you seem too cool a chick for that,” he teased. I shook my head and tried to keep myself from blushing. It was a flaw I’d always had, some part of my fair French heritage. I’d dated some of the trust fund

set of Manhattan, and had also had a few wild flings with minor B-list movie stars. I wasn’t star struck, even if Point Break was one of the bigger bands out there today. But I did feel dumb for not recognizing him. He’d seemed familiar but I supposed I deserved a break—I’d been putting in ninety hour weeks to prepare for the show and was practically seeing pink elephants. “Well, I can’t be that cool since I didn’t figure out who you were sooner.” “Actually, you get extra points for that. It’s been a while since I met a person who didn’t know me. Besides, I’m sitting next to a bona fide designer,

and I didn’t even know that.” “Yeah, you must have missed my music videos and my cover of Rolling Stone.” “I don’t know. I’m sure some designers have done those things.” “You know a lot of designers?” “Honestly? I probably wouldn’t recognize Calvin Klein if he punched me in the nuts. Keegan makes shit though.” I whistled. “Are you two tight?” “No, but Point Break and Keegan had to present an award together at the Grammys. He went on a five-minute rant about something and we all just stood there uncomfortable as shit, staring

dead-eyed at the camera. Fun times.” “Yeah, I remember now. I saw that clip online. Your bassist looked like he was going to slug him.” “Yup. So you see, the life of a rock star, not all that glamorous.” “Right. Well make that double for shoe designers. I have my first Paris show coming up and I can’t even remember what day it is. I’m like a damn cobbler in a fairy tale, just making things for weeks and hoping someone likes my shoes. Uh, it is still July, right?” “For about five more days, sure,” he replied. “So, if you know who we are, do you have a favorite song?”

“Save Me,” I said, thinking about the first time I’d heard the ballad. I’d had a huge fight with my mother. So what else was new? But this had been a doozy when I’d announced I was opening my store in New York. She’d been on me since I graduated from the Fashion Institute to work with her on editorials. It was the first time she’d truly realized that no amount of threats or cajoling would get me to live my life the way she wanted. She’d cut me off, thrown me out, and I’d been holed up in a small rat trap apartment in the village (paid for with the small inheritance I had from my dad) and eating ice cream. Then

I’d heard Save Me play, and I’d been lost in its haunting cello score. It had offered me solace when nothing else had. Now my mom and I were on speaking terms again. She was showing interest in my designs, even if most of the time that interest was critical. “Really? Most people still name the bigger songs.” I shook my head and traced my fingers over the pendant I wore, which my dad had given me for my twenty-first birthday before he’d died suddenly of a heart attack. “For me, the combination of rock with strings is so amazing. I don’t know, it just transports me every time I

hear it, even if it’s just for five minutes.” “Hmm.” He pulled at his lip, suddenly looking depressed. That was a rapid mood change. I wondered what I’d said to make him close down on me. “What’s going on?” He hesitated and I was sure he was going to give me some bullshit flippant answer. Instead, he said, “Confidentially?” Wide-eyed, I nodded. “We’re not sure when we’ll be back touring. We had to put the current one— our first world tour, mind you—on hold because Liam, our lead singer, is in this massive honeymoon period with our

cellist, Abby. I mean, I’m happy for him. I’ve never seen him this gone for anyone ever, but, at the same time, there are four of us in the band and we have lives and bills too. It’s like someone cut my tightrope and I’m free falling.” “Hence the trip to Europe?” I offered, reeling for him. It would be terrible if all of a sudden your job—no, I could tell playing drums wasn’t just a job for Tucker, it was his identity—was ripped out from under you. Besides, I was sure that like trust fund kids or designers, rock stars got used to all the perks and comforts of that fast and luxurious lifestyle. If he had to start

pinching pennies again, it was going to be a rude awakening. “Maybe clearing your head isn’t the worst idea.” “You’re right. But I’ve got an even better idea brewing in my mind, Nikki,” he added, his voice a husky purr that transformed the warmth flaring in my belly to a full-fledged fire. When he talked to me like that, I was more than willing to entertain any idea he had. I’d had more than my fair share of fun in my youth, but lately…not so much. I’d left my identity as a prep school partier and a debutante brat behind me. I was a businesswoman and a damn good one. I had too much riding on the

opening of my new Parisian boutique and my subsequent fashion show to mess it up. But if I could take the edge off, have a little fun without going overboard, that wouldn’t be so bad. In fact, giving in to the temptation that was Tucker Benning might just do me a world of good so long as I kept him right where he belonged. A nice little distraction before the real work in Paris began. “So,” I said, crossing my left leg over my right, letting him get a full glimpse of my soft skin beneath my black skirt. “What did you have in mind?” “The flight isn’t boarding for over an

hour and there’s a private family bathroom nearby. Not at all what a classy woman like you deserves, but I promise to more than make up for it.” I smirked back at him, and the fire that had already been burning so bright inside me grew to a raging inferno. “I’d like that very much, Tucker. Show me what a rock star can do.” *** As far as bathrooms went, the private family bathroom was spacious and clean. Most importantly, it had a door with a lock. We shut it tightly and

slammed the catch in place. Tucker leaned against it, jutting his hips out seductively in a way that once again made promises I suspected he had more than enough skill to fulfill. Eager to find out, I boosted myself up on the tile counter by the sink, letting my legs swing out underneath me. “What exactly are you planning to do to me, rock star?” I said, my tone mock stern. I was channeling my naughty librarian and only wished I had those glasses with the thick rims. I’d never needed any, but I’d known girls who had fake ones with just glass in the center to play up being “smart” in public.

As if that ever fooled anyone. Tucker strutted over to me; that was truly the only word for how he moved. There was no doubt in my mind that he knew every inch of his own body and how to use it to its maximum efficiency. He oozed sex, and the confident glint in his eye was that of a man who’d brought many women to the heights of pleasure. Tucker stopped before me and licked his lips, letting those pointed eye teeth gleam back at me with all their naughty promises. He reached down and ran his hands over my legs, and I shuddered at his touch, feeling the dexterity of his fingers as they traced patterns and swirls

over my shins. Slowly, he pushed my knees apart, slid his hands beneath my skirt, and toyed with the band of my underwear. They were nothing special, just something cotton and practical for the flight. If I’d known I’d be hooking up with a drop dead gorgeous rocker, I’d have worn something lacy. Something that would blow his mind even more than the boots I was wearing. He lowered his hand, cupped me between my legs and groaned at what he found. “You’re so wet for me, princess. I’ve barely got you warmed up, but I love how ready you are.”

“No time to waste. It’s going to be a long flight,” I said, my voice now a low, breathy alto. Tucker tugged my underwear aside and I bucked up my hips to help him. His fingers were gentle, probing first at the soft hair there. Then he opened my folds and put a callused thumb, calluses probably formed by years of drumming, over my most sensitive bundle of nerves. He circled his thumb gently against my clit at first, then harder, and pleasure undulated through me in waves. I’d been stoked to begin with, my arousal flamed by his biceps and those sparkling green eyes, the ones that seemed to gaze right

into my soul. But being touched by him bordered on being unbearable, the pleasure was so intense. I gripped his shoulders, and gasped, “More, please!” His rhythm increased and I could feel myself get wetter. He started to alternate touching me with his thumb and then with his forefinger and index, all of them taking turns swirling up against me as the heat and fire played across my skin, leaving me flushed and wanting. Tucker hit his stride, moving with a practiced dexterity and speed that should be unreal, and just like that, without him kissing me or penetrating me, my orgasm

hit. Fire transformed into lightning, sparking through me and making my entire body convulse. I gasped his name. To my horror, I think I might have even whimpered once or twice. I’d had several lovers, but he was one of the best. A man who knew his talents and used them wisely. Boldly. Unrepentantly. Slowly, he withdrew his hands from my skirt. I gripped his t-shirt and pulled him closer, right between my spread legs, and lowered my hand to cup him through his jeans. He hissed and— We both jerked when someone knocked on the door, the sound almost

drowned out by the screeching wails of a baby. “Oh shit.” Releasing him, I pushed him to the side and jumped off the counter, not knowing what to do. We’d been caught! What if someone recognized us? What if someone took pictures of us as we were coming out of the bathroom? I was supposed to be acting like an adult now, not making tabloid headlines again. “Oh God,” I whispered. To my surprise, Tyler cupped my face in both his hands and kissed me softly, letting his tongue linger over mine. Then he pulled away and calmly started washing his hands.

“Um, Tucker…” I began, wincing when there was more knocking on the door. “I’m sorry,” a woman with a harried voice called from the other side of the door, “but I have a baby and two toddlers in a double-stroller and I really have to go. Are you almost done?” “Almost,” he shouted back, then grinned when my eyes bugged out. “Tucker,” I hissed. “What? It’s not like we’re going to be able to sneak out of here unnoticed. Just act natural, princess, and it’ll be fine. Ready?” I took a quick look in the mirror. I

looked perfectly normal except my face was flushed and my eyes were sparkling. Sighing, I turned back to Tucker and nodded. With a final wink at me, he opened the door, then escorted me through it with a hand at the base of my back. He moved so easily, one would think we were walking down the red carpet rather than exiting a bathroom we’d obviously been fooling around in. “All yours,” he said cheerily to the woman standing outside, crying baby in her arms, double stroller indeed filled to the brim. Her mouth dropped open as she stared after us.

I shook my head, amazed at Tucker’s unrepentant confidence. “You’re good,” I said. “I’ll give you that.” “Yeah? I hope that’s not the only thing you’ll be giving me. Like you said, it’s going to be a long flight. Plenty of time for me to show you just how good I can be.” I burst out laughing. Together we walked back to the First Class lounge. We were half-way there when I realized Tucker and I were holding hands. By the time we got there, I didn’t want to let him go. At that moment I understood I’d let

things go too far. Tucker had seemed harmless, but he was very, very dangerous. It was better I recognize that now and stay the hell away from him. Which meant, as much as it made me want to weep, that it was going to be a very long flight indeed.

CHAPTER THREE Tucker Damn, Nikki Lorenz is one hell of a woman. She was also, it turned out, a bit of a cock-tease, though I supposed that was more my frustration talking than anything else. Hell, if you ask me, they should literally make blue balls a medical condition. This shit hurts. Nikki had seemed perfectly willing to minister to my cock before we’d been

interrupted. But as soon as we’d sat down again in the First Class lounge, she’d muttered something about having to work and had buried her head in her open laptop. I was surprised how disappointed I’d been by her change in attitude, but I decided to cut her some slack. She’d seemed genuinely freaked when we’d been caught together in the bathroom. For all her sass, maybe she was normally more restrained than she’d let on. Maybe she didn’t like the idea of me keeping tally, expecting some on-plane action in exchange for the orgasm I’d given her.

And yes, I had been expecting it. I’m a huge believer in fair play. But I was also, to my surprise, not that worried about it, so I slumped down in my chair, and surfed on my phone. Based on when our flight left and the time difference, we’d be arriving in Paris around nine a.m. Maybe Nikki and I could grab a quick breakfast before getting back to getting to know one another better. When they finally started boarding our plane, Nikki took the lead with me following close behind. Even though I was also in First Class, chances were someone else had the seat next to Nikki, but…

At the front of the First Class section, Nikki turned to me and, not quite able to meet my eyes, said, “Have a good flight, Tucker.” Uh, no. What the hell? I was on this fucking plane because of her. No way was I not sitting by her. But I just nodded and said, “See you, Nikki,” struggling to hide my smile when she looked equal parts surprised and disappointed. Poor woman really was all kinds of thrown by what had happened between us. While she took her window seat at the front, I took an aisle seat a few rows back, immediately jumping back up

again when a woman paused next to Nikki’s row. “Excuse me, Ma’am.” I flashed my pearly whites. “I’m just a couple of seats back. I was wondering, would you mind terribly if we switched places? You see, Nikki and I have business to discuss.” The woman looked startled, then looked down at Nikki, then looked back at me. “Um…” She turned to Nikki. “Is that okay with you?” I held my breath at the tense silence that ensued, relaxing only when Nikki said, “Sure. If you don’t mind, that would be great.” The woman smiled. “Then no

problem. You two have fun.” “Thank you very much,” I said before plopping into the seat next to Nikki. I didn’t look at her, however. Instead, I got my headphones out, plugged them in, stuck the buds in my ears, got comfortable, and closed my eyes. I could feel her gaze on me and wanted to look at her so fucking bad. But part of me was kind of annoyed, and not just at her. I wasn’t one to chase after a woman who didn’t want me, so what the hell was I doing? Then again, I’d felt for myself how

much Nikki wanted me. I just had to figure out what had caused her to back off, but I could do that after we took off. The next thing I knew, I heard the flight attendant offering someone in front of me a cocktail. Obviously I’d slept through take off and we were now at cruising altitude. Figuring I’d given Nikki a sufficient taste of her own medicine, I opened my eyes. And cursed. She was curled against the window with her eyes closed. Her lips were slightly open, she was snoring softly, and her red hair was in messy curls around her face. She looked fucking adorable, even

more so when she mumbled something in her sleep. Narrowing my eyes, I leaned in closer, almost certain I’d heard her say my name, but not sure if I’d just imagined it. A minute later, it came. “Tucker.” It was just the wispiest of sounds. But it hit me like a punch in the gut. I stared at her for a few minutes. With a sigh, I closed my eyes, again settling myself into my chair. But this time, I splayed my legs out a bit so that my leg lightly brushed against one of hers. With that comforting connection, I drifted asleep again.

*** Six hours into our seven-hour flight, I woke up barely able to believe it. Obviously, I’d been more wasted by playing on the road than I’d thought. What was even more unbelievable? Nikki was still dead to the world. Once again, I found myself just staring at her. What was it about her that had me so intrigued? Yeah, she was gorgeous, and before she’d clammed up, she’d seemed like she knew how to have fun. But that wasn’t something new for me. Rock

groupies are women who excel at the fine art of partying, but that usually comes with a lot shrieking and, let’s face it, not a whole lot of challenge. Plus, I never really knew what I was getting with a groupie, mentally or physically; I’d spent more time than I cared to admit fishing lost hair extensions out of my couch cushions or the bunks in my trailer. I’d spent even more time having to shake women who wrongly concluded a night in the sack meant anything more than it was. But that wasn’t Nikki. The woman was confident, snarky, and sexy as all get out, but she was also

pure class, even when she was letting me finger her to orgasm in an airport bathroom. I wanted to spend more time with her once we arrived in the City of Lights but I also wasn’t going to keep putting myself out there. If she wasn’t interested in seeing more of me, I wasn’t going to push it. Thirty minutes later, the pilot asked the flight crew to prepare for landing. People started talking and shifting about, but Nikki still didn’t move. Frowning, I reached out and gently shook her arm, thinking she hadn’t been kidding when she’d referred to herself as a cobbler working on her shoe designs all night.

The girl had obviously been running herself ragged. “Nikki,” I said softly. She moaned and pouted, then blinked her eyes open. When she saw me gazing at her, she smiled and said, “Hi.” I couldn’t help smiling back at her. “The plane’s landing, princess.” She blinked a couple more times, then sat up. “Oh my God. I actually slept through the whole flight? I’m so sorry!” I shrugged. “It’s okay. You obviously needed the sleep. I guess things will keep you hopping once you arrive, huh?” I waited, wondering if she’d say anything about us getting together after

the plane landed. “I haven’t been sleeping much with eighteen-hour work days,” she said. “I’m lucky I remember that I’m headed on a plane for Paris, let alone your name, Tommy.” I felt like I’d been kicked in the nuts. Okay, so she’d gotten weird afterward, but we’d had an awesome time before that—at least she’d seemed to like it. Seriously, I was Tucker Benning. I normally left girls begging for more. The fact that Nikki had forgotten my name was— “What’s the matter, Tucker, cat got your tongue?’

I narrowed my eyes at her as I processed her smile. “You bitch! You set me up!” She nodded as she gathered up her purse and laptop case. “Yeah, but it was pretty priceless. I bet you have girls fawning all over you. ‘Oh Tucker, you’re the best I’ve ever had’ and ‘Oh Tucker, just kiss me one more time.’ Sorry, but I’m not the type to fawn.” I raised a brow. “Yeah, I think I got that when you ignored me after you got yours. Damn, lady, talk about using and abusing a man. Isn’t it normally the guy that rolls over and falls asleep after sex?”

She lowered her voice just slightly. “We didn’t have sex.” “No, but what we did have was damn great.” She snorted. “How can you say that? You didn’t… you didn’t…” She suddenly turned red, surprising me once again that someone so bold could still blush so easily. “No, but you did. And still, it was the best fucking experience of my life,” I said, stunned at how much I meant it. She stared at me wide-eyed and we remained silent through the smooth landing. When it was time to disembark, I stood. “So, princess, are you the type

who likes cream in her coffee and extra crepes?” I asked as we made our way into the line. Getting off a plane always reminds me of a zombie apocalypse, everyone out of it and shuffling along. It’s the worst. Still, it gave me a few more minutes with Nikki. “Why?” she asked. “I want to imagine what you’re having for breakfast in the morning. Because it doesn’t look like I’m going to be there, am I?” She licked her lips and hesitated. Her eyes flickered with something hot before resignation settled in. “I’m sorry, Tucker. It was fun meeting you, but no, I

don’t think breakfast is a good idea.” I nodded and shrugged, even though everything inside me was screaming a denial and urging me to change her mind. “It was fun meeting you, too, Nikki,” I said. “Good luck at your show.” Before long, we were off the plane and in the airport terminal. I hung back, and Nikki walked ahead of me, though her stride didn’t seem as smooth as it had back in New York. The boots must be getting to her. I watched her go, hoping that she’d stop and glance at me, maybe even change her mind and come back, but she didn’t. Soon, she disappeared from

sight. Go after her! that something inside me urged once again. But hell no. It wasn’t worth it. She wasn’t worth it. Guys like Liam Collier got to ride off into the sunset with his true love, Abby, or some shit like that. He’d always believed he’d find the girl of his dreams, have two-point-five kids and drive a minivan. Guys like me? That’s not what I wanted. I was a rock star who liked women and booze and partying hard. Even if my best friend had gone soft, it didn’t mean I had to.

*** I had the cash to stay at a fancy five-star hotel by the Seine, but it seemed excessive given it was just me and I probably wouldn’t be staying in Paris very long now that my reason for being there was gone (thank you, Nikki). Besides, staying at big hotels reminded me of how many I’d trashed back in the day. I can shove a TV out of a fifth story suite like no one alive. Keith Richards once complimented me on my aim, come to think of it. But while I didn’t exactly regret those memories, I’d have given

them all up to spend more time with Nikki. Since that wasn’t going to happen, I just needed something simple to tide me over until I headed back to LA. After checking in to a small hotel, I walked the streets a bit. When I returned, I headed down to the café next door. I sat over some croissants and awesome cheese (smelled like a foot but tasted oddly great) and before I knew it, was Googling Dominique Lorenz. I was halfpissed that she was still on my mind, but that didn’t stop me from doing it. I hit the mother lode, finding article after article that made me think Nikki just might be an even bigger partier than

I was. But those were all several years old. The more recent hits were all about her designs, shoes even more extreme than the ones she’d been wearing on the plane. Most had staggeringly tall heels that led to those exaggerated pointes, and they came in a riot of colors and materials including ones that, I swear to God, seemed to be made from bamboo. Hadn’t the girl ever heard of sneakers? Of course, if she had, she would just put them on a twelve-inch platform and dare women not to fall down and break their necks. I found an article mentioning her

upcoming fashion show in two weeks, but learned she was also opening her own boutique. Neither of those were small feats, and I found myself feeling a surge of pride for her. Point Break was on indefinite vacation, and I had nothing to do. Maybe I’d catch her show. Hell, I’d light up Twitter just by sitting in the front row and I could only imagine how thankful Nikki would be. Then I’d see her shop. More free publicity. I’d be doing her a favor, right? Wrong. After the way we’d parted, I didn’t want to cross the line from persistent to

stalker, something I was quite familiar with since I’ve had girls literally hide out in my trashcan before. Any lingering desire I had to see her again was just about hurt pride. Some immature need to prove to myself and her why girls normally lined up for a shot at me. “Yeah, well, she couldn’t walk away from you fast enough, could she, Tuck?” I muttered. “Actually, I didn’t walk so much as run,” a husky alto rang out behind me. I recognized her voice immediately, but I stifled my instincts to turn around and look at her. Leaning back in my

chair, I set my hands behind my head. “It’s no problem, princess. I was just curious why, is all. It’s not like I really care, you know?” I threw the asshole comment out there because I wanted to see how she’d reply. She didn’t say anything at first, and I tensed, wondering if she’d walked away. But then she said, “Maybe not. But I’m finding I care, Tucker. Hence, the reason I ran in the first place. And the reason I followed you to see where you were staying. I would have eventually stopped but it turned out we were going in the same direction. It’s whacked but I’m

actually staying at a place a few blocks from here.” I heard the click of her footsteps, and then she was in my line of sight. She paused next to the seat across from me. “May I?” I nodded, and she sat down, crossing her long legs. She’d exchanged her boots for turquoise shoes that somehow managed to resemble a five-point star. Unlike her smoking hot boots, the shoes seemed to tip the scale from edgy to wacky. Just because something had never been done before didn’t necessarily make it a good idea. Still, she was gorgeous enough to

pull it off. She’d changed into tight jeans and a low cut, silky black top. It was more than my pleasure to glimpse her cleavage. Suddenly all I could think about was getting my tongue on those amazing tits of hers. But she seemed to be waiting for me to speak. Despite my best intentions, all I could muster was a sulky, “Why the change of heart, Nikki?” “Look, I know how I acted after we…you know…in the bathroom…was crazy. But I guess I just panicked a little. I have a lot riding on this trip and you’ve got distraction written all over you. I saw you arrive here, headed to my

friend’s apartment then…” She looked at me almost helplessly, but I wasn’t letting her off the hook that easy. “Then what?” She rolled her eyes. “Then I missed you, okay? We barely know each other, but all I kept thinking was I was here, and you were here, so close—I mean, what were the chances that you’d be in a hotel so close to me—and I just want to spend more time with you.” I smirked, even as I felt a little amazed but mostly thankful that the fates had led me to the hotel and more importantly prodded Nikki to follow me

and return. “Yeah?” I said, sounding far more casual than I felt. “Time with me or time with certain parts of me?” She fought back a smile but said nothing. I leaned forward and grabbed her hand. “Oh come on, Nikki. What parts? I mean, you sure seemed to enjoy my fingers, but are there any other parts of me you want to spend more time with? I mean, my hands, sure, but what about my lips? My teeth? My cock? They’re all at your disposal if you want. All you have to do is say the word.” She sat forward and very deliberately licked her lips. “How about

these words? My friend who owns the apartment said I could have other friends over.” “Is your friend who owns the apartment hot?” Nikki laughed. “Oh you’ll see.” I studied her, wondering what game she was up to now. So she’d tracked me down because she missed me, but she wanted to do a three-way with her roomie? I figured she was bluffing, but if not, no biggie. Talk about scoring. Two women, one being this fiery redhead. My life was finally looking up since Liam had announced his unexpected

vacation. I smirked back at Nikki and offered her my hand. “Well, honey, you’ve definitely said the magic words. Lead me to paradise.” *** The apartment wasn’t anything like I’d been expecting. It was decorated with clean lines, and modern and sleek glass furniture, and littered with magazines like Men’s Health and Cigar Aficionado. It was becoming less and less likely that a cute blonde was going to waltz out of the other bedroom and fall into my waiting

lap. Slumping down onto the sofa, I picked up a copy of a men’s bodybuilding magazine and tossed it to her. “You set me up!” She laughed and I was beginning to both hate and love that sound. Nikki was clearly part devil, part temptress. “Claude is an old friend from when I was a kid. He’s in the fashion industry, does designer men’s socks.” “That’s a thing?” “Yeah, that and ties. It’s the only thing that has any originality in the corporate world,” she replied. “I don’t get it either.” I laughed and gestured to the shoes

she’d discarded on the floor. “Yes, extreme fashion trends are very hard to understand. Admit it, though, you played me. Here I was thinking you had a friend as hot as you are and that things were really going to get interesting, but I come back here and it’s like the ultimate rich bachelor pad…well if you’re kind of a snobby metrosexual type.” “True,” she said, giggling. “But,” Nikki added, getting to her knees in front of me on the couch. “The truth is that I’ve shared men in the past, but I don’t like the idea of sharing you. Does that disappoint you?” I tangled my hands in her hair and

just took in her amazing face. “Baby, I’m not disappointed. I applaud you for your good taste. And your intelligence. Why share someone women are panting for when all he wants is to give you his mind-blowing undivided attention.” “Mind-blowing, huh?” “That’s what I hear,” I said, my grin widening. “So modest.” I shrugged. “Modesty is for guys who can’t hack it. I definitely can.” She grinned and licked her lips, those plump ones that promised to be heaven once wrapped around my already rigid shaft. “Well I had another kind of

blowing in mind in store for you. Think you can hack that?” I cocked a brow. “Now that sounds like something I can…” My words trailed off when she unzipped my pants and helped my erection spring forth. I never wear boxers, have always been a commando guy underneath. It helps for access, not gonna lie, and when the sexiest redhead on the planet wants to give you a blow job, who cares if it’s boxers or briefs? Bending down, she blew on the head of my cock. Her breath was warm and it made my dick jerk with just the hint of temperature change and whispery

pressure. As I watched, a tiny pearl of precum leaked from its mushroomshaped tip. Nikki licked her lips and then greedily lapped it up, then the next two. Her tongue was soft and flush against my skin, and I was already shaking beneath her. My balls were growing tight, and I couldn’t wait for her to envelope me fully. But she knew how to tease in this just like in everything else. First, she gave the underside of my cock several long licks, laving at the seam. She kissed my balls and flicked her tongue in a maddeningly fast rhythm against them. Then, she wrapped her

hand around my sack and started to massage it with just the right amount of pressure as she rolled my balls between her thumb and forefinger. They felt heavy, filled almost to the point of bursting. I had sex regularly and I took pride in my ability to outlast my partners. Hell, I’d even experimented with New Age hippie crap out in California and could go all tantric. I’d once held off on an orgasm for over three hours. But with her? With Nikki, it was taking everything I had to keep it together and not blow like a fifteen-year-old kid during his first

time. Then her lips wrapped fully around my length—finally—and my eyes rolled back in my damn head. Nikki was sucking hard now, her tongue and lips moving up and down my shaft in record time. I opened my eyes again and focused down on her, on the flash of red hair flaring out behind her as she continued to suck me off, at the speed of her movements, and it was making my blood boil. It felt like I’d swallowed pop rocks and Coke or stuck my tongue on a live wire. Everything was fucking raging through me, and I was moaning beneath her talented tongue.

Then she moved that little devil in a spiral around the head of my cock all while putting expert pressure on my balls. It was more than enough. I came like a freight train, surrendering to the force of the passion surging through me. Nikki swallowed everything like a pro and the more she took, the more I gave. Hell, the more eager I was to give it to her. After what felt like forever, when maybe all the fluid was out of my body, I collapsed on the sofa, smiling when she curled up next to me. Taking that detour in LaGuardia? Best damn decision of my life.

CHAPTER FOUR Nikki Tucker reached over and brought the fresh strawberry to my mouth. After I’d given him a blow job, we’d cuddled and snoozed on the couch for a long time, and now we were having lunch out on Claude’s balcony. The view was as breathtaking as always. From where we sat, enjoying fruit, crepes, and fresh cured meats, we could see the expanse of the Parisian skyline, which included Notre Dame and the Eiffel

Tower as well as the other buildings and landmarks that were so famous around the world. Around us, cars honked and birds sang. Paris liked to think of itself as more refined, but it was a metropolitan city like any other. Today, in the middle of the week, people were rushing to and from work. It was a living, breathing being around us. And I loved listening to its heartbeat. “Whatcha thinking about?” Tucker asked. I was thinking how much fun I was having with Tucker, while at the same time pushing back thoughts that I was

crazy. That I should be working preparing for my show, including all the smaller events leading up to it. But I had to do something to release all my pent up stress, didn’t I? Doing Tucker was obviously something I’d found difficult to resist. Even now, I tried to imagine how the stellar cock I’d touched and tasted earlier would feel moving inside me. Hell, I almost couldn’t think of anything else. And no wonder. We were dressed, but I’d spent the last couple hours pressed up against him. He was lean but he was also cut. I loved the lines of his body, the rigid peaks and valleys of his six-pack abs

and the broad expanse of his chest. I now knew that he had several other tattoos, including one over his left hip— a bright orange tiger leaping from crimson flames. God, Tucker Benning couldn’t be more rock and roll if he tried. Nothing like living the cliché, but I knew a lot about that. I’d lived it too, hadn’t I? I’d been a typical celebutante through most of my teens and too much of my early twenties, a predictable poor little rich girl. Partying hard and blowing money. First, to hide the fact all I wanted was my mommy’s approval, something I was likely never going to

get. Second, to drown out the knowledge that I’d likely driven my father to an early grave. I’d since put all that wildness behind me. Was being here with Tucker, hooking up with a rock star—and an especially notorious one at that—the start of my downward spiral into self-destruction? “Seriously, Ms. Lorenz, why are you so upset?” Tucker said. I blinked back at him but those green eyes were sphinxlike, giving up very little. “My mom’s Anna Lorenz,” I said, as if that would make any sense to him. Of course it didn’t, but for me, it was

truth and it was my burden to carry. He frowned. “Yeah. So?” “She’s the editor for the biggest fashion magazine in the States. I mean, I get it if it’s not your standard reading material.” “Well I prefer Rolling Stone or Maxim. I’m not gonna pretend to be more pretentious than I am, princess.” I liked that about Tucker. He was who he was and fuck anyone who didn’t like him. I pretended to have that same easy confidence but that’s all it was. An act. “Anyway, I guess you could say I grew up with all the fashion stuff. I was always drawn to it because it was

Mom’s life. It definitely helped get me interested and, yes, I’d be lying if my name didn’t give me my first leg up. But I need to make it on my own now, prove I can be more than just my mom’s shadow.” “I don’t know why you’re worried,” he said, green eyes wide and far too earnest for a guy who made his living singing his way into girls’ pants and snorting God knew what. “You’re one of the most gorgeous, powerful and amazing women I’ve ever met.” I blushed and looked away. I didn’t believe in compliments. I wanted to believe in them, and I wanted to get used

to receiving them but that was just a pipe dream. Nikki Lorenz had been a joke and a tabloid punch line for far too long. Hell, there were late night hosts who had earned second homes by making jokes about me. All my fault, of course. The last thing I felt was amazing or powerful. Most of the time, I felt like a small boat in the middle of a tsunami. Still afloat, but just barely, and any damn wave at any moment could send me crashing to the ocean floor. Just like my mother no doubt expected. “I’m not that amazing,” I said,

pulling the comforter around me. “I’m flattered you think so, but being skilled at blow jobs doesn’t an amazing person make.” “I meant what I said,” Tucker said, clenching his jaw. “And just for the record, I’ve had better blow jobs.” It should have pissed me off. Instead, I burst out laughing. “Thanks?” “You’re welcome. Because I have no doubt that given some time, you’ll be the best I’ve ever had. In the meantime, you’re still the most amazing woman I’ve ever met. You’re a force of nature. I see it in how you can pull off shoes that should leave you in traction. I see it in

how you have a store opening in Paris and you’re not even thirty yet!” “So Google gives out my age now? Perfect.” “Stop trying to derail me. I’m serious here. Being amazing at life is about passion, and trust me, you’re a passionate woman, Nik. There’s really something special about you and I knew that before we ever even met.” “Wow. Okay. Well…you don’t really know me. Not the real me. And you don’t know what you’re talking about.” I hadn’t meant to sound so harsh, but his words were weakening my protective walls even more than he already had.

Soon, they’d shatter into dust and I’d be left utterly defenseless. I couldn’t let that happen. Still, it was hard to see him hunch down on himself and frown at my words. I’d wounded him when he was just trying to be kind. But I couldn’t make myself believe what he was saying. Not after all the times I’d embarrassed myself and my parents. Not after all the times Mom had raked me over the coals for being such an utter and total disappointment. “It’s just so hard when you have to live in someone’s shadow,” I said with one last lame attempt to explain.

He snorted. “No kidding.” “What’s that mean?” “It means I know exactly what how you feel, Nikki.” “Really? You’re like the rock star out there. There’s no band hotter than Point Break.” He rolled his eyes. “Assuming that might be true for the moment, it won’t be true for long. We’re about to be on a very long hiatus. Kids have short memories. They’ll find the next hot band next month, and we’ll start back at the bottom. Either way, I’m not the rock star out there and I never have been.” “Huh?”

“Liam Collier is the band’s front man. The singer. He’s the one the fans love most.” “Oh, right. You mentioned Liam earlier. So you hate him?” Tucker flinched back. “What? Hell no. Liam’s my best friend. But it was my idea to start the band in high school in the first place. And at the time, I was a much better drummer than Liam was a singer. Hell, he couldn’t even read notes when I first got the idea. Not saying Liam didn’t learn fast or that he’s not amazing now, but I wanted this from the beginning. I wanted it so much, but he’s the one that’s the heart of the band. He’s

the one girls go after the most. He’s the one that the media covers twice as much. I love my best friend, I do, but he casts about as big a shadow as the damn Empire State Building.” “Oh my god, you’re right. That’s exactly how I feel about my mom!” I exclaimed. “Yeah, well don’t look too happy about it, will you?” For a moment I froze, feeling like a bitch, but when he laughed and pulled me in closer, I breathed a sigh of relief. For the first time in a long time, I felt like someone got me, I mean really got me.

Maybe Tucker did know what it was like, to always feel like you had to measure up to someone else’s legacy. It was this impossible hamster wheel of trying to catch someone else’s star, but knowing that you never would, no matter how hard or how fast you ran. “Does Liam know how you feel?” I asked. “Probably not. How about your mom?” I shrugged and he shook me a little. “Keep talking to me. Tell me how you feel about it. Why you feel you can’t measure up to her.” “It’s just always been that way.

Everyone goes to my shows and they don’t just expect new or different, they expect the best. It’s like they all think Mom started giving me fashion lessons in the womb, and God forbid I design anything that isn’t outrageous and innovative. I like fun and flair, but I like combining that with function. I like that challenge. That restraint. But there’s always this part in the back of my mind, this voice telling me, ‘They’re not going to like it’ or ‘They’re going to ask what my mom thinks of it.’ or ‘They’re going to think they’re boring. You’re boring.’” Tucker squeezed my shoulders tightly to his chest. “So that’s why your designs

are so extreme? Because then there’s no chance anyone can say you or they are boring?” I shrugged. “The only designs my mom even comes close to complimenting are the more outrageous designs.” “But your mom hasn’t ever designed anything, has she? She critiques, sure, but that’s like music critics too, you know? It’s easy to tear something down, but it’s fucking hard and scary as hell to put your own stuff out there. You do. You do it every day and you need to get credit for that.” “No points for trying, only succeeding. Words courtesy of Mom.

And I’ve always been an utter disappointment to her.” Tucker kissed my cheek. “Then this is the part that I don’t get, I guess. I mean Liam and I compete but I’d do anything for him. You make it sound like your mom is basically Satan in heels.” “In some ways, she is,” I said, and then laughed. I wanted him to think I was joking even if the pressure from her was overwhelming. “But, jeez, talk about a downer. Enough about my Mommy Dearest issues. You mentioned reading about my new boutique. Chez Lorenz is celebrating its grand opening tonight. It’s almost one and I have so much to do

before eight.” He pulled back and frowned down at me. I looked up at him and tried not to flinch under the scrutiny of those moss green eyes. “Are you trying to give me the bum’s rush?” Yes, because I feel like I’ve poured my heart out to you and I just want to keep doing it. I was in damage control mode, but I didn’t want him to know that. “No, but I need a serious shower, then I have to get things ready for the party.” I stood, as did he. I mock sniffed his arm pit. “You can use a serious shower yourself, mister.” “If that’s an invitation…”

“It’s not. Go get showered back at your place and put on something nice.” “Nice? Why would I do that?” “So you can be my Plus One at the opening.” I could tell that he was surprised. That he’d been expecting me to blow him off until the next time I wanted to hook up. Maybe that would be the smart thing to do, but bottom line, I didn’t just enjoy Tucker’s company in bed. He had a way of making me feel as amazing as he said I was, and I could definitely use that boost of confidence tonight. I just had to remember that Tucker was a temporary fix. I could enjoy the heck out

of him for a short time, but anything more than that and I’d get addicted to him and it would only be a matter of time before I crashed and burned. Leaning up on tiptoe, I gave him a huge kiss, gratified when he took it to another level. Once again, fantasies of getting naked and getting Tucker inside me flooded through my head. He had me practically panting with desire in seconds, but somehow I managed to pull back. “I’m sorry, I really do have to get ready. There’s so much to do and if I take any more time, I’ll be stressed. Maybe afterward…?” I bit my lip. He grinned and tapped the end of my

nose. “No maybe about it. Afterward is going to definitely happen. And I can’t wait.” I breathed a sigh of relief that even as he seemed to want me as much as I wanted him, he was also going to be a good sport and let me do my business before he did me. “Give me your phone number,” I said. He did, and we exchanged numbers. Feeling almost giddy, I gave him another quick kiss then patted his ass. “I’ll see you there.” I watched him walk out the door feeling happier than I’d felt in a long time.

Once he was gone, however… The more time passed, the more I started stressing about the opening, and the more I felt like a puppet that had been cut from its strings. I returned to the balcony, hoping to recapture the feelings of contentment I’d felt with Tucker, but they escaped me. I sat back heavily in one of the heavy iron chairs on the balcony, suddenly plagued by insecurities and fear. Worrying not only about the opening tonight, but about the upcoming show, as well. Tucker had said I was amazing. Passionate. But he barely knew me. He had no idea what a fuck up I’d been most of my life. That I’d

still been a fuck up when my dad had died. It was something I’d always regret, that my dad hadn’t seen me move on to better things. My mom had, but she didn’t exactly see it that way and you could bet she’d be the first in line to write a scathing editorial if my shoe designs were lacking in any way at all. Hell, my mother would probably invent new ways for my shoes to suck just so she could yank out her poison pen. The opinion of Anna Lorenz, fashion maven, had ruined the careers of more nascent designers than I could count. She was New York high fashion and, by extension, she was also the

voice of all high fashion. And as I’d told Tucker, she liked extreme, at least when it came to my designs. Now, I designed shoes I loved, shoes that spoke to me deeply, but I also pushed the envelope beyond where my instincts told me to stop. As a result, everything in my line consisted of shoes no sane person would walk in if they wanted to keep normal feeling and circulation in their toes. High fashion didn’t cater to sane, everyday people, it catered to designers and hipsters looking for something different. But in the end, what was the use of garnering accolades for your creativity when no one actually ever

wore your stuff in the real world? Fuck. I suddenly craved a drink. Finding Claude’s stash, I poured myself a shot of Jack. The burn of the liquid down my throat grounded me, but also brought back memories of my partying days that I didn’t want to revisit. I’d never been out of control when it came to alcohol. A little had always gone a long way, giving me just enough of an edge to find my high in other ways. Dancing. Sex. Streaking. Hell, even fighting. It wasn’t the numbness of alcohol or drugs I’d always craved, but a heady combination of electric energy that told me that I was

alive combined with the free fall afterward that made me calmer, able to handle anything life threw my way. It was that kind of adrenaline rush and subsequent let-down that wiped my mind clean, when my heart was pumping so hard I couldn’t notice anything else, even the echoes of my mother’s doubt and disdain. Without even knowing it, Tucker’s words on the balcony had attempted to do the same thing, but now that he was gone, they were ephemeral. How could I recapture what I’d felt when he’d told me how amazing I was? There, on the balcony, a terrible

thought occurred to me. I fought it, but I felt like I was falling apart at the seams. The stakes were so high, and I just needed to get into that zen place where I knew everything would be okay. I’d done it before… I stepped up to the balcony railing and gripped it, the smooth metal warm from the sun. My heart was pumping wildly in my chest but my breaths were even. Before I could second guess myself any more than I had, I boosted myself up until I was sitting on the railing, my legs dangling over the edge. Then I carefully stood, balancing on my bare feet. I raised my hands out wide

and arched back my neck. All of Paris was spread out below me, my new kingdom ripe for the taking. The wind was blowing just slightly and I enjoyed the feel of it on my face for several seconds before my knees wobbled underneath me. I almost pitched forward and terror zipped through me, but at the last moment, I fell back and into a waiting chair. I sat there panting and wrapped my arms around my knees. Tears were hot on my cheeks but I tried to ignore them. For a few seconds I’d felt exhilarated; I’d cheated death again and now nothing I faced this

evening could compete. Part of me was horrified at my thoughts. Knew I should tell someone what I’d done and ask for help. The first person I thought of telling was Tucker. Sexy, confident, sweet Tucker, who though I was amazing, and thought he knew what I was going through because he envied his best friend’s role as leader of the band. But no, that could never happen. No one needed to know that Nikki Lorenz, hot new shoe designer of the moment, was falling apart. No one needed to know my secret. Least of all Tucker Benning.

CHAPTER FIVE Tucker I didn’t know shit about shoes. I mean, yeah, I liked a high heel on a hot babe as much as the next guy. I knew when something looked fugly or when sneakers were rank enough to be tossed out. I’d never been a fan of girls into combat boots, and I didn’t get why, when women could wear those sexy as hell pumps, they’d go around in ballet flats. But, mostly, I didn’t think about it much. As for me personally, I have some

sneakers for if I want to hit the gym (read: when the record label makes me before publicity shoots) and a few nice shoes for award shows, but I don’t know the names of the different styles and honest to God taking them off is usually a huge relief at the end of a fancy night out. Mostly I wear motorcycle boots everywhere. Tonight being a rare exception. Tonight I was wearing dress shoes with a pair of designer jeans and a white button down, trying to looking nice for Nikki’s show. So, basically, I was probably the last guy on Earth to be able to tell you if

shoes were awesome or not. What I did know was that the shoes displayed in Nikki’s Chez Lorenz were unlike anything I’d ever seen, even when I’d Googled her. Again, that might not be saying much. If I’d been the type of rocker like Keegan was a rapper, some guy who wanted to design someday, then maybe I’d have a lot more ideas about footwear. Clearly, Nikki had gotten a license with whoever made that pink Japanese cat-thing. Was it Hello Kitty? I wasn’t sure but you saw that thing all over when you traveled in the East. She had some heels with pink crystals all over them and that cat’s face on the side.

Cute, flirty, and a little fun. But that was the most normal shoe there. There was a pair of heels that were at least eight inches high but the shoe part looked like someone had glued a ballet flat to a spike. I wasn’t sure you were supposed to walk in them. Hell, if some poor girl tried, she might snap an ankle. Still, they looked badass. Then there were the shoes I could barely describe. Tons of heels at least six inches high with rhinestones and Swarovski crystals added, but they also had those same toes that looked like point shoes, just rounded a bit. Then there were things that reminded me of

architectural designs, wild geometric patterns that really were more art than shoe. Among them were these grey and turquoise numbers that were made of different cuts of triangular fabric. They looked more like the world’s weirdest trophies. They didn’t have heels coming out of the back but seemed to sit on platforms coming out of the middle of the shoe. In other words, if you didn’t have amazing balance—like tightrope walker fucking phenomenal—you shouldn’t try a Nikki Lorenz special. Again, I knew next to nothing about shoes, but I was an artist too. I knew

enough to know when someone was pushing the boundaries of what people had done before. Nikki hadn’t pushed boundaries. Nope. She’d pole vaulted over them and that was amazing. As I sipped my complimentary champagne in one of the alcoves of her new shop Chez Lorenz, I tried to be patient but was plain antsy to tell her how much I admired her. I made another lap around the boutique, and finally maneuvered my way through the crowd. It took a lot of quick turns and snaking around other people, but I managed. It was times like these I wish I’d paid attention to French

in high school. I didn’t even know the word for ‘sorry,’ and as I got glares from most of the models and design community, I figured a quick “my bad” in the native language might have soothed things over more. Finally, I saw Nikki. And not surprisingly, she looked hot. She had on a sleek black dress that hugged every curve, a thick diamond necklace around her throat, and heels that she’d clearly designed herself that had to be close to seven inches and covered in gold leaf. Her eyes were highlighted by smoky eye shadow and rimmed with kohl, and I could have lost

myself here, in this moment, just staring at her. She had to be under a lot of stress. I had a small inclination from her weird rant earlier how much she needed to impress her mom so that the feared Anna Lorenz wouldn’t insult her. Mothers with poison pens? Ouch. However, she looked cool and calm, if a bit removed from everything around her. Reaching out, I placed a hand on her shoulder. She startled and almost dropped her drink on the marble tile below. Then she smiled and she literally took my breath away. I leaned over and kissed her cheek. “I was just coming over to offer some

support. You did an amazing job. These shoes should be in a gallery. I mean, come on, they’re like works of art.” “Thank you. That’s kind of you to say.” She said it automatically, as if she was used to blowing off compliments about her work, and I frowned. Before I could say anything, however, her eyes darted around the room, and I realized she was looking for someone. When I took a step back, figuring I should give her some space, her gaze met mine. She licked her lips and regret filled her beautiful eyes. “I’m sorry for being distracted, Tucker. I just have a lot

more people to talk to. Divine is supposed to be here as well as William Cooper. I was hoping they’d come as a show of fellow support.” A bright light flashed, temporarily blinding me. Blinking, I got my bearings and noticed the photographer in the corner. She was clicking fast and furious, and I’d become accustomed to red carpets and even trying to eat out at lunch with my friends and having a thousand lights go off in my face. It was annoying but it was the tradeoff for being famous, just was how things were. I looked back at Nikki to see if I

could do anything to help her out, to relieve the pressure of the crowd until the other designers got here or she felt she could take a break. She wasn’t paying attention to me, though. Her gaze was fixed on the short blond woman with the huge Nikon around her neck. Nikki balled her hands up at her sides and glared at the photog and if looks could kill… “Can you not do that right now,” she snapped, moving past me and standing nose to nose with the photographer. The blonde huffed and set her camera aside so that it hung from its strap over her chest. “You know, your

mother is so much more accommodating for the press. I shouldn’t be surprised. You’re nothing like her. She’s pure class. You’re not. Even your ex-boyfriend saw that, which is why it didn't take long for him to leave your bed for hers—” “Hey—” I began, jolted out of my malaise, just as Nikki’s hand shot out. The slap rang out hard and fast. Despite everything, it left my jaw on the floor. I knew from Google that Nikki had provided fodder for tabloid stories the same way other heiresses had and, okay, even certain rock bands that had trashed a hotel in Memphis. Still, she was older and a successful designer

now, and our little dance aside, she hadn’t given me a glimpse of that wilder, impetuous nature. “Say that again,” Nikki snarled. She would have lunged for the blonde again if an older man, one with a thick salt and pepper mustache, hadn’t held her back. He took control of the situation, barking out something terse and commanding in French. Then security was dragging the photographer, who was rubbing her slightly swollen cheek, out the door. No one said anything for a very long time, and I was surrounded by a room full of oppressive silence with all of us looking at Nikki as the older man led her away.

A man beside me in a suit that had red pinstripes just shook his head and leaned into my ear. “Is that your date? You’d best run,” he whispered theatrically. “Huh?” “You heard me, guy. I’m trying to be nice. Nikki Lorenz can barely go five minutes without making a scene. This is the same stunt she always pulls.” Still stunned and not sure what the hell to say, I pushed past him and started toward Nikki, but the older guy with the greying mustache, the one who had held her back from doing more damage to her reputation, led her toward a room in the

back. The dude was good-sized, probably about 6’3 or 6’4 and broad shouldered. He looked like he was the head of security, but with the way he had his hand on the back of her shoulders, I wasn’t sure. That could be a more intimate gesture, and I was scared that it was. Besides, the guy was staring at me like he wanted to do the lunging and tackle me. Whatever. After he and Nikki disappeared, I decided to hang back and wait for her. She appeared ten minutes later, all fake smiles as she worked the room. In every other direction but mine,

that is. I gave her twenty minutes of this, then walked up to her as she was talking to the mustache guy. “Hey, Nikki. Are you okay?” She turned toward me with another smile, but wouldn’t look me in the eyes. “Uh, yeah. I’m fine, Tucker. Look, I’m sorry, but I have a lot of important people to talk to. Thanks for coming, but we can catch up some other time, okay?” She finally looked at me when she asked the question, and as I stared at her, I saw nothing of the warm and passionate woman she’d been in New York and her friend Claude’s apartment. “Nikki—” I began, my words cutting off

when Grey Mustache put his arm around her waist. And instead of pulling away, she leaned into him. In fucking front of me. And it was clear by her words that she’d forgotten our plans for afterward. What the fuck? There is too much drama here. I didn’t know who this Nikki was, but I didn’t like her. She was clearly in her element, sucking up to her sycophantic fashion zombies and with that Incredible Hulk guy beside her. I didn’t need to be treated like some kicked puppy or piece of garbage she

wasn’t interested in. Disgusted, I gave her and the annoying dude one last look and took off. I was in the most romantic city in the world. I could do better than this. *** I went back to my hotel room, changed, then headed out. I walked for hours. Finally, I headed toward Notre Dame. I wasn’t religious. I mean, yeah, I’d been raised Christian and still celebrated Christmas with my family but that was more about connecting with loved ones and, let’s face it, the

presents. Still, Notre Dame wasn’t too far from my hotel, so after changing I headed over there. It still had tourists milling around it. I looked up and was amazed by how large it was. I’d seen it on TV and in movies, but seeing it on a screen wasn’t enough to prepare me for the way the spires towered over me or the fact even the front doors were taller than me twice over. Out front stood a crowd of girls. Maybe they were on a class trip or, hell, maybe they were sorority sisters who were enjoying a vacation on their parents. I tried to slip past them. Usually pulling down a ball cap helped keep

fans from mobbing me if I wasn’t in the mood. This was not one of those cases. A tall drink of water with legs that went on for days and a high blond ponytail squealed first and pointed to me. That was it. It was like some kind of call, like when you see birds in nature specials screeching out over the rain forest. “It’s Tucker Benning,” she screamed, and all the girls echoed her reaction with high pitched shrieks. I just barely stopped myself from wincing and smiled. I played the gracious rock star I always had. Hell,

even if Liam eventually got his head out of his ass, we were going to need all the goodwill we could get because a hiatus for three months or a year in this industry? Everything moved so fast that we might as well be starting over from fucking scratch. After I posed for a ton of pictures, the tall blonde was still standing with me. Her sisters or friends or whatever had entered into the church proper to light candles, but she clearly had another mission in mind and with the way she was licking her lips, it would probably be something she’d have to confess afterward. Normally, the way she was

working her bottom lip with her teeth, the soft heat of her breath on my neck? All of that would have led me to invite her back to my place. But right now I wasn’t even half-hard. What the hell is wrong with me? Nikki’s just a girl; there’s a hundred others like her in this city. That’s what I tried telling myself. But I knew it wasn’t true. I had yet to meet someone as wild and as enticing as Nikki Lorenz. So even with this other girl practically mounting me right here and asking if I wanted to grab a drink, I couldn’t say yes. God help me, but I wanted that fiery redhead, and even if

Nikki had more issues than I realized and, possibly, a boyfriend or lover in that grey-haired guy, she was worth fighting for. I was going to go back to her apartment, hash shit out and make her mine. Squeezing the blonde’s hands, I shook my head and offered her all the truth I could. “I’m sorry, but I can’t. I’m seeing someone.” It didn’t take too long to arrive at Nikki’s apartment. I wasn’t sure what I was going to find when I knocked on that door. Hell, was grey-haired guy the friend—Claude, she’d said—who

owned this place? Looked that way. Because after I knocked on the door, there he was: the massive brick wallcome-protector who’d stepped in and helped Nikki while I’d been standing there with my jaw hanging open after she’d slapped that photographer. Narrowing my eyes, I stood up to my full height. It meant the behemoth still had four inches on me, which I hated. “Can I help you?” he asked in English. His words were accented, but it wasn’t French, and I wasn’t sure where he was from. “I’m looking for Nikki.” When he just stared at me, I snorted.

“Dude, you know me. I mean you don’t know me-know me, but you know I was at the opening. I talked to her in front of you. You know that I’m a friend of hers.” “Yes, ‘friend’ being an operative word,” he said. “I’m Hermes.” “Great.” Like I gave a flying fuck. “Is she here?” “Dominique,” he said, enunciating her name with slow care, “is busy having a late dinner with Divine. I’m sorry but she’s too busy for the likes of you.” “Yeah,” I said, shoving my hands in my jeans pockets. Looked like Nikki’s opening had been a success, after all.

She’d wanted support from a celebrity designer and she’d obviously gotten it. And it was just as obvious that Hermes here was a friend who’d been invited to wait for her return. I’d only known Nikki less than twenty-four hours, so I wasn’t sure why the thought of the things she and Hermes would do together once she got back hurt so damn much. It’s my fucking pride, is all, I told myself. And regret that I’d passed on what that blonde had been offering me in front of Notre Dame. Granted, I could go back. See if she was still there. But doing so seemed like too much

effort. On the other hand, it was no effort at all to head back to my hotel and drown my sorrows at the hotel’s bar. I think I chugged down my tenth shot of Vodka before I passed out.

CHAPTER SIX Nikki Last night was such a wash. Despite the drama, I schmoozed with my benefactors, played nice with the models, and charmed Divine into taking me to dinner. The headlines and fashion blogs were mostly focusing on the triumph of my designs but almost all of them offered a parting shot about me slapping the photographer. The nicer ones swept it under the rug or mentioned it as an aside.

Some of the more vindictive tabloid outlets were much worse. The photog hadn’t had permission to be there; security had asked for a permit after her comments and found nothing valid, but only one outlet pointed that out. And she’d obviously bated me with that crack about my ex-lover dumping me for my mom. Yet I was the bad girl. Maybe I always would be, and it was all my own fault. My mother had called. I’d seen her name on my cell phone caller I.D. There were at least five voice messages I knew would be dripping with her usual

disdain and censure. It was the last thing I wanted to hear, especially when I had a show coming up and my reputation was already in tatters. I couldn’t help but remember how freeing it had felt the day before, standing on the apartment balcony, feeling that rush of adrenaline and danger as I hesitated on the edge. And God help me—I wanted to do it again. But even more than that, I wanted Tucker. Jesus, Tucker. I’d been distracted by the photographer yesterday, and, even

before then, I’d been on edge. He’d been so nice. He’d complimented me. Again. And again, I had blown his compliments off. It wasn’t that I didn’t appreciate them but I had years and years of my mother’s criticism ringing in my ears. It was easy to convince myself that I was worthless or a disappointment, the source of all shame for my family. After all, I’d heard that very message on a loop for years. It was something that stayed with you, no matter how hard you fought to find your self-confidence. It was crazy, but it was almost as if the nicer things Tucker said about me, the more convinced I became he was

playing me and going to betray me in a way I wouldn’t be able to recover from. But that wasn’t why I’d blown him off at the opening last night. No, I’d done that because Hermes had recognized Tucker and told me what a bad idea it was to allow myself to be distracted by a rock star. He’d said my mother was already going to hear about me slapping the photographer, so why make it worse? Part of me had wanted to tell him to fuck off, but the truth was, I had already been embarrassed by my behavior with the photographer and seriously concerned by my balancing act on the balcony earlier. Never mind my

mom being pissed that I was hanging around with a rock star. I was more concerned that I was going to drag said rock star down in flames with me, and the truth was, he was too nice a guy to do that. I was a mess, one that Tucker didn’t need when he was trying to figure things out with his band. I’d realized that around the time Tucker had kissed my cheek when he’d greeted me at the opening, and everything that had happened afterward had merely cemented that belief. Only today, by myself, having had a chance to breathe and calm down, I

missed him. I wanted him. Enough to call him even as I ignored the blinking light on my phone that was teasing me about my mother’s (sure to be) vitriolic messages. “Yeah,” Tucker’s voice sounded over the phone. “Hey,” I said, my voice startled but also edged with joy that he’d actually picked up. Yes, it took him four rings before he actually did it, but he could have sent me straight to voicemail so it had to mean something that he hadn’t. Didn’t it? His voice was hesitant on the other end, and I could discern the suspicion in

it. “Hi Nikki. What’s up? Because I was just on my way out—” “Tucker, I’m sorry about blowing you off last night.” Silence. “The event and the photographer… all of it set me off. I treated you like shit.” More silence. “Tucker, will you let me make it up to you?” He exhaled quietly, but the sound screamed his frustration…and his disdain? Panic made my heart beat pick up. Was he going to turn me down? Tell me to take my apology and shove it?

“Please, Tucker,” I said. “Let me make it up to you.” “You don’t have anything to make up to me, Nikki.” “Of course I do. I owe you so much. You came to support me at my opening and you didn’t have to, and your reward was me being a neurotic bitch.” When he didn’t argue with me, I winced, then bit my lip. “Look, meet me out at the Pont Neuf. Have you heard of it?” “No, but…” I held my breath. Please. Please don’t let him blow me off. Please let him give me another chance. “But I can Google or, when in doubt,

ask Siri,” he finally said. “I’ll figure it out.” I let out a shaky sigh of relief. “Good. I’ll see you there. And thank you, Tucker.” *** “It’s beautiful, don’t you think?” I asked, looking out over the expanse of the Pont Neuf. It was the oldest bridge still up in Paris and looked like something out of a castle. It had rounded pillars and was made of cobblestone, resembling something out of a fairy tale. I’d been to

Paris more times than I could count. When I’d been younger, Mom had dragged me here almost as often as her Louis Vuitton luggage. Part of me had grown inured to the beauty of the City of Lights. It was where I worked, where I needed to make the right impression. Still, watching the water slip under the bridge and seeing the sights behind me, even the famous tower not too far behind us, I was taken aback again by the beauty of the city. I had a feeling based on his wide eyes and the look of awe on his face that Tucker was taking it all in as well. “It’s really something. I bet it’d be

even better if we’d come out here at night, seen the city all lit up.” I took his hand in mine, grateful when he let me. “I think we can put that on our itinerary. I have to prepare for my show but I’ll try and be accessible. I just have so many last minute decisions to make and I’m terrified. There’s even more pressure than before because my store opening didn’t exactly go off without a hitch.” “You could say that again,” he added, pulling his hand away and hunching his shoulders. Staring out to the water, Tucker focused his attention there as if he were searching for a lifeline.

It felt harder to breathe, as if something were squeezing my chest hard. Sitting down on the railing, I was seized again by that crazy urge, just like on my balcony yesterday. If I cheated death again, then anything that came after, even explaining myself to Tucker, couldn’t be any harder. Failing that, I’d fall into the Seine, and even if I didn’t make it out alive would that really be that bad…? But that was crazy talk. I couldn’t very well climb onto the railing in front of Tucker. I couldn’t become addicted to what was clearly a dangerous habit. And I couldn’t allow

thoughts of death and dying to become an iota more alluring. I just needed to channel my energy in a healthy way. I had a show coming up. I had to focus. I’d accomplished so much with my designs. The ticker tape and the finish line were looming, and I wasn’t going to just throw myself into the Seine out of desperation. Maybe if my show bombed, I could revisit that idea. “Sometimes, when I’m scared, I act a little crazy. And I’m scared, Tucker,” I admitted, my voice as small and quiet as it had been as a teenager. It was the meek tone I used under my mother’s

interrogations, the voice that was mostly about surrendering. It was all about the weak side of myself that I despised. His eyes met mine and his expression softened significantly. “Of failing?” “Of you. Of how good, how grounded, you make me feel. How much you make me want to believe the wonderful compliments you give me. I know I shouldn’t. You’re a guy who wants in my pants. And you’re so young…” “I’m not a child.” “No, but you’re still a few years younger than I am. I usually date men

fifteen or more years older, established guys…men you can settle down with.” Tucker snorted and I wasn’t sure if I’d cleared things up or wounded him more. Knowing my foot-in-mouth disease, I’d probably done the latter. I never had luck with anyone, but especially men. “We just met, Nikki. We’re about having fun, not settling down.” He sideglanced at me. “Right?” “Of course. Of course. But that’s my point. We’re not about commitment or long-term or forever, Tucker. But I want to believe what you say. I need to. So what do I do when you walk away? How

can I believe anymore?” It took forever for him to sit down next to me, and I was terrified during those long minutes that he wouldn’t, that he’d tell me to fuck off and leave me sitting alone by the Seine. Tucker didn’t. Despite his tattoos and bravado, despite his rock star reputation, he was a good man, and I felt like I needed him. That somehow he could get me through the next two weeks and whatever tortures and vindictive reviews that my mother had waiting for me. He reached out then and wrapped his arm around my shoulders, and I was grateful for his support, even if I’d

already managed to take him for granted. “Doesn’t Hermes make you believe?” I blinked. “How do you know his name?” “I bumped into him at your apartment. I went to see you last night since the opening didn’t really go well for us. So tell me, he doesn’t make you believe?” “He doesn’t.” “That’s because no one can. I can’t either, Nik. You have to believe. And even though we’re not about forever, that doesn’t mean we can’t enjoy our time together. And that I can’t do my damnedest to make you believe in a way

that sticks.” “And how do you think you’re going to do that?” “By making you see yourself the way I see you. As one of the most amazing women I’ve ever met.” I snorted and looked back out at the water. “Oh please.” “No, I’m deadly serious. Nik. You’re talented, smart, hot, a go-getter, not to mention beautiful…who wouldn’t want to hang with you?” As I stared at him, what I’d suspected became utter certainty in my mind. There was something to the rocker,

something deeper about Tucker Benning than the world who loved Point Break knew about. A man this comforting had a deeper, more honest soul than he was letting on. The leather jacket he toted around was his armor, protecting a kind and sensitive heart underneath. I could feel it. I kissed Tucker long and hard, my tongue threading with his, my need for him raw and naked between us. “I’m damaged. I’m screwed up. You should run away from me right now. But I don’t want you to. I need you. I need you so much, and if you let me, I’ll suck you dry, Tucker, and probably not in the

ways you want.” He reached up and stroked my cheek. “We’re all damaged goods, Nik, and I think I’ll take my chances,” Tucker finished before plundering my mouth with his tongue. That was all the motivation I needed to follow him back to his hotel. *** Once we were back at his place, Tucker suggested a shower. At first, I stared at him, all too aware that while we’d gotten each other off, we hadn’t been fully naked in front of each other. Hadn’t

even had sex yet. Where was the lead up? The foreplay? Then I saw the fire in Tucker’s eyes and I understood. We’d been engaged in foreplay since virtually the moment we met, and he didn’t want to wait any longer. Neither did I. I didn’t need lead up. I just needed Tucker. Turning around, I walked toward the bathroom, stripping my clothes off as I went, grinning as I heard Tucker hiss or stifle a groan as I exposed more and more skin. I glanced over my shoulder at him at one point, and his gaze was focused firmly on my ass. “Don’t be long,” I said before

stepping into the bathroom and turning on the shower. I slipped under the spray, reveling in the feel of the hot water running over my skin. The heat on my flesh mixed well with the flames that felt as if they were burning through me, flaring out from my gut. A few seconds later, Tucker opened the shower door and stepped in. I swallowed hard and stifled my own moans upon seeing him. The ridges of his eight-pack abs, the gorgeous way his lean hips bones jutted out just so, and the hardness of his cock towering from between his thighs, already covered with a condom—they were enough to leave

my clit throbbing and every conceivable part of me wet and ready. Despite the confined space, somehow he gave the impression of sauntering toward me with slow, predatory movements, almost mesmerizing in their scope. Then he leaned down and wrapped his mouth around my right nipple, flicking his tongue in a fast, sensuous rhythm over the rigid peak. I moaned, then sighed when Tucker straightened and kissed me passionately, his tongue twining with mine in an intricate dance. As we kissed, Tucker played with my breasts, squeezing softly and pulling at my tight

nipples. I buried my hands in his hair, tugging hard, making him grunt. In response, his hand slid down my taut belly and his fingers ran through my folds before he found my clit. He massaged around it, his touch gentle at first, then becoming more urgent. My breathing became more frantic and I shuddered as the feeling of pleasure became overwhelming. Arching my back, I thrust my hips, urging him to rub harder. To penetrate me. “Please,” I finally gasped out, and it was as if that was what he’d been waiting for, for me to beg, because he immediately slid two thick fingers inside

me. Curling them, he found my G-spot and tapped, and my legs almost collapsed beneath me. Swiftly, he wrapped his other arm around my waist. “Spread wider, princess,” he urged, and I obeyed his command. He worked me like that, alternating between soft and hard touches, alternating between kissing me and sucking my nipples, until with a high cry I came hard on his fingers. He gave me a moment to recover, and then he pulled back, breathing hard, his eyes reflecting his hunger. “I need you, Nikki. I want you so bad.” Urgency edged his voice, and I felt it, too, the

need to feel him inside me. Now. “Take me, Tucker. Don’t wait. Please. Do it. Fuck me. Fuck—” I squealed when Tucker moved fast, proving how wiry and strong he really was. He picked me up as if I weighed nothing at all and steadied me over his rock hard dick, the tip of it nudging against my labia, tickling and teasing it. I was still tingling from my orgasm, my flesh extremely sensitive, and the feel of his cock was almost unbearable. But bear the pleasure I would. I wanted all of him. He backed slowly to the tile wall and leaned against it for support. “All

you have to do is ask, Nik, and I’ll give you everything you need.” “I need you,” I said, leaning down and kissing him, trailing my lips over the line of stubble on his jaw before teasing his ear lobe with my teeth. “Need to feel you inside of me.” That was enough to convince him. He brought me down over his shaft in a quick motion. I hissed when I felt the fullness of his girth inside of me, the sweet completion of his cock within my core. He bucked upwards and the motion hit against my clit, and I moaned. “God yes, just like that.” Our connection spurred Tucker and

me into a rutting frenzy, my lips devouring his, his hand clinging tight to my back and ass, and our hips pounding against each other. He came first this time, and the way he moaned and clutched me was enough to send me spiraling into another orgasm. The force of it hit me hard, and I felt the pleasure spilling out over every nerve—every cell—of my being. It was as if I’d gone supernova. And I loved him for giving me that chance. A minute later, as he helped ease me back safely to the tile floor, Tucker kissed my lips and hugged me tight.

“Was that worth it then, Nikki? Even though we’re not forever, just fun.” I grinned and reached down to trail my fingers over his cock, thrilled by the way it responded eagerly to my caress. “Yes. Fun’s what I want. Fun’s all I need and we’re about to have a whole lot more of it.”

CHAPTER SEVEN Tucker With Nik, I never know which woman I’m going to get, and that was a huge part of her draw. One second, it could be Dominique Lorenz, the businesswoman living in her mother’s shadow—the one with the faraway look in her eyes, and the shadowed gaze who could smack a photographer then freeze me out. The next it would be Nikki, the fun and flirty girl who’d rocked my world in the airport bathroom and has been one of the

best fucks and best times I’ve ever had —and that was true even when she was vulnerable, scared, and telling me I should run in the other direction. Tonight it was Nikki. She pulled up to the front of my hotel on a motorcycle, one of the sleek Ducati models, wearing leather pants that were practically painted onto her legs and a low-cut red halter top that complimented her amazing breasts. There was no way in hell she was wearing a bra tonight, and I was both grateful and already standing at attention. Her red hair flared out around her shoulders. I sucked in a breath. My life and its

mistakes were legendary, especially on the rock ‘n roll circuit. In that moment, I realized my next one was probably the woman riding through Paris congestion and going about thirty miles an hour— fuck kilometers, I can’t convert— without a fucking helmet. That was the reason I figured she was my next mistake —the very fact I noticed she wasn’t wearing a helmet. And how worried that made me. I imagined her getting into an accident. All that beautiful flesh—her beautiful soul—messed up on the pavement. It freaked me out how much it freaked me out, and I quickly shoved the thoughts away.

I wasn’t her dad, thank God, and if she wanted to be channeling her inner hellion, then I was more than happy to help. I walked up to her as she idled the bike. “You have a long day prepping for your show?” Me? I’d spent the day sleeping and then grabbing food at the one McDonald’s I could find. The fancy French cheeses and pastries had gotten old after only a couple of days, and my hung-over ass had been craving fresh grease like crazy. “I wasn’t sure you’d be over.” “I have big plans, Mr. Benning,” she

said, her smile wicked and devilish. My cock hardened even more at the memories of those full, plump lips wrapped around it. Ask her if she’d rather stay in instead, it whined. But my mind, albeit quite reluctantly, dismissed the thought. If she’d been going over stitching and swatches of fabric and, most likely, directing a bunch of assistants and putting out fires, then she needed some time out in the open night air. Clearly, she was aiming for something wild tonight. No one dressed like that if they weren’t out to party. “Then,” I said, hopping in front of her and gripping onto the bike. “Tell me

the where and how to get there, and I’ll take us over.” “You ride?” “What kind of rocker would I be if I didn’t?” I replied. Of course, I didn’t tell her that the first time Liam and I had ridden dirt bikes, I’d broken my femur. It had taken close to a year to heal and my mom spent most of it threatening me within an inch of my life if I ever rode a motorbike again. Of course I’d been fucking hooked. I’d gotten a hell of a lot better and had a few Harleys back home. Yeah, I knew my way around these babies. In comparison to the thrill of riding the

open road with the wind in my hair, booze and drugs could seem tame. On a bike, I could be anywhere I wanted, answering to no one. I liked that about it. Fucking reveled in it. Especially now. As Nikki leaned in to whisper the directions before we departed, her full, pert breasts pushed flush up against my back. Tonight, I’d have my tongue all over them, laving at them and giving them the attention they so richly deserved. “You got it or do I have to help?” she purred.

Grinning, I looked back and stared into her gorgeous eyes. “Trust me, Nik. I’m in control here.” *** When I pulled up to the valet, I snorted at the bar’s name—Sacre Bleu. Seemed kind of old school for what I’d figured would be a hot club. “So, this place is the shit?” Nikki chuckled and licked her lips, making them seem even redder under the lamplight. “It’s a place for expats. The name’s sort of the joke. It’s not authentically French or authentically

anything for that matter. If you want to party, hear good jams, and drink then this is the place. I’ve been coming since I was fourteen and it’s epic!” I tossed the keys to the attendant and whistled a bit as Nikki slipped him a huge wad of bills. I knew very little about French currency, but I could tell that a lot of bills were in that wad, and that the bike was definitely going to be cared for well. Slipping her arm through mine, Nikki led me to the front of the line and grinned back at the massive mountain of a man serving as the bouncer. “Joe, how are you?” she asked.

The man spoke with what sounded like some deep Southern accent. Alabama or Louisiana maybe? “Hey there, kitten. You have a new guy? Oh hey! Aren’t you the drummer from Point Break?” I grinned, always happy when a guy, and one in his twenties at that, appreciated our music. We’d started out with an edgier sound. In the beginning, Liam wouldn’t have known one string instrument from another, so fuck writing songs for them, but our sound had definitely evolved. Hence the reason we’d hired Abby in the first place. “Yeah, I am,” I said, reaching over

and shaking his hand. “Then even if you weren’t with Nik here, we’d let you in, man. Have a blast. The band on tonight isn’t that good but the one we had bailed last minute for a gig.” My smile stiffened a little. “Isn’t it a bitch when rockers change their plans last minute?” Like when he cancels a fucking world tour to spend time with his little Asian Persuasion? “If they let me give a few licks on the drums, I’ll see what I can do.” “Definitely, man, save us from mediocrity,” he finished, lifting the velvet rope. “Have a good time.”

“Always plan on it,” I said. Nikki winked back at him and laid her palm flat on my chest. “How can anyone have a bad time with me, Joe?” “Scratch that then. Don’t do anything a sane person wouldn’t do, Tucker.” “Well no one ever got that out of me before but thanks for the good advice,” I added, stepping into the club and wincing. He hadn’t been wrong. The band on the stage was okay. Mostly a wannabe punk band that tended to hit a wrong note or have too much reverb about every third line. People were dancing a little on the tiny floor space provided, but

most were lounging on the car seats scattered throughout the club. No, not those ones for little kids either, not like booster seats. Leather benches out of old classic cars, huge monsters like from classic Chevys. There were street signs and even hazard lights. The interior of the club looked like a mix of a classic car lover’s wet dream and like an explosion had rocked a city street. Fast and furious with an apocalyptic vibe. “Whoa,” I said, my tone appreciative. Nikki smirked back at me and made a bee line for the bar. “I told you this place was awesome. Most of the patrons

totally speak English, not that most places can’t in a city like Paris, but this place encourages it. No attitude needed. Like I said, expats. They’re the nicest people on freaking Earth,” Nikki continued. I followed after her, admiring the view of her ass and appreciating the massively high stilettos she was in. They were normal black heels so I assumed she was wearing something she hadn’t designed. She grinned at the woman with the electric blue hair behind the bar. “Tilly, it’s been forever!” “It’s been six months, girl,” the bartender answered back. “We missed you. What will you have?”

“A bottle of your finest tequila and two shot glasses.” If the woman recognized me from Point Break, she didn’t say. That made sense. Paris was like LA or New York. A big club like this was going to get famous people (and if Liam’s vacation tanked our band in three months I’d be a lot less famous). The long timers and bartenders or staff who knew how to stay employed were the ones who knew how not to make a big deal out of things. We got our drinks and Nikki nodded to a large and comfy white leather bench seat. I sat down next to her and pointedly

ignored the few women staring my way. For tonight, Tucker Benning was both taken and not talking to the fans. Some nights, you just needed time for yourself, and if Nikki wanted some fun, I was going to give it all I had to give it to her. My saucy vixen poured me a shot and I chugged it down, loving the way it burned down my throat and made my gut feel like it was on fire. It was smooth because it was expensive, but it was a fierce tequila and still had that fire that attracted me deep down. She took her own shot then quickly poured and downed a second. I tightened my grip just a bit on her knee, an

instinctive message to slow down. She stared at me and took a third shot, a clear message to go to hell. Fine. I’d just keep an eye on her and make sure she didn’t get in too much trouble. Hell, wasn’t that a funny thought, a relationship where Tucker Benning, party animal, was the responsible one. Civilization as we knew it might be collapsing outside. If me being the level-headed guy on a date wasn’t a sign of the end of days, I wasn’t sure what was. Maybe dogs and cats living together. Yeah, probably that. “It burns in all the best ways,” she

said. “But I can say that about you too, baby.” “You’re sweet,” I said, lowering my voice to a rumble. She held out the bottle. Part of me wanted to meet her unspoken challenge, my pride unwilling to let a little thing like her drink me under the table early on. Part of me wanted to keep up with her shot-for-shot. But a bigger part of me wanted to stay sober so I could protect her. In the end, it wasn’t a difficult choice. I declined the drink. “This band? Joe’s right. They do suck,” I said, wincing as the reverb hit deafening levels. God, they were going

to kill the amps if they didn’t adjust. “You need to get up there. You have the invite.” “Huh?” I asked, even as she dragged me to my feet. But I didn’t object. I mean, I wanted to be modest, but let’s be honest, with us on hiatus it might be a while before I got on drums and behind a mic again. I usually sang back up. I was no Liam, but I was better than these clowns. Nikki shoved the lead singer aside and got to the mic. The crowd must have been both as drunk and tired of these idiots as we were. They cheered just to have anyone else at the mic.

“Okay guys, get ready. We have Tucker Benning of Point Break ready to beat on the old skins here. So let’s get ready to fucking rumble!” She glared back at the drummer, who wasn’t moving. The blue haired bartender yelled out from across the club. “You’ll still get paid but move your ass, amateur.” When the guy walked off stage, I slipped behind the drum set. Bastards didn’t even keep it in good condition. That pissed me off. One of the things about being a rocker was that you had to be good to your equipment so that it would be good to you. It was scuffed to

hell and the idiot drummer had even tried using duct tape on the legs. I hoped that Sacre Bleu never hired them back. The assholes didn’t deserve it. I held the drumsticks over my head and counted down the beat as well as announced the song, a bit of classic Nirvana that even these morons could thrash to. The song blared to life, and I was lost in the moment, my arms burning the effort, my heart hammering with adrenaline, and the sounds of the drums ringing in my ears. This was why I’d started years ago, and this was what I lived for. I had to have this even if Liam full-out left to settle down with Abby.

He was so nuts in love lately that I wouldn’t even put it past him. I was singing too, and I hoped I wasn’t doing too bad to Kurt Cobain’s legacy. In front, Nikki was dancing on the stage and throwing her hands up. She was shaking that fine ass of hers, and it was almost hypnotic to watch, so damn distracting that I had to focus on the white skins of the drums to keep from missing the beat. The girl looked damn fine, and of course she knew it. I was concentrating so hard on the song, trying to keep my own lust and wild thoughts from outracing me, that I didn’t see it at first, just heard the wild roars.

Frowning, I kept time as I looked out at the crowd. There was Nikki crowd surfing like it was no big deal. I hadn’t seen people do that in years, and I certainly didn’t think debutante daughters of fashion magazine editors would even know how, let alone dare do it. She was making far mileage now, almost pushed by the throng of hands back to the bar. I shook my head as I went back into the chorus. In that moment, I felt my heart open up to her in a way I wondered if I was falling in love. But I couldn’t deny I was a little bit scared that she was wilder than even I was—that maybe I couldn’t keep up.

Hell, that maybe I wouldn’t even want to. This was fun. But it would get old. Making love to her? Eating breakfast on a balcony with her? That wouldn’t ever get old. At least not for me. For Nikki, it might be a different story. A flash of light momentarily distracted me and I lost a bit of the beat and had to speed through to catch back up to the guitarist. Someone was taking pictures. Soon, depending how fast it took to upload, the world would know that at

least the drummer and damn it, one of the other founding members of Point Break, was still rocking hard.

CHAPTER EIGHT Nikki I woke up with my mouth tasting like the floor of a New York City cab, and yes, I know exactly how that tastes thanks to a nasty frenemy in prep school and far too many shots of Petron. I lay frozen for a second, trying to get my bearings. Blinking back the light, I stifled a groan. Judging by the Irish step-dancing team in my skull, I was going to have to down water and aspirin like crazy just to feel normal again. But it had been worth

it. I remembered being out with Tucker and partying hard at Sacre Bleu. He’d been a god on the drums last night and it turned out he was a great singer too. He was obviously worried about Point Break’s future if Liam Collier stepped down as the lead vocalist, but Tucker could totally rock anything they needed. He just needed more confidence. I shifted slightly, smiling when I pressed against something warm and hairy. I pried my eyes open. Tucker was curled around me, his arms holding me lovingly and protectively. It was hard to reconcile the things he’d promised, the

big talk of being just casual, when he was cradling me like this. But I had to do it. I had to remember what Tucker and I were about. Fun times. For the moment. That was all. Still, I stared at him for a long time, taking in his beautiful face and the sexy, lean lines of his body. Finally, sighing, I slipped out of bed as smoothly as I could, grateful he didn’t wake up, and then grabbed my clothes and shoved them on. It was short work after that to call a cab to head back to Claude’s.

*** When I arrived, I found Hermes sitting at the breakfast table, poring over the morning paper and eating a plate of hardboiled eggs and fruit. As I found out on the night of the boutique opening, he had a key to Claude’s place, too, something my mom had apparently asked Claude for “in case Dominique needs us for any reason.” What she’d really meant was “in case Dominique messes up again and I need to send my lackey Hermes over to her to get her back in line.” Because that’s what Hermes was. Anna Lorenz’s

lackey and my part-time babysitter when my mom so chose. And if I wanted my mom’s support with my shoe line, that’s what she chose. I wished I could be stealthy or invisible, find any way to sneak past the rat bastard who had regularly been the bane of my existence, but it wasn’t like I was Harry Potter with some mystical cloak. Although I did have some amazing stilettos. That should count for something, but they didn’t help me at the moment. “Well, well, Dominique, how nice of you to finally show up.” “It’s only ten and I wasn’t aware we

had an appointment today. And I’d really appreciate it if you wouldn’t just let yourself in while I’m staying here. It’s rude.” “Not as rude as you acted at the opening when you slapped that photographer.” I pressed my lips together as my head started to throb even more. “I don’t want to talk about that.” “Fine. How about we talk about the fact you reek of liquor and smoke, and obviously spent the night with, I’m guessing, a certain rock star?” “I don’t need a caretaker, Hermes.” “Your mother disagrees. So do I. If

you could control your baser nature and your temper, then I wouldn’t need to come around,” Hermes reminded, his tone as measured as always. “I don’t have to do everything my mom wants. I’m almost twenty-seven years old. I don’t have to listen to any of you. I took out the loans for the business and I’m doing well despite her constant criticism. I don’t need you and I don’t need her.” “Are you done yet?” he asked, his tone both grave and serene. “No!” I shouted, and I hated that my voice was rising, but I couldn’t help it. I watched as he typed on his phone, and it

was obvious he’d already relayed my rash behavior to Mom. Rage coursed through me, and for a moment I wanted to go berserk. Throw things and shout. But then I thought of Tucker. And surprisingly, I felt myself calm. Tucker didn’t think I was a fool. He’d been kind to me. He thought I was amazing and he had faith in my talent. That knowledge, just like at the Pont Neuf, was like a steadying hand to the maelstrom of emotions swirling inside me. “Look, Hermes,” I began, my voice steadier and calmer than it had been. “You know that she’ll be at the

fashion show,” he said. I blinked. “What?” “Your mother will be at your show.” “She will? But why? She never comes to my shows herself.” Normally she just sends her assistants. “She wants to support you. She cares about you and your career, Dominique. She really does.” He said it with such sincerity. His tone combined with the news that my mom was actually going to make the effort to attend one of my shows left me disoriented and uncertain. When I remained silent, Hermes stood, wiped his mouth and hands with

his cloth napkin, then softly kissed my cheek. “I’ll tell your mother you’re pleased she’s coming. And speaking of you almost being twenty-seven, I’ve set up a celebratory party for you at Jules Verne, and have invited the best of the best. It all came together after the disaster of your opening night. I figured it would help put things back on track. Plus, it’s your birthday. A true reason to celebrate.” I stared at Hermes. His voice had softened and he seemed to be looking at me with true affection. I had to admit it felt nice that he’d gone to the trouble of organizing a party for me. That he was

trying to help me in spite of everything. “That’s very nice of you, Hermes. Thank you.” He nodded. Then, continuing to surprise me, he softly kissed my cheek. “I’ll text you the details. In the meantime, stay out of trouble, okay?” *** After Hermes left, I took a long shower and brushed out my mop of red hair that tended to get frizzy after long nights out. I brushed my teeth three times and guzzled mouth wash. Then I got to work. Call me a fool, but Hermes’ news

that my mom was coming to see my show to support me had filled me with pleasure and a resolve that this time I wouldn’t let her down. I’d prove to her that I have what it takes to be a success in my own right. I went to work with my team, happy with the progress they’d made. That afternoon, I delivered some shoes that were set to be highlighted in another designer’s show. The retro ‘80s theme complete with neon colors complimented the architectural platforms I’d designed. They highlighted the pinks and greens of the tulle skirts phenomenally and gave it all a surreal funky feeling.

I loved it, and I couldn’t wait to tell Tucker. I was enjoying talking to some fellow designers at the after-party when I excused myself to find a bathroom. That’s when I overheard Francois LeBeau, the head editor of one of Paris’s premiere fashion magazines, speaking with a group in a corner. The words he uttered cut into my heart and soul as cleanly as a samurai blade: “Jean-Michael has put on another miraculous show, except for using shoes from Nikki Lorenz. Everyone humored her for a while about her designs because who wanted Anna’s wrath? But,

really, there’s no need for designers to throw themselves on a pyre like this. It’s completely ridiculous. She’s a hack, and if the community weren’t so scared of Anna’s ire, they’d admit it too.” I backed away from the palm fronds separating me from LeBeau and his cronies. Most of them were hangers-on and sycophants, but LeBeau was very well-regarded not just in Paris but throughout the world. If he felt my designs sucked and all the extremes were awful—things I sometimes worried about too—then maybe they did. Hurrying out of the after-party and out into the street, I didn’t even have a

plan. All I did was keep walking. Eventually, through the cold and frustration, I found myself on the Pont Neuf. I tried to remember my time with Tucker. His words. How wonderful it had felt being with him. Instead, what shoved itself into my brain most was how I’d stood on the railing of Claude’s balcony. How scared and reckless I’d felt. How relieved and grounded I’d felt afterward. I didn’t want to be scared anymore. I didn’t want to be reckless. But I did want to feel centered and at peace.

CHAPTER NINE Tucker I spent the day after Sacre Bleu in my hotel room, sleeping and recovering from my night out with Nikki, and trying not to feel pissed that she’d snuck out on me this morning and I hadn’t heard word from her since. I knew she had things to do. Work to attend to. And me being pissed at her for doing that made me worse than a clingy chick. What was wrong with me? I’ve been known to love and leave more than my

fair share of women. Since when did a woman’s independence bother me rather than relieve me? So she’d left without sharing breakfast with me. So what? I should just be happy that Nik and I had the kind of night that would make anyone jealous. But the fact was, I wasn’t. Shit. One day after telling her we were about fun and nothing else, it suddenly dawned on me why I was feeling so out of sorts with her for sneaking off. I did want more with Nikki. At the very least, I wanted more than just being ding-dong ditched come morning. No, that didn’t mean I was

ready for long term, or for wandering the world for the rest of my life with one girl the way Liam was with Abby. Fuck, Nikki and Abby couldn’t be less alike. Yet… There was something bubbling up between us and, as nuts as it was after just a few days, especially for someone like me, I wanted her to feel like she could wake in my arms and not be weird about it. I wanted her to be the first face I saw in the morning, at least on nights when we slept together. No, I wasn’t talking exclusivity or moving in, not yet, but I just didn’t want to wake up to an

empty bed either. That wasn’t too much to ask, was it? Maybe it was because I obviously had my own pride to deal with. I could have texted her at any point today and I hadn’t. All because I wanted her to need me too. Pissed at both of us and supremely confused, I grabbed lunch and headed out, hoping the fresh air would clear my head. Soon, I found myself heading toward Pont Neuf. It made sense I’d be drawn there since I’d been there with Nikki. The girl had an impressive ability to haunt my mind, no doubt. But was haunting what I needed? Maybe this was all too much for the

both of us. Bad timing given Nikki’s responsibilities with her career and my worries about mine. Maybe I should head back home to LA, and stop whining, even if it was in my own head, about what Liam was doing to Point Break. Hell, there were four of us in the band. Even if Liam ended up leaving, there were avenues to explore and organize. What was the alternative? Just letting it all go? No way in hell. For a moment, as I contemplated it, it was what I wanted to do. Go back to LA, where things were simple, at least when it came to where my head was

with women. Because let’s face it. This thing with Nikki and me wasn’t bad timing just because of her business responsibilities. She was clearly dealing with hardcore shit. With her slapping that photographer and harboring some serious resentment for her mom, there was train wreck written all over her, and that wasn’t my problem. I was drawn to her, and I liked her, but I had my own band in tatters to think about and a life back in the States. I’d go to her show first, of course, but then I should go back home. If she were interested in things after that, then she could always track me down. Maybe

she wouldn’t. Maybe, like me, she’d rethink the wisdom of the two of us hanging out together. Last night had been a blast, but it had been relatively mild on the party hard scale. I was no one’s saint, and two sinners thrown together would and could create Chernobyl levels of mess and confusion. But man, with Nikki, images of burning and exploding were a fucking temptation as much as a warning sign. It was probably a sign of how obsessed I was with Nikki that as I walked on the bridge, I thought I saw her. There, a woman with wild red hair, standing on the fucking wall. The only

thing keeping her from plummeting into the water below was her balance. At first, I was sure it was some kind of hallucination. That it wasn’t possible. Then the woman turned and looked at me, and I’d have known those bright, desperate eyes anywhere. It was Nikki. Shit, she was going to fall! I sprinted toward her, summoning speed I almost only used to run from screaming fans when cornered in hotels or venue alleys. Reaching up, I yanked her down into my arms, confused as fuck when she pulled against me, as if she wanted to be up there, just dangling above the Seine.

How nuts was she? “What are you doing?” Nikki snapped, finally breaking free of my grasp but simply backing away instead of trying to hop back onto the railing again. I wasn’t sure if my heart could have taken the stress if she had. “What am I doing?” I barked back. I’d just saved her from hospital bills and a lot of broken bones if she’d hit the water at the wrong angle. Why was she so mad? She should be thanking me. If she’d nosedived, then it would have ruined her chances with her show and so much more. “You’re the one trying to

jump off a bridge. What the hell, Nikki?” She stilled then but her eyes continued to bore into mine. Maybe that was another reason I was so attracted to her. I was used to women who kowtowed to my every wish, ones who just wanted to giggle at the right moments and please me, whatever the fuck that meant. The groupies who wanted just one more night of backstage passes never challenged me. With Nik, I had to work to break through her walls. “I wasn’t jumping. I just like to stand and balance on ledges sometimes.” “Okay,” I said lamely, even though it was so not okay. My heart was pounding

and the adrenaline would be pouring through me for hours to come. When I tried to go to sleep tonight, I’m sure I’d still see Nikki precariously balanced on the railing of a fucking bridge. Fuck, what would have happened if I hadn’t come by? If she’d lost her balance? I just didn’t want to go there even if my mind was playing everything out in 3D. Nikki crossed her arms over her chest. “I was a gymnast as a little kid, until I was about nine or ten. I feel better when I balance. I get on the edge of things and it literally changes how I think; it makes me feel stronger and more confident.”

“And what if you’d slipped?” “I wasn’t going to slip.” I started to pace. My fingers twitched, and I was jonesing for a cigarette too. That would have to come later. Right now? Right now I just needed Nikki to understand she meant a lot to me, and that playing games like that on the damn Pont Neuf was dangerous. Maybe that bitch Anna Lorenz wouldn’t care if her only daughter was hurt in an accidental fall, but I sure would. “I don’t understand why you’d do this. Is this because of the pressure from your show?” She blinked. “No, of course not. I’ve

had shows before. Yeah, I know this is my biggest one yet, believe me I know that, but I’m not suicidal. I’m not some crazy bridge jumper. I just needed a minute to think. I wanted to feel like I could really let go. Before you showed up and with the wind through my hair, I did feel like that, totally.” “I was keeping you from a back brace,” I countered. “I just don’t buy it. You say this is your shot at having freedom or feeling better, but you were risking your life up there, Nikki. Nothing, not your show, certainly not the fact your birthday is coming up, is a reason to risk your life!”

She stiffened, and I knew I’d hit a nerve with her, gotten through at least some of her walls. Her shoulders slumped and the bravado faded from her face. “I—I know that. It’s just, it helps me think.” “And?” “And, okay, I do feel more pressure than ever. I wasn’t going to just jump and hurt myself, but I was upset and I couldn’t figure out a release.” “Why were you upset?” She blinked rapidly. “I loaned some of my shoes to a designer to be featured in his show. And…” “And what?”

“Some asshole editor hated my collection, said that it’d be better if the designers stopped humoring me in some backwards bid to please my mom. He said I had no talent, and earlier, Hermes told me my mom was coming to Paris to support me, and she’s never showed up at one of my shows before.” “Never?” She shook her head, looking for all the world like a vulnerable, scared little girl. Fuck her mother, I thought. “God, Tucker. I’m more than halfway through my twenties, and I’m trying desperately to be more than a laughing

stock. I don’t even know if I’m doing that right or not.” “You are doing that. You’re amazing, Nikki.” “Well tell that to Francois LeBeau.” “Francois LeBeau can fuck off,” I answered, cupping her chin with my hands. “So some snot-nosed ass editor was being catty. He’s probably jealous because your shoes are cool and they look like art. I mean, I don’t know how someone walks in them but heels were never my style. You don’t need everyone’s approval. You can’t have it. No one can.” “No, but I need to succeed. I’m not a

kid anymore and I’m so sick of being Dominique the Disaster!” “It’s going to be okay,” I offered, wrapping my arm around her shoulders and pulling her in closer to me. “Look, let’s go to your place and pick up a few things. Or is Hermes still there? Was he waiting for you this morning?” She swallowed hard, and looked back at her hands. “He’s mother’s lapdog and her channel to directly spy on me. He has a key and he apparently thinks he can come and go as he pleases.” “Then come stay with me.” Her head snapped up. “Really?”

“Really.” “Are you sure? I don’t need to be saved. Contrary to what I said at the airport and what just happened, you’re not riding in here like some white knight.” I snorted because the idea was ridiculous. I was far more the devil on someone’s shoulder than the angel, that was for sure. “I’m not trying to save you, just help you. We’ll grab your stuff and we’ll hang at my place. It’ll be alright. You’ll have me there, and if that’s not enough, then hey, there’s room service. You can’t beat that.” She chuckled and kissed my cheek.

“I guess I can’t.” As we headed back to her place, arm-in-arm, I had no idea what I was getting into. A sane man would go back to LA and not make himself the unofficial guardian of a girl who was rapidly turning into a hot mess. But I’m me, and I’ve never been overly sane, and Nikki did need my help. Unfortunately, I think I lied to her. I think there is a part of me that thinks I can save her. And even as I pull her closer to my side, I’m aware that chances are, she and I, individually and as a pair, are probably doomed.

CHAPTER TEN Nikki It was a miracle that I was able to get Tucker to wait in the lobby, but if Hermes was indeed back in Claude’s apartment, I wanted to avoid more drama. On the walk over, I’d felt the tension pouring off Tucker and the way I’m feeling, I can’t deal with Tuck and Hermes getting into a pissing contest in front of me. I was way too wired and dismayed over the fact Tucker had seen me doing my balancing act on the Neuf

and had been genuinely freaked out that my life had been in danger. And I suppose it had. I felt bad for scaring him. I felt weak for doing what I’d done. I had gone out to the Pont Neuf for the relief that balancing gave me. However, the longer I’d balanced there, the deeper the pull of the Seine had become. It had terrified me, that siren call to jump to the water below. I don’t think I would have drowned if I’d fallen, but the drop was high enough to break my back if I’d landed wrong. It had been such a stupid thing to do. All kinds of thoughts were swirling

through my head, including the fact I was a loser and should leave Tucker to live his life in peace. But I didn’t want to do that. I wanted to do what he’d asked, and go back with him to his hotel, and spend the night making love and talking and getting to know him better. Since that’s what he clearly wanted, too, I was going to let it happen. But then I’d give long hard thought to my next move, and whether I should cut Tucker loose, not for my benefit, but for his. When I opened the door to Claude’s apartment, I was greeted once again by the sight of Hermes sitting in my love

seat and skimming over his tablet’s newsfeed. “Why are you back? I thought we were done here?” “Hello to you, too, Dominique,” he said. “I came back because I remembered something I needed to talk to you about. How was the show?” “It was fine,” I lied. “I thought the shoes were a good compliment to his work.” At least that wasn’t a lie. But in my mind, I could have designed shoes that went just as well with his designs, but didn’t compete with them so much. Shoes that were less about shock and flash. But every time I’d brought up that

idea, my mom had told me I was just getting lazy. Wanting easy praise instead of wanting to work for the true accolades. “Anyway, I’m just here to grab a few of my things. I promised my friend Tucker that I’d spend the next few days with him.” Hermes arched his eyebrow at me and it was odd to notice his grip on his tablet tightening. His cheeks grew flushed red and, it felt crazy, but I was beginning to pick up jealous vibes from him. That was nuts. He’d been Mother’s spy for almost ten years. Almost a father figure given he was almost fifteen years older than I was. I’d always thought he

and my mom had gotten together at some point because he was so handsome. He had that George Clooney or Sean Connery rugged and salt-and-pepper look going for him. I’d just never been attracted to him. No, what I was sensing was jealousy had to be about control. I just had to make clear that the one wielding the control here was me. “So you’re going off with that rocker of yours.” “That’s right. But I’m also going to be working. Tucker is fully supportive of that.” “I’m sure he is,” he said snidely.

“And what does that mean?” I asked. “That he’s got an agenda. His band canceled their international tour. Probably didn’t have enough ticket sales and now he’s looking to capitalize his image and that of the band by tying his coat to yours.” I burst out laughing. “Oh God, you’re incredible. Point Break is one of the biggest bands in the world. It’s not like I picked up some wannabe off of the Sunset Strip. The last thing they need is publicity from me. And they didn’t cancel their international tour because of low ticket sales. Believe it or not, it was cancelled because the lead singer is in

love. Do you know what being in love is like, Hermes?” “Do you?” he shot back. “Is that what this is about. You think Tucker Benning loves you?” “Of course not. I just met him. We’re —we’re just having fun together. What’s wrong with that?” He seemed to relax slightly. “Nothing. But his way of relaxing? Booze, drugs, and groupies. The last thing you need when you’re working so hard on establishing your line is bad press from hanging out with rocker gutter trash.” “Tucker has a great effect on me.

Maybe it’s hard for you to understand, but he calms me down.” Hermes shook his head and turned his tablet to me. It was too small for me to see from here, not with my glasses away from me. Frustrated, I inched closer and wanted to scream when he revealed a link to a page. Of course it was recounting our previous night’s fun at Sacre Bleu: Troubled Designer Crowd Surfs for a Packed House I did have to admit that whoever had captured my leap from the stage on their cell, whoever had sold the story off to begin with, had gotten a great shot. It was full of vibrant motion, of me hitting

the arms of everyone assembled without too much fanfare. I would have given my leap an eight out of ten, easy. “Does he really calm you, Dominique? It looks like you’re back to your old partying ways and the rock star probably has everything to do with it.” “It’s not like that. And even if it is, so what? We had fun. He’s not a bad influence on me. I made the choice to take him to Sacre Bleu. He’d never been, hadn’t even heard of it.” “And that’s him calming you?” Hermes demanded as he scrolled to the left. Other images popped up of us

trading shots at the bar and of me dancing on stage. I was so glad in that moment that one of my most famous drunk habits hadn’t come back last night. I’d always loved flashing people when I got drunk enough, and, if you added in a stage, it really was a miracle that my goods weren’t front page news on every blog on the planet. “You know what it looks like to me?” Hermes continued. “That there’s something you need to pontificate on?” I said, my tone clipped and frustrated. “That you’re trying so hard to promote your shoe line, and now the

biggest press so far is you at a bar stage diving like it’s 1999.” “You of all people should know that a picture isn’t the full story!” I ground back, my pacing faster than ever before. I was so tired of everyone expecting things of me. Mother merely expected me to fail, and I was terrified that she was right on that score. Tucker wanted me to take care of myself, when I wasn’t sure I could. Hermes wanted… I wasn’t exactly sure what he wanted. “Did you show this to Mother?” I demanded. “Is this another report to file so that she knows what a fuck up I am.”

“No, actually, I haven’t forwarded the link to Anna. But you do know how it looks. Even if your line ends up being a success.” “It will be a success,” I said, storming into my room and not caring if he followed me or not. I had to shove my clothes in my suitcase. The fancier stuff, the actual dress I’d wear the night of the show to compliment my own shoe choice, I could have sent directly to me. Anything that would speed up me and Tucker getting back to his place and away from Hermes’s overbearing presence would be a blessing. “I don’t need this,” I added as I shoved jeans,

silk blouses, and underwear into my bag. “Maybe you do. I care about you,” Hermes replied. “I care that you have a good reputation intact by the time this trip is over. I care that you’ve put your soul into your store and your line. I do care, and it has nothing to do with your mother because she doesn’t know about this. At least if she does, it’s because she found it out on her own. I don’t tell her everything.” “You don’t?” “I didn’t tell her about the photographer at your store opening. She called me once she’d gotten an email from someone else.” He sighed and

reached out to stroke my cheek. I froze then because his touch was completely unexpected. It was gentle and kind, but it wasn’t paternal. I wasn’t so dense that I couldn’t feel the tenderness there, the desire and want burning underneath everything else. “I don’t want to do anything but protect you, Dominique. Why can’t you see that?” I stiffened for a moment before snapping myself out of whatever spell he was casting over me. I couldn’t do this. I had Tucker waiting and a show to prepare. There was no way that Hermes after a decade was finally making a move, and even if he was, I’d never

thought about him like that. Why not? He’s definitely hot. I pushed that voice away even as I reached for my suitcase and picked it up. Tucker would be rushing up from the lobby soon if I didn’t get back, and then we might get complete Thunderdome action between them. I didn’t want Tucker strung up. He might be able to handle himself in a bar fight but Hermes was both sitter and guard. He’d been trained in quite a few disciplines of hand-to-hand combat. He could mop the floor with anyone and that look in his eye, that voracious hunger, told me that he might just be tempted enough to try it

with Tucker. “I need to get back to Tucker. I want Tucker, Hermes.” “Maybe you just think you want him.” He leaned lower and I could feel his breath on my cheek. He smelled of designer cologne as well as a bit of cigar smoke, an old habit that he’d never quite kicked even if I hadn’t seen him smoke since I dropped out of college. I looked back into his gleaming eyes and at his strong jaw, and it hit me then, how long Hermes had been in my life. Years and years. And because of that, he knew me. Maybe he even knew what was best for me.

I’d only known Tucker for a few days, and while he cared about me, he’d made it clear we were just about temporary fun. He was a rock star, for God’s sake, and soon he’d get back to being a rock star. Then where would I be? Without him? Did I really want to be without Hermes too? Frightened at the thought of being abandoned and alone, I reached up and touched Hermes’ cheek. Maybe instead of thinking of Hermes as my enemy, I should think of him as my protector. Hermes was solid like a rock, like a huge wall that would be a bulwark

against all the chaos. He’d been larger than life as long as I’d known him, always there to dig me out of a crowd or offer safety. He lowered his head as if to kiss me, but I abruptly pulled back. I couldn’t. I wouldn’t. Not with Tucker downstairs. But once Tucker left—and he would leave—maybe things would be different. “I need to go, Hermes. But once the show is over, once everything in Paris is over, we’ll talk, okay?” He stared at me, understanding glowing in his eyes. Somewhat reluctantly, he straightened, but then nodded.

“We will definitely talk,” he said. I gulped at that. It wasn’t exactly a threat, but it was an uncomfortable statement of truth. I nodded, then headed out the door. If I stayed, then I might never leave, and I wanted Tucker more than I wanted this, at least for now. Tucker was excitement and comfort, while Hermes was stability. It wasn’t lost on me that he’d also be the one man I got involved with—if I got involved with him—that my mother would approve of. Maybe he’d be good for me in other ways, too. Maybe I did need an older gentleman to protect me and guide me on my path, but as much as I tried to

wrap my mind around it, my heart rebelled. Hermes might be a smart choice, but he wasn’t my choice. Not now. Right now, I was headed to someone who excited me and made me feel good about myself in the here and now, flaws and all. Tucker was still pulling me toward him, like a massive sun in orbit, and I wanted that. The calm he left me with was real and not some petty illusion. But it was also temporary and I had to accept that.

CHAPTER ELEVEN Tucker Nik didn’t talk much on the ride back to my hotel room. I didn’t mind. She stayed curled up at my side in the taxi and the feeling of her soft, warm body flush against mine was more than enough to keep me happy and satisfied during the ride. I figured that dealing with that Hermes guy was hard for her, when what she really needed was peace. But was peace what I could give her?

I wasn’t sure what I was doing with her. I knew that I wanted to help her and that despite what she’d said, some part of me was channeling my inner white knight and hoped to save her. That wasn’t me. Sometimes I’d have a girl a second or third night in a row, but I hadn’t had a real relationship since high school. Why limit myself, right? Then I’d seen her. And more importantly, Nikki Lorenz was more than just a hot good time. She was a woman wearing her heart on her sleeve, who was literally balanced on the edge. Things started to change for me when I saw her dive off the stage. She had a

wild, free spirit and I wanted to help her make the most of it—without letting it consume her. She could tell me pretty stories all she wanted about how balancing made her feel alive, but no one would do that without at least seriously considering the prospect of being hurt or killed. I don’t know what would have happened if I hadn’t been there, but I felt it was at least even odds that someone would have been fishing her out of the river. I truly believed that. So she needed me. And if she didn’t want to talk on the way to my hotel or go over whatever

bullshit Hermes had to say on behalf of the Wicked Witch, that was cool by me. Frankly, I didn’t mind having her soft body pressed up against mine, not in the taxi, and not when she leaned on me as we took the elevator to my room. I figured she’d be wiped. That she’d want some rest. But I could tell from the way she was already nibbling on my left ear lobe that while she wanted to use the bed for a variety of things, sleep wasn’t one of them. I was definitely on board. Blood was flowing fast to places other than my brain, and I could feel the denim of my jeans growing tighter.

Nikki moved from my ear down the line of my jaw, her kisses feather-light teases, promising me so much more. I reached down and cupped the curves of her ass, enjoying the feel of her soft flesh between my fingers. Nikki squealed a bit and kissed my lips, her teeth grazing over my bottom lip. I shivered as I guided her into the room and then immediately started walking to the bed. “So I was thinking we might try something different tonight,” she teased. I laughed. “Yeah? Well, I’m definitely up for anything you want, Nik.” She grinned back at me and pressed

her hips against mine. “I can feel that.” “I bet you can feel a lot,” I said, leaning down and kissing the hollow of her throat. “But we can do whatever you want. If you just need to sleep, I understand.” She shook her head and grazed her fingers over my torso, her nails digging through the cotton of my t-shirt. My cock jerked and I moaned. “I know what I want, Tucker, and I need more right now. Let’s not talk.” “I—” She leaned up and bit at my lower lip again. “No, I’m calling the shots here. Get on the bed and enjoy it. I don’t

need my head shrunk tonight.” I knew by now not to fight Nik when she didn’t want to talk. The woman could be a total brick wall when she wanted to be. Besides, she was sexy as hell as she shimmied out of her clothes, revealing the black lace bra and matching panties underneath it. I wanted her, and she wanted me, but I knew what we wanted most wasn’t physical release. It was a true connection. Connection. Grinning back at her, I curled my upper lip even as I stripped down to nothing as well. “So, what are you going to do with me, Nik?”

“Everything I want,” she replied. “Now, seriously, you don’t have to talk.” “Maybe I like to mouth off.” “I want that mouth doing other things,” she said, pulling down her underwear and exposing those soft curls at the apex of her thighs to the moonlight all around us. My mouth went dry at the sight of her, at all those soft curves and perfect pale skin waiting for me. She reached behind herself and unhooked her bra and I licked my lips upon seeing those lush breasts of hers. “Now, get ready, Tucker.” I sat on the bed, my back against the

headboard, and wrapped my fingers around my dick. “Oh I’m ready for you, baby.” She slipped onto the foot of the bed and then crawled across it, and it was like watching a jungle cat stalk her prey. She was all control and focus, the muscles of her arms and legs rippling as she crept closer. My tigress was going to pounce, and it was going to be everything I’d ever wanted. After quickly suiting me up with a rubber she produced out of nowhere, Nikki straddled my hips but didn’t press again the part of me that wanted her most, not yet. She was teasing me, the bitch, and I

had to admit that I was loving every minute of the slow burn. I could feel her thighs against mine as well as the wetness coming from her, telling me how ready she was for me to fuck her. Reaching up, I covered each of her dusky rose-colored areolas. I loved the feel of her soft mounds, of the pebbling of her nipples under my palms. I leaned up and let my tongue lave at her breasts, tracing a pattern over the left nipple, feeling it grow to a hardened peak under my efforts. She mewled and then repositioned herself, sliding slowly onto my cock. I hissed at the heat of her, at how welcoming she was. My tongue

increased its rhythm even as I began to rock my hips, but I felt her hands on my shoulders. “No,” she purred. “I’m setting the pace.” She lifted herself up and down quickly for a nice, hard fuck on my dick. “Just like that.” Every moment with Nikki was unadulterated pleasure and the last thing I wanted was to discourage her or to stop what was happening between us. She rode me hard and fast, her thighs slapping furiously against mine as she moved. Her breathless cries grew in intensity as her pussy tightened around me, and suddenly she was shaking in my

arms with her release. I moved my attention from her nipples to her neck and trailed my teeth gently along the ridge of her clavicle, the taste of her salty slick skin making my balls tighten and need surge through me. Her nails scraped against my back, the final bite of pain and pleasure that I needed to come, shaking beneath her as she continued moving up and down, as if she was riding me for all she was worth, determined to milk every last drop of come from me. Maybe she was. It seemed to be what she needed to forget whatever bullshit had tried to follow her from Hermes and her mother.

After our bodies had settled and our breaths had calmed, Nikki slid off of me. Quickly, I disposed of the rubber, then returned to bed, where she curled up against my body, and I wrapped my arms tightly around her. “Is there anything else you need?” “No, just don’t say anything. I just need to feel.” I couldn’t resist the opening she’d given me. I flexed my hips and poked against her, relaxing as she giggled and I kissed her temple. “Sure, it is possible for me to be quiet.” She didn’t speak for a moment, and then she said, “Actually, I changed my

mind. I don’t want you to be quiet. I just don’t want to talk about anything.” I frowned. “Come again?” “Would you sing for me, Tucker?” Her request shocked me, and I felt my instinctive resistance. It wasn’t that I couldn’t sing, but I was usually back-up vocals even if I helped write a lot of our songs. “You heard me sing at Sacre Bleu, remember?” I’m not sure what I meant by that, just that I was stalling and had to say something. She nodded and caressed my chest. “I know. But I want to hear your voice again. Something sweet and personal.

Please,” she said, her voice quiet. My mind ran through a bunch of possible songs and stopped on a ballad I’d been working solo on, something I’d hoped to play for Liam and suggest we incorporate into our next album. After only a brief hesitation, I started off a low, mellow lilt. Nikki smiled and snuggled in closer to me, then closed her eyes. Bit by bit, her breathing slowed and her muscles relaxed. Soon, she was asleep. She looked so damn vulnerable and sweet, yet even in sleep her passionate nature and vital energy couldn’t be completely hidden. Her red hair was

tousled everywhere and fell over her pillow in a messy way, a very visual reminder of the fire that burned inside her. And the fire that stirred within me whenever I was near her. God, I wanted to help her, but I had no idea how to do that. I wasn’t sure that fucking her until she passed out was the right therapy she needed. I just knew that I needed her not to fall off a bridge or hurt herself, that I wanted her to get through the next two weeks in one piece no matter what her mother and her stooge kept putting her through. I’ll try and protect you, Nikki, but

you need to help me out here. Stop doing the craziest shit you can. Turning over onto my side, I curled my arm around her and prepared to sleep, as well. However, my cell phone started buzzing on the nightstand. Carefully, I slipped out of bed and grabbed the phone, glad that Nikki didn’t even stir. She needed as much rest as she could get. Checking my caller ID, I was shocked to see the caller was Liam. He hadn’t emailed or texted me in almost a week after all. I pressed the talk button and headed into the living room. “Hey, Liam. Do you know what time

it is?” “It’s only eight p.m., dude, what’s up?” “On the east coast,” I countered. “It’s two a.m. in Paris.” “Shit, man, that sounds awesome. What are you doing there?” “I’m actually not sure,” I said even though I hadn’t intended to be that honest. “How about you? What are you and Abby up to?” “Abby? Not Asian Persuasion?” I shrugged. “She’s your girl and I need to respect that, right?” “Uh, right.” I could tell I’d surprised him. He cleared his throat. “Anyway,

we’re in upstate New York seeing some of the falls and enjoying private times at the cabins here. Still, you side-stepped my question, man, what are you doing in Paris?” “Um, I met someone at the airport. Nikki Lorenz.” “Nikki…? You mean that fashion chick?” “Shoe designer.” “Whatever. Isn’t she supposed to be a hot mess?” “She’s not,” I defended. Sure, Nikki had some stuff to deal with, but none of that was Liam’s damn business. “She’s great, man, and you’re hardly one to

judge. You ran off with our cello player.” “And it’s been the best thing I’ve ever done. Can you say the same for Paris?” In all honestly, I couldn’t. Not yet. Because I didn’t know how things between me and Nikki were going to end. “Liam, it’s okay. I got this. I just… Hey, when are we going to be in the studio again? Do you know?” “Well, I want to get Abby settled into her own place. Then there’s her audition in September. How about—Shit, sorry. Abby’s calling me for dinner. I have to

go, Tucker. You and I will talk later, okay?” “Yeah but when?” “Soon, I promise. In the meantime, enjoy Paris. And your girl.” “Liam—” I said, but there was a click and the line went dead.

CHAPTER TWELVE Nikki “You know, at least people liked the Mona Lisa. I bet that Da Vinci didn’t have to worry about people making fun of him or shitting all over his designs.” “I guess not, but he wasn’t making art you could wear,” Tucker said. I sat down beside him and looked at the crowd huddled around the surprisingly small frame of the Mona Lisa. “Maybe, but I think this week has done more to prove my mom right than

anything else.” Tucker frowned but didn’t say anything. What could he say? Over the past week, I’d loaned shoes to four designers for their fashion shows; twice the response to my shoes had been lukewarm, and twice downright disdainful. I had my own show coming up in a week but considering how badly my shoes had flopped on four different runways, I was expecting a massive crucifixion—all witnessed first hand by my mother, who’d probably smile at me the whole time to really rub it in. I was dreading it so very much. A protracted death by a firing squad I

couldn’t avoid. “I wouldn’t have thought it,” Tucker said suddenly. “What?” “That you’d have such a thin skin. You’ve got to toughen up, Nik.” He side-eyed me, which should have clued me in that he was deliberately baiting me, but of course I fell for it. “Excuse me,” I said, my voice a deadly whisper. “You don’t know how I feel.” The instant the words were out of my mouth, I regretted them. Because… “I think I do,” he countered, smirking back at me. I swore that grin should be outlawed.

That expression should be illegal in all fifty states because it made it incredibly easy for Tucker Benning to talk anyone into anything. “Look,” Tucker continued. “We had a shitty sophomore album, sold out a lot to the studio and almost came up with a boy band sound. We got raked over the coals pretty damn bad. We had tweets hating on us, our forum crashing, all the hate mail you can imagine. I know exactly what it’s like to have people shit on something you worked hard on. And come on, your stuff is hardly mainstream.” “But that’s not what high fashion is

about. My designs are pushing the boundaries. Establishing new frontier.” “Is that from your site?” he teased, his eyes twinkling back at me. “Your pending PR material? You don’t have to sell me that your shoes are intense,” he said gesturing to the ones I was currently balancing in. They were from the new line, of course. The shoes were black leather and adorned with silver-plated studs on every conceivable inch. They had a rounded body like a clog but then slid down to concave platform heels. It was only four or five inches, not the backbreaking eight I could sometimes pull

off, but they were as intense as anything else I created. They were what the world was expecting from me. “Then I don’t understand how you can see them and get it but the Paris fashion scene can’t.” “You make your stuff for the people who love it, not the ones who don’t. Just try to remember that.” “I guess,” I mumbled. Tucker stood and took my hand in his. “Hey, let’s keep going. I want to see more of the Louvre than crowds anyway. I’m sure you can show me a good time.” “That sounds like a come on,” I replied, snorting a little but leaning my

head against his shoulder anyway. “Sure, we can go to the sculpture section.” As we walked, I was silent for a minute before saying, “I just…I want to be someone good. No, that’s not it at all. I don’t want to just be ‘good;’ I want to be legendary. I want people to think of shoes and my name is literally the next thing that comes to mind. I want to…” I stopped then. I couldn’t tell even Tucker the next part. That all I wanted was for my mother to respect me, too. That I wanted to make my past up to her. We strode into the main collection of busts and statues in the Louvre, which began with the ones from the ancient

Greeks. “Hellenistic” was the word I learned back in high school. I only remembered it because it made me think of Helen of Troy and how much I wished in high school I could be like her, shed that awkward period and launch a thousand ships. “But maybe you need to mix things up and not try as hard,” Tucker said. I frowned. That wasn’t what I wanted to hear. Of course, if I’d wanted some passive yes man at my side, I wouldn’t have started whatever this affair was with Tucker at all. I liked his lack of restraint, that wild side of him that called to my own.

“Look, Nikki, I think you’re this amazing and elegant woman. Your designs are kickass but some are overthe-top. What if you pulled back a little on some of them? Made them less like stilts. Take off a few studs,” he said, gesturing to my shoes. “But this is my calling card. Being extreme, pushing boundaries.” “Yeah, but does it represent who you are? In your soul? Because from what I know of you, it doesn’t seem to. I mean, you’re fun as hell, wild and passionate, but you’re classy and down-to-earth, too. Where’s that in your designs? Point Break got reamed because we were

trying to be something we’re not with our sound. You’re doing the same thing. You have this amazing, classy eye and you’re just creating something so over the top that it doesn’t match you at all.” “You can’t know that,” I countered, wandering through the rows of massive statues, the white marble dwarfing both of us. “I’ve worked so hard to be different, to have an edge and not just be a crowd-pleaser.” “I don’t think that going simpler is necessarily about being a crowd pleaser.” I shook my head and stopped at a statue standing on a pedestal about two

feet off the ground. Reading the plaque, I smiled to myself. It was “Winged Victory of Samothrace” and the brass placard mentioned that sometimes it was called Nike, like the goddess of victory and, well, now one of the most famous shoe brands in the world. Still, this might be the closest to actual victory I’d ever get, just standing besides its statue. It didn’t seem very victorious now because while you could see the body in her flowing white robes and the massive wing spread out behind her, the head and arms were gone. A battered victory. Probably the best I could hope for.

Impulsively, I slipped off my shoes and set them on the stand in front of the statue’s feet. Giggling, I looked back at Tucker. “See, someone likes what I’ve created.” He pulled out his phone and took a few flash pictures and inspired me to do the same. “Nice. A famous model in the Louvre posing with an original Nikki Lorenz design.” “Excuse me, Madam,” the nearest guard barked at me. He was a thin, reedy man with a huge mustache, bushy and outdated. “You can’t just put your shoes there.” “Just a sec,” I said, and continued

taking pictures. “I’m serious, Madam. You have to stop now and you have to leave. We also don’t allow flash photography. It dulls the paint on the portraits and on the statues.” Tucker touched my elbow and reached for my shoes with his other hand. “Look, we don’t want any trouble. We can move on over.” The guard nodded. “At least your friend seems to understand.” Tucker held out my shoes with a grin just as a bored-looking teenager looked over at us. Suddenly, she squealed, an ear

piercing shriek that made me wince. “Oh my God! It’s Tucker Benning!” It was like in the comics when someone turned on the bat signal. Instead of a mad rush of cops and reporters, however, a throng of teenage girls appeared out of nowhere to rush us, all of them shrieking at decibels that made my head hurt. I was going to have the biggest migraine. As I watched, the girls and even some of their moms started surging forward. “Crap!” I shouted as I reached for my shoes and felt Tucker yank on my arm. “I think the party’s over!” We rushed out of there, weaving

through the crowds before we made it out the front doors and kept running. I made the mistake of looking back behind me once and saw a surging sea of women and girls screaming and rushing for us. Tucker ducked into an alley as fast as he could and yanked me up against a wall. He was breathing hard even as he held me and I felt his breath, hot and fresh, against my cheeks. Leaning close to him, I whispered in his ear. “So does this happen to you often?” He shrugged. “Let’s just say I’m used to holing up to wait out the storm.” “Oh?” I say, my voice still low even

as I blew a little on his ear. He shuddered, and I was having far too much fun teasing him. It was too easy where Tucker Benning was concerned. “Are you saying you don’t ever let yourself get caught?” “Mostly I like to do the chasing. But variety is the spice of life.” “Hmm. You like variety, huh?” I asked, my voice more of a purr than anything else. He brought his head lower and kissed me, his tongue playing skillfully with my own. “I like you,” he said. Reaching down, he cupped my hips then boosted me up.

I wrapped my legs around his waist and felt his erection pressed against me through the fabric of his jeans, a promise of all the things that would come tonight when we were back at his hotel. I couldn’t wait…only I was supposed to be doing something tonight… Tonight. Tonight! “Shit,” I said, resting my forehead against his. “What is it?” Tucker asked. “I forgot about my birthday party tomorrow night. Officially the big 2-7. I wanted to shop for a special outfit tonight.” I bit my lip, then said, “Do you feel like helping me pick out a dress or

are you still busy ducking your loyal legion?” “Will you try on things tight and red?” I laughed, pulled him closer, and kissed him silly before pulling back. “I think that can be arranged.”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN Tucker I like women. I mean, obviously. That said, I’m not the kind of guy who usually sticks around to cuddle. I’m definitely not the guy who will watch a romantic comedy with you or the person you should take home to mom. Hell, I didn’t do relationships—and that meant shopping with a woman was definitely not something I was used to. But Nikki had a way of making me say yes to things

that I never would have before. She made me want to say yes. Which is how I found myself in the middle of a boutique in Paris just as the sun was setting, playing with my iPhone as I waited for her to come back out from behind the dressing room curtain. It wasn’t that the hours didn’t drag by. They definitely did. However, the few minutes in between, where I got to see Nikki in her dresses with slits, tight fabrics, and even the playful hints of leather, were awesome. And they were making my pants so tight that it should be a crime what she was doing to me.

The damn minx knew it too, knew how to tease me until I’d be begging for anything she was willing to give. I was scared of the amount of power she had over me already, how much I was changing for her, but, at the same time, I couldn’t stop myself from falling for her. It was just too easy. She was like this tornado. Sure, she tore through places and destroyed things, but that was part of her appeal. Nikki was as spirited and fiery as her red hair, and she was playing with all of that passion this afternoon in the store, picking dresses she knew would leave me screaming for more.

This next number was no exception. She pulled back the curtain and smiled back at me, biting her lower lip and waiting for my response. “So, do you like this one?” ‘Like’ wasn’t even close to the word for how I felt about it. I fucking loved what she had on. It was a red mini-dress, one that was cut high on her thighs. It was made out of some fabric that hugged every one of her curves and was sleek but sexy. I couldn’t tell what I loved more--the way the neckline dipped almost criminally low over her cleavage or the creamy expanse of her thighs. Maybe I didn’t need to choose.

“You’re fucking amazing, Nik.” She pouted a little, those lips of hers encouraging dirty thoughts in my brain (not that my brain needed much help). Still, I wanted those lips around my cock and I wanted them there now. “That’s all?” she asked, twirling around again, and my cock jerked at the welcome sight of her rounded and firm ass. God, this woman was killing me. “Well,” I said, sauntering into the changing space and pulling the curtain closed behind us. We were both rich and famous, so screw it. If the attendants weren’t happy with what we were about

to do then they were just going to have to live with it. “I think the most important part of a new dress is seeing how it looks crumpled up on the floor because that’s how I intend to see it next, Nik.” She grinned. “Not for the threethousand-dollar price tag. I’m not tossing this on the floor for you. But I have other ideas.” “Do tell,” I said, grinning. Smoothly, despite the sheer tightness of the dress, she slid to her knees and unzipped my jeans. My eyes rolled back in my head as if they’d made their own decision to do it. Maybe they had. I wasn’t in control of myself right now. I

had Nikki Lorenz guiding every move, and I wasn’t upset about that. I wanted to feel everything, to let her control every sensation. She was worth the wild ride she gave. Her fingers reached in and cupped my balls. I shivered at first feeling them on me. She brought her other palm up to her hand and gave it a quick lick, and the sight—in addition to the fact my cock was rigid before her, already dripping with precum—made me feel like I was about to lose my mind. I moaned loudly when she wrapped her wet fingers around my shaft. The first few movements were slow and subtle, just a

hint of her soft skin against my own. But then she began to move faster, the urgency in her hands as obvious as the urgency in my dick. My balls tightened as she massaged them, passing them expertly between her thumb and forefinger; her other fingers tightened on my shaft and it was heaven, that friction working over me, the feel of her skin all around me. I thrust into her grip, trying to do anything I could to enhance my pleasure. Then she brought her mouth to the head of my cock, her soft, full lips wrapping as easily around my dick as I’d imagined. I groaned in pleasure as

she started laving her tongue over my head. Then she squeezed my balls just tightly enough and I found myself coming as she swallowed all of it. I was amazed at how skilled she was as it, that she didn’t spill a single drop. Afterward, when I was leaning against the wall of the dressing room, my legs feeling like Jello, she stood and grinned back at me. “I had to make sure we didn’t ruin the dress.” I groaned softly even as I tucked myself back where I belonged. “But you’re still getting the dress, right?” I asked, zipping myself up. “It’s definitely a hit.”

She nodded. “If it gets that kind of reaction. I’m getting one in every color.” I couldn’t argue with that logic. *** “I’m not sure I’m an escargot person,” I said an hour later at dinner, crinkling my nose at her appetizer. After we’d bought her dress, we’d headed to a restaurant she knew of that was out of the way, one far from the touristy section of town and a place we were both less likely to be recognized or harassed by fans and photographers. I’d ordered some chicken and green beans.

It wasn’t that I minded trying the treats and delicacies that other cultures had to offer. Some of the crazy shit Japan came up with, like aloe soda, was great, but snails? I had my standards and something I could see crawling out of the garden wasn’t it. “You never know what you’ll like in your mouth if you don’t try it,” she said pointedly, and I instantly recalled the feel of her blowing me in that dressing room, then swallowing every shot of cum I gave her. Jesus. “I’ve tried things all over the world but I don’t do anything in shells or with

more than four limbs. I think those are good standards. I guess I’m just a regular guy after all.” She snorted. “Right. Point Break’s been famous for a few years now. You have personal assistants and managers and lawyers and all that stuff. I know you must.” “True, but I’m basically the same guy I was when Liam and I started the band in high school.” Even as I said the words, they rang false. I wasn’t the same guy I’d been even last week, before I’d met Nikki. This trip to Paris, being with her, it had changed me, or maybe it had just completed a change that had been

steadily happening over the years, but one I’d been fighting with all my “Tucker the Fucker” bullshit. I mean, I was still young but I was getting older, and that was a good thing. Staying the same would be boring as hell, wouldn’t it? With life came experiences that couldn’t help but make you grow as a person, and I felt like I’d been growing, even more so after meeting Nikki. Because I suddenly realized that all that I’d held dear before meeting her? Not the music, but the partying and drinking and fucking around with different women? I hadn’t missed it. Not one bit since I’d been here. And

to be honest, the thought of going back to all that after leaving Nikki—well, it kind of made me feel sick to my stomach. It was a realization, but it was a damn heavy one. Like a motherfucking ton of bricks heavy. I stared at my plate, paralyzed by the feeling that my life had seriously just changed. And when I lifted my gaze, knowing that the change involved the gorgeous woman sitting across from me, I didn’t know what the hell I was going to do. Nikki was staring at me, as if waiting for me to respond to something she’d said.

“I’m sorry. What did you say?” “I said, it would have been fun knowing you in high school. I’m sure you were a total blast.” “Nah, like I said. I was just a regular Joe Shmoe. I can be obnoxious. I can be an ass. But I graduated into all of this when we went platinum. I never want to forget where I came from or how hard it was to work my way up. Snails or not, lawyers or not, I’m still just Tucker in the basement deep down, and that’s how I’m always going to feel.” “Do you think that Liam feels that way?” she asked. “Yeah, I do. Liam’s a great guy.

Fame hasn’t changed him one bit.” “But yet you said he’s putting the band in jeopardy. Making decisions that could affect you all for his own selfish reasons.” “Yeah,” I said, leaning back in my seat. “But those selfish reasons aren’t about fame. They’re about love. They’re about his girl, Abby, and I guess, now that I’ve cooled down...” Now that I’d witnessed first hand the crazy things I could do or feel for a girl, I thought. “Well…” I shrugged, then suddenly grinned. “I guess a part of me admires the guy’s dedication. Fuck, where love’s concerned, you got to go all in, right?”

Her gaze dropped to her water glass and she skimmed her finger over the rim. “Right,” she said quietly. As I watched her, she suddenly looked sad. Why? Because I’d mentioned love? Because she wanted that kind of love, too, and hadn’t been able to get it, not even from her own mother? Or was she worrying about the show again? Fuck, she didn’t really talk all that much about her stress to me, but if I wasn’t here, would she even have anyone to talk to? “Have you ever thought of getting therapy, Nikki? To talk things through with someone? Your stress? Your mom?

The…balancing thing?” She shrugged, but her mouth flattened and her expression became mutinous. “It’s just, you always push the limit and it’s not just your designs. I mean with the photographer—” Her head snapped up. “If I didn’t push the limit, Tucker, you wouldn’t have finger-fucked me in an airport bathroom. And you’re the last person that should be lecturing me on acting wild, rock star.” Well, okay. So obviously we weren’t close enough to go there. I guess she’d put me in my place, didn’t she? “It doesn’t have to be about

comparing which one of us has fucked up the most,” I countered. “I’m just worried about you and I think that getting some professional help wouldn’t be a bad idea.” She rolled her eyes. “I tried therapy once. You know what it involved? Using pool noodles to hit foam targets as a way to get out ‘unconscious anger’ at people in our lives who were bothering us. I mean, it was like one step above punching a pillow. I didn’t need it.” “Okay, so that was one place. Maybe there’s someone better who can actually help. Just be another support for you.” “Look, Tucker, you’re not here to

babysit. I have Hermes for that. I have you for fun and because you make me feel safe and alive. Can’t we just be about that? Because you said it yourself, fun is all that we’re about. Right?” She shifted, and suddenly I felt her leg playing with mine under the table cloth. “We don’t need to talk about the hard stuff right now, Tucker. Let’s save the hardness for later when we can play back at the hotel. We’re out in the City of Lights, enjoying the best food Paris has to offer.” “I guess you’re right,” I said. If she wasn’t going to listen or open up to me, there wasn’t much I could do about it,

right? Suddenly, the realization that Nikki had changed me and that she was somehow pivotal to my life taking a whole new direction dimmed. The fun she talked about us having— the fun I’d talked about us having— seemed like nothing more than a disaster waiting to happen. I wiped my mouth with my fancy cloth napkin. I felt tired all of a sudden. And I felt ready to go home. I’d stay for her birthday party tomorrow night and her show, but then I’d head back to LA That way, both Nikki and I could get past the fun and get on with our lives.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN Nikki Zipping up my dress felt like a slow form of torture, each bit of the metal teeth closing up the side of my body, as if sealing me into a coffin from which I couldn’t escape. I didn’t want to go to the farce that was my twenty-seventh birthday party. It wasn’t thirty, thank God. I didn’t think I could stand a landmark birthday like that right now. I mean, there was still a chance that in three years my life would be awesome.

Right now, I wasn’t sure that I’d ever be able to get past the reputation that was dogging me. I was on edge. I could admit that. The more pressure from the shows and the press I felt, the more anger bubbled up through me. I wanted to control it, but it was getting harder and harder to cope. I was going to the party to appease Hermes, but I feared it was going to be a cluster fuck. I didn’t have any friends left. Not really. I’d driven everyone away with my spectacular meltdowns over the years. I’d indulged my deepest, most ravenous instincts, and that had led all of us to pain. If I could walk away

from my life, I would too, but I couldn’t. The only person who’d be there that I truly felt comfortable with was Tucker, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that I’d said something the night before that had changed things. I’d felt a part of him withdraw from me, and it had caused me to panic. I’d wanted to cling to him, and the more I’d wanted that, the more I’d forced myself to step back. I’d grown too reliant on Tucker. Too needy. He’d obviously sensed that. I needed to take advantage of whatever time we had left together, but I also had to wake the fuck up. I was here to further my designs, and so far he was right. I’d let my thin skin

and the trash talk by the designers and the press throw me off course. I’d let Tucker throw me off course, too. Because the truth was, all the time I’d been spending with him could have been better spent working with my team and creating buzz about the show. But I’d never regret spending the time with Tucker. When he went back to being a rock star, hopefully taking the spotlight and singing some songs the way he wanted to, I’d revel in the memories we’d made together. Sighing, I brought my gold necklace, the one my dad had given me, to my

throat. It complimented the scarlet of my dress and I reached into my closet for a pair of shoes to highlight the whole look. I hesitated over a pair of supple leather black pumps I’d made. They were more relaxed, a lower stiletto that didn’t make my feet ache. Tucker’s words about my extreme designs not fitting who I was ran through my head even as I settled for gladiator sandals that were almost eight inches high and with ties that wrapped up my calf and shin. I wanted to be able to wear more quality designs, ones made for function and not just to be buzzed about, but that

wasn’t my brand. It wasn’t what I could afford to do right now with my show coming up. Everyone associated Nikki Lorenz with the extremes of fashion, and I had to be avant garde at all times, even if it exhausted me to do it. Once I’d won over the critics, then I could make some changes. Say what I really wanted to say. I just wasn’t sure what that was anymore. I’m not sure I’ve ever known. “Dominique, are you ready?” Hermes asked, setting his hands on my shoulders. Usually he towered over me, but with my heels on, we were far closer in height. It was nice to wear the massive

platforms and go from five foot five at best to almost six feet. That was the one thing about extreme fashion that I enjoyed. Maybe it gave me more of a level playing field. Then I looked into the mirror and saw his eyes crinkling back at me and realized what bullshit that was. He was ruggedly handsome in a Cary Grant kind of way. He wasn’t Tucker, with his lean body and cut abs and gorgeous green eyes and wicked smile, but he also wasn’t leaving anytime soon. Hermes had tried his hardest to keep me safe even with me doing my best to screw my life up. I could find it easy to

just listen more to him, let him lead my life and protect me for as long as he could stand me. Maybe that’s what I should do. “Who did you even invite?” I asked, teetering a bit on my huge heels. He kept rubbing my shoulders, trying to calm me. “All the right people. It’s about appearances, Dominique. You don’t have to worry about a thing. I’ll take care of you just like I always have.” He kissed my cheek. I stilled and tried hard to remember what I wanted, who I wanted and, for right now, that was still Tucker. He was excitement and connection, while Hermes was just the

security, that predictable path that might offer comfort but didn’t offer much else. The difference between them was similar to the difference between your favorite sneakers and your best pair of heels. Both were a key part of your wardrobe and both could be comfortable, but only one of them made you feel every inch the woman you knew you could be. I pulled away and rummaged for stud earrings, just to have something to do, but he wasn’t deterred. “I’ve planned dancing afterward. Perhaps you can save me a dance?” he said.

It was getting harder to swallow and, beyond that, even harder to balance the two men in my life. “I’ll think about it.” *** Le Jules Verne was one of the premiere restaurants of the city, and you couldn’t beat the real estate. It was nestled part way up the Eiffel Tower. From outside the huge banks of windows, one could look out and spy the skyline for The City of Lights as well as the very steel girders holding up the whole edifice. It was a striking view made even more breathtaking by the orange-rose glow of

the setting sun. The small tea light candles on each table added to the effect with their flickering lights. When I stepped into the restaurant, I smiled at the collected throng of critics, sycophants and other designers who greeted me. Some big names I never would have counted on being here had shown up. A few were kind enough to kiss my cheeks and gush over me, which really surprised me given my shoes hadn’t been a big hit at the previous shows. I was feeling happy that perhaps the evening wouldn’t be a total disaster when I spotted the reason everyone was being so nice to me.

In a far corner, near a table set to overflowing with drink selections, was my mother. I inhaled a swift breath and looked accusingly at Hermes. He was looking at my mother with a frown, as if even he hadn’t known she would be here. I’m not sure I believed that but… I turned back to my mom. Anna Lorenz had never been more than a size two in her entire life. I envied her ability to deny herself more than a couple protein shakes in a day and a salad. High fashion didn’t allow as many curves as my size six and Anna Lorenz was high fashion incarnate. Gulping, I steadied my

shoulders. There was approved press here, and it was my duty to play nice with my mother, to smile and kiss her cheek. Besides, she’d made plans to attend my show to support me. Maybe she’d decided to come early as a show of love on my birthday. I was halfway across the restaurant and poised to engage with the dragon lady when someone coughed behind me. Tucker! I grinned at him, definitely underdressed in jeans and a logo t-shirt. Flinging my arms around him, I relished the way his lips felt on my own, the way his tongue tangled deftly with my own.

“I was worried after all the tension at the restaurant last night that you wouldn’t come.” “Hey, my cougar only turns twentyseven once, right?” I giggled, actually feeling the tension and stress and anxiety seeping out of me. “It’s not that big an age difference, so try again there, Point Break.” “Fine, but I couldn’t let you run the gauntlet here without someone cheering in your corner. I needed to be here for you. Do you want me to go?” I felt my mom’s pointed gaze already burning into my back. The last thing I could take would be losing my support.

He was the crutch I needed to get through the night. “No, I don’t want you to go, but you might want to run after I tell you that my mom is here. In the corner. I have to go talk to her right away. It’s what everyone’s expecting.” “Is it what you want?” he pressed, concern brimming in his eyes. “Because I could monopolize your time quite easily if you let me.” “It’s what I need to do, and that’s what’s important,” I countered, wishing I could take the out he was offering me. Kissing his cheek, I smiled back for him as broadly as I could. “It’s fine. I have

this.” Now that you’re here. Snaking through the crowd was hard, and felt a little like I was walking to my own execution. I smiled down at my mother. She was shorter than I was, barely five feet tall and built so birdlike. Her shoes were heels but nothing like the skyscrapers I wore. Her cold blue eyes, so like glaciers, stared back at me and her sharp chin was pointed like a weapon in my direction. I bent down and hugged her as tightly as I had to, not too much, just enough to be a good shot for the cameras. “So,” I said, keeping my voice as low as I could in the vain hope my words wouldn’t be

spread to different magazines and news outlets. “How are you, Mother?” “Disappointed, but that’s not new. I suspected your designs would become a passing fad and looking at reviews so far, I might be right.” I felt an immediate spark of anger light up my chest and resolutely shoved it down. She was right, after all. The buzz about my shoes had been disappointing. “My own show hasn’t happened yet.” “You keep going to clubs and running away from Louvre guards, and I’m sure it won’t make a difference,” my mother replied, her tone cold.

What? How did she know about the Louvre? I glanced around for Hermes. Had he followed me? When I didn’t see him, only caught a glimpse of Tucker with his back to me, I turned back to my mom. “I wasn’t running from guards. Someone recognized a friend of mine and…” I trailed off when she scoffed. “Right. Your friend the rock star with Point Rupture. The one you went with to Sacre Bleu?” “Tucker Benning is a talented singer and songwriter too, and it’s Point Break.” “He’s still a bad influence. You

know how rockers are, and I bet it was his idea to drag you to the club and get you drunk and acting ridiculous.” I pulled away from her and my hand was already snaking out, clamping around the neck of a magnum of champagne. “He balances me.” She waved her hand dismissively. “You know who balanced you? Us? Your father. But he’s dead and gone, and no rock star can replace him. If he has to be dead, at least he doesn’t have to see how you’re returning to your old ways.” “I’m not returning to my old ways. And even if I was, can you blame me? Look at all the nasty barbs and whispers

you send my way! Daddy…daddy loved me. He always encouraged me. But you’re right. He is dead and gone, and you blame me for that. You’ve always made that clear,” I said shakily, trying to keep my voice down but knowing I wasn’t doing the greatest job. A flash went off somewhere close by. I couldn’t handle it anymore. I wasn’t sure if it was my imagination or not, but I heard the whispers of disdain, the disapproval burbling through all my mother’s so-called friends, her nearest and dearest. Still gripping the champagne bottle, I whirled and ran. Storming past Tucker, I rushed out of Le

Jules Verne and headed for the elevator.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN Tucker I was behind Nikki, and that was what was scaring the ever-loving shit out of me. She caught the elevator first, and I had to stand there waiting for a second one to come my way. I felt like some idiot living out a huge joke just staring at my cell phone screen and counting the minutes until the damn elevator came back down to the level with Le Jules Verne. It had been almost four minutes since Nik disappeared and I knew that

was more than enough time for her to do something nuts. When the elevator finally arrived, I headed up after her. Mixed in with my panicked concern for her was a little voice telling me that I should get away from her as fast as I could. I cared about her, more than I had about any woman in my life, and it was all so sudden and so fast, but she also seemed set on selfdestruction. The elevator climbed slowly up the tower and I heard the ding ringing out around me. I leapt off the elevator and what I found was even crazier than I’d

expected. There were shards of green glass everywhere from where Nikki had obviously hurled the champagne bottle at the guards as a way to distract them. Now she was already balancing on a metal ledge of the Eiffel Tower, dozens of feet above the cobblestones and tourists below. I got it then, why the guards weren’t surging forward. They were scared of what she’d do. Now Nikki basically had all of us hostage. If we moved in too closely, she might actually jump. At least with the Pont Neuf there’d been a small chance she would hit the water correctly and live. Here, if she slipped over the

railing, she’d be a pancake. Okay, so we’re in France. She’d be a damn crepe. The thought made me realize more than anything else that Nikki had driven me over the edge of sanity. Holding up my hands, I inched as close to her as the guards were and called out her name. “Nik? It’s Tucker, and we need to talk about this. You know you don’t want to jump. You know it’s not the way you want things to play out.” She didn’t turn around, but she did look back at me, her red hair whipping around her face in the breeze. I was scared the winds would pick up, that

she’d be pushed over. I just had to get her down before something awful happened, before there was no going back. “Tucker, you should go back to the party. I’m sure Mother and Hermes ordered the best pastry chef in Paris to make my cake. You need to enjoy that, maybe even pick up one of Mother’s interns. You know, one of the normal girls.” A huge part of me wished I could do just that. I wasn’t about emotional baggage and Nikki Lorenz had a whole damn airport’s worth of it. But if I turned my back now and she was hurt… It

would happen, and I couldn’t let it. Looking back to the guards, I gave them a quick nod and they let me step closer, let me get nearer to her. “I don’t want to do that. I don’t want to go back to the party at all, not if your mom is going to upset you.” “Then you still don’t have to worry about it. I don’t need you to watch my every move.” “You need someone to make sure you don’t jump off bridges and towers, apparently,” I replied, and I knew that my volume was rising but I could only keep my frustration down so much. “Nikki, just get down from there and we

can talk this out back at my hotel, okay?” “Really? Or are you just talking me down to be someone else’s problem?” “I don’t know!” I said, throwing my hands up in the air. “Honestly? I have no clue. I know that I don’t want to get sucked in, and that everything with you is like sinking in quicksand. I promised myself just fun and no commitment and here I am trying to save you from yourself. You know you need help. Damn it, you have to know this, Nik. I just don’t want to be sucked down too.” Her eyes blazed back at me. “You know it’s too late, right? Too late to help me.” She sobbed. “Do you know my dad

died of a heart attack, Tucker? When I was still partying and drinking and being a fool? My mother told me once that I was the reason. That I drove him to an early grave with my antics. God, it’s probably true. And if it’s true, how will I ever find peace?” “By knowing your dad loved you. I heard you say it in the restaurant. And you didn’t cause him to die. It was just his time. But it’s not yours, Nikki. It’s not.” She said nothing and I moved even closer. “Is that what the balancing is all about, Nikki? You blame yourself for

your dad’s death?” “I don’t know what it’s about anymore. But I want it to stop. I want to get away from here. I want to think. I want…I want to go back to your hotel room, Tucker, like you said. Can we do that?” “Yes, princess. Yes, we can,” I said, relief sweeping through me. She started to spin around, to try and face me with her body too and she screamed as she slipped. I lunged forward then, hoping I wasn’t too late. I was. But she fell backwards instead of

forwards, tumbled instead onto the floor of the tower. I ran toward her and picked her up in my arms, wishing I could literally fly her out of here before the others showed up. The guards started surging forward but by now Hermes had finally gotten up here and was talking to them in rapid fire French. I figured he was giving whatever bullshit lines he needed to about “Do you know who this is?” and keeping it all quiet for the benefit of the Lorenz family. I didn’t care. My heart had stopped seeing her stumble. If luck had worked out the other way,

she would have smashed into the pavement below. Game over. I had no idea what I was doing anymore. She’d stormed out of her own birthday party and thrown a heavy ass champagne bottle at the rent-a-cops on the Eiffel Tower. She’d almost killed herself. It was completely batshit insane. “Why the fuck would you even do that!” I gritted out as I marched back to the elevator. Luckily one was already open and I strode inside. When it was moving, I set her down and hit the ‘Stop” button. Then I saw the cut on her leg, probably from where a bolt on the tower had torn into her calf. The cut wasn’t too

deep, but it was bleeding. I tore off part of my shirt to wrap around her leg. She’d hurt herself, and if things had gone any differently she’d have done a lot worse. It wasn’t just about her, and about what she wanted. I cared about her, damn it, and I didn’t want to lose her like that. “Are you completely fucking insane?” “I don’t know. Maybe I am. I just needed to feel something.” “So you got on a ledge. What does that even prove to you?” “It makes me feel alive,” she said, tears running down her face. “It makes me feel like I have some control.”

Her shoulders were shaking as she sobbed, and I wanted to hold her close to me, to promise that nothing bad would ever happen to her on my watch. It was those stupid white knight tendencies. I couldn’t save her from herself. She needed to face the fact she was her own worst enemy before I or anyone else could help her. “There has to be another way to feel alive that doesn’t include endangering your life.” She stopped shaking and glared back at me, her eyes as angry and resentful as they’d been before she’d slipped. “I am not suicidal.”

“You’re not?” “No, of course I’m not. I just…it’s like cutting. Most of my life, all I’ve felt is numb. When I get into fights with Mom, it’s so different. It’s like after the shows this week. All of it makes me numb inside but, worse, it causes all these voices in my ears. All I hear are the doubts and the nastiness, all I can concentrate on is the criticism. When I do something daring like this, it makes me alive, shakes me out of it. I just need the doubt to stop. I need to feel.” I pulled her to me and kissed her, not sure about what the fuck I was doing anymore. Who was I kidding? I’d thrown

out the road map the second I’d bought a ticket to Paris. Besides, I could be pissed all I wanted to but Nikki had a point. I was trying not to get drawn into her orbit, telling myself that I couldn’t get sucked in, but I already had been. The minute I’d found her on the Pont Neuf and dragged her down from it, I’d gotten caught in all of it. I wasn’t sure if there was a way to escape, and I wasn’t sure if I wanted to. All I knew was that we needed out of this damn party and away from all the people who pressured her more. I wasn’t sure how to keep Nik from falling apart or even if that was my job,

but I knew she’d never seem even halfway sane with that ass Hermes and her bitch of a mom hovering over her. I pulled her closer, supporting her. Her calf wasn’t bleeding as badly as it had been, and I was hoping that it was mostly just a scrape. I hit the button on the elevator to get it going again. “I’m so sorry, Tucker. I know I fucked things up. You should leave for your own good,” she said, sniffling a little and trying to hold back tears even as she raised her chin. That was my fiery redhead, trying to be so strong even when her pain and fragility was written all over her. She was right. I should

leave her. Right here and right now. But I couldn’t. Not yet. “I’m confused, Nik, but I have an idea. Let’s get out of here. After all, it’s still your birthday for a few more hours.” *** It was hard to concentrate as we made our way to the spot I wanted. My mind was running over all the crazy shit that had happened to me in the last few days. It was almost impossible to wrap my head around it. I had no idea what the future was for Point Break. I really

didn’t. Liam had dodged talking about even returning to the studio, let alone resurrecting the back leg of our tour. Maybe the band would get through it and come back together or maybe Liam would stay on vacation forever, I didn’t know, but I still had a lot of ideas. If I had to build a new band for myself out in California, I would. Hell, maybe it was time to step out of the shadow and do vocals too, not just be the writer and back-up vocals. Maybe it was a biased jury, but Nikki had liked the song I’d sung her the other night, the softer side of me. I had options if I went home.

Of course, if I was blamed for the injury or death or even downfall of Dominique Lorenz, then that might not be true. I wouldn’t be able to explain a real swan dive to our manager, Robbie. Even if I couldn’t actively stop Nikki from hurting herself no matter how hard I tried, I’d get the bad rap. I was the rocker, even if Nik was wilder than any woman I’d ever met before. I wasn’t even worried about that. My reputation was one thing, but it was worse to think of what could happen if I wasn’t around. She might fall the wrong way next time, even with me here. I didn’t want to watch someone I cared about die, but I

was scared shitless that if I left she’d crash even faster. Nothing made sense, nothing was a good choice. Leaving her would feel like cutting off my damn arm, but I didn’t want to watch her tailspin. I’d seen it happen before with other musicians. You saw them party as hard as anyone and then they’d get thin, forget to eat, be too plastered to talk much at all or at least not say anything you could understand. Then there’d be the 911 calls until the final one, where they couldn’t be saved because no adrenaline shot could get them back. She was on the same path and it

scared the ever-loving shit out of me. I was out of my depth times a million. “It’s beautiful at night, isn’t it?” she said as we walked to the large circular pool in the center of Tuileries Garden. People were around, but it wasn’t nearly as bustling as it would be in the morning and afternoon. I led her to the pool and we both looked up at the water jumping out of its center, its own fake geyser. It was beautiful to watch. “I want you to have a happy birthday, Nik,” I said, before singing her the Happy Birthday song. It was odd. I’d been in a million concerts by now,

everywhere from stadiums to night clubs, but with her, it felt harder, like I couldn’t afford to mess up even a little. I had my biggest performance right now, trying to convince her that the world was just worth it, that it was worth getting help. When I finished, I could see the tears welling up in her eyes. “So,” I added after this. “Was it alright?” “You know you’re an amazing singer, don’t you, Tucker?” she asked, for the first time tonight really focusing on me. “I don’t know why it was always Liam Collier before.” “He was just the front man. It was what he was best at, and I liked being

the behind-the-scenes guy more. Besides, I’ve given the beat or been the back-up vocals. Besides, you’re biased. Maybe you’re hearing what you want because of us and not because of my actual talent. I could try and go solo, but Liam was always better.” She leaned up and kissed me, her passion promising so many things when we got back to the hotel later tonight. “I don’t believe that, not at all.”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN Nikki I passed out soon after we got back to Tucker’s hotel. It was dumb. I was dumb. Everything that had happened last night had been all my fault. I let my mother get to me like she always does. No matter how much Hermes had promised he’d be kind to me and keep me safe, and no matter how amazing Tucker had been coming after me on the Eiffel Tower’s railing, I’d still managed to make a massive ass of myself. Even

after all of that and our fight, Tucker, my rock star, had sung so sweetly to me at the Tuileries Garden. It was just the usual happy birthday song but in his sweet tenor and with his eyes gazing into mine, it had felt like we were the only two people on the planet. After that, we should have come home and made passionate love. I wish we had, because I’d wanted that reassurance. That connection to him. But I’d come home and fallen onto the bed. The next thing I remembered was blinking awake with the sunlight in my eyes, pouring through the window next to the bed.

Tucker was beside me, snoring softly. Groaning quietly, I dragged myself to the bathroom. My right leg was still wrapped with a torn section of Tucker’s t-shirt. It was brown and crusted now, almost as hard as cardboard from where it had soaked up the blood from my wound. I rifled through the medicine cabinet and pulled out some hydrogen peroxide. God bless hotels that kept things on hand for any emergency. Pulling off the makeshift bandage, I winced when I saw the crusted blood all over my leg. I was pretty sure I didn’t need stitches or it wouldn’t have stopped bleeding last

night on its own. As I wiped peroxide over it, I shuddered as it burned over my calf, making the crusted blood bubble and slough off. The skin underneath looked pretty normal and the cuts had scabbed over. That was a relief. I took a hot shower to clean off, but made it a quick one. I wanted to get back to Tucker. I needed to thank him. Slipping out of the shower, I toweled off just enough to make sure that I was dry. I looked in the mirror and brushed my wet hair behind my shoulders. Then I went back into the bedroom. I slipped

under the covers until I had my hands cupped around his balls. I played with them, just moving them back and forth between my thumb and forefingers. Leaning lower, I exhaled, blowing out a shock of warm air, enough to let him know how close to his shaft I truly was. He muttered to himself and pulled the covers back off of my head. He was grinning down at me, that lopsided smile enticing me on. “Well, Nik, this is certainly a way to start the day.” I readied my palm, licking it a bit since I wasn’t in a position to grab lube, and wrapped it around his soft length.

His dick wasn’t hard yet, but give me a bit of time to play with his balls and stroke his shaft and he would be. His skin was smooth, like velvet under my hand, and as I stroked his soft cock, I also massaged his balls, feeling them grow tighter in my grip. Tucker moaned and ran his hands through my hair, tangling his fingers in with my long strands and tickling my scalp with his motions. “God, Nik, the things you do to me.” Maybe, but it was a bit confusing. I’d moved on to lapping at his head, my tongue flicking on the sensitive tip of his penis. Although I could taste the salty

promise of precum, he wasn’t getting harder. That was so weird. So far, I’d only have to touch him and he’d be more than ready for me. Frowning, I squeezed his balls harder as I wrapped my lips around his cock. I stroked the underside with my tongue, playing with the seam. But nothing happened. Confused, I broke away to look up at him. His eyes were open wide and he was clenching his jaw, as if he were trying to concentrate hard. That should be the last thing on his mind. This wasn’t trying to solve some Calculus problem. It should happen naturally, especially between us, since we hadn’t been able to

keep our hands off each other so far. “Is everything okay?” “I…yeah, maybe I just need a break.” Reluctantly, I pulled away and sat up next to him. “I don’t understand. Was that not good?” “It felt amazing, but I guess I have a lot of things on my mind. I don’t mean to…but I think we just need to take a break for a few minutes.” Crossing my arms over my chest, I looked back at him. “Is it band stress?” He sighed and rolled over onto his side. “I wouldn’t call it ‘band stress’ actually.”

“Then what would you call it? I’m really confused.” Tucker ignored me at first and just pulled the comforter over his shoulders and up to his chin. “Nik, just drop it. I don’t think it’s that important.” “It must be pretty damn important,” I said, pulling the comforter back down. “It must be the most massively important thing on your mind right now if it’s keeping you from getting hard when I’m licking you. So I want to help you. You’ve helped me so much in the last few days that I need to help you. Whatever’s on your mind, you can tell me, I promise. So, you should feel free

to just unload on me. I can be that for you.” “I don’t want to talk about it,” he mumbled. Reaching down, I cupped his chin so he’d look me in the eyes. “I do. Please. This relationship can’t be equal if we don’t share. It’s not just about me using you, I swear. So, I’m begging you, please tell me what’s going on. Why are you so upset?” “We really shouldn’t get into this,” he deflected, sliding out of bed and heading to the bathroom. “Look, I’m getting a shower and then we can grab breakfast. That sounds like a fair deal,

right?” “No, now you’re just running out of excuses and being pathetically transparent. I’m sick of this. I need to know and I need to know now?” Even as I asked, my voice was shaking. Because despite everything I’d asked him, I knew what was wrong. I knew it. Me. I was what was wrong. Tucker shook his head and threw up his hands. “I didn’t want to say it. God, but you always push, Nik. What do you think my problem is? I’m serious. What could possibly be fucking with my head this badly?” he said, gesturing vaguely toward his hips.

It felt like I’d swallowed glass. It hurt to breathe because there was no denying the truth of his words. They were as intense as his gaze and the ragged breaths he was taking. “You’re having problems because of me?” “Because I’m worried about you. It’s hard to just shove that aside in my brain and go at it. Can you even understand that?” I leapt to my feet and started pacing by the bed. “So basically now you’re blaming me for what? Making you impotent?” “That’s not what I’m saying. I’m just

saying that I didn’t sleep worth a damn last night. I kept having nightmares about the Eiffel Tower. I kept seeing you fall the wrong way and hit the pavement or your leg getting infected or the guards attacking me as I was trying to get to you. But the worst ones, the ones that kept making me sit up panting, were the ones of you doing a real swan dive. Nikki, you could have died! And I don’t know what kind of relationship you were referring to earlier, but we’re not in a relationship, certainly not one that makes me willing to take on all your shit!” My head snapped back at his blunt

statement. He was right. I’d been in total denial about my problem. I could have died last night. I’d already known it, felt it, but it was confirmed for me in the crazed fear in Tucker’s gaze. The fear that I’d put there. I was a fucked up mess just like I’d been told my whole life. It was why everyone I’d ever cared about had abandoned me. All my lovers and friends, even my own father. I knew it was always on me. But I couldn’t admit that to him. Not to this gorgeous man who didn’t want to take on my shit. So…

I deliberately shut it all down. My emotions. My feelings for him. My latent hope that I hadn’t even realized I’d harbored, that we were building some kind of relationship, maybe one that would mean he wouldn’t leave me. I shut it all down and concentrated on the exact thing that Tucker apparently wanted for me. I concentrated on surviving. “I’m sorry, Tucker. You’re right,” I said quietly. “You didn’t sign on for my shit. We were about some fun sex in a bathroom or tooling around Paris. That’s all.” “Nikki, that’s not what I said—”

He reached out for me and I backed away. Swiped up my underwear and dress—God! It was all I had to wear— and walked to the bathroom. “Just let me get dressed, Tucker, and then I’ll get out of here.” “Damn it, Nikki!” he said, but I shut the bathroom door and locked it. Then I got dressed as fast as I could. When I came out, Tucker was standing by the window, looking out at the view of Paris. I studied him for a minute, wanting to imprint his image on my brain to take out in all the lonely years ahead of me. Hey, I once rocked Paris with

Tucker Benning, I’d tell my grandkids. But then it dawned on me, the way I was headed, I probably would never have grandkids. Choking back a sob, I smiled at Tucker who was now staring at me. “Nikki…” he began softly. And I could see it there. Written on his face. He knew I planned on leaving. And he was going to let me. “Goodbye, Tucker Benning. It’s been a pleasure meeting you and I really mean that. Please, don’t let Liam’s dreams wreck your own. I know he’s your friend and you love him, but you’re an amazing musician and a wonderful singer and you

deserve the best.” He frowned, then started toward me, but before he’d taken more than three steps, I threw open the hotel door and walked out. On my way to the elevator, I kept waiting for him to call my name or grab my arm to stop me. But he never did.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN Tucker I’d been in Paris for over a week, consumed by the whirlwind that was Nikki Lorenz, and ever since she’d left my hotel room two days ago, I hadn’t been able to sleep. Not a wink. Soon, I’d be back in the States, and I was hoping that would change, starting on the plane. When it was time for me to check out of my hotel, I shoved my few belongings in my duffle bag and headed straight for the airport. I fought the urge to pull over

and find Nikki the entire way. I had to put distance between us. I had to concentrate on me. She’d be okay. Despite how tough her mom was on her, surely her mom would help her. And if not her, that guy Hermes. Plus, when I was gone, there would be no more distractions and Nikki would focus on her shoes and her career. I just hoped the show went well. Because if it didn’t… But I couldn’t think about that. I wouldn’t. Of course, hours and hours later, when I was back in New York, waiting for my flight to LA, I was still thinking about it.

Turns out my next move found me. After almost a week of radio silence, Liam called me again. He led with an apology for throwing the band into a tailspin and said he wanted to talk. I blurted out that I was at the airport and asked him to meet me for lunch at a café outside of Central Park. He agreed instantly, and before he hung up, he promised he had a game plan that included plans to finish our world tour and working toward our fourth album. What a fucking relief. The last thing I wanted was for Point Break to blow apart and for everything we’d spent years building to be lost.

Plus, more than that, Liam was my best friend. I’d missed him. More than my fears about what was going to happen with the band, I’d feared what was going to happen to us. To our friendship. Now I was hopeful things would work out just fine. I’d already lost Nikki. If I could keep my relationship with my best friend, I had to try. When we met up, it felt odd shaking his hand. Usually, I’d just wrap an arm around him in a macho half-hug and pat his back, but I wasn’t quite ready for that. I was open to olive branches, but I wasn’t feeling generous enough to

approach everything wide open. It seemed like a terrifying way to get stabbed. Maybe not even in the back, just full on in the chest. It wouldn’t be worse than most of what had happened lately. It seemed that some of my bitterness wasn’t that crazy or out there. Liam hadn’t mentioned that Abby would be joining us, but as we both sat down and started skimming through the menu, she sauntered over and sat next to Liam. His arm draped casually around her and I studied them, hurt and anger filling me. But not because of anything having to

do with Abby. Granted, I’d been an ass to Abby when we’d first met. She was serious and straightlaced, a real musician, but that wasn’t why she’d rubbed me the wrong way. Maybe even back then I’d sensed the power she’d hold over Liam. I’d been afraid she’d be the Yoko Ono to our Beatles. But since then, I’d seen how happy she made Liam. He’d found the love of his life and was so soppy and happy. Despite everything I was happy for him. It was the most natural thing in the world for him to wrap his arm around her and let his fingers play in her hair

while she tapped her fingertips on his thigh. Their casual intimacy communicated exactly how much they cared about each other, how easy everything was between them. And I was hurt and angry because I suddenly wanted that so bad. With Nikki. Only I couldn’t have it. “Hey Tucker,” Abby said, her tone guarded. “How are you?” I shrugged and sipped the water already set out by the waiter. “Honestly? I’ve been a lot better, Abs.” She frowned and pursed her lips back at me. “Liam said I should come along. Maybe he misjudged the

situation.” Liam crossed his arms over his chest and I was kind of surprised that he bothered to break that much contact with Abby. They seemed like they were conjoined twins lately. “If you have a problem with Abby, Tucker, then you have a problem with me.” “I don’t,” I groaned. “But I’ve been having the worst luck with women myself so I guess I just wish I was as smooth or blessed as Liam. I’m hella jealous of what you two have together.” “Oh. Well…” Abby and Liam both looked stunned as shit. I couldn’t even regret whatever

impulse had made me bring it up. Suddenly, in front of my best friend and his girl, all I wanted was to unload all my troubles and ask their advice about Nikki. “I can…if you guys need to walk or grab a private minute then you can,” Abby said. “Only if you want to. I wouldn’t blame you for not wanting to hear my girl drama. I never thought I’d be the kind of guy who had drama, period,” I said, placing a sandwich order when the waiter came by and waiting for Abby and Liam to order their meals before I continued. “I went to Paris and came

back completely pathetic.” “Nah, you were always more high strung than you thought, Tucker,” she chirped. “But if you need any help, at least ask. Liam almost blew it with me.” “There was no almost about it,” Liam said quietly as he took Abby’s hand and brought it to his lips. After she smiled at him, he turned back to me. “I really blew it, but Abby gave me a second chance. Maybe that’s what you… or she…needs. A second chance to show each other your best.” I shrugged, thinking about how Nikki made me feel when we were at our best. It beat a shot of the richest Scotch or a

warm fire on a cold, upstate New York night. Hell, it actually beat sex. I’d only known Nikki a week, but I’d take spending time with her over sex with another woman in a heartbeat. If all I wanted was a hot lay, I could get that here, and it wouldn’t hurt so bad to be a whole ocean away from her. “Maybe. Problem is, I’m not at my best. If I was, I would never have bailed when things got rough. I would never have left her to deal with shit on her own. But I did. And now I’m miserable,” I replied, downing my drink. Liam sighed. “And I know I played a part in making you that way.”

I shrugged. “Yeah it sucked that we canceled tour dates. That me and the guys don’t even know what the future of the band is.” When Liam remained quiet, I got defensive, my tone snottier. “It’s not like you’ve worked hard to stay in touch. I asked before and you blew me off, which was fucking terrifying, man. It’s not just your livelihood on the line, you know?” Abby frowned and narrowed her eyes at Liam. “You haven’t told him?” “Told me what?” I asked. “Look, bro, I was a real piece of shit for letting you hang out there for a week. I’m trying not to do that now. Abby and I

talked. I want to be with her here in New York for a few months. I want to get past her audition. Support her. But then we’re going to finish the tour. In the meantime, I was hoping you guys wouldn’t mind going back to the studio. Here in New York. We could play with a few things. Grow our sound. I don’t want to go soft. But I like what strings have brought to the mix. I wouldn’t mind a few more ballads. That’s all that I’m saying.” I grinned, my chest feeling light for the first time in days. We weren’t soft rock bullshit, but I liked the ballads too. There was that song I’d started and never shared before, those few,

unfinished verses that I’d already sung to Nikki. She’d been upset and my song— raw as it had been—had calmed her and sent her into a peaceful sleep. It made me think something was there. Enough that it would be worth finishing. Enough that it could be the most important bit of music that had ever flowed through me. Dominique’s Song. Yeah, I liked that idea a lot. “So we’re getting back in the studio?” He nodded and squeezed Abby’s hand. “I already talked to Corbin and Wes. They’re on board. If you are, we

can record, then in a few months, begin the tour in Asia, then Europe.” “I’m on board,” I said quickly. “It’s just, I have some ideas too…if you’re open to hearing them. I want to co-write. I also want to try singing lead on at least one song.” Abby nodded. “You’re good at harmonizing. It’s more than time for you to try stepping out too. I mean, it’s your fourth album, go big or go home with experimenting, right?” Liam studied me silently for a moment, then grinned and held out his hand. “I agree.” I shook his hand, then we both

laughed, stood, and hugged. *** “So, do you want to tell me more about the mystery gal?” Liam asked later. After lunch, Abby had headed out to meet a friend and Liam and I had taken a walk and talked a bit more about the plans for the band. “Her name is Nikki,” I reminded as we walked through the trees and past the various painters and artists in the park. “You know, as in Lorenz. We talked about that.” “I know her name, dick, but I don’t

know anything about her. Nothing except what’s been in the press. And I get there’s more to her than that if you’re this torn up about her.” “That’s the problem,” I moaned. “I am torn up. I really care about her. But the things she does, man…it’s not just having fun in a club or even picking a few fights. She keeps having this weird urge to climb up on railings.” “Railings?” he asked, quirking a brow at me. “Yeah, I’m not kidding. I found her balancing on the Pont Neuf like it was a beam in a gym. Then she had this freak out and jumped onto a ledge of the Eiffel

Tower. Liam, man, she slipped and almost fell. Technically, she did fall, but it was back onto the actual tower. If things had gone the other way, she’d have splatted all over everything. It keeps me up nights.” “Shit. That is some heavy drama. Is she going to get help?” “I suggested therapy to her but she blew it off.” “Then there you go. You can’t save someone who won’t get help.” “I know. That’s why she’s still there and I’m here,” I added, shoving my hands in my jeans pockets. “But I can’t help feeling like I let her down

somehow, that I let both of us down. Maybe this was all a test.” “A test for what?” “For whether we were ever meant to be more than just fun together.” “So what? Are you saying you love this girl?” “Yeah,” I said, finally saying it out loud. “Or, at least, I think I’m falling in love with her.” Liam nodded. “I understand. But you haven’t known her very long. Maybe you just got caught up in the drama. The white knight syndrome. Maybe when you’ve been back home for a while, you’ll forget all about her.”

“The way you forgot about Abby when she came back here?” “Abby’s everything to me, Tucker.” “Right now, I think I feel about Nikki the way you feel about Abby. I’ve been miserable. I’m just terrified when I’m with her she’s going to hurt herself. But she might do that anyway, whether I’m with her or not. And what if I can convince her to go to therapy? What if she just needed more time to get there? More support?” Fuck, more love. Maybe she just needed to know that she was loved, that someone was going to stick by her while she got it together enough to seek help.

And I’d kicked her in the teeth by leaving her just like everyone else in her life had. “I let her down badly,” I said, “and I need to work on getting a flight back to Paris. I can’t just walk away from her, man. It’s wrong. It’s so fucking wrong.” Abruptly, I started jogging back in the direction of my hotel. Liam ran with me. “You sure about this, Tucker?” “Yeah, I’m sure. I’m going to prove to Nik that there’s one person who will stand by her no matter what. Me.”

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN Nikki After I left Tucker, I checked into another hotel room (I didn’t want Mom or Hermes tracking me down at Claude’s) and laid in bed for days, getting up only for the bare necessities of food and bathroom breaks. I was numb. I didn’t feel anything. It was like separating from Tucker had separated me from all emotion. At one point, however, a thought occurred to me and it was like a dam had burst. I realized I

didn’t feel anything, and that meant I didn’t feel like balancing on balconies or bridges either. Cue the hysterical laughter. At least the pain of losing Tucker was good for one thing, I’d thought. And then I’d started crying. Now I was done. My guilt and selfloathing were eating away at me. Guilt that I’d worried Tucker so much. Selfloathing that I’d driven him away after only a week. That was a personal best for me. All behold the amazing freak that is Nikki Lorenz, she who can send men running in days. Give me time and I could probably lower my time to mere

hours. But this was all about the mourning and wallowing, and I knew I couldn’t do it forever. Eventually my mom and Hermes would come looking for my body. At least, I assumed they would. But despite all evidence to the contrary, I wasn’t quite ready to throw in the towel to that degree. I got out of bed, creaky and stiff, completely like the Tin Man from The Wizard of Oz before his oil can. It was as if moving at all cost me everything. But I managed to drag myself to the bathroom and get to the sink. Standing before it, I reached down and splashed

water on my face. It felt good, cool, and that at least centered me. My eyes were red and slightly swollen. I figured that was what almost an hour of crying did to you. It wasn’t just Tucker I’d cried for. It was so many other things too. I wasn’t a good enough designer no matter what I did, and I wasn’t the right kind of daughter, not even close. So far, I’d lived up to my reputation as the family embarrassment and done nothing to live up to the promise of my early buzz and designs. And, you know what? It wasn’t all my mother’s fault.

I’d blamed my mom in so many ways since I was a teenager, for always being gone and then for never seeming to care. I was angry at her for always digging hardest at my designs and my efforts and most especially for blaming me for my father’s death. Maybe I was overdesigning and creating the extreme looks in part to spite her. Maybe with every bizarre piece of so-called art and every spiraling high heel, I was sticking it to my mother. Except I was twenty-seven now, and it was time to get the fuck over it. Maybe we’d never be more than acquaintances. Maybe I’d have to endure her

condescension and bitterness for the rest of my life, and those awful jabs that cut into me more than any knife could have, but I couldn’t keep blaming her for everything. I’d made so many bad decisions all on my own, including climbing on balconies and bridges. And maybe it was the loss of him that made me hear Tucker’s words about getting help, but I finally heard them. I was going to call a counselor and at least try to get my head on straight. Except for the battle scar on my calf, I was unmarred, but inside I was a mass of scars and hurt, of pulsating pain

seeking to push everyone else away. But I already knew it didn’t always have to be this way, because Tucker had broken through my pain and made me feel good about myself. He’d believed in me. That proved I could do better, and I would do better. I strode out of the bathroom and got dressed in my red dress because I hadn’t bothered to pick up any new clothes before checking in. As I slid it on, the garment felt different today, as if the dress was a costume. It was gorgeous. There was no doubt of that. It was worth every bit of the three thousand dollars I’d paid for it. But it felt like exactly

what it was—dress up. It was all about the scared little girl trying to exude the sexiness and the confidence she’d never really felt. I was surprised that Tucker had liked me in the look as much as he had. Couldn’t he see what a ruse it all was? But things could no longer be just about Tucker. He deserved far, far better than me. He didn’t need to be the fireman rushing in to save me every time I set my life on fire, which seemed to be every damn day with me. I wished we could be together because I really believed I was half-way in love with him. That maybe if I

weren’t such a mess he could learn to love me back. “You have to love yourself first, you dumbass,” I said out loud. I giggled then. I had been a dumbass. I couldn’t get a guy to fix me, even if poor Tucker had tried and even if Hermes was still up for the job. I had to work on me, on liking myself. On figuring out who I really was, when I wasn’t trying to win the approval of others. Starting with footwear. It all led back to shoes, didn’t it? There was no way I was putting on those ridiculous gladiator heels. It was

crazy. I mean, no freaking wonder all the magazines and critics had panned my stuff. They were nuts and they were uncomfortable as hell. For the first time in years it was like I was actually seeing my designs for what they were—that giant middle finger to the fashion establishment, especially Anna Lorenz. But that wasn’t fun for anyone. It wasn’t something the rest of the fashion world could dig and, frankly, having worn them for a few years, they weren’t anything a normal woman could actually wear out to work or on a date. I needed to go all the way back to the damn drawing board.

Shaking my head, I rummaged around the suite until I found my cell phone. My show was in a few days, but I needed to get an extension as long as I could, until the last day of the two-week event. I had a plan, but I’d be working around the clock to pull it all off now. “Hello, Hermes?” “Thank God, Dominique! Where you have been? Are you alright? What were you thinking?” “Nothing good,” I muttered. “But I’m fine,” I said, stopping him from getting into things more deeply. “I’m working through everything, but I do have something huge I need. I want my show

moved to the last slot.” “You know that’s highly unusual.” “But not impossible.” “Of course but if this is all so you can go on another bender with that rock star of yours, I’m not going to sign off on it.” “We broke up, Hermes. This isn’t about him.” Hermes perked up at that. “That was wise of you, Dominique.” “It was the best thing for him, Hermes. But as for my show, I need a little more time, Hermes.” “For what?” “To grow up. I’m going to show the

shoes I want to, the ones I was too scared to display before. If this is the only solo show I get in Paris, I’m going to be honest about my art. Will you help me?” After only a slight hesitation, Hermes said, “I will.” “Then let’s get to work.”

CHAPTER NINETEEN Nikki “I don’t understand, mademoiselle,” Cristobal asked. He was a chubby man with thinning grey hair and a distinguished mustache. He was also one of the best leather sewers in the industry. I might come up with designs, but he and his team were the ones who created my vision en masse. They’d worked for months on my line for my show, but now Hermes had pulled every string he could and had

succeeded in moving my show to the last slot of the fashion event. I had to hope it would buy me enough time. Based on the bugged out eyes that Cristobal was giving me, maybe I was asking for the impossible. Too bad cobblers’ elves weren’t real because I could really use some right now. “No, you heard me right. I know it sounds impossible, but I’ve had a complete revelation about my line. If you can only get ten new designs ready with all your assistants, that’s fine. These are the ten that will be the cornerstone of my show.”

“But we’ve been working on dozens of designs for months,” he pointed out, as if we hadn’t been working on those lines together, cheek by jowl. Maybe he thought I’d gone nuts. I couldn’t blame him, maybe I had. It wasn’t just unorthodox. What I was asking should be impossible, but succeeding in getting my show pushed out was a good sign. I had to change my life, and that meant pursuing what I’d once loved, designing shoes in a way that was right for me. And what better way to do that than putting it all out there for the critics, including my mom, to see. I was going to do the designs I actually

loved, using years’ worth of sketches I had shoved into drawers for too long because I was afraid they wouldn’t fit with my brand. “I think I can call in some extra help for the week. It will be horrendously costly, and we can’t get through more than eight.” “I need all ten.” Christobal bit his lower lip and frowned back at me. “I’ll get you ten but only because these designs are excellent and the best thing anyone’s brought me in ages. I’ve longed to make bold yet classic designs again. You’re not the only trendsetter out there who has made

me sew things I hated.” “Ouch,” I said, giggling a little and tossing my red hair over my shoulder. “I’ll try not to take offense at that.” “You shouldn’t. Because I’m excited about your masterpieces here. I will do my best, Dominique. I’m honored you brought your Renaissance to me. In fact —” My cell started blaring then, and I had to grab it fast out of my purse. I frowned apologetically at him. I had to check in case it was one of the millions of other assistants or vendors that I was working with for my show. Also, I’d promised a still extremely freaked out

Hermes that I’d answer as soon as he called. He was still upset with me for what I’d pulled at the Eiffel Tower, and I could understand that. However, my heart started beating faster when I saw who was actually on the other end. Tucker Benning. He’d been back in New York for a few days. I knew that because I’d seen a photo of him in Central Park taken with his friend Liam on the internet. Seeing it, knowing that he was now thousands of miles away from me, had been a punch in the gut. I’d almost been laid low again, but I’d pulled myself together. But why was he calling me now?

To check in, probably. Because Tucker Benning might be a cocky rock star, but he was also a sweet, caring man. It would be the right thing to do—call on crazy Nikki Lorenz and make sure she was doing okay. I was. Or at least I would be. And he needed to get on with his life. I had to let him off the hook, so he could put my cray cray behind him. Frowning apologetically at Cristobal, I held up my index finger. “I’m really sorry. Can you give me about five minutes? I just need to take this call. I’m truly sorry.” I didn’t have the heart to screen out

Tucker and focus on work entirely. I was terrified if I didn’t answer that he’d take my actions as a slight on him. Like I blamed him somehow when I don’t. I was finally taking full responsibility and I needed to keep doing it. Cristobal nodded and started eyeing my designs more thoroughly. “Of course. You’re the client after all, mademoiselle.” I nodded and hurried back to the entry hall and away from prying ears. “Hey, uh, it’s me,” I said once I clicked on the line. I hoped he didn’t change his mind just hearing my voice and then hang up on me. “You did want

to reach me, right? I’m not making you feel like this was all a mistake already?” Tucker laughed sedately on the other end. It was a little bit more than a forced, polite laugh, but not by much. “Nik, it’s good to hear your voice.” “Why?” I blurted, even as I closed my eyes and wanted to slam my forehead against a wall. I wasn’t being smooth in the least. God, how dense could a girl be. “I mean, I didn’t expect to hear from you. I never would have blamed you if you never called me again. Hell, I wouldn’t have called me again, not at all.” “Look, let me talk. I have to get this

out first,” he said, and his tone was kind and soft. “I was wrong to leave.” “What?” I asked, not even sure I’d heard him correctly. Oh God, maybe I was having some weird hallucination or seizure. Everything he was saying was far more than I deserved, especially after how much I’d whipped him back and forth and confused the hell out of him. “I don’t understand.” “Look, I was hurt and upset and confused, otherwise I never would have let you walk out of my hotel room. I never would have gotten on a plane to New York. I’m here now, but I miss you. I miss you so much.”

“I miss you, too,” I whispered, blinking fast to hold back my tears. “Yeah? Because well, I talked to Liam. I told him my concerns, that I want to write songs, that I want to sing, and he’s on board. You helped me gather the courage to do that, Nikki.” “That’s not true, you would have done it eventually. You go after what you want, Tucker, even if you sometimes falter.” As soon as I said the words, I held my breath. Then he said, “I want you, Nikki. I want to come back to you. I’m going to buy a ticket back to Paris, and then we can talk, okay?”

For a few second I couldn’t breathe. I felt hot tears sting my cheeks, and I couldn’t believe any of this was happening. It was everything I’d wanted, someone stable and kind who loved me, who really supported me, and even though Tucker hadn’t said he loved me, that’s how I interpreted what he was saying. Tucker was the first good guy I’d had in my life who seemed to believe in me. But he deserved better. I’d realized that the morning I’d stumbled out of his hotel room, and hearing the warmth and genuine concern in his voice even after all I’d put him through just confirmed it.

“You don’t have to come back, Tucker. Not right now.” “Nik, you don’t need to test me. I’m coming back, I promise.” “No, you were right. You were the dose of truth and tough love I needed. You made a great point. I need to get help. I have a lot of issues that I haven’t been dealing with. But I will. First, I’m redoing my show. I pushed it to the very last possible slot at the fashion event. I don’t want to be Dominique Lorenz: Designer Out To Shock. I want to be Nikki, and I want to create the fashions I really care about, the classic lines and the substance with the pizazz and the

flair.” “I…that’s great, but we can still be together.” “No, Tucker. Not yet. I need to get help first. Maybe then I’ll deserve you. I hope you’ll wait for me, that you’ll want to be with me when I’m better, but I’m so lost, and I have to find myself again before I can be anything for you. Who I find might not be who you want, so you don’t have to make any promises until you meet the best possible me I can be.” He laughed again. “If you’re willing to get help, then you already are the best possible you, Nikki. I’ll wait as long as you need me to.”

“I hope so,” I added, scared shitless. The life of a rock star was far more fastpaced and exciting than even that of a designer. Tucker really could mean that he’d wait for me, but then in a month or two he could be in Prague or Vienna or London and see an adoring fan with a perfect figure and start thinking, “Nikki who?” But I had to get better for myself. There was no question I loved Tucker now; I was going to work on loving me. “Au revoir, Tucker. I hope I’ll see you soon.” “Nikki, wait—” I clicked off the call. I didn’t have

the strength to stay on the line. If I did talk for any longer, I was positive that I was going to break down and beg him to come back to Paris. I had to be strong. But I also had an idea, something that would give Tucker a little piece of me while he waited for me to get better. Something to show just how much hope and strength he’d given me. It didn’t matter whether my show flopped or the critics loved me. Either way, I’d be okay. Shoving my phone in my pants’ pocket, I rushed into Cristobal’s main office. I was going to add a few designs to Cristobal’s workload. Designs for the

man who’d inspired me: Tucker.

CHAPTER TWENTY Tucker After talking to Nikki, I spent over a week in New York, longer than I’d intended because Wes and Corbin had come for a visit. But in between rebonding with my band mates, I kept up with news about Nikki, and there was plenty of it. Sites mentioned how wild child Nikki Lorenz had moved her show to the absolute last spot of the Paris fashion event. Many made snide digs, saying she’d gotten cold feet or had

messed up in some way. But I knew what she was planning. Nikki was going to buck all the pressure she’d been under and abandon all the extreme designs (or most of them). She needed all the time she could get if she was going to get her best stuff up and ready for the show. Two days ago, she’d sent a special package to me in New York. Actually, she’d sent quite a few. When I opened the first box, I was excited to see some kickass motorcycle boots. But she hadn’t stopped there. I don’t know how she’d done it or how many cobbler elves she’d had to bribe to help her with everything, but she’d sent an array of shoes and

boots, from motorcycle to casual to dressy. They were awesome; everything I knew Nik was capable of. Hell, I was wearing them now. Because I was damn proud of her. I was also done listening to her. Since I’d left Paris, there’d been an emptiness inside me that I just couldn’t stand any longer. Nikki had told me to wait until she was her best self before I came to her, but in blunt terms, fuck that. I’d never be my best self. Neither was she. The point was that it was when we were together that we at least had our best shot. Which is why I was currently back in

the City of Lights. I exited my cab, which I’d taken from the fancy hotel me, the boys, and Abby had checked into. Because when I’d told them I was headed here, they’d all gotten it into their heads that they had to come too. They wanted to meet Nikki. And I didn’t even argue with them. Because I wanted that too. I strolled into the warehouse space that Nikki had been working out since she’d arrived in Paris. Since her show was only a day away now, I expected to see her scurrying about in every corner with dark circles under her eyes and tons of assistants hunched over racks,

organizing and labeling shoes. That’s not what I found and it made my blood run cold. Hermes was sitting at a desk in the far corner of the quiet and eerily abandoned work space. In his hand was a tumbler of Scotch. “What happened?” “Tucker,” he said, his voice low and menacing. “She was doing so well before you came into her life.” “I didn’t say she wasn’t,” I replied, holding my hands up and trying to show him that I was on everyone’s side. I just wanted to help Nikki, and the last thing I expected was to walk into her shop and

have it look like it was closed for business. “But I’m not the bad guy you think I am either, Herm.” He stood then, and maybe I needed to watch my mouth, at least a little bit. He was taller than I realized, maybe close to 6’5 and I glared back at him. If some Eurotrash douche wanted to throw down with me, then that was his choice. I’d had more than my fair share of fights out on the strip, and I kind of liked the idea of seeing Hermes with a split lip or spitting out some teeth. Anything to make him less coiffed and in control. “It’s Hermes,” he said, crossing his arms over his barrel chest. “Before

arriving here, she was on the right track and being responsible. Then you show up, and she starts trying to throw herself off the damn Eiffel Tower and crowd surfing while drunk at Sacre Bleu. I can’t help but think you’re exactly what sent her over the edge.” I balled my right hand into a fist at my side. “I wasn’t all of it. I tried to help her. Which is more than I can say for that Ice Queen megabitch that she calls a mother.” Hermes relaxed and took a few steps back. “Anna hired me, but I can’t agree more. My loyalties lie with Dominique and always have. I want to keep her

safe.” “You care more than the usual minder or babysitter, don’t you?” I asked. “This isn’t just about a paycheck. There would be easier jobs to take than looking after Nik and we both know it.” He nodded. “I do care about her, and she knows that. I wanted more from her, but she turned me down. I’ve never seen Dominique care about someone the way she does about you. I’d hate you for that, if it didn’t matter so much to me that she be happy. That’s what I really want for her.” “Then why is everything like a ghost town? This is nuts. I know she’s been

revamping her designs. She even sent me some great boots from her new line. I mean, how did we go from that to you basically hunched over in a dark room and drinking pain into your liver? What the hell, man?” “You’re not exactly delicate with your sentiments, are you Mr. Bennington.” “It’s ‘Benning,’” I corrected. “It’s hard not to know that when Point Break is basically one of the biggest bands on the planet right now.” “Oh so you’re not breaking up. I suppose I heard wrong.” “Yes, I’m sure you’re super upset

about that, Mr. Salt ‘n Pepper.” He gave me a wry grin. “I might feel I had more of a chance if you were no longer a rock god, yes.” “Or maybe she’s not into dating someone her dad’s age,” I huffed. “Seriously, I talked to Nikki not too long ago and she seemed fine. She was really adamant that she’d be going to therapy after this.” “I know. That’s why I finally told the megabitch as you called her that I quit. She’s the reason for all this.” “Anna?” I asked, balling my hands up at my sides again. I know that hitting a woman is

completely off the table, and I’ve never been that guy. Still, I was sick of seeing how much Nikki’s mom was ruining her. Couldn’t we just have the bitch locked up already? How could her constant jabs, even if Nik was twenty-seven, be seen as anything other than child abuse? “Yes, her mother was on a tear. She came in a few days ago and yelled at Dominique over changing her date and all the criticism that Anna’s been getting on her so-called wayward daughter. Then she insulted her ‘mundane and pedestrian’ new designs. Nikki was bereft. After her mother left, she threatened to call off the show but she

settled for scrapping the new designs. She’s going back to the extreme look since that’s what everyone expects of her.” “So Anna got a stick up her ass and decided to take it all out on Nik?” I growled. “She undid everything. I saw the work that Dominique’s done and I watched how hard her people have worked. The shoes would have been wonderful,” he said, gesturing to the boots on my feet. “But you already know that. She rushed to get your shoes done first, would barely have had time to finish the shoes for the show, but as it is

now, they’re not done. They can’t be at this point.” “Shit! Wait a minute,” I said, snapping my fingers. “I’ve got it.” “Got what? Gotten on my last nerve?” Hermes snapped. “No, I have an idea to help with Nikki’s show. Maybe there’s not enough time to finish all her shoes for the show, but there’s time to finish a few, isn’t there?” “Possibly,” Hermes said with a frown. “Hermes, if you care about Nikki like you say you do, I need the number for the shoe sewers—”

“Cobblers.” “Same thing, whatever. But I have a big plan, and Nikki’s show is going on and it’s going to be awesome. There’s nothing all three of us want more than to shove it to her mother. So get me whatever cobble stuff I need and tell me if Nik’s back at her place. I’m going to save the day, here, Herm.” He rolled his eyes but handed me a few business cards. “These are the best cobblers and leather smiths in the city. If you need to convince them, tell them the favor is for me and I’ll pay them back. I don’t like you.” “No, really?” I asked, taking the

cards from him. “I guess you can tell that the feeling is mutual.” “Indeed, but if you can really help Dominique, then I hope your plans work, Tucker. They’re our best hope.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE Nikki I felt gutted. I was sitting in my dressing room, and counting down less than two hours to go before my first (and probably last) solo show in Paris was set to debut. The last few days had been a total whirlwind. After Mother had snuck into my shop to scream at me about how embarrassing it was for her that I’d delayed my show, I’d tried so hard to figure out why she’d always

disapproved of me. It wasn’t just about my dad. She’d treated me poorly for years before that. It had probably started in the womb because I’d caused her to gain weight. As a child, I’d been too loud and too messy. As a teen, I always put too much on my plate at brunches and fancy dinners. Then, after I’d become a wild child, that had been easy. I’d been a disgrace. Now I was past twenty-seven, and nothing had changed. She couldn’t see or maybe she didn’t want to see that I wasn’t that same rebellious girl. I’d meant what I said to Tucker, even with this set back. I was still going to get help. But I’d stupidly stopped

production on my new designs, and even if I hadn’t, I no longer felt confident about them. I just had to get through this show, and that meant using my old designs. Maybe it was for the best. Well-made leather boots or heels handcrafted with love and the best of materials just wouldn’t grab headlines and attention like the sky high platforms and other things I designed. But after the show, I’d be heading back to the States. And I’d be doing it after I cut ties with my mother. All I wanted was never to deal with her again. If that put me in some self-styled boutique in the middle of nowhere in the

United States, just me and my own small shop outside of the spotlight, then so be it. I’d do it while pursuing therapy and getting healthier. There was something so appealing as I imagined it—feeling good about myself, and living a quiet and manageable life creating fashions that I actually loved. And hopefully being with a man I loved who loved me back. Maybe even Tucker. “If he even wants to see me,” I said miserably to my own reflection. I looked bad. I was pale as a sheet and there were huge dark circles under my bloodshot eyes. I hadn’t slept since Mother had stormed in on me. Any time I

tried to close my eyes, I just saw our confrontation play out over and over on a loop. “I can’t even understand what Tucker sees in me.” “Are you serious?” a familiar voice asked and I turned around in my seat. It took several seconds for my shock to wear off, then I broke into a wide grin. I couldn’t help myself, no matter how pathetic it made me. I ran toward him, and jumped, wrapping my arms and legs around him. We kissed, and my tongue danced with his, a dueling urge and flooding passion that seems equally shared between us.

“You’re really here?” “Of course,” he said. “Why wouldn’t I come and see your show?” “Because I told you to stay away.” He lowered me to my feet. “But you didn’t really want me to stay away. I knew it. And I didn’t want to stay away either.” He hesitated then and stroked my cheek. I loved the feel of his skin— slightly callused and blistered from years of drum sticks in his hands— against the side of my face. “Hermes told me what happened. I’m sorry about your mom. But you can’t give up on your new designs, princess.” “I have to. My mom’s right. They are

too ordinary. And even if they aren’t…” I hated the desperation and resignation in my voice. I wanted to be a fighter, but I’d made fighting a difficult prospect. “I did something foolish again. I stopped production on the new designs. I acted like a child again, a scared child. It doesn’t matter how hard I try to get a handle on myself or my life, my mom can make me feel five years old again and scared, shaking in my closet. She’ll always have that power over me.” “No, she won’t. You just haven’t had the practice to see that. But you’re the strongest person I know, Nik, and I’ve missed you so much.”

I couldn’t stop the feelings flowing through me any longer, and I didn’t want to. My stomach was flaring with warmth, and my underwear was already soaked with wetness. My nipples were already peaked and rigid beneath the thin fabric of my silk blouse. It was exactly the effect Tucker Benning had on me—this lust and desire that wouldn’t die, that burned through me like a raging inferno. “You’re incredible,” I said. “You came back for me, and I didn’t give you a damn reason to.” Tucker grinned, a look that was all too at home on his chiseled features. “You’re all the reason I need. Just you.

That will always be enough. Now, about your show—” “Are you kidding? I don’t want to talk about my show right now.” I mock pouted. “You said you missed me.” “God, baby, I have,” he purred, kissing his way down my throat and nibbling at my earlobes. “Then show me. Right here, please.” I started undoing the buttons of his shirt, even as Tucker moved to ruck up my skirt. I was glad I’d worn some lacy panties underneath. I’d needed to be dressed to the nines at my own show so everything from my eight-inch turquoise suede heels to my silk blouse were put

together for maximum fashion appeal. As I unbuttoned his cobalt silk shirt, I had to lick my lips. Tucker had amazing abs, an eight pack that I wanted to lean up against and lick with every inch of my tongue. So I did. I got to my knees, staring up at Tucker’s green eyes, gratified to see the hunger and desire burning in them. Leaning close, I traced my tongue over the ridges of his abs, playing in the hills and valleys of his abdomen. Arching my tongue out, I tickled the inner depths of his belly button, lapping up against the sensitive flesh there, tantalizing him with

my every motion. While I did this, I reached lower and unzipped his jeans. I pulled back just long enough to grin up at him, amused and grateful that he had once again gone commando. His cock sprang free before me, his engorged head oh so close to my lips. Bending close, I took him in my mouth even as my hands reached out to fondle his balls. The skin there was smooth, almost like velvet and I rolled them expertly between my thumb and forefinger. All the while, I flicked the tip of my tongue over his head, sliding my tongue expertly over the slit. Then I

closed my lips around his dick, feeling the heat and girth of him heavy in my mouth. Arching my neck back, I started to move my mouth rapidly over his cock, even as my fingers worked harder over his balls, which had gone tight in my grip. Tucker groaned and wrapped his hands through my hair. “God, Nik, the things you do to me.” I couldn’t answer, but I loved the feel of him at my mercy. Since we’d met, so much had seemed out of my control, but here, I could control the shots, could bring him screaming to his knees. I could make him surrender. That was something

I wanted to do, to show Tucker that I could give as good as I got. I let one hand slide away and cup the curve of his ass, even as my tongue laved furiously over his rigid cock. Tucker moaned again and pulled away. “Wait.” Frowning, I sat back on my knees. “I don’t understand, baby, you can’t tell me that doesn’t feel good.” “It’s mind blowing nirvana,” he corrected. “But I don’t want this to be just about me. I want it to be about us, Nikki,” he added, his voice a low drawl and it was everything I wanted, that eroticism calling to me at every level

and causing my panties to be even wetter than before. When I spoke, my voice was barely a whisper. “What did you have in mind?” “I want you on that desk.” I stood and hopped onto the closest desk. Tucker strode over to me like a jungle cat just let out of its cage, all determined grace and barely controlled power and passion. Bending over, he stroked his hand down and over the soaked lace of my midnight black panties. “I’m not the only one who’s ready, huh, Nik?” he asked.

I nodded then shook my head. He laughed and slid the underwear off me. He covered himself with a condom then he spread my legs wide and thrust into me, his large dick filling me as surely as it ever had, making me feel warmth and fulfillment in a way I never had before. Tucker started to pump in earnest and the friction built between us. I moaned and mewled even as he leaned lower to suck at my nipples, to play and tease them with his tongue and the slight hint of his teeth grazing over me. The heat built through me like a forest fire that had erupted from the tiniest spark of

flame. He thrust once more, and my orgasm hit, causing my body to spasm around him even as my shouts rang out through the dressing room. Even as I continued to feel the flames lapping over me, to feel the weakness surge over my body and leave my legs and arms weak, even then Tucker kept up his frantic pace. Finally, with a groan, he came. Breathing hard, he collapsed against me and I caressed his hair and kissed him, so grateful to be in his arms. Finally, he eased out of me but still kept me held tightly to his chest. “That was…” “Yeah, I know,” I replied, still

panting from the exertion. “I’m so glad you’re here, Tucker. I’m just sorry you’re about to be dating the worst shoe designer in Paris.” His arms squeezed me tight before he gently turned my face towards his. His expression was both fierce and tender. “You’re not, and I’m going to prove it.” “What do you mean?” “I have plans and reinforcements.” That confused me. Sitting up, I stared back into those soft green eyes. “Huh?” “You sent me several pairs of great shoes. You’re lucky that me and my friends basically have the same large shoe size. Now you have the world’s

hottest band and awesome shoes that need to be modeled. So let Point Break do that for you.” My heart was thumping hard at what he was saying. It was all about the surprise. If his band modeled for me, with the real designs I loved, even if they were men’s shoes…then it would get attention. I was still terrified Mother was right and the shoes were too pedestrian, but Tucker was willing to call out the reserves just for me. “They’re here?” “They wanted to meet you, and they’d all love to help. I also had Hermes give me Cristobal’s number,

plus a few other contacts. He’s been working on getting a few of your newer shoe designs finished, and I figured if we threw in a couple of your older designs, too...” My eyes bugged out. “Hermes gave you some of his contacts? He helped you? Why?” “Because, as much as it galls me to say it, the guy really cares about you, Nikki. Thanks for shooting him down by the way.” I laughed. “You’re welcome.” “Anyway, I have more than one trick up my sleeve, Nik, and now we’re going to show the world who you really are.”

I snorted, all my self-hate bubbling up to the surface. “You mean the crazy brat? The unstable hack? I know who I am.” “No, you’re a flawed, fucked-up, amazing woman. You’re real. You’re also a great designer,” he said, gesturing to the boots he still wore, the biker boots I’d made specifically for him in mind with just enough spikes and metal accents to add some danger to his look. “It’s time the world sees exactly what I see.” “Then I’m all for it,” I said, hopping up and shoving my clothes on. “I can’t believe how lucky I am you all have

massive feet.” “Don’t let it give you the wrong idea. No matter what they say about guys and big feet, the other guys have nothing on me.” “I’ll take your word for it. I just can’t believe you’re here and you’re going to do this for me.” “I’m Tucker the Fucker Benning, baby. Believe it.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO Tucker Liam was grinning back at me even as I adjusted his Armani suit. “Damn, Tucker, when you talk people into stuff, you really don’t go halfway, do you?” I laughed and rolled my eyes. “Don’t tell Nikki this but there was a girl I used to date way back when who is now a top assistant to Armani. I begged her for serious help, something awesome to go with all the hot boots and other stuff Nikki made. Hell, I figured the cross

marketing and getting some huge name designer to be invested in the show wouldn’t hurt.” “You need to start using those good marketing ideas for us, buddy.” “No, now that we’re not going on a huge hiatus, we’re going to be fine. Besides, maybe I need a lot more motivation to be this genius.” “Like with that half finished song you played for us? You have something good there, something that I think a certain redhead designer might have inspired you to finish.” “That’s true,” I admitted but then I shrugged. “I know what words I want,

almost, but I’m not sure I can figure out the melody that really matches.” “Let me help you on that end. I think Abby and I can both help you get that soft sound you need to bring your ballad home, bro.” I nodded and clapped my hand on his shoulder. “Thanks, man,” I said before straightening out my own charcoal grey suit in the mirror. The boots I have on look like those fancy riding boots you might see a horseback rider wear. They’re a high polished black leather, smooth as a baby’s ass, and highlighted with just two silver buttons (one on each heel). They

run up to my knees but fit great under the legs of the suit. I know I look hot, but I’m nervous in a lot of other ways. I’m the guy who bangs on the drums. That’s always been my job. I’m at home in a club or the middle of a damn stadium, but I’m not some pin up guy for GQ. According to Wes, who’d done a few small modeling jobs in LA, the best approach was to not think about it at all. Maybe just walk more slowly than usual so people get a good look at the shoes they need to see. I tried to strut or practice like a model with the guys, and everyone--especially Wes--doubled over laughing. I think I looked like some

weird whooping crane, stepping all weird and exaggerated. But I didn’t care. I was doing this for Nikki. I pulled out my phone and got it ready for a picture. “Hey, Liam, get in frame, and get ready to tweet this baby out.” He sidled up next to me, his boots a bit more biker friendly with chrome accoutrements and managing to compliment his red silk shirt. We both grinned and posed for the selfie. It didn’t take long for me to get it up on Twitter and Instagram. Between just the two of us, we had thirty million Twitter

followers and even more on Instagram. Smirking to myself, I added a caption: What am I about to do, bitches? #ParisFashion #LorenzKicksAss And then I posted everything up on Instagram. It wouldn’t take long for rumors to spread and for every available paparazzi member to be here. Good. Point Break was going to rock this town, even if it would be in a different way than we usually did. The more press, the better, because then everyone would see what I already had—that Nikki was a hell of a designer. The first five or so models out on the

runway were real models, guys and girls who were wearing the few extreme designs that Nikki actually still liked, as well as the newer designs her team had managed to finish. But soon the techno gave way to the blaring bass of one of our biggest hits, the first hint that Point Break was involved with the show. It was now or never, and all I had to do was hope I didn’t trip. I could handle that much. The crowd got on its feet the minute I stepped out onto the runway and the announcer said my name and Point Break. He then launched into a description of the borrowed Armani suit

and the boots. I got down to the edge of the catwalk and took off my jacket, slinging it over my shoulder before gazing out to the crowd. They were giving me a standing ovation. I wanted to grin but I kept my fashion forward pout on my face instead. For Nikki.

CHAPTER TWENTYTHREE Nikki I couldn’t believe everything I was reading. After my insane, high energy designs had been shat on all over town at the other shows they’d guest starred in, now every outlet I could find was raving about my back to basics approach. Sure, everywhere from Vogue to GQ had to mention first that it was the surprise of Paris and of the fashion community to have the world’s hottest

band channel their inner model for the night. Still, once the sensational part was through, every single piece was praising all my designs, old and new, as well as the quality of the workmanship, the love for classic lines, and the inclusion of shoes that were bringing high fashion back to the average man. I’d never been this praised before. I’d been called “daring” or “bold” or had people expound on the merits of the riots of colors and geometric play involved in my wildest designs. But this was different. This wasn’t about the shock and awe of whatever my mind could come up with. No. This was about

how I’d emerged as a real craftswoman, as someone with an eye for design and for fashion history. It was about my ability to take the old, add my own spin, and “bring sexy back.” After the show I had a whirlwind of interviews. At first, Tucker and I were standing side by side for them, but then he’d regrouped with the band. Eventually, we’d been swept to different sides of the backstage area. I must have talked for three or four hours, and I only stopped when my voice was hoarse. To his credit, Hermes had been a good babysitter. He’d helped hand out cards and promised to coordinate further press

inquiries with the proper outlets. Eventually, he’d arranged for me to slip back to my suite so I could get myself the biggest possible mug of tea I could hold while I perused the fashion blogs, Google, and twitter for mentions of my show. My name was tenth on worldwide trends for a while, but it couldn’t compete with all the tweets about Tucker Benning and also Point Break. When my boy wanted to make a huge statement, then he definitely had a direct plan on how to make it work. I was perusing one of those blogs, a smaller one that was full of snark called

You’re Really Wearing That? But they also had a way to get the best pictures of any event they covered. This time was no exception. They’d gotten a candid of me and Tucker in mid-kiss and we looked so happy and cute together. It was as if this time, things could really work. Strong hands were massaging my back and shoulders and I grinned. “Tucker, that better be you.” Soft lips caressed my neck. “Oh, you better believe it, Nik. I’m sorry I’m late. After the show, the guys wanted to coordinate the times for practice tomorrow.”

“That’s okay,” I croaked out, still aware that I was beyond hoarse currently. “I’ve been decompressing.” “And possibly bathing in your own glory,” he added, sliding down beside me in bed. “But that’s a great pic. We should print it out.” I grinned back at him and hoped I was selling my “come hither” look well. “We do look pretty damn cute together, you have to admit that,” I said. “Yeah. I imagine we’d have cute babies.” I gaped back at him, unsure I’d heard that part right. He couldn’t be serious. It was still hard for me to believe

Tucker wanted me at all, let alone to be the mother of his children. Plus, dating was one thing but to even be thinking of marriage and kids at this point? It was crazy. “Did I say something wrong?” he asked, arching an eyebrow at me. “No, you just mentioned babies, and I know you didn’t mean anything by it but…” “Why didn’t I mean anything? I mean, not now. Maybe not anytime soon. But assuming we both continue to grow and become even more fantastic than we already are?” I felt tears welling in my eyes again.

“You really see that as a possibility?” “More than a possibility. It’s my end game,” he said, taking my chin in his hands. “I want to do the whole nine yards: date for a long time, have fabulous and wild sex, get married and have more sex. Eventually I figure little rockers and fashion designers will come from that.” “But I’m—” “Getting the help you need, and I’ll be with you every step of the way. That’s all you need to remember,” he said. “Now, do you want me to make love to you or do you want me to fuck you hard?”

“Hmm, is there really a difference?” I purred, since I’d be happy to do anything he suggested. “I just want to do whatever you need. I can make you scream or I can hold you tight,” he said, cupping my rear, squeezing the mound of my ass. Shifting away, I slipped out of my nightgown and underwear until I was naked before him. Then I straddled him, reaching down to unzip his pants. His cock was already hard and ready beneath my hands. “Maybe a bit of both,” I said. “Maybe that’s what we are, learning to be stable but also wild at the same time.”

He grinned and settled beneath me as I started grinding against him, bringing out my inner cowgirl. “Well, I am one of the most wanted rockers on Earth. I can’t get too tame on you, baby.” “I wouldn’t want that,” I added, letting myself slide inch by inch over him, and I grinned as he moaned and wriggled beneath me. Yes, let me torture him just little by little. There was something to be said for going slow once in a while. Finally, I lowered myself until I was sheathed over him, down to his balls. Reaching up, I pushed his undershirt up

to his shoulders. “I think we can still be wild in some ways, and I wouldn’t want to live any other way.” Leaning down, I licked at his nipple, my tongue flicking back and forth quickly over the peaked nub. “I’m so glad you followed me to Paris.” “Oh, so you figured that much out,” he gasped, even as my tongue reacquainted itself with the ridges of his abs and the sweet sweat over his skin. “Definitely, but I’m flattered and it worked out,” I added. But then there was no room for talking. The only thing left was to make love. I started pistoning up and down

above him, and, soon enough, Tucker grabbed my hips and started thrusting up into me. He was buried deep inside of me, his cock hitting deftly against my most sensitive bundle of nerves. I whimpered as he pounded deeper, and as my nerves began to thrum and sing with energy. I felt as if I was plummeting down a waterfall, feeling everything weightlessly spill away from me. My own tongue was working at a furious pace, flicking and licking all over his torso. My legs tightened around his hips even as my eyes rolled back in my head, and the tsunami of pleasure kept pouring

over me. This was everything I’d ever wanted, every connection and hope and dream I’d ever prayed for, and it was happening right now. Lifting my head up, I stared into his eyes, seeing the same look of ecstasy reflected back to me. I came then, feeling everything I’d ever held onto set free, relaxation and completion spreading over me as I fell forward and onto his chest. He tightened his arms around me and shook with his own release. Then, still breathing heavily, he said, “I can’t wait for us to set the world on fire. Together, Nikki.” “Together,” I echoed.

EPILOGUE Tucker The lights came up, and I started to run my hands over the keys of the piano. Drums had always been my thing, but as I’d worked with Abby and Liam to perfect Nikki’s ballad, I’d wanted to be responsible for more than the back beat. So I’d learned some piano. It wasn’t like I was going to be playing at Carnegie Hall any time soon, but it was a new skill—one I’d learned for Nik but also for myself.

To be a better musician. And a better man. Nikki made me want to be better period. I still loved to have fun, that hadn’t changed, but I was no longer the Tucker Benning who’d arrived in Paris over a year ago. I didn’t miss drinking or snorting whatever was available on a table. And as for the groupies? None of the wild experiences I’d had before held a candle to the connection and sheer pleasure I felt when Nikki was in my arms. So as my fingers traveled over the keys, playing out a haunting melody, which Abby was matching expertly on

the cello, I let my feelings out and hoped that the new song I’d composed for Nikki would mean as much to her as it did to me. They say you’re broken, But I know you’re more. They say you’re trouble, But I’ll know you’ll soar. They told me not to bother, But they don’t know my soul. Forget trouble with your mother, Now you’re out on your own. You’re scared all the time,

But I know you wouldn’t be. If only you could understand, All the things about you I see. You’re the diamond in the night sky, The roar of the ocean too. You’re the woman I love, And there’s no one else but you. I started playing the bridge, concentrating hard on my hands. I had practiced this song hundreds of times and even played it on our newest album. We could have ordered a studio musician for it, but I’d rejected that idea from the start. Nikki needed to know

how sincere I was. How important she was to me. But that knowledge didn’t make me any less nervous as I kept playing, sure I’d mess up, hit a flat note and ruin the ballad for all of us. Finally, the instrumental part was done after another flourish from Abby on back up. I was able to finish out the chorus then, twice more, promising with all my heart that there’d never be another woman besides Nikki. After all, if you’d had the best, then what was the point of anyone else? There was no one out there like her, and with the help of her therapist, she was finally beginning to understand and

value her own worth. Nik hadn’t so much as emailed her mother in a year. Part of me was glad. Nikki needed her time. We needed our time. But someday I hoped her mom would come around. That she’d realize how special and talented her daughter was. It was something the rest of the world already knew. Nikki’s shoes were a wild success, most especially her men’s line? However, she’d kept a few of her styles exclusive for Point Break. As a nice bonus, any band that toured as our warm-up act was allowed to have some basic biker boots. Sometimes we joked

that our opening acts wanted Nikki’s boots more than they actually wanted the thrill of playing with Point Break. Fuck, yeah. My girl was a star and if she shined brighter than me, I was all for it. I loved her, and I needed her as much as she needed me. As I made my way backstage to meet her, I just hoped she’d liked the song. I knew I had nothing to worry about the second I saw her. She broke into a wide grin when I stepped off the stage and then rushed out to hug me. I swept her up in my arms and spun her around, planting my nose in her shock of auburn hair. She was as

gorgeous as she’d ever been and was wearing a tight, black leather dress. Even as she was getting healthier, that didn’t mean she’d retired her wild side completely. She still looked amazing in leather. Hell, there should be a goddamn law somewhere that decreed all she could wear was leather, if she was going to wear anything at all. “I loved your song,” she said, pulling back and grinning up at me. I narrowed my eyes. Her eyes looked a little red and shiny, like she’d been crying. But at the same time, her love for me blazed bright, and she was even wearing the same mischievous smile that

had been playing on her lips when she’d first led me into the bathroom at the airport. But, surprisingly, I found myself still needing some reassurance… “Are you sure? I think maybe my piano solo is a bit too long.” “It’s not. It…it…” “What?” “It made me quiver. Every second of it.” “Then, princess,” I said, and I couldn’t keep myself from smirking. “I don’t think it’s long enough. Because you know that’s what I live for. Making you quiver for me.” I pulled her more tightly

into my arms and kissed her, tasting the mint and soda on her breath. It was delightfully sweet. “In fact,” I added, smirking back at her. “I was thinking I’d like to witness this quivering for myself. Against myself.” “Why Tucker Benning. You’re such a naughty boy.” “Always with you, Nikki. But only in the best ways possible.” *** It took a little longer than I would have liked to get Nikki alone. Out of necessity, I changed out of my stage

clothes into just jeans and a t-shirt and shoved a cap over my hair as well as sunglasses on my eyes. Considering everyone was rushing to the cabs or for a last shot at t-shirts, we slipped easily past the crowd and into a back office. “Now this is unexpected,” she said, leaning against one of the large desks there. It was the real deal, something out of mahogany or chestnut. I guess whoever worked here was into the old crap over Ikea. Hey, whatever floats your boat. “What do you want?” I asked, leaning against her. “I can do anything you’d like.”

She laughed, something deep and throaty that made my dick so rigid that I almost couldn’t stand it. Nikki had that way about her, that same commanding presence that just begged to be answered. When she poured on the seductive vibes, I couldn’t help but answer her back. “I want to be wild tonight, Tucker.” “So it’s okay without the candles and the mood music?” I said, referring back to an extremely romantic anniversary dinner I’d arranged just last month in Paris. Nik smirked back at me and used her hand to sweep off all the papers. I

followed suit by carefully moving the computer monitor and keyboard somewhere else. I wasn’t about to start tossing electronics everywhere, but I was like Nikki. I didn’t have the patience to move every bit of crap off the desk. If I damaged something minor, they could put it on my tab. She continued staring at me, her eyes hungry and almost feral. Nik had always been skilled at shimmying out of the dresses she wore, and things were no different tonight. In a few, fluid movements, she had her dress off and was splayed out on top of the desk with her hands and knees supporting her.

Licking my lips, I reached out and traced my palm over the supple alabaster curves of her ass. “May I?” I asked. She nodded, and I slapped hard against the skin there, watching as a delicious red hand print welled up on her ass. “You can take me however you want.” My cock jerked as I undid my jeans. I positioned myself behind her, ready to take her from behind. It was probably one of our least common positions, not because we didn’t love it, but because we simply loved fucking against a wall with Nikki’s flexible little legs wrapped

around me. Now, however, I relished how easily my hard bare cock slid into her. She was on the pill, and we’d stopped using condoms six months ago. I moaned as I felt her warmth and the tightness around me. Sliding my fingers between her legs, I found her clit, pressing my thumb hard up against it, stroking in tight circles even as I pumped into her. As I watched, her breasts bobbed up and down with every movement, every thrust I gave her. I worked at her most sensitive spot, my thumb moving in a circle and my other fingers tapping and twisting. She shuddered against me and my

hand was wet, slicked with her juices, even as the heat of her and those tight muscles felt like they were massaging my dick as I continued thrusting against her. She came first, shaking like an explosion of fireworks rushed over her entire body. Heat bombarded every inch of me, and I pushed forward again, my balls tight against the curve of her rear even as my fingers teased her, leaving Nik screaming for more. Until I was the one shouting with the pleasure of my release. Spent, I pressed against her until we could both catch our breath. Finally, I

slid out of her and pulled her close to my chest. My hands went to work smoothing her flaming red hair back from her forehead and her face. “I love you, Nik.” “I think I’m starting to believe that,” she said. “Good,” I said, kissing her forehead. “Because a year or a decade from now, I’ll be right here.” I worked to emphasize my point by placing my hand flat on her belly. “And someday, I want to start a family with you.” “Me too,” she said, snuggling into me. “Me too. I can’t wait for tomorrow, Tucker, and everything it might bring. I hope…I hope it’ll bring more love songs

too?” I laughed and kissed her once more, our tongues dancing in a rhythm all their own before I pulled back. “I can guarantee it, princess. Today, tomorrow, and always.”

—The End—

Thank you for reading Rock Dirty If you enjoyed spending time with these characters, be sure to check out Corbin’s story in Rock Wild, Book Three in the

Rock Candy Series. In addition, check out Garrick’s story, Say It Sexy, Book 1 in the Say You Love Me Series, a spin-off series of Rock Candy. Sign up for my monthly newsletter for updates and contests: www.virnadepaul.com

BOOKS BY VIRNA ROCK CANDY SERIES Book 1: Rock Strong (Liam) Book 2: Rock Dirty (Tucker) Book 3: Rock Wild (Corbin) Coming Next Book 4: Rock Free (Wes) SAY YOU LOVE ME SERIES Book 1: Say It Sexy (Garrick) Book 2: Say It Sweet (Shane) BEDDING THE BACHELORS SERIES Book 1: Bedding The Wrong Brother

(Rhys) Book 2: Bedding The Bad Boy (Max) Book 3: Bedding The Billionaire (Jamie) Book 4: Bedding The Best Friend (Ryan) Book 5: Bedding The Biker Next Door (Cole) Book 6: Bedding The Bodyguard (Luke) Coming Next Book 7: Bedding The Best Man (Gabe) Book 8: Bedding The Boss (Eric) HOME TO GREEN VALLEY SERIES Book 1: What Love Can Do

Book 2: The Way Love Goes Book 3: I’m Gonna Love You

ROCK CANDY SERIES Rock Strong (Rock Candy Book 1)

I’ve seen and done it all—sex, drugs, rock-n-roll, and then some. I’ve made the cover of Rolling Stone. I’ve won Best Rock Performance at the

Grammy’s. I’m living a life of fame, wild tours, crazy money, and insanely hot women. But the one woman I can’t get is prim and proper cellist, Abby Chan—gorgeous, natural, talented as all sin. The first time we met, I knew we would be something special. She’s not convinced, but I am. Now I’m going to prove she’s all the woman a wild man like me will ever need… Liam Collier, sexy and enigmatic frontman for Point Break, the world’s hottest rock band, is at the top of his

game. With two songs in the Billboard Top 10, he’s a rock-and-roll bad boy, known for his trademark falsetto as well as his proclivity for partying and hooking up with gorgeous women. For Liam, falling in love was something he figured would happen far off in the future—not on the first day of his first world tour. And not with his super sexy but extremely reserved background cellist. With a Master of Music degree from Juilliard School of Music, Abby Chan is on the road to becoming a cellist for the New York Philharmonic Orchestra. But

to pay back her expensive education, first she has to travel another kind of road—a gig playing cello for the North American leg of a garish rock band’s world tour. She’d expected hard work and long hours, but what she never expected was the intensity of her reactions to Liam Collier. He’s sweet. He’s hot. And despite being surrounded by roadies and the world’s most beautiful women, he’s set his sights on her. When classical music meets rock and prim propriety meets a carefree attitude, Abby and Liam venture outside their

comfort zones. What they discover is that living wild is the perfect preparation for flying high—on love.

Rock Dirty (Rock Candy Book 2)

As one of the hottest drummers in the world, Tucker “The F***er” Benning lives life hard. But when his band’s world tour is cancelled, Tucker finds

himself stuck in an airport with no destination in mind…until he spots a red-headed knockout hurrying through the airport on her way to Paris, France. She’s classy, sexy, and turns heads. Why not buy a first class ticket and follow her? That’s when the real fun begins. Dominique “Nikki” Lorens, heiress to her mother’s magazine empire, is headed to Paris, hoping to leave behind her celebutante tabloid reputation and make a new name for herself. She’s amused when the famous Tucker Benning sits next to her and starts flirting—could he be any more of a rock star? But when he

presents a naughty proposal, she figures why not have one last wild experience before settling down? Once they land in Paris, though, Nikki makes a stand—no more naughty stuff. She has a fresh and clean reputation to build, and being seen with Tucker won’t help. Yet Tucker’s bad boy allure is impossible to resist and so is his softer side, which makes her feel cherished and worthy. Tucker has a decision to make—does he fight for his band, or does he commit to the woman he’s come to care about, a woman who longs for love and stability his rock star lifestyle

can’t give? Tucker’s life has always been about fame, fun, and f***ing around. But now Nikki needs him and he’ll do whatever it takes to win her heart…including fighting dirty. Because love is worth risking everything.

Rock Wild (Rock Candy Book 3)

Corbin’s story! **Coming next. Set for pre-order for October 2016, but I hope to get it out earlier than that. Click here to join my mailing list and to be notified

when an early release date has been set.

SAY YOU LOVE ME SERIES Say It Sexy (Say You Love Me Book 1)

This life I'm relishing--the women, booze, and parties--won't last forever. But while it does, I'll take it all in with

no regrets. Pleasure stands paramount. When I party, I forget all the trash that's happened in the past. It's the same when I'm acting, when I become someone else, someone not afraid to feel or make others feel. It's what I live for: The next party. The next role. The next girl. That's my life. That's the way I want it to be. Except now I've met Gwen... Garrick Maze, young Hollywood's hottest bad boy, just landed the male

lead in a new network television series. Known for indulging in wild parties, casual hook-ups, and fast cars, he spends his days on set and his nights on the town. Love's the last thing on his mind, especially when it comes to his ice queen female lead. Gwendolyn Vickers intends to be America's next celebrity sweetheart and that means keeping her public image pristine. The last thing she needs is to be linked to trouble-making heartthrob Garrick Maze. But he's shamelessly flirty and sexy as sin. Her body craves him. Soon, so does her heart.

When secrets from the past clash with the bright lights of fame, Gwen realizes there's more to Garrick than washboard abs and sex appeal. He'll prove that when it comes to mixing mind-blowing pleasure with true love, he's not about to let her down.

Say It Sweet (Say You Love Me Book 1)

Outwardly, Erica Ellis seems to have it all. At twenty-three years old, she’s already hit the New York Times

bestseller list and her breakout novel is being made into a network television series. But even after collecting her cushy advance for Book 2, she can’t seem to forget the struggles of her past or stop longing for the sexy and sweet man who views her only as a friend. A former fighter turned actor, Shane Mason hides his pain behind a good-guy façade just like he hides his growing feelings for Erica. The willowy blonde is way out of his league…or so he thinks, until an unexpected hookup at a party has him thinking he and Erica might just be perfect for each other.

Only it turns out Erica doesn’t remember the night they spent together. Now Shane has a choice—walk away or let Erica see all that he is and can be to her: a nice guy and a bad boy. A friend, fighter, and lover.

BEDDING THE BACHELOR SERIES Bedding The Wrong Brother (Bedding the Bachelors Book 1)

Determined to find her inner sex diva, Melina Parker enlists her childhood friend, Max Dalton, to tutor her after hours. Instead, she ends up in the wrong

bed and gets a lesson in passion from Max’s twin brother, Rhys Dalton, a man Melina’s always secretly wanted but never thought she could have. This #1 Bestselling Contemporary Romance is rated HHH ("Heat, Heart & HEA") and involves a bed mix-up, hot identical twins, sex lessons, naughty word games, light restraint, a shy sex bomb who's afraid she's boring and a playboy hero determined to prove she's got everything he'll ever need.

Bedding The Bad Boy

(Bedding the Bachelors Book 2)

This bad boy is ready to work some magic...

Identical twin and Las Vegas performer Max Dalton has always been the number one bad boy in his family, and he's appreciated the women and fame that comes along with his reputation. Grace Sinclair is on a mission when she comes to Vegas, one that involves asking Max, her best friend's brother-in-law, to give her the pleasure no man's ever been able to. She suspects Max has more layers than he lets people see, but she's determined to keep her heart safe even as she offers him her body.

What neither of them plan on is love--or the triangle the media stirs up with Max's blonde bombshell actress friend. Will Grace see beyond Max's bad boy façade long enough to trust him with her heart? And will Max figure out what he really wants before he loses the one woman who makes him believe in love again?

Bedding The Billionaire (Bedding the Bachelors Book 3)

Free-spirited Lucy Conrad enjoys her friends but keeps others at a distance, especially her affluent and judgmental family...and the billionaire she once

dated, Jamie Whitcomb. Despite their explosive chemistry, experience has proven she'll never fit into his world. Charismatic Jamie enjoys work, women, and wealth. When duty demands he take over running the family business, he jumps in full-throttle; his only regret is Lucy's refusal to take the ride with him. Then tragedy strikes and Lucy realizes that in order to gain custody of her orphaned niece, she must prove she can fit back into the high-society world she once rejected. The solution? Accept Jamie's make-believe marriage

proposal, and be seen as the type of mother her niece deserves. Respectable. Controlled. Willing to play the game. With her faux-fiancé by her side, Lucy exchanges dirty martinis and leather for champagne and silk. But when the passion between Lucy and Jamie only grows greater, they have to make a choice: back away from each other and not get hurt...or risk everything for the kind of love money can't buy.

Bedding The Best Friend (Bedding the Bachelors Book 4)

As the new year approaches, nice girl Annie O’Roarke finds herself bored and lonely. She wants more excitement.

More adventure. And more sex…even if it won’t be with her secret crush, her best friend, Ryan Hennessey. Annie’s determined to be “bad” for once in her life, and that includes completing her “naughty” list in a city where being bad is just an ordinary day: Vegas. Ryan Hennessey is a firefighter who relishes his time off with Annie. Annie’s the only person he can count on and he’d never jeopardize their friendship. Then Ryan discovers Annie’s “naughty” list. Although he’s stunned Annie is raring to explore her wilder side, he doesn’t trust anyone else to keep her safe.

So long as he’s there to protect her, Ryan’s going to teach Annie the true key to being a bad girl. A bad girl takes what she wants. Will Annie be brave enough to act on the passion that sizzles between her and Ryan? And will Ryan convince himself and Annie that love is worth gambling for?

Bedding The Biker Next Door (Bedding The Bachelors Book 5)

Jill Jones has good friends, a great job, and a steady amount of dates. What she doesn’t have is a kinky or wild bone in

her body—or so she thinks. Then she meets a handsome tattooed biker who lights her on fire. Suddenly she’s saying yes to all sorts of things, starting with a night in bed, no strings attached. A security expert, Cole Novak protects others for a living, but he’s weighed down by grief that he couldn’t save the most important person in his life. Then he meets Jill, and for one night she brings color back into his world…only to walk away, plunging him back into the now-familiar darkness. Soon Cole discovers that Jill is closer

than he realized—living in the very house he plans to sell in order to leave the past behind. With the wild woman of his dreams suddenly the girl next door, will Cole still sell the place and move away, or will he soak in more of Jill and open his heart to hope and love?

Bedding The Bodyguard (Bedding The Bachelors Book 6)

Hollywood actress Kat Bailey is on track to win an Oscar, but in the past year she’s been embroiled in a nude

photo scandal, threatened by a fan of her cheating ex, and run off the road in what could have been a deliberate act. Now she’s renting a cabin in Lake Tahoe, considering the pros of leaving acting— including living a normal life for a change. Bodyguard Luke Indigo initially turned down protecting Kat because he worried his intense attraction to her could compromise the job. But when he learns Kat has gone into hiding, Luke’s sense of duty has him following her to Tahoe. Once there, he pretends to be a vacationing neighbor in order to stay

close and protect her. As they spend time together, Luke learns Kat’s charm is more than skin deep. She’s smart. She’s kind. And she’s oh so sexy. Kat’s intrigued by the steely-eyed man who exudes danger but touches her so tenderly. Even better, he seems to have no idea who she is, making her think she’s finally found a man who wants her for herself rather than her fame. However, when Kat learns Luke is the same bodyguard her manager tried to hire to protect her, she fears ambition not love has been his agenda all along. Can

Luke convince Kat that he’d protect her no matter whether he’s hired to or not….and can he convince her that he wants her: body, heart, and soul?

HOME TO GREEN VALLEY SERIES What Love Can Do (Home To Green Valley Book 1)

Ireland has always been home for the five O’Neill brothers, but several tragedies, including the recent death of

their mother, have them feeling lost. After making an unexpected discovery, eldest son and former rugby player Quinn O’Neill heads to Forestville, California, in the enchanted river valley where his mother grew up. There, he hopes to learn more about his family and explore the possibility of settling someplace new. Traveling the world before opening her own bakery is Lillian Parker’s dream, and she’s one step closer to achieving it after winning an internship with a world-famous pastry chef in Miami. Unfortunately, Lillian’s mother is

pressuring her to stay in Forestville and help run the family B&B. Then a handsome Irishman blows through the door with charm and sex appeal to spare, and suddenly Lillian’s not sure what she wants. Sparks instantly fly, and Lillian finds herself agreeing to show Quinn around the area. Soon their building feelings have them wishing for more time together. But Quinn’s just beginning to explore the magic of Green Valley wine country, and Lillian needs to stretch her wings. Even worse, exposed secrets pit Lillian’s family against Quinn’s, creating

thorns in their blooming love. Can passion survive conflicting family loyalties? And can love bond Quinn and Lillian together forever when dreams of adventure versus home and hearth threaten to keep them apart?

The Way Love Goes (Home To Green Valley Book 2)

A middle child of five Irish brothers, Conor O’Neill always enjoyed life footloose and fancy free. Then Con’s

mother dies and he’s never felt so lost. With his oldest brother, Con explores new possibilities in Green Valley, California, where his mother grew up. Finding inspiration in the great, wide Pacific, Con opens a surf shop in nearby Timber Cove where he meets the classiest lass he’s ever seen. Madlyn Sanchez is surprised when the Irish surfer seems to take a liking to her. Older than him, a high-strung wedding planner, she couldn’t be more different than Conor. But the two have one thing in common—they’re both looking to start over. Before Madlyn knows it, they kick

off an unlikely, passionate romance. But when Madlyn’s responsibilities in San Francisco can no longer be ignored, she kisses Con goodbye and wishes him well. Missing Madlyn more than he ever thought possible, knowing he’s let one too many opportunities pass him by, Conor closes up shop to go after her. In San Francisco, however, he discovers the truth behind Madlyn’s real life—a child and an ex-husband still in residence. Con just learned to commit to one woman—can he commit to a child as well?

In no time at all, mother and son have Conor’s heart. But can an Irish rogue who once cherished his freedom convince the love of his life he’s more than ready to put down roots while still teaching her to fly?

I’m Gonna Love You (Home To Green Valley Book 3)

Steadfast and pragmatic Brady O’Neill, second eldest of five Irish brothers, never thought he’d leave Dublin. But

after the death of his daughter and his parents, and the loss of his wife, Brady realizes he can no longer live in the city where he experienced his greatest joys and deepest heartaches. Moving to America, he joins his brothers in Forestville, California, to open a family restaurant. What he doesn’t expect is the spark he feels when he meets Anna Kincaid, a confident, gorgeous woman with enough sass to sink a ship. Owner of a local eco-adventure tour company, Anna Kincaid is familiar with all that is Forestville. So when recent Irish arrival, the insanely handsome and

sexy Brady O’Neill, wants to visit the vineyard where his mother grew up, she agrees to be his guide. Soon, Brady’s showing his appreciation with more than flirtatious smiles and mind-boggling kisses. The chemistry between them may be explosive, but tensions heighten when Anna’s recklessness puts her in danger. Brady’s lost too much already; and a risk-taking woman with an impetuous nature could cost him yet again. Will Brady risk giving all he is to Anna? And will Anna learn that there’s no greater excitement in the world than taking a

chance on love?

ABOUT THE AUTHOR Virna DePaul is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of steamy, suspenseful fiction. Whether it’s vampires, a Para-Ops team, hot cops or swoon-worthy identical twin brothers, her stories center around complex individuals willing to overcome incredible odds for love. Bedding The Wrong Brother, which begins the Bedding the Bachelors Series, is a #1 Bestselling Contemporary Romance and a USA Today Bestseller.

Virna loves to hear from readers at www.virnadepaul.com. CONTACT VIRNA HERE Website: www.virnadepaul.com Twitter: @virnadepaul Email: [email protected] Facebook Fan Page: www.facebook.com/booksthatrock

Rock Dirty Copyright © 2016 by Virna DePaul All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the copyright owner. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the

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