Hard rock remix, p.27
Hard Rock Remix, page 27
But Aylen would give her fate over to chance. After all, chance had treated her well so far.
I closed my eyes and saw Carter’s face, and then I yanked on the steering wheel.
Tires screeched. The man in the passenger’s seat screamed. We were on a main road, and cars veered around us, honking their horns. I heard the sound of sirens. Police?
My second prayer of the day: Please let everyone in the other cars be okay.
Hands were on me. The van reeled and swerved. The driver shoved me, but I held on and the van skidded, the world outside the windshield becoming a blur, and then we were spinning out of control, tipping, and the driver screamed and slammed on the brakes, but it was too late. I watched a telephone pole careen toward us, in slow motion, as if in a dream.
But I didn’t care. I wouldn’t let them have me.
I am done with this life, I thought. One way or another.
Then the van smashed into the pole, and the world blinked out of existence.
* * *
I woke up to soft white light and the sound of skilled fingers plucking away at a guitar, and I smiled.
Then I stopped smiling, because it made my head hurt. I closed my eyes again and tried to breathe slowly and evenly. When at last I thought I had a handle on things, I said, very softly: “Carter?”
The guitar immediately stopped and I heard him get up from where he sat. The air shifted and I knew he was by my bedside. I opened my eyes and was glad to see that his face wasn’t too blurry.
“Hey,” I said.
“Hey.”
I ran my tongue around my mouth, which was dry. “Uh...what happened?”
He smiled. “Really bad concussion and a couple of bruises for you. The other guys got it worse, though.”
I smiled again, and this time, even though it hurt, I kept smiling.
Slowly, Carter reached down and stroked my face. “I’m so sorry, Aylen,” he said. “I should have been there. I should have taken you with me to the set or something...”
“No,” I said. “It’s fine.”
“It isn’t...”
“It is.” The strength of my voice surprised me, and it seemed to surprise Carter, too. His hand on my hair stilled and he looked down at me for a long time, his dark blue eyes searching my face.
“Do you want to talk about it?” he said at last.
I mulled the thought over for a moment, then gave the slightest of shakes of my head, which really hurt. “Urgh,” I said.
“Try not to move.”
“I don’t think I’m going to have to try very hard.”
His hand resumed stroking my hair, brushing over my cheek. He was warm, and nice. I closed my eyes and let him soothe me for a while.
“The police want to talk to you,” he said at last, and his voice was loud. I realized I’d been drifting dreamily. I opened my eyes again.
“They do?”
His mouth twisted. “Yeah. They’re going to want to know what happened.”
I snorted. “I got kidnapped, and I crashed the car I was kidnapped in,” I said.
His eyes widened. “Really?”
I almost laughed. “Of course. Why else would that car have crashed? They weren’t going to kill me for the hell of it. Not when I’m worth more to them alive.”
“Jesus, Aylen. You could have been killed.”
I wanted to say that no, Aylen would not have died—only Anna. And Anna was dead, in fact. Dead and gone, killed in that wreck, and Aylen was the one who was left. The strong one. The smart one. The one who changed her fate.
But then I realized that might sound a little crazy, so I just shrugged. “But I wasn’t.”
“I should have taught you how to defend yourself,” he said. “I know martial arts, why didn’t I teach you?”
I couldn’t help it. “Because you were too busy trying to kiss me?”
He slapped a hand across his face. “I wish you weren’t right, but you are. Jesus, I’m a fuckhead. This wouldn’t have happened if I’d just taken the time to help you instead of get all googley-eyed...”
He trailed off, then snatched his hand away and I was shocked to see two small spots of color on his cheeks.
Oh my gosh, I thought. He’s blushing!
But he still looked worried. “But you did teach me,” I said. “If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t have even thought to fight them.”
He frowned. “What, me? How did I do that? I was going on and on about protecting you and making sure everything would be okay because...you know, because your family is shit just like mine, and because...you know...”
I wondered if I wasn’t on some sort of medication that was messing with my hearing, because I seemed to be missing a lot of words in this conversation.
“It’s because you got away,” I said. “You escaped. And I thought if you could escape, then so could I.”
He shook his head. “No. I only escaped because my brother helped me—”
With great effort I lifted a hand and put it on his forearm. Beneath my fingers I felt the pockmarks of his old life. The scars of his bondage. “I only escaped because you helped me,” I whispered. “You saved me.”
He was still shaking his head. “No, you saved yourself, you crashed that car...You ran when you saw the chance...”
I squeezed his arm. “The whole time they were chasing me, I thought of you,” I told him. “I thought of how strong you are, how you kicked your addictions and how you care about people you don’t even know and how you found a better family than the one you were born into...and I kept thinking about how much I wanted to be like you.”
He stared at me, his eyes suspiciously bright.
I tried to smile bigger. “You see? You’re the one who showed me I didn’t have to go down without a real fight.”
Abruptly Carter turned away, and when he spoke again his voice was thick. “No one’s ever told me they wanted to be like me,” he said. “No one who really knew me, anyway.”
“Then they’re all stupid,” I said. “I’m smart. You should listen to me.”
“You also have a concussion.”
I couldn’t think of a witty comeback to that point. “All right. Fair enough.”
He turned back to me, blinking rapidly. “Anyway. I’ll help you with the legal things that are coming your way. You don’t have to worry about that. And you can stay with us as long as you want, no rent, mi casa es su casa and all that...”
“Carter...”
He stopped and waited for me to speak.
That was another thing I liked about Carter...no, loved about Carter. He really, truly listened to me.
Unfortunately I didn’t want to have to say what I had to say next. I swallowed hard. “I think...I think I should move in with Aunt Didi.”
He was quiet for a second. Then: “Of course. Of course. That was silly. Of course you want to move in with your family. The good part of your family, I mean. That’s...that’s good. I’m glad you found her.”
“I can’t stay at your house without paying rent,” I said. “I don’t want to feel like...like...” I trailed off, not knowing how to put it.
But Carter knew. “You don’t want to feel like you have to depend on a man,” he said.
I nodded.
He looked down at the blanket covering my lower body. “Do you still want to...you know. Do the thing? With us?”
He sounded like a Church mother dancing around the facts of life. “Yes,” I said, “but we should probably...I don’t know...slow down? Now that my life isn’t in danger?”
He took a deep breath. “Yeah. That’s probably a good idea.”
We were quiet for a moment.
“So...” Carter said at last. “What are you going to do next?”
I looked up at the ceiling and smiled. “I guess I need to get a job.”
There was a pause. Then Carter started to laugh, and then I started to laugh, and then my head hurt too much, and then he was kissing me, long and hard and deep, and when he pulled away I was breathless and floating.
“I thought we just said we were going to slow down,” I managed to gasp.
He gave me a wicked smile. “Slow down doesn’t mean stop. In fact, I’m pretty sure it means we keep going. Just...slowly.”
“Oh,” I said. “Good.”
He laughed and kissed me again.
And yes. It was good.
Chapter Nineteen
“If you make me late for work tomorrow,” I warned, “you are going down.”
“I rather hoped to do that anyway,” Carter replied.
Beneath the blindfold he’d placed over my eyes, I blushed furiously. I still wasn’t quite used to la langue de l’amour, as Carter liked to call his dirty-talk. And he still swore he held back for me.
But that wasn’t what I was thinking about now. Right now, I was wondering where the heck we were, and why we were here.
I hadn’t been warned about this little field trip in advance. Carter had abducted me immediately after filming had stopped for the day. I hadn’t even had a chance to help Didi pack up her little bag of makeup tricks before Carter had appeared at the door of his dressing room and pounced on me with a soft scarf.
“Put it on,” he’d insisted as I blocked his attempts with my—very rudimentary—kung fu skills. Didi, usually in my corner and fiercely protective of me, had just laughed and shook her head.
“Just do it,” she’d told me. “I’ve been briefed and you’ll be fine.”
I sighed. “Okay,” I said. “Let’s get this over with.”
Carter had just grinned back at me. “You won’t be saying that by the time I’m done with you.”
“Carter!” Didi snapped.
“Oops,” he’d replied, not sounding particularly sorry as he tied the blindfold over my eyes.
Didi had humphed. “You keep saying things like that and I’ll reinstate the curfew.”
“Curfew?” I said. I had a midnight curfew. Why was it lifted? “What’s the curfew now?”
“There is none,” Didi said, and then laughed when my jaw dropped. “Have fun!” she’d called to me as Carter pulled me to my feet and guided me quickly out of the studio, around the still-milling cast and crew, and out into the lot.
There’d been a lot of car doors opening and then car doors closing and then me in the front seat of Carter’s beater Mustang.
“Where’s the Lambo?” I asked him as the key turned in the ignition. In the ensuing month I’d become more familiar with Carter’s other car, a brilliant orange Lamborghini. But I had to admit, I liked the Mustang better.
“The Lambo is not suited for tonight,” Carter told me as he revved the engine. “Tonight is for you and me.”
All right. Okay. That was fine. Being the girlfriend of a famous rock star had its downsides, and one of them was getting recognized wherever you went. So I’d waited as Carter had driven us halfway to San Francisco, or so it seemed to little old blind-folded me.
“Did it ever occur to you,” I asked him at some point along the way, “that it would be a bad idea to pretend-abduct a kidnapping victim?”
Carter was quiet for a second. “Oops,” he’d said. “I guess I’m just lucky you’re so amazing.”
I had to admit: I was pretty lucky too.
Now I stood in a room. I had deduced we were in a hotel, but which hotel and where and why had yet to be determined.
“Are you ready to take in your surroundings, milady?” Carter asked me.
“I’m ready for you to take this blindfold off,” I replied.
“Good enough for me!” he said. I felt the air move as he maneuvered behind me, and then his strong, gentle fingers were on the knot of the scarf. Without so much as pulling a single hair, he unthreaded the knot and the scarf fell from my eyes.
I gasped.
“Eh?” Carter said. “Pretty good, right?”
I couldn’t even answer. I was too busy gawping.
We were standing in what looked to be the grand royal suite of a castle. Huge windows lined one wall, looking out onto trees and a courtyard, while large stone archways framed a beautiful elevated bedroom with a huge four poster canopied bed in it. A bathing nook, a sitting area, and a dining area topped it off, and of course all of it was elegantly and perfectly decorated.
“Where...where are we?” I breathed.
“The Mission Inn Hotel,” Carter said. “One of the presidential suites. I forget which one. Do you like it?”
I could only nod as I took it all in. I still couldn’t believe the levels of luxury available to the very rich. The MGM suite had been luxurious enough, but this... I kept blinking, half-expecting the ambient lighting and rich golden décor to disappear before my eyes.
“Wow,” I said.
“Whew,” he replied. “I’m glad you like it. You’ve been acting awfully grumpy today.”
I had, because I was tired. How was I to know that he was going to treat me to this, and all because...because...
Wait, why are we here?
I was still standing stupidly in the middle of the living area as Carter strolled over to the dining table where a bottle of champagne was chilling in a bucket of ice. I watched as he plucked it out and opened it deftly before pouring two flutes of champagne. Then he drank both of them and grinned at me.
I just rolled my eyes and shook my head as he refilled the flutes. “Carter,” I said, “what are we doing here? What’s with the champagne and the mystery?”
He blinked, then grinned. “Well duh. It’s your birthday, Aylen.”
I stared at him. “My birthday was last month.”
He held up one ringed finger. “Ah-ah. Don’t be a spoilsport. One month ago today, you escaped. One month ago today, you broke into my motel room and begged me to help you. One month ago today, Aylen Ware was born.”
He held his arms out wide. “So you see? Today, Aylen is one month old.”
I crossed my arms. “That doesn’t make it my birthday,” I said. “My birthday would be one year.”
Carter groaned and rolled his eyes so hard he nearly toppled over backward into one of the potted palm trees. “Aylen, come on. Let’s take our victories where we can get them. Besides, don’t you want a little...birthday lovin’?” He straightened and waggled his eyebrows at me.
To my frustration and excitement, I felt a gush of wetness between my thighs.
Oh, I thought. Oh yes.
The past month had been good to me. I’d started eating better. I got a job. I made friends. I started to come out of my shell.
And Carter had lavished my body with all the attention and care that had been denied to it for eighteen years. We hadn’t done the deed yet, but a girl can get addicted to a man’s mouth between her legs. Especially if that mouth was Carter Hudson’s.
Carter crossed the room, moving smoothly and sinuously, all cat again, about to pounce on his willing prey.
I extended a hand and took the flute of champagne he proffered. I looked at it, marveling that such a thing even existed. Then I downed the whole thing in one gulp.
“Whoah!” Carter stared at me. “Dang, I don’t usually see you go hard for the drink.”
I shrugged. “I’m just bracing myself,” I said.
“For what?”
I smiled. “You.”
He grinned at that. “Probably a good idea,” he said. He shotgunned his own glass, then took both and set them on the coffee table before reaching out and cupping my face in his hands and bringing me in for a kiss.
My eyes slid closed as his lips met mine. Even though we’d kissed a hundred times since I had finally broken free, he still set me on fire. Would that fire ever go out? I didn’t think it would. And I didn’t really have time to think about it anyway because Carter moved in and pressed his body against mine as his hands slid sensuously from my face to my throat, cupped my breasts, and then slipped around my back.
Reaching up, I wove my fingers through his hair and pulled him in close. Our mouths opened, our tongues dancing together, tangling and warring for dominance. Each stroke and flutter sent a jolt of liquid heat straight down to my core, and I suddenly realized that tonight was the night.
Tonight, I wanted to give myself over to Carter. Completely.
Just the thought lit me up and I moaned into Carter’s mouth as his hands began to unlace the straps of my soft, flowing sleeveless blouse. My chest heaved, pressing my breast into him, and I heard him give a little grunt of surprise as my hunger rose up and consumed me.
The straps of my blouse fell away and hot, sure fingers unlaced the back. Carter broke our kiss and brought his mouth to my throat, nipping at my hammering pulse before grabbing the undone strap of my shirt in his teeth and giving it a gentle tug. It fell away easily, and I was topless. I didn’t even wear a bra anymore, and I liked it that way. I was free—free to choose what I wanted to do, who I wanted to be...and who touched me.
Carter gave a little groan as he sank down to his knees in front of me, his mouth finding first one pert nipple and then the other. With deft strokes of his tongue he circled the hard little nubs, teasing them into greater prominence, and I ran my fingers through his hair, clinging to him. My knees went weak with the sensations he gave me.
Carter gave one nipple a powerful suck and let it pop out of his mouth, making me squeak.
He chuckled. “You are so beautiful, Aylen,” he whispered as he leaned forward and nudged the soft swell of the underside of my breast with his nose. His hot, hungry breath brushed over the skin there, and I wiggled, moving restlessly, rubbing my thighs together as if that had ever done anything to ease the ache he inspired in me.
“I think I shall have a nice little appetizer before we call for dinner,” Carter said. “What do you say, Aylen dear?”
“I think you’d better get started,” I whispered huskily. “I’m starving.”
