Burning desires, p.1
Burning Desires, page 1
BURNING DESIRES
L.J. Diva
CONTENTS
Dedications
Prologue
PART ONE: TASTE
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
PART TWO: CRAVE
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
PART THREE: BURN
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Epilogue
About the Author
Other Titles
Copyright
DEDICATIONS
Dear lovers,
I’m tasting you…Aussie band, 5 Seconds of Summer, you inspired the “interviews” that got the whole idea started. For future reference, I prefer drummers…
I’m craving you…wildly hirsute and hot as hell Brett Goldstein, you inspired my shy and retiring detective, who, when the suit came off and the cuffs went on, unleashed his wild inner animal.
I’m burning for you…sexy as fuck, Roy Kent, you inspired my sexy as fuck band manager, whose gruff interior is always outdone by his very hairy sexy man beast exterior.
The sex was always wild!
Love, L.J.
PS. To Angela Bishop, thanks for inspiring my entertainment reporter
PROLOGUE
He crescendoed on the base drum and the orgasm hit her hard. Her breath groaned from between her lips as his leg slowed to a stop. Hers slid down until her feet landed on the floor.
“You really know how to fuck a woman.”
He exuded the scent of sex, drugs, and rock ’n roll as her fingers danced over his bare chest and up to his lips.
Her lips hovered in front of them. “You really know how to fuck.”
His lips slowly curled into a grin. “And you know how to make fucking adventurous.” His hands grasped her waist and lifted her as he stood, sliding her off his cock and placing her on her feet. He tucked himself away and zipped up. “Never banged a woman while I banged out a beat on the drums before.”
“First time for everything,” she murmured, smoothing her short denim skirt. “They say drummers bang it harder. You certainly proved just that.” Licking her full, cherry gloss covered lips, she trailed her fingers over his muscular arms. “And now I know the rest of you matches that, muscle for muscle.”
“I have been doing this for years,” he muttered into her ear. “But even that’s running low on the enthusiasm scale.” He grabbed a towel from the table behind the drum kit and wiped himself down.
Her brows furrowed. “What do you mean? Isn’t drumming doing it for you anymore? Had enough of the travelling band life? The rich and the famous. Girls throwing themselves at you. Millions of dollars rolling in. Number one singles and albums.”
“Just made me money to waste on drugs and alcohol.” He threw the towel down and opened a bottle of ice-cold water, taking a long swig before pouring the rest over his head.
“Yeah.” She moved over to the table and took a bottle for herself. “I did notice the line of coke you snorted off your hand before starting the rehearsal.” Eyeing him as she opened her water, she noticed his physical unease, and carefully added, “Planning on doing that the rest of your life? Or are you sick of that, too?”
He slumped down on the corner of the table and swiped the back of his hand across his mouth to catch a few drops of liquid. “Yeah, getting sick of that, too.”
“You can do things about that, you know.” She stood in front of him. “Rehab or leave the band altogether. What is it you’re actually feeling?” She reached out and lightly shifted his auburn curls out of his eyes, her fingers sliding over his rounded cheek that was lightly freckled. “What is it that you actually want? Right now. Don’t worry about what the band will say or do, or what your manager will say or do, or the record company will say or do. Just think about you. What do you want right here, right now?”
“To disappear and never come back.”
She was surprised. “Blunt and to the point. Are you done with the band? Done with music? You’ve been together what…fifteen, twenty years, now?”
He heaved a deep sigh and shook his head. “I feel so done sometimes. Other times, I’m still riding high on tours and number ones.”
“And on other things, clearly.” She stepped closer and lowered her voice. “How much do you want this to stop? How much are you done? How much do you want to be done? How long have you been doing drugs?”
He gazed into her vibrant green eyes and felt the highs of the cocaine drift down to the depths of normality. “Very done. And too many years.” He thrust upward, his face inches from hers. “Drug addicts normally don’t want to stop. They constantly want that high. But I’ve come to hate it.” He stalked away. Around the table. The drum kit. Back and forth across the room.
She watched, waiting for him to speak.
He ran both hands through his tangled mess of curls and stopped. “I want it done. I want it gone. I want to be gone. But I was hanging on for tonight.”
Confusion settled over her. “Tonight? Why tonight?”
He gave her a wry grin and huffed a little. “You asked how long we’d been together. Well, it’s our twentieth anniversary today. We got together twenty years ago and tonight will be our anniversary party. Our anniversary show.”
“Wow.” Her brows rose and she nodded slightly. “You’ve held on how long? Wanted to stop how long? Would you leave after tonight?”
With his hands on his hips, he glanced around at nothing in particular. Tonight, they’d be playing in the hottest club in the country, run by the hottest woman he knew. He weighed up his thoughts. “Yeah. I would. I might. I’m done. I’m drained physically. I’m exhausted mentally. The record company wants us to head into the studio and start writing and recording, but fuck it, I’m done. I can’t keep doing this.” He rubbed his eyes and fell to the floor, rolling onto his back, legs bent at the knees, staring up at the ceiling. “I’m sick and tired of touring, not sleeping properly, not eating properly, not having any downtime in between tours. They want us to record, and then we have to release and promote, and then tour again. It’s exhausting and I am fucking exhausted.”
She knelt beside him. “Do you want all of it to stop after tonight’s show?”
“If it could, that’d be great,” he mumbled. “But even I don’t know if they’d let me take time off for rehab, or a holiday. They don’t have any problem with us doing drugs. We’re more productive, and they’re the ones who pushed it onto us in the first place, so we’d get more done. All for them. All to make them more money.”
“Seems to be the way,” she murmured, and settled on the floor next to him. “Do you want someone to help you leave?” She glanced around to see if anyone was lurking in the shadows. “I know people who can help.”
He looked at her, thinking she was joking. “Wait…you’re serious?”
She nodded. “Yes. I am.”
He pushed himself up on his elbows and stared at her. “Are you actually serious? If I want to leave tonight, you’d help. And take me where? Do what with me? What would happen? How would it happen? When would it happen?”
She looked furtively for his people. “After the concert,” she murmured close to him, still on the lookout. “There are rooms for people to enjoy pleasures in. No one will notice you’re gone unless you tell them.”
He sat up, his heart hammering at the prospect of sneaking away. “But how?”
“Can’t tell you.” Her gaze darted around. “Best kept secret. But if you want to leave after the show, I’ll help you. Problems will only arise if you shoot your mouth off.” Studying his face, she could see the wear and tear of years of drugs, late nights, partying hard, and no time off. “It’s worn you out. That’s obvious. You look older than thirty-seven. And if you’re deadly serious about changing your life, then I can help you tonight. But…” She inhaled deeply and thought some things through, on the lookout for his people. “Because of your anniversary you’ll have a reporter and camera crew there all night. And I take it you’ll be doing interviews before and after the concert, so it’s going to be a long night and you’ll need to keep your mouth shut about leaving or taking time off.” She glanced at him sharply. “Can you try and not take anything so that you don’t blurt any information out by mistake?”
“Can’t promise that,” he said with a shake of his head. “The record company supplies munchies for our, and their, enjoyment before a show. And it expects us to take them.” He sighed. “You know. We started off healthy as teenagers. But we very quickly fell into the nature of fast food and sugary drinks. When our health got bad and our performances suffered for it, they brought in a nutritionist and cook. Things got better, but it wasn’t fast enough, or good enough for management, and that’s when the extra supplements came into the diet. We didn’t know at first. Thought they were normal vitamins. That’s what we were told. But it was too late when we found out. We were hooked, and they kept them in moderation, so we didn’t OD.” Wiping his nose, he thought about the line of coke he’d done earlier. “Unfortunately, it made us want the hard stuff and you saw that before.”
“Do you want to stop that? Seriously? Twenty years together, however many years on drugs, now the hard stuff. Do you seriously want to stop and walk away? For how long? Forever? For a year? For months? What? I need to know so I can make the plan for later.”
He bit his lip while thinking about it. “Not forever. But a good year or two, maybe three or four. The whole band needs to detox and get rid of management. We’re due to sign a new deal with them tonight. The others have been questioning it, wanting a break as well. But they just want time off. I want to disappear.”
“I can help with that. Where would you like to go? The desert or the seaside?”
“Can’t stand the desert, but love the water. Seaside. Why?”
“I can arrange that. Is there anyone you’ll be leaving behind? Partner, children, family?”
A wry grin slid over his face. “My family’s on my back about rehab, and there’s no partner or children. Where would I have found the time?”
“From the schedule I’ve seen of tonight, you’ll be doing interview, concert, fan chats, interview. After that you’ll be partying. It’ll happen then, towards the end of the night. You need to be ready. You need to want this. You need to be willing.”
Breathing deeply, he nodded. “I’m ready. I’m willing. I want to do this.”
“Then keep it to yourself and I’ll make the plan. I’ll see you tonight.” She got to her feet and adjusted her skirt.
“Will we fuck before I go?” He grabbed the waist of her skirt and pulled her close. “That was quite something.”
“Oh, don’t worry; we’ll make them think that’s what’s happening. Until tonight.” She pried loose his hands and left him to his rehearsal.
PART ONE
TASTE
CHAPTER 1
“Hello, ladies and gentlemen. Welcome to the country’s hottest and coolest club to be for the best music and live performances in town, The Cavern Club.”
From her spot on the stage, Remi Steele glanced around her club and the adoring two-thousand-strong crowd there to see Jagger who was celebrating their twenty years together with an intimate performance for their rabid fans. They had run a competition to give away those tickets, and within minutes their website had crashed. But the fans had still scored their tickets.
Remi put her hand up to quieten the crowd. “Now, as you know, you are all competition winners and have received your packs with information on how tonight will go. The boys will be doing an interview upstairs before the performance, and one after. They’ll sign your merch and take photos with you. No pushing or shoving—you’ll get to see them. We have free drinks at the bar, and will be playing their music for you to dance to while you wait for them to come on stage. And until they do, enjoy yourselves. Free merch, free drinks, free performance. What’s not to like?” She scored screams in return and walked off the stage.
Sisco Reynard, the club’s manager, appeared by her side. “Rem, the reporter wants to interview you as well.”
“Me? Why me?” Remi walked past the bar, turned right into the private hallway behind it, and into her office. “Why me?”
“Because you’re famous in your own right.” Sisco shut the door behind them and watched Remi slump on her couch. “Want a drink?”
“God, yes please,” she groaned and put her boot-clad feet on her coffee table. “I’m worn out already. Don’t know how many more years I can put up with this.” She accepted a cold soda and Sisco sat beside her.
“Bullshit! You love it, and besides, that’s what you have me for. To manage the place while you’re not here.”
After several mouthfuls of icy soda, she blew out a breath. “True. But I think I’m just as exhausted as the bands that play here. Are the plans for tonight done?”
“All set. Interview, performance, meet and greet, interview. Which brings me back to the reporter who wants to do an interview with you.”
“About?”
“Your life, your career, your everything. You’re just as famous as the bands and singers that come through those front doors.”
“And go out the back ones.” Remi smirked. “Is it in the before or after interview?”
“Before the before. She’ll talk to you and then the band.”
An idea came to Remi’s mind. “What about if we do it together?”
Sisco cocked his head. “You’re up to something.”
“Am I?” Remi’s eyes rounded innocently. “Why would I be up to something?”
“Because you usually are—” He was interrupted by a knock on the door. “I’ll get it.” He quickly got up and opened the door, finding the reporter on the other side.
“Hello.” Donatella Prince was a thirty-year veteran with one of the TV networks. “Are we on for that interview, yet?”
Remi sighed, lifted her feet from the table, and stood wearily. “Sure. I’ll just freshen up and be up in a few minutes.”
“Fantastic. See you then.” Donatella walked away and Sisco closed the door.
Remi groaned and bowed her head. “I’ll be out in a minute.” She took her time freshening up and then strode upstairs to where the camera crew was set up for that night’s performance and interviews.
The club had multiple levels, laid out similarly to a theatre; you had the floor in front of the stage, a mezzanine level above it at the back where they were, and multiple levels of private booths around the sides.
“Donatella.”
“Remi Steele, look at you. Still hot-to-trot at forty-two,” Donatella said, microphone in hand and legs on display in a short, sequinned dress and stiletto heels.
Remi’s brows rose. “Yeah, thanks for reminding me how old I am. Let’s get this done, shall we?” She turned on an angle so she could look at Donatella and the camera easily, without cracking her neck or getting whiplash.
“Well, there’s nothing wrong with age,” Donatella replied. “And you’ve done a hell of a lot in your lifetime, including set up this incredible club. But what people may not know is that you had your very own music career as a singer songwriter. Number one hit songs, hit albums, tours; year after year you did something new, released something new, were massive around the world in dozens of countries, and then you gave it all away to set up this club.”
“Ah, that’s not accurate, Donatella,” Remi corrected. “I started at eighteen and recorded and produced and toured for twenty years, until just four years go. I started this club ten years ago as an extra outlet for my craft. I stopped working for my record company once the club became more profitable than my singing career.”
“Are you saying your record company ripped you off?”
Remi gritted her teeth and let out a slow breath. “Don’t put words in my mouth, Donatella. Making product and touring became less fun and less profitable. There are a lot of artists out there making money, and I decided to go a different path and exit stage right into my club. I believe it’s my twenty-year career that helps make this club what it is. Famous.”
“And speaking of famous, you’ve had some pretty famous bands, singers, and musicians come through the doors to perform on your stage. Are they people you’ve known throughout your career, or ones you’ve forged new friendships and working relationships with?”
“Mmm, good question,” Remi said. “Many I have known throughout my career love coming to do intimate shows for their fans, and many start here with their careers. Every now and then we’ll do a talent show and have managers, press, and record execs here to see what talent is out there now, and so I forge relationships with up and comers as well.”
“Jagger have performed here a few times over the years, and they chose The Cavern Club for their intimate twentieth anniversary performance. They’ve reached the same milestones you have; some of you are stayers in the music community.”
Remi nodded. “We have to be sometimes, but it can get very boring hanging around so long. I had absolutely no problem hosting the boys tonight. And their people went all out for it, even down to the food. They have jelly confectionery in the shape of the boys’ tattoos, so I am off to suck on Jace’s snake.” Remi took that moment to wave goodbye and dash off, passing Jagger, who were coming for their first interview, as she went. Jace smiled and reached for her hand. She squeezed it as he passed and kept on going until she was downstairs. Glancing up, she saw the boys meet up with Donatella for their first interview.
