Sex, Decisions & Rock n' Roll (Redemption Tour #2) Page 11

  “What was that all about?” Val asks as she comes to stand beside me.

  “Nothing, just trying to teach a cat to stay off the counter,” I play.

  “What?” Val questions, her nose scrunching up, and her brow furrows in confusion.

  “Never mind. It looks like things are winding down.”

  “Yep, looks like it. We could find our spot backstage to watch, but I’m sure you want to stick around for as long as you can. Am I right?”

  “You’re right.” I look past her over her shoulder, and my eyes zero in on Dash. He’s smiling at some young girl and signing something for her. Then as if sensing me looking at him, Dash’s eyes lift and meet mine, and he gives me my favorite crooked smile. I smile back, silently telling him I love him; his eyes convey the same sentiment before turning his attention back to the young girl.

  Val and I go to sit off to the side while the rest of the fans make their way through the line. I feel a wave of renewed confidence after my latest encounter with the skank extraordinaire, Nadia. A couple of fans, who of course are gorgeous Italian women, glare at me. The way they shoot daggers at me tells me they know exactly who I am. I simply smile and mouth to them in Italian to basically fuck off. My foul mouth is on a roll tonight; where was it earlier today?

  Finally, the last fan leaves and the guys all look like they’re ready to explode. They are so pumped up for the concert, it is actually contagious. Val gives my hand a squeeze and then gets up, heading over to talk to Roland.

  When I look up, Dash is standing before me, his blue eyes dancing.

  “Hi.”

  “Hi,” he answers back.

  He reaches his hand out, and I place mine in his. He lifts me up from the chair, and I am standing mere centimeters away from him. I can feel the heat radiate off him, spiked with his scent, swirl around, making me slightly disoriented. Before I can say or utter another word or even syllable, Dash’s mouth is on my mine, kissing me. I melt into his arms as they wrap around my waist, pulling me closer to him. He deepens the kiss and his tongue darts out, parting my lips and instantaneously seeking out mine. I wrap my tongue around his, caressing it, loving the way it feels in my mouth. As I begin to succumb to the need in me, Dash pulls away.

  He’s breathing heavy. “I should go before we get out of hand here. I do have a concert to put on.”

  “Right, concert. Yeah, we should, um, go.” I can barely speak due to the lack of oxygen from kissing him.

  He laces his fingers in mine, and we head out of the meet and greet. Dash finds Lance and Vic, and the three of them do their pre-show huddle. I watch in amazement how Dash’s demeanor changes from pure want and lust to confidence and drive as he goes into rock-star-getting-ready-to-perform mode.

  Val sneaks up behind me and watch as the guys take the stage and perform. I am still in awe as I was the first time I saw them perform. Dash is completely at home and at ease on the stage, gripping the microphone tightly with his guitar slung low. His voice is gritty, and it oozes a sexiness that grabs me and holds me captive. I still can’t believe I am with this man; he is just unbelievably gifted, talented, and gorgeous. The day’s events begin to cloud my mind, and my inner diva picks up a leaf blower to clear my mind. Her means are very effective because once again I am under his spell, his voice flowing out and around the stadium, hypnotizing me.

  Dash tells the crowd good night, and the three of them head off stage toward me and Val after handing off their guitars.

  “I think we all should head back to the hotel and just relax, you guys have definitely had a long day, and I need you in tip-top form for the rest of this tour,” Roland insists, scowling at me and then quickly turning away before anyone notices.

  Vic and Lance just shrug and along with Val start to make their way to the exit, while I wait for Dash to finish talking to one of the crew. Apparently his ear piece malfunctioned during the show and it needs to be fixed pronto. If Roland thinks I’m leaving because he said so, he has another thing coming. He gives me another harsh look but then diverts his attention to his phone, leading the way out with security in tow.

  As I wait, I have visions of the show dancing in my head. The way Dash commanded the stage, the way his hand gripped the microphone, the way his shirt was taut across his chest and biceps each time he strummed on his guitar, the way his voice wrapped around me and hypnotized me. While I’m lost in my daydream, I suddenly feel warm, strong arms wrap around me and hot, minty breath warms my neck.

  “I’ve wanted to hold you all fucking night,” he groans into my ear.

  My body breaks out in a million goose bumps, and the ache between my thighs has made itself well known. Dash turns me around, his hands firmly grasping my waist and his mouth is immediately consuming mine. I can’t help but fall deeper into the kiss and thrust my tongue into his warm, sweet mouth. My tongue wrestles his and I lace my fingers into his hair, pulling him closer to me. Dash’s hands pull me closer and tighter to him; I can feel his hardness through his jeans. I moan into his mouth as I grind against him. My mind is focused only on him, I’m driven to the point of madness, a Dash-induced madness. He pulls away, giving me a chance to breathe.

  “Jules, we need to get to the hotel room. Now,” he demands breathlessly.

  I simply nod.

  He laces his fingers in mine, and we head towards the exit. I minutely pull back, afraid of what lies beyond that door. I just know it’s going to be a mob scene, and with me in his arms, his fans are going to have a few choice things to say—I’m sure of it.

  “Jules, what’s wrong?” he questions, his voice laced with such concern.

  I shake my head. “Nothing.”

  “Jules, I know you better than that. Now I know something is wrong. How can I help or fix it if you don’t open up and tell me?” His eyes are fixed on mine, making me fall under the spell of his rock-star mind voodoo.

  I don’t answer.

  “Jules?” His voice is demanding.

  “It’s just that… I’m afraid to face them,” I confess, waving my hand at the unopened doors.

  “Face… who?” he asks, his eyes boring into mine.

  “Your fans.” My voice is barely audible.

  “My fans? Why? What are you not telling me? Jules, you need to talk to me please?” he pleads.

  I take a deep breath and then another, trying desperately to calm my nerves and will the words to come out of my mouth. “Dash, it’s just…”

  “Dash, there you are. Come on, the limo is waiting,” Russell interrupts.

  “Hey, Russell, we’re coming,” Dash tells him.

  As we follow behind Russell, Dash leans down and whispers in my ear, “Before I can do naughty things to you, Miss Bennett, you are going to have to tell me what’s going on, okay?”

  I shudder and shiver, nodding my response, knowing that I do have to open up to him, tell him everything, especially how I feel.

  DASH WRAPS HIS arm around my waist, tucking me into his side. Russell opens the door and camera flashes and screaming fans assault us. My body instantly stiffens, and I bury my head into Dash’s crook.

  “I’ve got you, baby, don’t worry,” he whispers in my ear, attempting to put my body and mind at ease.

  I begin to relax minutely. He pulls me even closer to him. Russell pushes our way through the crowd as they scream and clamor at us. Finally, we reach the limo and Russell opens the door to our awaiting sanctuary. I climb in and Dash follows, pulling the door shut. The driver begins to inch his way forward, trying to avoid hitting anyone in the process. Female fans surround both sides of the limo, pounding and yelling how much they love and want him. I squirm in my seat, feeling very uncomfortable as they continue to voice their adoration.

  “Why her, Dash, why? Pick me. I’ll make you happier than you ever imagined,” a girl screams into the closed window.

  I wince at the comment. Dash reaches over, grabbing my hand and pulling me toward him and into his lap. The limo continues to pull away from the s
tadium, finally making it out onto the open road.

  THE LIMO CONTINUES to drive through the streets of Rome. Dash pulls me closer to him and rubs his hand gently up and down my back. I relax even further and nestle into his lap. I can’t help but wiggle in his lap and when I finally still, I feel his length grow hard against me. Dash squirms, trying to adjust himself, and I start to get up. He immediately pulls me to him, instantly stopping my movement.

  “Hey, where do you think you’re going?” he breathes into my ear.

  I stare at him, not knowing what to say or do. I feel my eyes begin to tear up, and I hate to be like this in front of him. He has enough to deal with; he doesn’t need to deal with my emotionality. He traces his fingers along my jaw line, wiping away a stray tear that has just fallen in the process. His fingers slip under my chin, tilting my face upward slightly. He leans in and gently brushes his lips against mine. He continues to kiss me tenderly. His lips are telling me what words can’t at the moment. I think he’s beginning to get some idea what I’ve been going through without me having to say anything; that fan helped him see.

  We get completely lost in each other because suddenly we are in front of the hotel. Dash reluctantly pulls away from me, and he glares out the window, a low rumble coming from his chest. I notice several fans waiting along with some paparazzi. Dash takes my hand, giving me a reassuring squeeze. I look deep into his eyes and smile, but I know it’s not a smile that he’s used to seeing. I’m smiling because I feel like I need to, to try to tell him I’m okay, even though I’m not.

  Russell gets out of the limo and comes around to open the door. He easily pushes his way through the swarm of fans and paparazzi that has now descended upon us. He opens the door, and Dash steps out, firmly grasping my hand. I squeeze it tightly, nodding that I’m ready.

  “We can do this. I’ve got you—don’t worry,” he reassures me and then kisses me ever so lightly on the top of my head.

  Russell leads the way to the hotel entrance, clearing a path for us. I’m tucked into Dash’s side, shielded by his body. I feel hands grabbing and pulling at me from all directions. A couple of fans ask for autographs, but Dash doesn’t stop like he normally does. Flashes go off all around us, and it is blinding. Dash reaches out for Russell, and Russell’s hand grabs Dash’s jacket and tugs us to the entrance. Russell pulls us inside finally, away from the chaos that is ensuing outside. I minutely relax at his side when a couple of female fans approach.

  “Oh my God, you’re Dash Ford, can we like take a picture with you?” a small, freckly faced redhead asks, her smile full of metal.

  Dash turns to me, wordlessly asking if it’s okay. “How about I take the picture so the two of you can be in it at the same time,” I ask the two bouncing girls sporting Redemption shirts.

  “Really? You’d do that for us? Wow, that, that is just perfect. Thank you so much,” the redhead’s brunette friend answers.

  The redhead hands me her camera, and her and her friend flank Dash. He put his arms around their shoulders as they vibrate with excitement. “Okay, everyone say ‘we love Redemption,’” I tease.

  “We love Redemption,” the two girls and Dash say in unison as I snap their picture.

  The two leave Dash’s side, quickly taking the phone from me to see what the screen has to offer.

  “Oh. My. God. This is just totally perfect, thank you so much. Dash, you’re the best,” the redhead practically squeals as they huddle together, staring at the phone, and walk away.

  “Thank you for that,” he whispers in my ear as he wraps his arm around me, pulling me against him.

  “Anytime. Those girls were sweet.”

  We make our way to the elevators without another fan encounter. We quietly enter the elevator, neither one of us saying a word; the peaceful silence it brings is welcomed and refreshing. As we stand in the elevator with a little, elderly Italian couple, I relax completely. The solace the elevator brings is comforting. The old man looks over, and his squinty eyes roam over me. Dash pulls me closer to him, like he has anything to worry about. The older woman smacks her husband in the back of the head. “Smettere di fissare alla Jules ragazza o nessuna più pasta per lei stupido,” she mutters as he rubs the back of his head.

  I giggle at the comment. Dash bends down so his mouth is directly against my ear.

  “What did she say that has made my beautiful Jules giggle?”

  I weave my fingers into his hair, pulling his ear to my mouth.

  “She told him to stop staring at the beautiful girl or no more pasta for him. Then she called him stupid.”

  “Good. And she’s absolutely correct; you look beautiful tonight; completely ravishing. Although you look beautiful every night or day for that matter as far as I’m concerned,” Dash answers back, causing my skin to erupt in goose bumps.

  The old man keeps his gaze focused on the doors in front of him, not wanting to risk another smack in the back of the head or the withholding of pasta. I notice the old woman has laced her fingers in his and rests her head on his shoulder. I can’t help but let my mind wander, and before I know it the old man and woman morph into Dash and me. A rush of emotion floods my body, mind, and soul, and I suddenly find it difficult to breathe.

  “Everything okay?” Dash questions. His grip on me tightens as he pulls me closer to him.

  “Just perfect,” I honestly answer because at the moment being just him and me, everything is perfect. Dash kisses the top my head; the gesture is so reverent.

  The elevator dings, signaling the elderly couple’s floor. They begin to leave, but the old man turns around before making his way completely out, preventing the doors from closing. He takes a look at me and then his eyes focus on Dash.

  “Take a good care of your beautiful lady,” he says to Dash, his Italian accent thick.

  “I will.” Dash holds me against him, and his lips kiss my temple.

  The old man smiles and nods, and then we are left alone. I turn in his arms, peering up at him. There are so many emotions swirling around in me, I can’t decipher which one is more prevalent. I reach up on my tippy-toes, my lips finding his. My arms and hands snake up his muscular back and find their final destination around his neck. My fingers toy with the ends of his hair. My tongue juts out, and he welcomes it immediately into his mouth. My tongue caresses his with dominance for once, and the act spurs Dash on. A deep, primal growl erupts from his chest, rumbling against me.

  Our kiss deepens, and I am lost in everything else that is Dash. Everything about today drifts away, and all that matters is the man holding me. If I could, I would stay lost in him for the rest of eternity. I slowly pull away, and we are both left needing more oxygen. I place one last kiss on his lips just as the elevator doors open.

  Hand in hand we make our way silently to Dash’s room. Before anything else can happen when we get inside his room, we have to talk. I have to let him know what is going on. I have to let him know why I’m feeling the way I am. I just can’t tell him everything. I can’t tell him about Blake—not just yet. When the time is right I will, but that time isn’t now.

  We stand in front of his door as I patiently wait. Dash fumbles with the key fob; he’s struggling more than usual with the damn thing. It keeps blinking red. I can tell he’s slowly becoming annoyed and frustrated. As he puts it in the slot for like the billionth time, I put my hand on his, stopping his movement.

  “Here, let me try.” I smile, shaking my head.

  He hands me the key and on the first try, it flashes green and clicks open. “I guess I’ve got the magic touch.” I smirk, shrugging my shoulders.

  Dash instantly relaxes. All the frustration evaporates, and standing before me is the playful man I’ve come to know and love. “You’ve got that magic touch all right,” he teases, smacking my ass as I make my way into the room.

  The door closes, and Dash turns around just as I find my way to the edge of the bed. Suddenly I’m very nervous and can’t focus on anything but my hands in my lap
as I fidget with them—my fingers twisting and turning.

  I hear Dash walk across the room, but I can’t look up at him. A part of me is afraid to, for whatever reason. I can’t explain it. I’m terrified that if I voice my opinion and let him know what’s been going on, he’s going to laugh it off and tell me to get over it. I know I need to, but in all honesty it’s not that easy. I’m trying my damnedest. I’m trying to be strong for him, for me, for us. I feel I’m failing, and I’m afraid if he sees that failure he won’t want me to be a part of his life, and that will break me into a million pieces. My heart lurches in my chest at the thought. He kneels down in front of me. I keep my eyes downcast and realize I’ve started picking at the skin around the nail on my pinkie finger. A nervous habit. He reaches out and takes my hand. My body, having a will of its own, stiffens.

  “Jules, baby, talk to me, please. I can’t fix this… I can’t help you if you don’t,” he pleads with me.

  I take a chance and peer up at him through my eyelashes and the curtain of hair that’s fallen across my face—as if either can protect me. “It’s nothing, really. I can handle it. I have to handle it.” I drop my head back down, whispering to myself, “Thicker skin.”

  He reaches his hand up and gently grasps my chin, tilting my head up. “Jules, baby, look at me, please.”

  I can’t tell him the truth. I’m so afraid to. “It’s nothing, really,” I try to play off.

  “Damn it, Jules, don’t tell me it’s nothing because I can see it’s definitely something. Please just talk to me, please. It’s killing me to know you’re hurting. It’s tearing me up inside to know that you’re hurting because of me. Please, baby, please, just tell me.”

  I take a deep breath, and a small sigh escapes. I grip his hands and look deep into his beautiful blue eyes. I open my mouth, and nothing comes out. I quickly close it and then try again; this time my voice is found, but it’s soft and barely above a whisper.

  “Things have been, well, for lack of a better word, crazy. I mean, I knew being with you would be different, I just didn’t know it would…” I begin and then trail off, searching his eyes for something, anything that shows he understands and won’t make me say much more. If I’m having this much difficulty telling him about his fans’ reactions to me and those damn models, how am I ever going to tell him about Blake? I don’t know how I can.