Consumed (Devoured, #2)(28)

“Just so you know, your ass is mine as soon as we get on that bus, and I’m going to enjoy breaking you in to each and every new city,” I whisper, and she races her tongue over her lips. I can’t decide if it’s just nerves or to test me.

“I’m guessing that has nothing to do with sight-seeing,” she says as the driver opens the door for her. I’m right behind her, steadying her by gripping her hips so she doesn’t fall over on the bright wedge sandals that make her legs seem even longer. As I stand up, my cock brushes up against her ass, and she jerks forward, taking in a sharp gasp of air.

“That was on purpose.” Since Wyatt’s approaching us and grinning I keep my voice low enough for only her to hear me. “Like I told you in there, your ass is mine.” Her mouth is parted when she whips her head around to look at me. “You can take that however you want for now.”

“Honestly, I’m afraid to take it anyway.”

Our conversation is cut short after that because of Wyatt, who gives me about 10 excuses on why he bailed after the show last night until he finally fesses up and admits that Kylie flew in from New Orleans to spend the night with him. “I already know where you were,” I say when he’s done.

When he catches up to me, he’s shoving a cigarette into his mouth. “Then why the f*ck did you let me go through all that?”

“Unlike my sister, I’m not against watching you f*ck yourself into a corner every once in awhile.” We reach the second black bus with the band’s logo—a heart full of daggers—emblazoned on the side. I run my hand down Sienna’s forearm and stare down at her. “This is ours. Give me five and I’ll be up too.”

“Ours alone?

“Wouldn’t that be convenient,” Wyatt says under his breath. Pressing his fist to his mouth, he clears his throat, and adds says aloud, “You and Lucas. Whichever bus driver is on the rotation that day. Sinjin. Whoever Sin’s f*cking.”

Sienna’s pink lips drag into a tight smile, causing me to debate whether or not I should punch McCrae in the mouth. “Good to see you again, Wyatt,” she says right before she climbs the bus steps. Once I hear her introducing herself to the bus driver, I face Wyatt.

“You know I’m bigger than you.”

Stuffing his hands into his pockets, he nods. “Yep.”

“And that you don’t need teeth to play your goddamn guitar.”

He claps me on the shoulder, but I don’t budge. “I’m envious of you.” He stares up the bus stairs. “We all are. Now pipe the f*ck down and enjoy what you have. Even if she is here to”—he grins broadly and clears his throat—“work.”

“Don’t go f*cking everything with a * and maybe Kylie’ll come around.” In the past, I played ignorance and didn’t step into their relationship. That changed when they got married. “Don’t f*ck her over.”

Wyatt’s still stunned into silence as I get onto the bus, but he speaks up before I’m completely out of earshot. I don’t hear his exact words because my attention is drawn to Sinjin who’s giving Sienna his hung over version of a grand tour of the bus, but I know what Wyatt’s saying.

I need to follow my own advice.





I’m not going to bullshit and say that it’s not a little rocky, but the first couple of days on the bus aren’t the potential clusterf*ck I prepared myself for. Sinjin’s not walking around screwed up out of his mind, so he’s decent company, and Dave keeps to himself whenever we’re secure and inside. Because we have no other damn choice, we fall into a quick routine. Sienna focuses a lot of her attention on wardrobe, while Sinjin and me work on music and Dave comes and goes after shows, keeping an eye out for stray sets of tits and ass trying to find their way onto the bus.

Still, I’m sick of the bus—with it’s full-sized master and standup shower—by the time we check into our Denver hotel mid-afternoon on the third day of the tour. Sienna’s obviously ready for a break too. Even before the door closes in our suite, she falls down on the bed, curling her bare toes into the crisp white sheets and grinning.

“I thought I never wanted to see another Four Seasons again, but this is heavenly,” she sighs.

Fuck.

Since I’m on the other side of the hotel room and her eyes are squeezed together, she doesn’t see my muscles tighten up at the mention of what happened in the Atlanta hotel. I’d treated her like shit. By the time she sits up, raking her fingers through her hair, I’m back in control. I cross the room slowly, allowing myself a little grin as her chest rises and falls faster and faster with each of my steps.

“It’s a good break from Sin’s goddamn drumming, huh?”

“The guy makes a drum set out of everything he sees.” But she’s smiling. She pulls her knees up to her chest, and I let my gaze follow the path her red toenails make up the bedspreads, imagining how they’ll look on my shoulders a little later. “How long are we staying for?”

“Tomorrow morning. Next city is only a few hours away.” The need to be inside of her is a second away from trumping everything else I’ve got planned, and I know I’ve got to leave this room before that happens. I’ve already told Tyler that I would stop by his hotel for a meeting, and even now my phone is going off in my pocket. “Get some rest. I’ve got some band shit to take care of and then I’m yours.”