Rock Chick Reckoning (Rock Chick #6)(131)

now.”

That’s when he spoke.

And this is what he said.

“God, I love you.”

Then he f**ked me.

* * * * *

Even though he didn’t have to, Mace f**ked me until he erased everything from my head but what he wanted there. Then he did it again.

Then he did it again.

Then he left me facedown in bed, pul ed the torn sheet up to my waist, took Juno out, came back, took a shower, ate a piece of coffee cake and came back to the bed.

I hadn’t moved a muscle. I snoozed a bit but mostly I listened to his noises in my house.

When he sat on the bed and shifted the hair out of my face and off my shoulder so he could lean in and kiss my neck, I asked (my voice messed up because my face was scrunched in the pil ow), “How can you move around?”

“Kitten, you need to get in better shape.”

“I’m going to have to cancel tonight’s gig.”

“You’l recover by then.”

“You tore my sheet.”

“I’l buy you a new one.”

“I don’t want a new one. I think I’m going to have this one bronzed.”

Then he said weirdly, “I understand it now.” My eyes had been closed but I opened them and shifted them to look at him.

“Understand what?” I asked.

“Why the men put up with the Rock Chicks.” Uh-oh.

I had a feeling we were going to get heavy again.

I came up on my elbows and said softly, “And why’s that?”

He didn’t answer, instead he said, “Couldn’t believe it but since I couldn’t come up with an explanation, I always thought they were whipped.”

I grinned. “And they’re not?”

He grinned back. “Men like us don’t get whipped, babe.”

“Bul shit,” I said under my breath, stil grinning.

“That isn’t it.”

“Admit it. It’s a part of it,” I teased.

“It’s easy to find a piece.”

As shocking as this statement was, and as much as I should be offended for al womankind, I was guessing he wasn’t wrong about that. Not for the Hot Bunch.

“So, what is it?”

He leaned in again and kissed my mouth. “Can’t tel you.

You know, you’l get cocky.”

“It’s because we’re sultry and sexy, isn’t it?” His eyes went soft and his voice went low. “Not even close.” Then he kissed me again and said, “Gotta go.” He got up and moved toward the door.

He’d deactivated the alarm and unlocked the locks when I cal ed, “You keeping me alive tonight?” He’d opened and was out the door but he turned, his eyes locking on mine.

“Even if I die doin’ it.”

Then he was gone.

I laid in bed, up on my elbows, eyes on the door, my heart permanently settled because I knew, without doubt, that he meant every word he just said.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Family

Stella

“I can’t do this,” I said into the Explorer.

Jules was sitting up front. Jet was in back, sitting next to me. Vance was driving.

I was freaking out.

Jules twisted around in her seat. Jet reached out and grabbed my hand. Vance’s eyes shifted to the rearview mirror to look at me.

“It’s going to be fine,” Jet said on a reassuring hand squeeze.

“No. No, it isn’t going to be fine,” I replied and looked at Jules. “What are you even doing here? Bad guys are out there and you’re pregnant.”

“I’l be al right,” Jules told me.

I stared at her then announced, “I need a drink.”

“We’l get you a beer when we get there,” Jet said.

I looked at Jet.

“I don’t need beer, I need tequila,” I explained.

“Then we’l get you tequila,” Jet promised.

We were on our way to the gig.

Chloe and Lana had both arrived safely and had been whisked to Daisy’s house. Reporting in (regularly, as in, every half an hour), Daisy told me she’d got them settled in rooms fil ed with flowers and “big old” boxes of Godiva chocolates (“Sugar, I said those were from you, hope you don’t mind,” Daisy told me, and I didn’t, how could I?). She gave them food and drink and let them rest.

Then Lee dropped Indy and Al y at The Castle and the five of them played Guitar Hero.

I didn’t know how I felt about Lana and Chloe playing Guitar Hero with Daisy, Indy and Al y but I had bigger things to worry about.

Like what I’d say to Dixon Jones.

Like what Lana and Chloe would think about me when they met me. Preston Mason didn’t think I was good enough for Mace. Maybe they wouldn’t either.

Like if Mace would stil love me after I meddled in his life.

Like what I was going to wear to the gig considering Mace’s Mom and Stepmom were going to be there. I felt I should wear something nice, like a pair of slacks or a skirt but I was a rock ‘n’ rol singer.

Slacks didn’t exactly say rock ‘n’ rol .

I settled on jeans, a black belt and black cowboy boots.

Usual y, I wore a t-shirt or a tank but to dress it up a bit, I wore a black button-up vest with a shiny, satin black panel at the back. I added dozens of thin silver bangles to my left wrist, a wide, hammered-silver band that sat tight on my right wrist, vintage, three-tier chandelier Navajo earrings made of silver and turquoise with dangling, bent spikes of silver at the bottom tier and a black leather thong in choker position around my neck from which hung several smal silver discs. I left my hair long and wild, did ful on, smoky-eyed makeup and I hoped I didn’t look like a rock ‘n’ rol freak.