Rock Addiction (Rock Kiss #1)(46)

“That was nothing.” Jen sighed at the first sip of her drink, the salt from the rim of the glass a shimmer on her lips before she turned them inward to lick it off. “Rock star equals catnip for a lot of women.”

Molly couldn’t exactly argue, though it was only one particular rock star who was her personal catnip. “I guess that’s why real relationships don’t work in that life,” she said, and it hurt to speak the words.

Jen shrugged, her slender shoulders graceful against the black band T-shirt. “I dunno. There are plenty of long-term relationships in the business. Some of ’em the woman looks the other way, but a rare few are solid to the core. Depends how hard you want to work and how much you love, I suppose.”

Molly imagined living with a man—with Fox—knowing thousands of other women would be happy to crawl into his bed should he so much as crook a finger, and knew she couldn’t do it. The jealousy would eat her up. As it was doing now. “I think I’ll head back,” she said, conscious she was the one who’d created the distance tonight. Stupid, when she had so little time with him anyway. “I’m exhausted.”

“You did good for a rookie.” Jen finished off her margarita and swiveled off the stool. “I’ll come, too. Maxwell and I want to go see the opera house tomorrow.”

They walked back across the road and into the hotel, the crew having deliberately picked a place nearby so no one had to worry about driving. Molly was crossing the lobby when she spied Fox inside the small hotel bar; he was leaning against the bar itself, the sex-kitten who’d wanted a “reward” in the seat right next to him.

It felt like being punched in the stomach.

The ding of the elevator had her snapping her head away from the cozy tableau. Punching in the number for her floor, she tried to keep her face from crumpling, Jen thankfully too tired to pay her much attention. “Good night,” the other woman said one floor down from Molly’s. “If you want to check out the opera house, too, meet us downstairs at eleven.”

Molly nodded. “Thanks.”

Managing to keep herself together with the same furious will that had allowed her to survive that year of hell in high school, she entered her room and, striding across to the connecting door, locked it on her side. Only then did she give in to the urge to kick at the wall. It didn’t help.

Damn him. Damn him. Damn him!

She ripped off her Schoolboy Choir T-shirt, toed off her sneakers and, leaving a trail of clothes on the carpet, walked into the bathroom. Choosing a water temperature so hot it was almost unbearable, she was about to step inside the shower cubicle when there was a banging on her door.





Chapter 18


Molly’s heart leapt, but she knew it was likely a guest who had the wrong room. Wrapping herself in the hotel robe and switching off the shower, she frowned as the banging came again.

Not about to make herself vulnerable if the person was a drunk or otherwise aggressive, she padded out quietly and put her eye to the peephole—to see the last person she’d expected. Wrenching open the door when Fox went to pound again, she said, “What are you doing?” through clenched teeth. “You’ll wake everyone on the floor.”

Striding inside, he watched her close the door, then imprisoned her against it by slamming his hands palms-down on either side of her body, six feet four inches of pissed-off male. “What the f*ck, Molly? You blow me off after the show and now you lock me out?”

Instead of being intimidated, she shoved at his chest. The fact it was a futile effort only ratcheted up her anger. “I didn’t think you’d notice.” Her eyes burned with furious tears. Blinking them back, she said, “You looked plenty busy at the bar!”

“Seriously? A groupie sneaks into the hotel with the intention of getting into any bed she can, and you—”

“And I what?” She thudded her fists against his shoulders. “I shouldn’t wonder what the hell you were doing the hours I was at the site?”

Grabbing her wrists, he pinned her arms above her head with one big hand. He gripped her chin with the other, the green of his irises violent and his breath hot against her skin as he said, “You trust me, that’s what you do!”

Kicking out at him, Molly tried to wrench away but he pressed his body so close that she couldn’t move. “Trust you?” She sucked in ragged gasps of air. “Why? What do I know about rock stars?”

“I don’t f*cking care. You know about me!” It was a growl. “I made a promise and I don’t break my promises.” His kiss was a wild storm, his mouth demanding her response.

A red haze across her vision, she bit him on that luscious lower lip. Hard enough to hurt. Pulling away with a hiss, he shook his head. “That was not a good idea, baby.”

Dark and low and rough, his warning rasped over her skin. “What,” she said, hating that she was still so susceptible to him, “your little playmate didn’t scratch your itch?”

His fingers tightened on her wrists, his other hand curling around her throat. “Don’t push me.”

She could almost see him throttling back his temper, and it infuriated her that he could remain in control while she was falling apart, hot, angry tears rolling down her cheeks despite her every attempt to rein them in. “I’m not the one being pushy!” Twisting in his hold, her chest heaving, she was angrily aware of his jean-clad cock shoving against her abdomen. “If you think I’ll let you in me after you’ve been inside her—”