The Purest Hook (Second Circle Tattoos #3)(9)

Pyrotechnics went off all the way around the stage as the crowd screamed and cheered. He hugged each of the guys, then ran off the stage to pull Pixie from Harper and Drea. The break between the end of the act and the encore was approximately four minutes, and he had plans to use them wisely.

Pixie looked at him, her eyes wide in shock as he grabbed her hand.

“Quick,” he said to her, tugging her down the stage steps. There was no way he could make it back to his dressing room in time, so he hurried them along the black curtain that surrounded the stage into a darkened corner. He pushed her gently against the wall, trapping her in his arms.

“Watching you watch me, Pix . . . drove me crazy. You going to let me kiss you?” he begged. “Please.”

Pixie looked at him and put a hand against his cheek. “Yes.”

He slid both hands into her hair and pressed his mouth against hers. Energized from the performance, Dred struggled to rein in the need to kiss her fiercely. When he heard her groan, felt her lift up on her toes to loop her arms around his neck, he was done for. She was more than he’d dreamed of, and he’d dreamed a hell of a f*cking lot. And yet none of his half-asleep fantasies could match the emotions currently blazing through him. Her tongue tentatively brushed against his so gently it was almost innocent. Well, as innocent as it could be when what he really wanted to do was take her against this black curtain.

It was f*cking heaven.

He slid his hands down her body. Pixie giggled when he gripped her waist to pull her close. Ticklish. He’d have to remember that.

Not that he wanted to, but he needed to get back onstage. Fucking encore. He kissed her one more time, tasted the whiskey he’d given her earlier. The telltale thump of Lennon’s bass drum started to sound. He pulled back, willing his hard-on to take it down a notch before he got back onstage.

“That was quite the kiss,” Pixie said shyly.

He took her hand and led her back to the stage, positioning her right where she had been. It was impossible to resist kissing her again, and he grinned when Trent raised an eyebrow in his direction.

“Agreed. As beginnings go, Pix, it was pretty f*cking epic,” he said with a wink, and walked back onto the stage to face the screaming fans.





Chapter Three


“Good morning, good morning, we’ve danced the whole—”

“Pix, sweetheart, it’s too f*cking early for Broadway.” Cujo stood in the kitchen of Second Circle watching the coffee drip into the carafe. Half an hour before opening, and the studio was still quiet.

She slapped him on the arm. “Come on, it’s from Singin’ in the Rain. The best thing to come out of 1952, you grump-bag. Hello, Cujo.”

He tugged her into his arms and gave her a hug, briefly kissing her on the top of her head. “Yeah. Hi, Pix.”

He released her and pulled another mug down from the cupboard to which he added a generous spoonful of sugar. “I could have done with a few more hours of sleep,” Cujo said with a yawn. “What time was it when we dropped you guys off last night?”

“Three-ish. Seven hours ago. I’m going to need a nap this afternoon.” God bless Trent for making the decision to open late.

Cujo filled their mugs and handed one to her. “Did you have a good night?” It was a loaded question and they both knew it.

The corner of her mouth twitched with a smile. Cujo had been her lifesaver, her benefactor, her pseudofather, and her friend. But her most favorite role he played was her big brother. They were much closer than the nearly ten-year age gap would suggest. She’d lived through more in twenty-three years than most people lived through in a lifetime. And Cujo, well, he wasn’t always known for acting his age.

“I had a great time. You looked like you were enjoying yourself when you joined Dred onstage for the final song.” While Cujo’s voice was fully up to the task of harmonizing the chorus, his moves belonged on a Seinfeld episode.

Cujo at least had the capacity to laugh at his drunken antics. “Yeah. Drea told me it’s already posted online. You can cross ‘become a meme on the internet’ off my bucket list.”

She chuckled and made a mental note to check it out.

“So, Pix. Erm, you . . . and Dred. You okay with what happened last night?”

Pixie took a sip of the steaming coffee. She’d known the question would come, expected nothing less from Cujo. He’d want to know she was okay.

It was madness to have kissed Dred like that before the encore, but it was pure recklessness to let him kiss her again before she left. She’d wanted one more moment to savour the feeling of his strong lips against hers and feel the hard lines of his muscular body.

“It was a momentary lapse of judgment,” she replied. “Heat of the moment and all that.”

Cujo let out a laugh. “You always were a crap liar. The guy isn’t an *, from what I know of him. I warned him off a thousand times already because I see you as a sister, but he isn’t taking the hint. Short of punching his lights out when he comes in today, I don’t think he will. And I saw your face during that concert, Pixie.”

“You’re imagining things, Cujo. It was just a bit of fun.”

“It didn’t look like nothing when he was performing a tonsillectomy on you with his tongue.”

“Oh my God, you are gross, Cujo.”