Tempt Me (One Night with Sole Regret #2) Read online

  “It's good enough,” she insisted. “Go deep.”

  His fingers slipped inside her pussy, collecting her cum and rubbing it over the connection between their bodies. His cock slid an inch deeper.

  “Are you sure?”

  He was always so worried that he was going to hurt her. That she was fragile. That she'd break. She supposed she should be grateful that he was so careful, but she didn't need him to be. If she wanted him to stop, she'd tell him. Maybe that's why he held back. Maybe he didn't think she was capable of telling him no, because she never did. Not because she couldn't or because she was afraid to. She never wanted to.

  “I'll tell you if I need you to stop,” she said breathlessly.

  “Promise?”

  She nodded.

  He didn't take her as deep as she liked it, but his shallow rapid thrusts tugged at her ass just right and she was soon writhing against the back of the sofa in ecstasy. With each thrust, he inched deeper. Deeper. Yes! Deeper, Adam. She wasn’t sure if she was thinking the demand or chanting it aloud.

  When he swatted her ass unexpectedly, her back arched and she felt him inside her even more distinctly. Oh! She straightened her back slowly and rose to standing, each of his deep thrusts stimulating her in a slightly different place as the angle of his penetration changed.

  “God, Madison.” Adam groaned. One of his hands threaded through her hair and tugged her upright, the other moved to her breast, kneading her sensitized flesh, plucking at her tender nipple until it ached almost as much as her empty pussy.

  She didn’t know why this turned her on so much—to be filled from behind. Her vagina rippling with spasms of unfulfilled need. Her ass protesting the invasion.

  Adam’s hot breath came in jerky gasps against her shoulder. He was getting close. His hand moved from her breast to between her thighs. The heel of his hand ground into her clit; his strong, calloused fingers slid through her center, dipping sporadically into her wet opening.

  “Fly with me, babe,” he said brokenly, giving her hair a demanding tug. “Fly.”

  She let go, straining against his hand and his cock as she took her release. The pleasure was so exquisite that tears streamed from her eyes. “Adam,” she whispered as his body jerked behind her.

  He gasped brokenly and cried out an indistinguishable mantra of curses and disjointed syllables.

  How could she have ever thought she’d be able walk away from him? He left her incapable of walking. Figuratively and, after that wonderfully rough fuck in the ass, literally.

  Chapter Seven

  Adam released his hold on Madison’s hair and tugged her body closer, his hand still cupped possessively over her mound. He stroked her drenched lips with two fingers, drawing intermittent shudders from her slight frame. He loved that he could give her such pleasure. Loved that she opened herself to him. Loved her.

  He’d never felt this all-encompassing need to possess a woman before. It had to be more than lust. More than affection. More than friendship. More even than gratitude for all she’d done for him. A hell of a lot more than simple infatuation. There was no other word for it. He loved her. Why had he not realized it until he’d been threatened with her leaving him?

  “Madison?” he murmured against her sweat-damp neck. His arm squeezed tighter just beneath her ribs.

  “Y-yes?”

  Did she love him? Could any woman as wonderful and as fundamentally good as Madison Fairbanks give a shit about someone like him?

  Adam took a deep breath. “I lo—”

  A sharp knock rattled the dressing room door. “Ten minutes,” someone called from the hall outside.

  Madison tensed and jerked away. Watching her struggle to pull her panties up her trembling thighs nearly broke his heart. Her inability to meet his eyes. The blush of shame on her beautiful face. After the concert, he’d take her to bed, hold her naked body against his for as long as he liked, take her gently, tell her he loved her. A thousand times. A thousand ways. Tell her. Show her. Love her.

  “You’re beautiful,” he said, kissing her bare shoulder as she worked to return her dress to its proper location.

  She smiled shyly, and his heart panged. He had it so bad for her.

  Her blue eyes flicked up to meet his briefly and her blush deepened. “Thank you.”

  “Do you want to watch the concert tonight?”

  “Of course. I wouldn’t miss it.” She kissed his cheek. “Is there a bathroom in here? Or do I have to take the walk of shame?” She took a step to the side and winced. “Hobble of shame?”

  “Are you okay?”

  “Never better,” she said breathlessly.

  He settled a hand on her lower back and directed her to the restroom. She locked herself in one of the two stalls while he disposed of his expended condom and cleaned up in the sink.

  Another knock sounded on the dressing room door. “Adam, are you in there?”

  “One minute,” he yelled.

  “You don’t have a minute.”

  “Madison, are you ready?” He hurriedly tucked his recently washed and still damp dick into his pants.

  “Go on ahead,” she said. “I’ll catch up.”

  He really wanted her on his arm when he’d arrived backstage. Wanted to show her off. This beautiful, wonderful, sexy-as-sin woman is mine. You may look—and seethe with envy—but never touch. Since they’d met, she’d only given herself to one man. Him. And it was going to stay that way. Should knowing she’d been true to him, even though he hadn’t asked it of her, make his chest swell with pride? Maybe not, but it did.

  “They won’t start without me,” he said. “I can wait a few minutes.”

  “I . . . uh . . . need a bit of privacy.”

  He chuckled. How could she still be shy around him about anything her body did?

  “Okay, I’ll go, but I want to see you standing in my corner of the stage by the end of the first song.”

  “I’ll be there.”

  When Adam arrived behind the stage, the entire band was waiting in the wings. Their pointed glares bounced right off him. Adam didn’t give a shit if they were pissed. He was in love.

  Jack handed him his silver guitar and attached his wireless transmitter to the back of his belt.

  “The show started five minutes ago,” Shade grumbled.

  “I don't hear any music.”

  “I know your dick means a lot to you, but you need to get your priorities straight.”

  “Don't start with me,” Adam warned. Could they get through a single day without arguing? Yeah, he was five minutes late, so what? He'd been concerned for Madison. She had to be hurting. In the future, he'd make sure he carried lube in his pocket whenever her sexy and always eager ass was within reach.

  Owen, who started the show, shook his head at both of them. “Are we going to stand here and listen to you two bitch at each other, or should I proceed?”

  Adam stuck a sound feed into one ear and an earplug into the other. “What's the hold-up?” the head of their sound crew shouted into his ear.

  “Adam was getting laid. Again,” Shade said. “You know what he's like. Two girls a night. Three. Four. He doesn't discriminate if it has a vagina.”

  Like he could talk.

  “Shut up,” Adam said. He wasn't sure if he deserved his reputation. Especially in recent months. A year ago? Sure. He'd fucked anything that stood still long enough for him to mount it. But now? He was getting his priorities straight. Or trying to. No one seemed to take notice of his efforts to keep clean and sober or to forge a steady relationship. He wasn't an irresponsible kid anymore. Would he ever live down the mistakes of his past? Madison seemed to be the only one who saw who he was becoming. Everyone else had pegged him long ago and held him down in the hole they’d chosen for him. Was it even possible to dig himself out of that hole at this point?

  “Go, Owen,” Hawkeye, their soundboard operator, said into their feed. “The rest of them will figure it out.”

  Owen entered
the stage, playing his bass solo backed by the hard and heavy beat of Gabe's drumming.

  Adam plucked a guitar pick from the tape attached to the neck of his guitar. He scratched his nose with the back of his wrist and was instantly engulfed in Madison's scent. He inhaled her essence deep into his lungs and fought the urged to lick his fingers. How was he supposed to concentrate on the show with the smell of her sweet pussy all over his left hand?

  “So fucking selfish and irresponsible,” Shade muttered under his breath.

  Adam stiffened and lowered his hand so he could concentrate on dealing with Shade. “What is your problem?”

  “You, Adam,” Shade said. “Let’s review your behavior in the past twenty-four hours alone. Smoking weed backstage before a concert.” He ticked off Adam’s crimes on his fingers. “Taking the limo without telling anyone so the rest of us had to find a cab. Thirty minutes late for sound check. Almost starting a riot in front of the stadium. Too busy fucking some slut to show up for the concert on time.”

  Adam took a swing at him. Busting his balls was one thing; calling Madison some slut was going way too far. Unfortunately, Kellen stepped between them before Adam could connect his fist with Shade’s face.

  “Now is not the time for this,” Kellen said. “Adam, your cue.”

  Fuck the concert. Adam wanted to beat the shit out of Shade. Just because Adam had wanted to spend time with Madison at the expense of his other responsibilities did not make him irresponsible. Did it? And even if it did, why did Shade think it was any of his business? Adam wasn’t Shade’s responsibility. Fuck him.

  Adam heard the drumbeat that signaled the start of his guitar intro. His hands found familiar strings and began to play automatically. He should already be on stage in the red spotlight over his stomp pad. If Shade would stop sticking his arrogant nose where it didn’t belong and making Adam’s blood boil, Adam might be able to concentrate on what he was doing. He played his way up the stage steps and pretended his entrance was part of the show. The crowd wouldn’t know any different. When the spotlight bathed him in an aura of crimson, the crowd erupted in screams of excitement. Yeah, just try continuing this band without me, asshole.

  Shade darted across the stage and stood at its center, belting out a battle cry that would have made Spartans tremble. The crowd roared even louder. Son of a bitch.

  If Adam didn't love Sole Regret’s music so much, he'd have left the band—and Shade's bullshit—long ago.

  Fingers flying over the strings near the body of his guitar as he played one of his most elaborate solos, Adam caught movement at the corner of the stage. He turned his head to find Madison watching him with her hands clenched together over her heart. He should play something just for her. He wondered if she'd like that. Near the end of his solo he lifted the neck of his guitar vertically next to his face and caught her scent on his hand again. He drew a deep breath into his lungs and his eyes drifted closed. Mercy, she smelled like honeyed sin.

  Reluctant to move his hand, Adam took his time lowering his guitar to rest in front of his suddenly attentive cock. Not the best time and place to become aroused, but he couldn’t help it. Her scent did that to him. Everything about her did that to him.

  The stadium erupted in cheers as he completed his solo and stepped back from the front edge of the stage. As loud as the crowd was, the only cheer that made his heart thud was Madison's fist thrown in the air with excitement. She'd never cheered like that at one of his shows before. She'd always hung back away from the action and tried to remain unnoticed. He wondered about the sudden change in her. He was glad she was having a good time, but he wasn't sure if he wanted her to change. She was his anchor as well as the wind in his sails. He needed to know she was there for him even when he didn’t see her for weeks, sometimes months, at a time.

  The song ended, and Shade stalked the front of the stage, talking to the crowd as vocalists were prone to do. “How are we feeling tonight, Dallas-Fort Worth?”

  The crowd roared on cue. Adam stole a glance at Madison. She offered him a timid wave and then smiled and lowered her gaze. He couldn't see the color of her face from this distance, but he knew she'd be blushing. He loved it when she blushed.

  Shade was still jabbering at the crowd. He might as well have been talking like an adult in a Peanuts cartoon for all that Adam heard. The heavy thud of Gabe's bass drum snapped Adam to attention when the next song started. He really was out of it tonight; he needed to step up his game. He did have fans to entertain. He could concentrate on entertaining Madison in about an hour.

  Adam trotted to the front of the stage next to Shade the-attention-whore Silverton, and bent forward to play a hard and heavy riff to a cluster of fans in the pit.

  “Adam, you're a god!” someone yelled.

  He grinned. Did you hear that, Shade? They think I'm a god.

  “I love you, Shade,” someone else yelled like a banshee with a megaphone.

  Son of a bitch.

  Adam noted the amused grins on the faces of several people in the audience and knew Kellen was mocking him behind his back. He did it every show. The crowd thought it was hilarious, so Adam let it slide. He knew Kellen would never do something to intentionally harm a person—well, except maybe those lovers he tied to his bed. But they begged to receive his punishment. Adam wondered if Madison would enjoy something like that. All indications pointed to hell yeah.

  Shade charged in front of Adam so he could sing to the fans that Adam was favoring with personal attention. Seriously, dude? Adam rolled his eyes at Shade and trotted to the opposite end of the stage, climbing up on a platform and playing to the audience in the stadium seats. He pointed his guitar stock at the excited crowd and they yelled in enthusiasm. He pulled the neck of his guitar back and then thrust it forward again. Half the stadium roared on cue. He soon had them chanting at will. And when he bounced up on his toes, they jumped in unison.

  A rush of adrenaline flooded his body, and he bounced in time with the beat. His audience followed his cue, jumping up and down with the music. Adam loved interacting with the crowd. Especially one so eager to follow his lead. Occasionally they got a dud of an audience, but most of their fans were crazy fun. The audience on the opposite side of the stadium began to roar, and Adam glanced over to find Shade standing near Madison, who was barely hidden in the wings. Shade was thrusting his fist in the air to get the other half of the audience worked into a frenzy.

  And then the competition began. Who could get their side of the stadium to scream louder, to jump higher, to go crazier? Owen and Kellen moved down stage center to involve the audience members writhing in the pit. The craziest motherfuckers always rocked general admission. Several mosh pits formed on the floor, and bodies were soon ricocheting off each other in utter pandemonium.

  By the end of the second song, Adam was already drenched in sweat. His shirt clung to his back and his hair to his face. He wiped his palm on his jeans so his fingers wouldn’t slip on his guitar strings when he played their next song. He'd like to say his half of the stadium was the most worked up now, but he had to admit the entire audience was in an uproar.

  Adam moved back to Owen's live microphone and shouted, “You fuckers know how to rock!”

  By the roar the audience produced, they obviously agreed.

  Shade offered him a smile. “What do you say, Adam? Are you ready to set your fingers on fire?”

  Like steam, the tension between them evaporated. At that moment, all that mattered was the music they shared. “Light me,” Adam said.

  The crowd roared its approval as Adam started the intro to “Light Me.” By the time the rest of the band entered the song and he gave his left hand a half-second of rest, his fingers did feel like they were on fire. He loved the challenge of playing that intro live. Only the song’s minute-long solo offered a greater test of his skills. Adam had been so high when he’d written “Light Me,” he was surprised he’d been able to find the strings, much less compose his most inspired piece of m
usic. He wondered what magic he’d be able to create now that he was sober. He only had one person to thank for the blessing of his sobriety.

  Adam searched for Madison in the wings and found her gazing at him in worshipful awe. He’d much rather put that look on her face in bed, but of the fifteen-thousand people giving him their undivided attention, it was her opinion that mattered most.

  By the end of Sole Regret’s set, Adam was overheated and his clothes were soaked through with sweat. Despite the amount of energy he’d expended, he was too amped to be tired. He had plenty of energy to spare and when Madison took several steps onto the stage so she could wrap her arms around him, he knew exactly what he wanted to do to drain his remaining strength.

  Chapter Eight

  Madison didn't mind the dampness of Adam's T-shirt as she wrapped him in a tight embrace and buried her face in his shoulder. She couldn’t stop her tongue from collecting the salty tang of sweat from his neck. The guitar cutting into her belly only increased her awareness of him.

  Watching Adam perform and seeing how much his music meant to so many people infused her with pride. And worry. She couldn’t compete with the crowd or his music. Maybe she could steal him away from the world and keep him all to herself, but she had no business getting in the way of his music career. No right to make demands on his time that might interfere with his continued success. Yet could she give everything to this relationship and expect so little in return? Would she ever be happy with him? Would she ever be happy without him?

  Her arms tightened, drawing him closer still. She never had these confusing thoughts when they were alone together, just when she was confronted with his infamy. And fame was part of who he was. She had to come to grips with that somehow or this relationship would never work.

  “I need a shower.” He rubbed his nose against her ear, his labored breathing stirring stray hairs against her neck. “Care to join me?”

  She nodded and held him more tightly.