Madelynne Ellis - Come Undone

‘I didn’t.’ She gave him a tight smile. ‘It’s this way. I’m not in the main car park. It was full. I had to settle for a side street.’

He followed the clack of her heels for what felt like miles, while watching the sway of her butt. He’d lay money on her only dressing like this for special occasions. The clothes didn’t sit easily on her back. She was so knotted with tension she seemed in danger of snapping something. Her hemline especially was giving her issues. Her small hands constantly smoothed the cloth.

Jeans and T’s, he predicted as her usual attire. Maybe the occasional floral dress that turned her into a frump.

Xane almost fed her a corny line about how great she looked in order to get her to relax, and because even in his piss-poor mood he could acknowledge she was a knockout. The dark colours suited her peaches-and-cream complexion, while the tight cut emphasised her natural hourglass curves.

Of course, he also considered the possibility that he and not the outfit was the source of her distress. She wouldn’t be the first woman who’d landed lovely foul-mouthed him instead of kinkmeister Spook or everyone’s sweetheart, Paul.

He caught her looking back at the lights of the stadium and decided it was definitely a case of wrong-guy syndrome. Well, she was going to be doubly pissed off when she realised that not only had she landed the booby prize, but he wasn’t interested in making out. His only plan for the night was to get home and get blotto.

If that made him a bastard, then so be it.

At least he’d saved her from being screwed by Ash. Not that she’d ever thank him for it.

‘This is it.’ She stopped under a street lamp, part way along the sort of side road he’d think twice about traversing in daylight.

The wind chased the strands of her now dripping dark-brown hair across her face, giving her a solemn, slight ethereal look. She was different from the sort of girls who normally offered to take him places, but then she hadn’t actually offered, only gone along with what he’d suggested – so far.

‘This is yours?’ He’d expected her to drive a girly city runabout, not a bloody enormous sedan. Maybe she wasn’t quite as inexperienced as she looked. Her whole image might be a sham to lure guys in. Half a mile down the road, she’d probably transform into some vampire bitch queen and suck him dry.

No matter, he’d take that chance just to be away from here.

Xane settled himself into the passenger seat, from where he checked her out for fangs. No evidence of them: she had small, neat white teeth.

She nervously fussed, making multiple checks before turning on the ignition.

A powerful rumble filled the vehicle.

‘Sorry.’ She slapped a finger across the CD power button, cutting his death growl off midway through one of the band’s earliest tracks. ‘I’m sorry.’ She backed up the car and proceeded to perform the slowest turn out of a parking space he’d ever experienced, but then he was used to Rock Giant slaloming the tour bus as though it were an Aston Martin and not a converted double-decker.

‘Been driving long?’

‘Six months. How about you?’

‘I can, but I don’t very often.’

‘I don’t suppose there’s much need when you’ve people to ferry you about.’

Was that a dig? He thought it might be.

‘Where are we headed?’ she asked as they approached the first junction. ‘You’re staying at the Whyteleaf, right?’

Wrong. He might have a room booked there, but he’d never intended to occupy it. Not when he had a bolthole within an hour’s drive.

‘May I?’ He pulled his phone from his pocket and jacked it into the port on her dashboard. It was the work of moments to feed his postcode into the satnav app and have it start bleating instructions. The grating female voice made him want to cut off his ears, but it beat him having to give directions. All he wanted to do was switch off and forget.

‘Is that thing reliable?’ she asked, casting it a dubious glance. ‘It’s not likely to direct me into a ditch, or get me to do U-turns in the middle of the motorway?’

‘That’s where common sense comes in,’ he said, ticking a finger against his head. ‘You have some, right?’ Though evidently very little if she was prepared to put up with him.

‘Not sure.’ She cast him a dark look. ‘I just agreed to give a lift to a guy who looks like an axe-murderer.’

Dani tried to keep her eyes on the road, but her attention kept slipping sideward. Xane Geist was in her car.

Xane Geist, for Christ’s sake!

Insane.

She’d never imagined Ginny’s plan for them to meet the band would actually amount to anything. Of course, her friend would probably kill her the next time they met for running off with Xane. Dani rather wished her friend were here. Ginny would know what to do. Ginny wouldn’t have been driving at 50mph on the motorway because she was shit-scared of what came next. She’d probably have had the shirt off his back by now, and be well on the way to an orgasm.

Dani wasn’t nearly so bold. There’d been few men of any significance in her life. However, she knew enough about rock stars to guess where driving off with one was likely to go. The frightening bit being her apparent willingness to go along with it. She knew it wouldn’t mean anything to him. He probably had a different girl at each stop on the tour. For one night he’d get wicked with her, have his fun and then be on his way. Come morning, he probably wouldn’t even remember her name. Not that he knew her real name now.

Her experience would be very different. She’d remember tonight for ever, whatever happened. And there would be repercussions. She could already hear Sister Anna’s voice in her head pleading for her soul, like that batshit-crazy mom out of Carrie .

If the possibility of them discovering she’d attended the gig wasn’t bad enough – Black Halo were the devil’s own spawn – then confessing to sleeping with a band member would probably see her subjected to an exorcism.

She rubbed her right wrist against her thigh, and fought not to grimace over that very real possibility.

Dani sneaked a look at Xane, which instantly replaced her frown with a goofy grin. She still couldn’t believe it was him.

Xane was busy removing his cat’s-eye contact lenses. She’d always wondered what colour his eyes really were. She guessed she’d finally find out.

He turned, and caught her staring. Amusement flickered at the centre of two storm-grey eyes.

Dani hastily turned away.

‘Do you have any water?’

‘Um, yeah. In the footwell behind you. I don’t know if you’ll be able to reach.’ They both stretched to get it at the same time, bringing them into unexpectedly close contact. For a split second, his lips were level with hers and a mere inch away.

And, oh, my God, her libido abruptly revved up and started painting lewd pictures of what she’d like to do to the guy across the inside of her brain; like kissing him for starters, and tasting those crooked devil’s lips. Maybe peeling his clothes off or digging her fingernails into the pert cheeks of his butt.

Xane flicked the tip of his tongue against the ring in his lip. ‘Road,’ he reminded her. ‘I got it.’ He leaned back against the headrest, holding the bottle.

Yeah, road! She jerked upright in time to avoid drifting into the traffic occupying the middle lane. One guy beeped her, so Xane gave him the finger.

OK. She needed to concentrate. She didn’t want to be known as the girl who killed Xane Geist.

Xane popped the cap off the bottle and took a swig. He pulled a blister pack of pills from his jacket pocket and pressed out two white tabs.