Madelynne Ellis - Come Undone

‘Yeah – and why is it you did that, if you’re not interested in my ass?’ He turned slightly, and probably deliberately, so that he presented her with a damn good view of his rear inside his black leather jeans. Now he was plain teasing her in addition to being an ass. And was it really necessary for him to sound so scathing?

‘What would I do with it?’

She’d curl her fingers into it. Squeeze all that tight, firm muscle, that’s what. And then maybe lick him for good measure.

‘I’m sure I can’t imagine.’ Xane eyed her thoughtfully from over his shoulder. ‘Well, now,’ he said, his tone softening. ‘If you’re really not interested, that makes you a whole lot more interesting.’ He rubbed his lower jaw, smearing the remains of the make-up the rain had already wrecked. ‘Are you staying for a drink?’

Given that her heart had already suffered one too many shocks, she’d gratefully accept a nice cup of tea.

Xane reached up and cracked open a cupboard. When he again turned to face her, he was clutching a bottle of vodka by the neck. ‘Just so you know. I intend to get completely wankered.’ He waved the bottle in her direction, before gesturing to the sofa to indicate she should sit.

Dani frowned.

One glass of vodka would get her tipsy; two would likely have her flat on her back with her thighs apart. With the exception of an occasional glass of wine with a meal, she was virtually teetotal.

Meanwhile, Xane knocked back several shots. After the fourth or fifth, when she still hadn’t replied, he poured another and offered it to her.

Dani closed her hand around the glass, already anticipating fire in her throat and Xane inside of her. The vision was so real she gave an actual gasp, as the flesh between her thighs became warm and damp.

Everything ached.

Xane smirked. ‘And that’s before you swallow.’

Dani shot him an angry glance.

He raised his hands in surrender. ‘I’m just saying, maybe you shouldn’t be on the hard stuff.’

Still vexed, Dani gulped a mouthful of vodka. The fluid ignited her taste buds, burned as it flowed down her throat bringing tears to her eyes. No matter, she refused to let them fall. ‘Don’t you have any mixers?’

Xane groped around in the cupboard and produced a bottle of cola. ‘This do? Say when.’

She gripped the glass tightly with both hands to keep it steady as he poured. Of course, he had to come closer to do so. Close enough that he was at least partially in her space, and wafting his delicious scent in her direction. It raised the hairs on the back of her neck, while further excitement pulsed between her thighs. If he touched her again, as he’d done earlier, she’d probably pass out – that or crack the goddamned glass with her grip.

‘So, Sally.’ Xane reached out, and claimed the all-access pass from around her neck. After a swift glance, he cast it into the wastepaper basket. ‘Who are you really? Give me a name. I like to know who I’m talking to.’

So he knew the pass was stolen. The realisation that she’d been caught sobered her a moment. It was hardly a surprise. Of course Xane knew his own staff. Regardless, Dani contemplated maintaining the façade. Given that Sally Kettering hung out with the band, she was probably a whole lot worldlier than Dani, and more assertive too. Sally had probably slept with most of the band three times over and didn’t see anything wrong with that. She was free, like Xane, and like Ginny. Not hung up on morality and what people thought of her, nor so scared of what might happen that she was figuring out a host of different excuses for why she might have to leave at short notice.

‘You know she has a moustache, don’t you?’

Dani blinked at him in surprise. She’d never got a proper glimpse of Sally before the theft. All she remembered was a woman in black, a description which probably described three-quarters of the women at the gig.

Xane shook his head. ‘She doesn’t really. I just made that up. She’s got at least ten years on you, though. What are you, about eighteen?’

‘Twenty,’ she replied indignantly. ‘And I’m Daniella … Dani.’ Out of habit she stuck out her hand for him to shake.

‘Hi, Daniella.’ Xane accepted her hand. His grip was pleasantly firm, although the bite of his numerous claw rings made it faintly disturbing. ‘I’m –’

‘– Xane Geist,’ she finished for him. ‘Lead singer and mastermind behind Black Halo.’

A flash of something – not appreciation, pain perhaps – swept across the surface of his eyes. He blinked, and it was gone. ‘– Alex. My real name is Alexander.’

She’d read that in an interview. ‘So do I call you Xane or Alex?’

‘Whichever.’ He released her hand. ‘I can’t say that I much care for either at the minute. Call me what the hell you like. Dickhead, was it, you were thinking a minute ago?’

‘I’ll stick with Xane.’ It’s what popped into her head complete with an exclamation mark every time she looked at him. How could one man be so bloody scrumptious? Despite him sitting close enough to touch her, he still seemed a fraction unreal.

‘Um, aren’t your claws kind of uncomfortable?’

Xane looked at the rings, as though he barely remembered he was wearing them. ‘Most girls like them.’

‘Why? Don’t they scratch?’

He gave her a significant look. ‘I think that’s the point.’

‘You wear a lot of jewellery.’

‘Yup.’ He began stripping it off. Claw rings first. He dropped them with a thunka-thunk onto the coffee table. Numerous leather wrist straps followed. That left a stud through his tongue, in addition to the lip ring, and hoops in his ears and through one eyebrow. His throat lay surprisingly bare, now he’d removed the collar.

‘So, Dani – if you’re not here to shag me, what are you here for?’

Dani opened her mouth to begin, but Xane cut her off.

‘And don’t mention the lift again. You were hanging out backstage with a stolen pass around your neck. So you were there for a reason. Were you after one of the other guys?’

‘No.’

Xane eyed her cautiously. ‘Journalist? If you’re a journalist, I’m going to kick your butt out of here.’ He slammed his empty glass down on the table, making Dani jump.

‘I’m not a journalist.’ She shrank back against the sofa. Would anyone admit to being, after that threat? ‘I was backstage because of my friend Ginny. She really wanted to meet you guys. She got us into your dressing room, but I wanted to watch the gig, so I left her there and … and then I walked into you.’

‘I see.’ Xane dispensed with his glass in favour of swigging straight from the bottle. ‘So, you left your mate in my dressing room. Isn’t she going to wonder where you’ve gone?’

‘Um … probably not. I mean, no. We arranged to meet back at our hotel.’

‘But you’re not at your hotel.’

Yes, she had actually noticed that.

‘I doubt she is either. If she’s met one of your band mates, then she’ll probably be a while, right?’

Xane gave a half-hearted little shrug. ‘Is she hot?’

‘Um, I guess so.’ Dani got out her phone, thinking maybe she ought to call Ginny anyway, just in case she had arrived at the hotel and was wondering where she’d got to.

‘Don’t,’ Xane advised. ‘Ash’ll be shagging her.’

‘He might not be.’

Xane shook his head. ‘No, really, he will be. She’s wearing a short skirt, right? She’s in our dressing room, and she’s not like you. He’s probably had her forwards, backwards and is working on upside down by now.’

She couldn’t help laughing at the notion. ‘Does he have a set routine, then, for giving girls … what they want?’