Author: Olivia Cunning

Dare massaged the bridge of his nose. “I’m so glad my bandmates aren’t douche bags.”

“Me too,” Reagan said. “Should I come back tomorrow? I should probably practice for the tour on decent equipment. My guitar is a piece.”

“Yeah, you should do that. Do you need me to send the car for you?”

Hmm, let me see… Ride in the limo back to Dare Mills’ fabulous mansion or take the city bus and hoof it from the nearest stop? Hard decision.

“That would be appreciated. I don’t have a car.”

“Just tell the driver what time he should pick you up in the morning.”

“Will do. Thanks again for giving me the chance to even audition.” Oh no, the gushy fangirlness was returning. “I can’t believe I’m going on tour with Exodus End. This is so freaking amazing!”

“We’re lucky to have you,” Dare said, obviously just being a nice guy. Reagan was the lucky one.

“Thanks,” she managed to say. “I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

“Later, Dare,” Trey said.

Trey waited for her outside the dressing room. She removed her wet panties and tucked them in her pocket before slipping into her cargo pants and combat boots. Trey led her back through the maze that was his brother’s house and out the front door to the portico over the driveway. A sleek, midnight-blue limousine sat waiting for them. Reagan squeaked excitedly and gave Trey a crushing hug before diving through the open door into the backseat. The white leather seats were arranged in a u-shape around a console in the middle of the floor. Fluorescent blue tube lights circled the perimeter of the ceiling giving everything a sultry blue glow. Before Trey even settled into the seat beside her, she was already fiddling with the console in front of her shins.

“Is this a wet bar?” she asked.

Trey reached for a remote control and started pushing buttons. Music blared from the speakers.

“Oh, I love this song!”

He pressed another button and the center of the console slowly rose to eye-level. “Do you want something to drink?”

“I’m drunk on life. And two inhaled sex on the beach cocktails, but you can have something, if you’d like.”

“I’m hungry for lunch, actually,” he said.

Her face flamed. She never should have shown him that tattoo. “I like you and all, Trey, but I’m not ready to spread my legs and offer you lunch.” Okay, that was a total lie, but he didn’t need to know that. She had to play a little hard to get. Very little.

“I meant food. I haven’t eaten all day.”

Her face fell. “Oh.”

“Are you hungry?”

“Yeah, sure. Can we stop by my work first? I need to quit my job.”

He lifted a phone receiver and handed it to her.

“I don’t want to call them. I want to do it in person. From a limo. I might even moon them.”

“Where to?” a deep voice came from the phone receiver.

“That’s the driver,” Trey informed her with a grin.

“Oh. Right. I’ve never been in a limo before.” She hugged Trey again before lifting the phone to her ear. “Hi, can you fit this long thing through a coffee shop’s drive-thru?”

“That shouldn’t be a problem, madam.”

She giggled and covered the receiver with her hand. “He called me madam,” she told Trey.

He grinned at her crookedly, his head tilted just so, and she melted.

“I will need the address,” the driver said in her ear, drawing her out of happy-Trey-land.

“Right.” She gave the driver the address and hung the phone back in its cradle. “Lunch is on me,” she said. “Where are we going?”

“How about Spago Beverly Hills?”

Her jaw dropped. She couldn’t afford that place. She hadn’t gotten her huge signing bonus from Exodus End yet. “Lunch is on you.”

“I would very much like lunch to be on me.” He lifted an eyebrow at her, his gaze flicking toward her crotch and then back to her eyes.

She swatted his shoulder. “You’re so naughty.”

“Usually works pretty well for me. Not so much with you.”

He was so wrong. She was utterly seduced. She had no idea why she wasn’t making out with him right now.

In a limo.

That belonged to Exodus End.

Her band.

She covered her mouth with one hand to hide her cheese-eating grin. She didn’t resist the urge to hug Trey again. He was entirely huggable. Entirely lickable. Entirely fuckable. They’d get to that eventually. She was too distracted to give him the undivided attention he deserved.

“What do you want to do after lunch?” he asked.

Was she seriously going to lunch at Spago with Trey Mills? When had her life become a dream? Oh yeah, about three hours ago. “Don’t you have important rock star stuff to do?” She tilted her head and shook it at him. He grinned. Again, she melted.

“I’ll have to head back to the Midwest tomorrow for the next Sinners show, but I’m free tonight.”

If she spent the entire day with him, she’d be flat on her back with his tight body above her by dusk. She felt the flush of desire creep up her throat. “I’m in,” she said without hesitation.

The phone in the console rang. Trey picked it up and listened to the driver speak on the other end. “Did you want to order any coffee?” he asked Reagan.

She shook her head. “The coffee here sucks. Guys come for the scenery. Just pull through and stop at the window.”

She took the remote and started pushing random buttons. A TV came out of the ceiling. The song switched to something very hard and heavy. The window that separated them from the driver slid down. At last, the moonroof in the ceiling opened. She climbed up on the console and popped up through the moonroof. The driver eased the limo forward until she was even with the drive-thru window. She waved her arms but no one noticed her. “Tell him to honk,” she called down to Trey.

The horn blared the intro to the Exodus End song “Bite.” Stacy, the college student Reagan usually worked with, turned at the sound of the horn. Her dark eyes widened and she yanked the drive-thru window open.

“Reagan! What in the world?” She gaped at the limo and then pointed at Reagan. “Hank is pissed that you didn’t show up for work. He says he’s going to fire you.”

“Tell ol’ Hank to come here,” Reagan said.

“Why are you in a limo? Did you win the lottery?” Several of the other baristas were at the window trying to see through the tiny opening. Every last one of them was wearing a teeny weeny yellow polka dot bikini.

“Better,” Reagan assured her.

“What could possibly be better than winning the lottery?” Stacy asked.

“Oh, I don’t know…” Reagan said, sure her face was about to crack from the huge smile she couldn’t seem to curtail.

A hand pressed against her lower back and Trey peeked out the moonroof beside her.

There was an ear-splitting scream from within the coffee shop. “That’s Trey Mills!”

“Hiya,” he said and stuck his arm out of the limo’s roof to wave.

“Oh my God, Reagan, are you dating Trey Mills?” Leah squeaked, shoving the other bikini-clad baristas away from the window as she attempted to climb out of the tiny opening. Not going to happen. “That is better than winning the lottery!”

“She keeps turning me down,” Trey said.

Reagan slapped at him. “He lies.”

“Reagan, will you be my girlfriend?” he asked.

She looked down at him, knowing he was teasing her. Knowing he expected her to say no. His grass-green eyes were full of mischief. “Yeah, sure, Trey. Why not? Consider yourself saddled with a steady girlfriend.”

Trey’s eyes widened and he sort of melted down through the open moonroof and disappeared from sight. She laughed, wondering what he would say to get himself out of that arrangement.

“What are you doing? Causing another spectacle?” Hank yelled through the window. “This is the last straw, Reagan Elliot. I cut you some slack when you hosed down a customer with club soda.”

“He was being a dick,” Reagan said. The four women behind Hank nodded in agreement.

“I turned a blind eye when you wore combat boots with your bikini instead of the required heels.”

“Hey, I said if you made it through an eight-hour day in those foot-killers I’d be willing to wear them.” She shrugged.

The sound of Trey laughing rose up through the open moonroof.

“And now you’re blocking the drive-thru with your obnoxious limo,” Hank said.

“There’s no such thing as an obnoxious limo. I just stopped by to quit. I don’t need this fucked-up job anymore.”

“Just like that?” Hank bellowed out the window. “No notice or anything?”

“Yeah, just like that.” She snapped her fingers. “Later.” She pursed her lips and crinkled her brow as if concentrating. “Actually, I won’t see you later, Hank. Split my last paycheck between all my honeys. Bye, girls! I’ll miss you!” She waved at her ex-coworkers. They waved back excitedly.

She dropped back down into the limo and grinned at Trey. “That was awesome,” she said.

“I thought you were going to moon them.”

“They do call it a moonroof for a reason, but I’m not wearing any panties, so I think I’ll skip that part today.”

“Did you really wear combat boots with a bikini?”

“Is that a problem?”

He shook his head. “I’d just like to see it is all.”

“I don’t wear a bikini to work anymore.” She grinned again. Couldn’t help it. “I wear a guitar now.”

“And nothing else?”

“It wouldn’t bother me. Would it bother you?”

“I’d definitely be bothered. Hot and bothered.”

The phone in the center of the console rang. Trey answered. “One moment. Let me see if I can get reservations at Spago.”

Trey dug his cell phone out of his jeans pocket. Reagan was not dressed to rub elbows with the rich and famous. It didn’t sound all that fun to her, really. Trey slid his finger down the screen of his phone looking for the right number.

“You’ll never get reservations on such short notice,” Reagan said.

He glanced up at her and blushed. She noticed for the first time that he had a light spattering of freckles on his nose. She wanted to kiss them all.

“I… uh… have connections with someone there. They always get me in.”

She took his phone to make sure she had his undivided attention. “I’m impressed. Really,” she said, “but honestly, I’d rather get a burger and a beer and eat while cruising around in the back of a limo. With you. Just you.” She looked up at him. “But if you’d rather I behave properly in public—”

He snatched the phone out of her hand and tossed it into the seat on the opposite side of the limo. The driver’s phone hit the console, and Reagan found herself buried under one hot and eager man. Heavy on the hot.

Dear Lord, the man could kiss. Trey’s lips were soft yet strong against hers. He applied just the right amount of pressure and suction—rubbing with lips, caressing with tongue—to drive her mad with desire. He nipped her lower lip and then drew it into his mouth to suck it gently and soothe it with the tip of his tongue. She knew she was clinging to his back, rubbing her heat against his thigh and panting with excitement, but the incurable tease in her had gone on vacation and for a long moment she let Trey drive her to distraction without even considering pushing him away.

“Sir,” a tinny voice said from somewhere in the middle of the car. “Sir! We’re blocking the drive-thru.”