Shut Up and Kiss Me
Being the bad girl has been Carrie’s gig since childhood but being good for a certain drummer boy promises a beautiful future.
Brought up in a traditional family Carrie Stevens fights the bounds of propriety and flaunts her deviance with no regard to personal consequences. With one exception…her big brother’s wishes where his band is concerned. The sparks that fly when she’s around the one taboo she’d love to date are only a tempting siren’s song, until she sees there’s more to Shea than she’d originally thought. The sexy drummer might just make her lose her heart, if he can put her past to rest.
Shea McNamara has been in love with Carrie Stevens for years. Running in the same circle as her isn't easy. Her choice in men irks him but she's in his blood as much as the drums he loves to beat. All he has to do is convince her there’s more to life than the fast lane. With her flirty attitude he refuses to allow her to call the shots.
She ducked to the table, opening the crates to set out the shirts, posters, stickers, hoodies and underwear with Crimson Rage’s logo on them. Carrie smiled greeting fans that came up to buy from her. When the area cleared, she stuck her head under the table to pull out more pieces. A shadow eclipsed the light she needed to search through the tubs. Agitated, she looked up, ill prepared to see her ex, Ty hovering over her. “I’m working.”
“Come on now, sexy. It’s been awhile since we’ve seen each other.”
Some things never changed. Apparently he thought coming onto her with a weak ass line would get him somewhere. Ty looked good, immaculate, matter of fact too perfect, from his kohl-lined eyes to his professionally groomed hair. An opportunist if ever there was one, he never missed a chance to climb higher using others to help him get there. Too bad she didn’t see the signs before dating him for half a year. “You’re wasting your time. I never go backward.”
“Not even a good fuck for ole time’s sake. You know the spot we always nabbed, against the wall.”
“What are you really here for? I was nineteen when I let you bang me behind the stage after you played a really horrible set.” Blunt to no end, she slapped the handful of packed T-shirts on the table.
“Who says I want something?” Ty’s eyes darkened. If he wasn’t such a beanpole in skinny jeans she’d be afraid he’d lay a hand on her.
“Whatever you want Ty, I don’t. Please leave me alone.” Instead of leaving he bent down to the table, trailing a finger down the side of her face, his eyes drifted to her breasts. She shuddered in revulsion and leaned back, slapping his hand away. “Fuck off.” To her horror, the song ended at the precise moment she screamed the words. A hush fell over the on-lookers, keen on the drama playing out in front of them.
“Fine. When I make the big time don’t come crawling on your knees back to me.” Ty sauntered off to the bar to get a drink.
Carrie fumed in utter humiliation. With a fake tight-lipped smile pasted on her face, she sold out of merchandise.
“Hey, carebear.” Shea’s voice broke the monologue running through her brain, screaming murder, murder, murder. He held out a fresh drink for her. She snatched the plastic glass from his hands quickly to avoid the zing of excitement his brief touch left her wanting.
The blessed taste of grape vodka and lemon lime soda soothed her parched throat while giving her a moment to compose herself.
Shea tipped back a bottle of domestic beer and leaned on the edge of the table regarding her.
“Tryin’ to figure you out, carebear.” The way her pet name rolled off his tongue in a thick whiskey tenor sent lava through her veins.
She wondered what he was up to when he set his empty bottle down. Kneeling, he grabbed a bag, rummaged through it and withdrew a black T-shirt. Shit. He planned on switching out from his sweaty one right in front of her. She played nonchalant by taking a swig of her drink.
He edged the shirt up his sweat-incased body over his head. Who said sweat on a man wasn’t sexy? Not her. He mopped his chest with his damp shirt and stuffed the soiled garment in his shoulder bag. Nice. Her gaze roved from his abs of steel, up to his pierced nipple and across the tribal artwork on his shoulder wanting to devour every inch of him.
Suddenly Kiss Me Deadly played in her mind. Great time for 80’s rock music to enter her brain.
“Nice humming voice.” When Shea chuckled, she realized she’d begun humming the Lita Ford song. Gah…She sucked down the rest of her drink and choked on a small bit of ice. Shea pounded on her back.
“The ice melted. I’m good.”
“Heard you were back in town. Plan on staying long?”
“I’m here to stay for a while.” Disappointment hit when he shrugged into the new T-shirt. Damn he looked even better with the shirt stretched over his muscles, she thought as she tilted back in her chair. He would never wear skinny jeans or kohl on his eyes. The prospect of making him her new lover rammed into her for the briefest of seconds again.
Where the new beer in his hand came from, she didn’t have the slightest clue. So she said the words currently on the tip of her tongue. “Wanna fuck?”