Feuds and Interludes (Rock ‘n’ Romance Legends #1)

Chapter 12

Twelve

B oone

I’m too old for this shit. That didn’t slow down the tears at all, but it did motivate me to grab my notebook and start writing. I sat in my bed and wrote until my fingers ached, purging all of my anger, my humiliation at being rejected by the one man I never could seem to please. Stupid, stupid. I should have just been able to walk away with my head held high, forget how cherished I felt for those few moments that I thought he wanted me for real. I wanted to touch him, hold him. I’d been so hopeful when he covered me with his body, when he kissed me, and when he was so tender. So gentle. I hadn’t known he was capable of that.

And then he’d rolled over and the moment was gone.

I’d felt cold to the bone, embarrassed, and that infuriated me. At least the only other person in my life who’d made me feel ashamed like this, I’d never had to face again, but Shane was going to be a constant presence in my life, especially now that our grandparents were dating.

“Fucking hell, Collins. You are killing it at being a grownup.”

I wiped at the tears and prayed I’d still be able to read my writing in the morning. But then, it was morning already. I’d been at this for hours.

The knock at my door reminded me of my purpose. We were there to record songs for our next album, the one that had to be even bigger than the last, if we had any hope of fully conquering the rock world. I refused to be a flash in the pan, that one guy’s grandson.

“Boone, it’s breakfast ti—oh. You’re…up?” Annie looked at my still-made bed and frowned. “Or you never went to bed?”

“Hey, sorry. Let me grab a quick shower. Look this over.” I tossed my notebook at her and trotted to the bathroom, taking a quick shower, crying again when I realized that my hair smelled like Shane’s cologne, which meant I needed to wash it if I was going to function. Smelling like him would keep me on edge all day, and not the kind of edge I needed.

I got out and wrapped my thick hair in a towel, knowing I’d be going out with it wet if I intended to get breakfast, and when I looked in the mirror, I paused.

“Oh, God.” Shane had left two bright purple marks, one on my collarbone and one on my pec. It had felt so good at the time, but now it just made me angry all over again. How dare he mark me like this if he had no intention of?—

“Forget it. Get yourself together, Collins. What would Papa think? Or what would Gran say?’

Then I remembered what she said before the induction ceremony: “chin up, tits out.”

That made me bark out a hoarse laugh. I didn’t bother shaving. Might as well look as messy as I felt. I drew on some eyeliner, hoping it would disguise my post-crying-jag eyes, and I wrapped myself in the bathrobe before heading back out to face Annie.

“Jesus, Boone. What the hell happened to you last night? Morrison said you weren’t feeling well and went to lay down for a bit. We came back from our break and he ushered us out, said you were done for the night, and now I find you in here with this ?” She pointed at the notebook, her eyes wide. “What’s going on?”

I put on my best brave smile and followed Gran’s orders. “Nothing. I was just having a bad night last night, but I feel better.” I didn’t, but she didn’t need to know that. I didn’t bother checking my blood sugar, I knew I needed to eat fast. I pulled on a pair of boxer briefs and then stood before the closet, trying to decide what to wear. Definitely not another v-neck, thanks to fucking Shane. I grabbed my black skinny jeans that were actually baggy now and yanked on a red-plaid button-up, turning to face Annie while I finished the buttons.

“Do you have music to go with this? Because this just might be the most incredible song you’ve ever written.”

I blinked back tears, smiled at her, and took a deep breath.

Screw Shane Butler. I may not be the man of his dreams, but I’d written some phenomenal lyrics. Maybe I’d record it some day. Maybe he’d hear it and maybe not, but if he did, he’d know damn well it was about him—and that I was fine without him.

Only, breakfast turned out to be a cafeteria scene from a ’90s teen movie.

Shane’s band was there when I arrived, but Shane wasn’t. Probably a good thing, although that didn’t keep his guitarist, Dean, from smiling knowingly at me. That shook my confidence a little. I tugged at the collar of my shirt, making sure I’d buttoned it up high enough that Shane’s stupid hickeys were covered.

I gestured for Bran and Annie to go ahead of me as I stopped to fix some tea first. I’d strained my voice yesterday and, well, the lame-ass crying session made matters worse. Morrison always kept the best selection of teas and local honeys for us, so I figured I’d start there. I was just carrying my mug over on a tray when I felt someone behind me.

I nearly spilled scalding tea all over me.

“Good morning.” His fucking velvety voice gave me goose bumps.

“Shane,” I said, my only greeting. My hands were shaking as much from my fucked-up blood sugar as from my proximity to this infuriating man.

“Did you rest last night?—”

“Hey, Boone. I made the avocado spread you liked so much last time. Can I get you some?”

Felix, Morrison’s chef, was the only guy I trusted to feed me food that wasn’t the tried and true stuff I grew up with. Gran had catered to my picky-eater habits, much to Papa’s chagrin, and as a result, I had a hard time stepping out of my comfort zone. I needed to, now that I was diabetic, but I didn’t much like it, unless it was something made by Felix.

“Yes, please. With your homemade sourdough? I’m in heaven.”

Felix added a heaping serving of potatoes and a fried egg and then placed the food on my tray as he winked at me. “Anything for you. Hey, Shane, can I get you the avocado spread, or would you rather?—”

“That’s fine, thank you.”

Shane followed me over to the utensil and condiment cart and glanced at my plate. “Should you be having that many carbs?” He kept his voice low, and it was just the two of us, but his words raised my hackles.

“You don’t get to comment on my food, Shane. It’s none of your business.”

“It is too.” He sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly, making himself busy with the salt and pepper shakers. “You forget how I found you last night.”

“And I’d appreciate it if you would keep that to yourself,” I snapped.

Shane set his tray down and turned to face me. “My grandfather is diabetic. I’ve been cooking for him for years, so I know what the recommendations are, that’s all. It’s manageable if you?—”

“Thank you, but I can take care of myself.”

I tried walking away, but I heard him say, “Sure. Sure you can.” My hands tightened on the tray and I walked into the corner of a table in my rush to get away from him, banging my hip bone. My carefully constructed appearance of self-control wasn’t going to hold if he kept showing up. I set my tray down a little hard at the table next to Annie, and she jumped.

“Geez. What—oh. Was he being a jerk?”

I shook my head and concentrated on eating and keeping the tremor in my hand at bay. “No. It’s fine.” I didn’t need my band getting all protective over me. Annie had no qualms about speaking her mind. She was also the queen of revenge schemes. I’d been grateful for her when my previous relationship ended badly and she helped me fill his car with mouse traps. It was epic.

I listened to her and Bran talk about running into Dean and Tucker last night. “They invited us to go into town with them, but Rose wanted to color my hair. Doesn’t it look cool?”

I glanced up at Annie and sighed. “I’m sorry I didn’t notice. I’m out of it. I love the color.”

She’d put blue highlights in her black hair, and they really popped under the lights in the mess hall. She and Brandon both had curly hair that they wore in organized chaos most of the time. Their father was Japanese and their mother was Black, so their hair required extra care.

My reddish-brown mop was still a nice color so I didn’t mess with dye, but who knew? Someday I might want a change.

“I promised Rose a manicure. Maybe tonight? You guys want to join in?”

They enthusiastically agreed, we finished eating, and that should have been the end of breakfast, but as we stood and headed over to dump our trays, we had to walk past their table. Shane was staring at me, and I was trying to not stare at him while actually staring at him, and therefore I missed Drew standing up and I walked right into him, which caused him to bump my tray, which smashed leftover avocado into my chest, and he spilled his travel mug full of hot coffee all down the front of me.

“Damn, Boone! I’m hella sorry, man.”

I stood there dripping while Annie hurried to take my tray, Shane jumped up, and Drew tried to clean my mess while apologizing all over himself.

“And you’re sick and all, I feel bad, let me get that?—”

“I’m fine!” I said in a louder-than-called-for voice—and everyone grew quiet. And stood there. Gaping.

Hoping to diffuse the situation, I turned to Annie. “You guys go ahead without me and I’ll meet you in a few minutes.”

They nodded and scurried out the door. Felix came out with a mop and bucket, and I just wanted to disappear.

“Here, let me,” I said to him, but he waved me away.

“No harm done, Boone. I got this.”

“Thank you. I’m so sorry.” I didn’t know what else to say, so I turned and tried the whole chin out, tits up, cocksure walking, despite coffee dripping from my still-wet hair, my shirt sticking to me. Except, Shane followed me.

“Are you okay?” he asked as he ran to catch up to me.

“Yes. And thanks a lot for telling them I was sick. What the fuck, Shane?”

“I’m sorry. I guess Morrison told them you weren’t feeling well last night, and that I stayed to make sure you were alright. That’s all.”

By the time we reached the lodge, I was sweating on top of wearing my breakfast leftovers and Drew’s coffee, and I was ready to lose it.

“You don’t have to come in. I can take it from here,” I said as I pushed open the doors.

“Come on, Collins. Can we talk about this?”

I turned to face him. “About what? Your bandmate bumped into me? Or the fact I’m wearing my breakfast? Unless you have anything else to offer, I’m going to chalk this up to an accident, change my clothes, and get to work.” I started for the stairs and exhaled loudly when he followed again.

“I meant last night. I don’t know what went wrong but I was hoping we could be civil about it—can you quit running from me?”

We’d reached the top of the steps and my room was just a few yards away. I was almost to safety. I pulled out my key, had it in the lock, pushed the door open?—

And Shane put his hand on the door.

“I want to go back to us being able to be around each other without bickering, Boone, and I think you do, too.”

“I…” Shane was in my room, and I needed to get undressed. “Fine, we’ll be civil. It seemed clear last night that you have no interest in anything more with me, so you might want to leave.”

“No.”

I sighed and started unbuttoning my shirt, slowly. I flicked my hair back and stuck my chin out—or was it tits? Which part was supposed to stick out?—and tried to look confident.

Shane leaned back against the now-closed door and folded his arms over his chest.

“Suit yourself, but these clothes are coming off.”

Shane didn’t move.

Fuck. Fine, then it was put up or shut up time. “You are one confusing man, Shane Butler.” I finished the buttons and pulled off the flannel.

Shane covered his mouth with his hand. “I didn’t think they’d be that…dark.” He tried not to smile.

“Yeah, well, I bruise easily, so thanks for that.” I wasn’t mad about them, not at all. I was mad he hadn’t put one where everyone would see it. And wasn’t that immature on my part?

“I shouldn’t like seeing you like this, but I do.”

“What? Covered in avocado, coffee, and hickeys?”

He nodded. “I like you messy. Not trying to act like you’ve got it all under your thumb. Not trying to be perfect.”

“I’m not perfect,” I muttered, but new warmth sparked in my heart. If he saw me like this, and he didn’t run… “But last night?”

“Last night I wanted to get you out of your head and help you relax. It wasn’t supposed to be about me. But the hickeys? I wanted to be able to see them and know I put them there.”

That shut me up. When had anyone wanted only to please me ? People usually wanted to be seen with me, wanted to say they’d been with me as like a conquest, but that’s not what he was saying.

“I couldn’t…wasn’t ready to give you more.” He dropped his arms and put his hands behind his back. “I’m sorry if I didn’t make that clear.”

It dawned on me again how gentle he’d been with me, how I’d been the aggressor in the scenario. He’d been aroused, but if I’d slowed down enough to pay attention, I would have seen that he wasn’t pulling away, necessarily.

“I’m sorry if I rushed you.”

He nodded and shifted his weight against the door. “You should let me rinse your clothes so they don’t stain.”

When I didn’t move, he walked towards me, and all I could do was gape at him. He was much bigger than me, and not just taller. He was built solid. I used to be bigger, but it was fat. I didn’t work out. Didn’t care. I hadn’t realized just how much weight I’d lost until he put his big hand on my waist and squeezed.

“Let’s get you out of these.” He went to work on my fly and slowly, gently, peeled my wet pants down, taking my weight as I leaned on his shoulder and lifted one leg and then the other so he could pull them off. From his crouched position, he looked up at me for permission as he placed his hands on the waistband of my boxers.

I smiled and sucked in a breath. His thumbs slid along my hipbones, which tickled, and I squirmed a bit as my semi-erect dick sprang free. He pulled the boxers off, put his hands back on my hips and looked up at me for…permission again, maybe?

“What…what’s changed?”

“I got out of my head.”

And then he pressed his lips to the underside of my crown, licked over my piercing, all while his eyes never left mine.

Suddenly, I wasn’t cold anymore. I didn’t care that I was sticky and smelled like coffee, or that he was fully dressed, kneeling before me. His mouth was so hot, his lips so soft, and his tongue was so, so good. I’d never had anyone suck me off like this, like I was the last ice cream bar in the freezer in the middle of a heatwave. It was as if he intended to lick every last drop and savor the sensation.

“God, Shane,” I breathed. “You make a man feel desired, you know that?”

He moaned in answer and gripped my ass tighter with one hand, taking more of me with each dip of his head. He’d closed his eyes now, and his free hand gripped the base of my cock, working me with such strength, I swayed on my feet. The hand on my ass shifted, and he dragged his pinky over my hole, causing my legs to buckle.

Holy hell, he was going to destroy me.

Words fell from my lips, or maybe just sounds, I didn’t know for sure, and I reached for his head, cradling it, caressing it, trying to show him how much I loved what he was doing, the pleasure he was giving me.

“You…should…stop, if you don’t want?—”

He pulled off with a pop. “I want it.”

I gasped when he sucked me back in, grabbing my hips and squeezing my ass. He moved faster, and I fought the urge to thrust, mostly because he was…it was…so good at this.

“Then take it,” I whispered. “Take all of it.”

I gasped as I came a few moments later, wave after wave of heat crashing into me until I couldn’t take it anymore, and then it continued. It dragged on and on, and he sucked me through it all, his eyes rolling back in his head. I gripped his shoulders to keep from falling, and I tried to pull out, but he wasn’t quick to let go.

“I’m going to fall on my ass,” I finally said with a laugh, and he pulled back, licking his lips and moaning softly. In one quick motion, he scooped me up and carried me to the bathroom.

“You need a shower,” he said, setting me down. He got the water ready and reached for a towel. “Let me go get your clothes.”

“Hey,” I said, stopping him with my hand to his cheek. He was frowning again, but it was…softer, somehow. He took so much care with me while taking care of me… How was this the Shane Butler known to the free world as the Metal Menace with growling vocals, a percussive guitar style, and a dark, quick wit?

I stood on my toes and kissed him, groaning as I tasted myself in his mouth. It was the hottest thing ever, and I wanted more.

“We have to stop,” he said, pressing his forehead against mine and breathing heavy. “I don’t want you missing time with Morrison, and I’ve got a lot of work to do with my band today. But tonight?”

“Oh, um, I promised Rose a manicure. After? Later?”

“I’ll find you,” he said, giving me one last kiss. Then he smacked my ass. Hard. And I liked it. “Get in the water. I’m going to rinse your clothes out and then get out of here before I bend you over this counter.”

I growled at him. “Fuck, Shane.”

He chuckled as he pushed me inside the single stall and shut the door.

I tried to be quick with my washing but I was still feeling loose and hazy. I started to hum a melody I’d been thinking of last night, as I wrote down the lyrics to a song that had a whole different meaning this morning.

Shane came back in, rinsed my clothes, hung them on the rack, and then washed his hands. He opened the door and looked me up and down.

“I’ll find you later.” He leaned in, and I kissed him once more, tempted to pull him into the spray so, oh darn, he’d have to strip down too.

“Do,” I said with a dreamy grin.

One more glance and a satisfied grunt, and he shut the shower door and then the bathroom door.

“That just happened.” A bubble of laughter exploded into full-on hysterical guffaws that racked my body until I couldn’t breathe.

How had we gone from nearly coming to blows to not being able to keep our hands to ourselves? Whatever had happened, I was quite pleased with this new development.