Chapter 11
IAIN
Ahalf-hour later, I had all new material for my spank bank.
I was sweaty and sore but surprisingly energized.
Who knew grappling was so much fun? Not that I was going to tell Dawson.
He was already annoyingly smug when he was in fight mode. And I could see why. It was sexy as hell to listen to him explain every move and to feel his powerful body move against mine with such control.
Too bad about the clothes between us and the fact that Dawson kept barking at me when I didn’t pay attention to what he was saying.
Can you blame me?
Halfway through our session, he’d taken his shirt off. And that’s when I knew I was done for.
“Okay, next move,” Dawson panted as he wiped his brow. “This is called the bow and arrow choke.”
“Sounds kinky.”
“Pay attention,” Dawson playfully swatted my back. “Sit down.”
I sat on the mat, and Dawson slid behind me, his crotch snug against my ass, his taut legs wrapping around my waist.
Fucking hell. Was jiujitsu supposed to be sexy, or was it just me?
“We can try this standing up, but sitting down in this position is how I learned.”
“Me too. Reverse cowboy is an art form.”
“Stop it.” Dawson sighed. “Now I’m going to reach around with my arm. I place my hand near or over your neck—”
I cackled. “This is like the start of my favorite porn scene.”
“Iain,” Dawson growled.
God, I loved it when he said my name like that. No one else said it that way. Like I’d worked him up so much he couldn’t take anymore.
He squeezed his legs tighter around me, and that didn’t help my racing heart or my hardening dick at all. “I’m trying to teach you something that might save your life.”
“I know, and I appreciate it, but I’m kinda distracted.”
Between the combined smell of our sweat, the heat of the room, and the way his larger body enveloped mine…fuck, I was so turned on I wanted to roll over and rub myself all over him, then ride him until we achieved a different kind of endgame.
“Imagine I’ve just smashed your favorite guitar into a million pieces.”
I grabbed Dawson’s arm. Hard.
“That’s it; grab my forearm with your left hand and my tricep with your right,” Dawson instructed. “Remember to pull me forward. Do not let my elbow get behind your shoulder, or I’ve got all the leverage I need to take control.”
I pulled at Dawson’s arm, but he was so strong. “I don’t think I can do this.”
“Try your best,” he murmured gruffly in my ear. “I’m not going to do anything to hurt you, your hands and arms least of all. Trust me.”
I did. I was safe in Dawson’s arms.
I could let go, and I knew he would catch me.
And that right there scared the fuck out of me. A man who could make me feel that way was damned dangerous.
Dawson’s legs tightened around my waist as he tried to roll us over. I pulled on his arm as instructed, and I managed to keep him from taking me back.
“Good, that’s very good,” Dawson whispered as he suddenly let go and shuffled away from me. “We’re done for the day.”
Then he scrambled off the mat and stood up, offering his hand.
I took it and noticed he was trembling. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, just, uh, I need water. I’m dehydrated.”
“How about breakfast?” I smiled as I got up on my own shaky legs. “I’ll order room service.”
“I can order it when we get back,” Dawson turned away from me.
I grabbed a couple of towels from the nearby stack and threw one at him, covering his entire head and shoulders.
While I was doubling over with laughter, Dawson yanked the towel off and turned around. And, oh shit, judging by the fire in those green eyes of his, I was in for it now.
He stalked toward me in purposeful strides until loud voices interrupted, and the door swung open.
“Oh, hey, sorry. We didn’t know the room was occupied.”
Two fit-looking guys in their twenties appeared. From their accents, it sounded like they were American, too, but from the south. With shaved heads and wide smiles, I could hardly tell them apart. Then I noticed the shorter one had tattoos on his arms.
“We’re just leaving,” Dawson replied, motioning for me to follow him.
“Thanks,” the tattooed one replied and cocked his head when I walked past. “Wait a minute, I know you.”
“I’ve got one of those faces,” I replied and walked beside Dawson.
“You’re Iain Holloway! Wayward Lane!” the other guy yelled out.
Busted.
I nodded. “I am. Nice to meet you.”
The taller one held out his hand. “I’m Hawk, and this is Lewis. I can’t believe this is happening! The lead guitarist from Wayward Lane, this is so fucking cool!”
I reached out and shook his hand, smiling in return. It was always nice to meet an enthusiastic fan.
Lewis smacked his forehead. “Fuck, what a time for me to forget my phone!”
“We have to get going anyway,” Dawson reminded me, placing a hand on my lower back.
“We’ll be at your concert on Valentine’s Day,” Hawk announced.
“Really? Well, give Dawson your name and number and we can invite you backstage.”
“Are you kidding?” Lewis blurted out.
I heard Dawson’s growl and looked over to see him shaking his head.
“Enter your details; we’ll have to do a security check first and get in touch with you,” Dawson explained as he passed over his phone.
“Yeah, of course.”
Once the guys finished entering their information on Dawson’s phone, we said our goodbyes and made our way back to our rooms.
“What do you want to eat?” Dawson asked as he unlocked the door.
“An omelet with ham, cheese, and veggies. Croissants with jam. And lots of coffee.”
“I’ll place the order and knock when it arrives.”
Dawson headed for his room and slammed the door. What got his jockstrap in a knot?
Shaking my head, I retreated to my bathroom.
A hot shower was desperately needed.
Once I’d stripped down and stood underneath the heated spray, I replayed the morning in my head. Every time Dawson’s hands touched my body, or anytime he so much as brushed against me, every nerve ending came alive.
It felt like I’d been edged for hours.
I grabbed my body wash and soaped up my throbbing dick. A sexy vision of Dawson covering my body with his, taking my cock in hand, and giving me orders in that husky voice of his had my balls tightening.
I’d barely gotten two strokes off when my phone began to ring.
“Fuck!”
I quickly rinsed off and stepped out of the shower, reaching for my phone on the counter.
It was Harlow. I tapped accept and speaker.
“What?” I snarled as I yanked a towel off the shelf and wrapped it around my waist.
“Good morning to you, too. Or afternoon since it’s almost noon.”
“What do you want?”
“Pre-rehearsal meeting in Brodie’s suite at one.”
“I’ll be there.”
I tapped end and looked at myself in the mirror. I untied my hair and left it down. It was messy, but I didn’t care. And I didn’t bother shaving, either. After throwing on a pair of worn jeans and a T-shirt, I knocked on the connecting door and waited until Dawson answered.
“Breakfast isn’t here yet,” he said when he opened the door.
He was fresh out of the shower, too, in black jeans and a T-shirt that showed off his incredible body—a body that was distracting me at an alarming rate.
“That’s fine. I thought we could talk anyway. Harlow just called. We have a meeting at one. I want you to be there.”
“Me? Can’t I just wait outside in the hallway?”
“No. You’ll be the peacekeeper in case things get out of control.”
Dawson nodded and waved me inside. I walked over to the sofa in the corner of the room and sat down.
“Thanks for dragging my ass outta bed this morning. I do feel better.”
Dawson nodded and bit his lower lip. Was he nervous?
“Are you alright? You seemed jumpy at the end of our workout.”
Dawson stared at me and swallowed hard. “I’m fine. I was thirsty. I mean, I was dehydrated. I forgot to drink water when I woke up.”
He finally walked over and sat beside me, tapping on his phone.
“I texted Zoe. It appears that question about your mom last night has created interest from the media. She’s already fielding calls and emails.
She’s going to talk to you later today, but it’s fair to say there will probably be more news items about it. ”
I let my head fall back against the sofa cushion. “Christ.”
“I’m sorry.”
Without thinking, I reached out and touched Dawson’s forearm. “Don’t apologize for something you didn’t do. This is all on Harlow. And maybe part of it is my fault, too.”
“Why you?”
“My mom—” I paused, a lump forming in my throat.
I looked at Dawson. Was I really going to tell him?
“You probably know this already from my bio, but my mom died when I was ten—an accidental drowning. But afterward, there was a lot of speculation around town that maybe it wasn’t an accident.
She had mental health problems. Depression.
I tried to ignore the gossip, but the older I got, the more I couldn’t handle it.
And my dad, well, he’d checked out of my life since her death.
As soon as I finished high school, the guys and I left town to start gigging.
” I paused. “I don’t talk about her or what happened.
So I think that probably makes people more curious. ”
Dawson squeezed my hand. “You don’t owe the media, or anyone, any explanation. Your feelings and your past are your own.”
“They can write about my sex life all they want. But this family stuff? It just cuts too deep. And I don’t like to talk about it with anyone, not even the guys.”
“I can only imagine. I mean, Jaxon has gone through a lot these past two years, but at least he’s got me and my mom. And my sisters, even if they live far away. And a great therapist he can talk to.”
“He’s a lucky kid.”
“Iain, it’s not my place, but—"
Dawson was interrupted by a knock at the door that startled both of us.
“Oh, it’s room service,” Dawson murmured and got up to answer the door.
I stared at his back as he walked away, and I studied him.
Not just his body but the way he carried himself and the way he interacted with the concierge, Georges.
I recognized him from our visit last year and waved.
Georges smiled and waved in return, but he kept talking to Dawson.
I heard Dawson ask about his family and then the mention of Jaxon.
Dawson was smiling and talking in an animated way that was rare.
Who was this man? I mean, besides being my badass bodyguard.
And why was I suddenly intent on knowing everything?