Chapter III
Riot
Hands on the frame either side of the door, I stare at the barrier two inches from my nose. “Kelsey. Let me in.”
It’s way past midnight. Everyone else has gone to bed, but I couldn’t sleep. I tried to settle on the couch, but the fact that she locked this door between us had me tossing and turning. I try the handle again, but it rattles uselessly in my fist.
“I’ll break it down,” I mutter to the wood, my focus caught on the sliver of light coming from underneath it. If we were anywhere but the ranch, I’d have done it already.
I’m not about to damage Summer’s family property just because I’m frustrated. Or wake up the people sleeping under this roof. There’s enough to keep them awake as it is.
Tomorrow is going to be a big day, if the pre-wedding activities actually occur. We have guests to keep entertained and secrets that can’t get out. A goat murderer to catch and a henchman to find.
No, breaking down a door is not something I need to add to the list, no matter how infuriating Kelsey is acting.
“You make me fucking crazy sometimes,” I tell the woman behind the wood. We can be combustible, but I love arguing with her. It can be electrifying and usually ends with her naked and sweaty under me while I make her come.
This isn’t that. This is colder. It’s distance... holding shit back. Give me fire. I can work with flames, but ice... I can’t fucking stand it.
Kelsey avoided my touch the whole damn time we were celebrating Rebel and Summer’s engagement. She didn’t tell me where she’d been or what they’d gotten up to. I had to learn that from Summer while she recounted the first step in her revenge on the Devil’s Bend scum that hurt her.
As soon as the impromptu celebration was done and everyone went their separate ways, Kelsey disappeared into the room and locked the door.
How could she tell me I’m not in this relationship when she’s the one avoiding talking about it? How dare she issue me an ultimatum?
Doesn’t she fucking get it? I don’t want to play around. I don’t care about some stupid little pop princess who doesn’t want to get a clue. I am all about her.
Why can’t she see that? She’s insecure all of a sudden. It’s like she doesn’t trust me at all.
I bow my head and exhale slowly. God, grant me patience. Give me the wisdom to find my way through her fear and doubt.
This woman is my life, even if she doesn’t believe that yet.
But before that she was my friend. She’s confided to me much of who she is.
How lonely her childhood was. How hard it is for her to trust people when the people who were supposed to love her most didn’t.
And the ones who were supposed to protect her, hurt her instead.
Of course this new dynamic was never going to be easy for her. The tension I’ve been carrying around—that the joint I smoked out on the veranda couldn’t make a dent in—starts to dissolve. If she needs me to prove that I’m all in I can do that.
It’s like Rogue said. I’ve already made up my mind. I need to prove it.
Starting with blocking Carmine’s daughter.
If we ever make it to studio time, I’ll have to speak to her since Carmine wants us recording together.
Until then Sonatina will have to deal with Kelsey and not me.
I take out my phone and find the pop princess’s digits.
I press my thumb down over the icon that means she will no longer be able to contact me.
“Candy head, you wanna unlock the door so we can talk this out?”
She doesn’t respond at first.
I’m almost ready to give up when she finally opens the door, wearing one of my T-shirts. That has to be a good sign.
The black cotton covers her to mid-thigh, but I happen to know from previous experience that if she lifts up on tiptoe that shirt will leave the curve of her ass and panties visible.
Her legs are bare, and her toenails are painted a dark plum.
Pig tails hang down the front of her shoulders and curl at the ends.
Fuck, that’s sexy. And not at all what I want running through my head when we need to hash out this fight once and for all.
“You wanted to say something.” She walks over to sit on the bed where a bunch of her skincare creams, potions and polishes are piled up. She picks out a short, cotton candy colored tub and unscrews the lid. Her nose wrinkles when she sniffs it.
Sitting on the bed facing her, I light up my screen and show it to her. “I’ve blocked Sonatina.”
She studies the screen, her lips pursed. “And? You could turn around and unblock her tomorrow.”
“That’s true. But you know better than anyone, that’s not how I work.”
“I know how you work as a friend.” She digs her fingers into the tub and pulls out a glop of green goop. “Come closer.”
I hate this shit she puts on her face, but I lean in anyway. I’ll do anything for her.
She touches two green fingers to my forehead and smears the sweet-smelling concoction across it. That makes her smile. Slowly it fades. “This is unchartered territory for us.”
“It is.” I would do anything to have her hands on me. It tells me she’s halfway over our fight. Everything is going to be all right. “For both of us. But this is only going to work if you trust me not to hurt you.”
“I don’t want to share you,” she whispers. “I know I have to. You’re L.A. Riot. A rockstar. A god.”
“I’m still the same guy who moved to a new high school with no friends to speak of. The same guy you talked into going to buy new bearings for your longboard. Whose bedroom you infiltrated every weekend to escape your shitty foster brother.”
“A superstar with hundreds of thousands of fans.” Her gaze is serious. “I love that you got your dream. I want that for you. I always knew your voice needed to be shared with the world. But... I can’t share you with other women. I won’t.”
Averting her eyes, she flattens a palm over her belly.
This insecurity and jealousy is having a physical impact on her. The same way it did in the green room last night. Doc didn’t seem to think there was anything a little rest couldn’t cure, but that’s because it’s not really physical, is it?
“You don’t have to.” I trace the same path her fingers took over my skin, gathering some of the messy facial mask on my way. Wiping my stained fingers down her cheek leaves an avocado green line on her beautiful skin. “I want you. I only want you.”
She pauses to search my face.
“Are you happy with your fingerpainting, candy head?”
“Not yet.” She digs into the tub once more and retrieves a bigger amount of the clay. She presses it onto my cheeks, and jaw.
“You’re really going to block her? What about Carmine?” She smooths the slurry in little circles with her fingers as she covers my whole face in it. “He won’t be happy.”
“You’re going to have to be my intermediary.” That’s the only way this will work. I can’t ignore Carmine’s wishes. “The only contact I’m willing to have with her is through you.”
“What if she comes onto you? What if I can’t control myself?” Using the crook of her finger she turns my face this way and that. “What if I smack that skank right in her big mouth?”
“That would be bad. It could ruin L.A. Riot.” My lungs are in a vise at the idea of everything we built being reduced to rubble because of jealousy. Savant records might not drop us, but Carmine is an industry powerhouse. If he were pissed off, he could ruin us.
The concentration lines around her mouth soften. “That’s better. You’re going to have a glowing complexion when this comes off.”
“You making me pretty?” I pretend I didn’t notice that she never said she wouldn’t hit the pop princess.
Her eyes light up. “You’re already pretty. Gorgeous, really.”
“You like pretty men, candy head?” I take some of the stuff and spread it over her skin. Until all of her face is covered but her lips and eyes.
“Some.” She purses her lips.
I rest my hand on her nape and lean in carefully for a kiss without smearing the mud onto our lips.
“You, I like dirty.” She slaps more goop over my mouth before she darts off the bed, laughing like a maniac.
“Shit.” Wiping the gross mud from my lips, I jump off the bed. “That’s disgusting.”
She grins at me from the other side of the bed, looking like a green emoji.
“You’re in for it now.” I dart toward the end of the bed, and she moves up to the headboard. I feint toward it, and she gets set to go the opposite way. I sprint around the frame, but she runs over the mattress with a giggle.
I let her get almost to the bathroom before I slip my arms around her waist and haul her back to me. I feather my fingers across her ribcage. “You’re in trouble now.”