25. Chapter 18
Addicted
Cohen
Oh fuck no. I’m already putting up with the cat. There’s no way I’m dealing with some boyfriend as well. The bus is cramped enough with four of us, and I intend to tell her so.
I’m still sweaty from the show. Stage lights give off a shitload of heat.
I haven’t even had a chance to change, and the leather pants Dexter dressed me in are so goddamn tight you can see the outline of my cock.
I can’t wait to get out of them and back into jeans because I feel fucking ridiculous even if they did accomplish the “panty-tossing” Dexter claimed they would.
There was a handful of thongs on the stage by the time the show ended.
Right now, though, I need to nip this little boyfriend problem in the bud. I intercept her as she tries to creep past my dressing room. Nice try, Rainy. Using surprise to my advantage, I dig my fingers into her hips and spin us both through the door.
This woman. She thinks I don’t know her anymore.
She thinks only Dutch ever knew her secrets.
Wrong on both counts. He might know some of them.
But I know others. I know exactly who Rain Gamble is when the lights are low, and no one is watching.
And I know the kind of secrets of hers that no one else can ever know.
Not Dutch Kelly, and sure as shit not some loser boyfriend.
It’s high time she remembered that. So it’s high time for a private conversation.
With her back pressed against the now-closed door, we are firmly alone, and there’s nowhere for her to run.
Judging by the way her head and shoulders slump backwards into the door, she knows it.
Still, there’s no telling with Rain, so I keep one hand on her hip, digging my fingers in even harder.
Playing guitar makes for strong fingers.
My other hand comes to rest on her heart, if only to confirm that it still beats a special rhythm that is all fucking mine.
Rain’s full lips part and she gasps at the electricity of my touch.
“Cohen…”
It’s meant as a warning, but it comes out far too breathy for me to heed it.
“Na-ah,” I shush. “Keep that lying mouth shut,” I order, tempting fate by resting my finger against her mouth. Before she can fight back, the way she always does, the way I know she will, I push that finger into her hot, wet mouth.
On instinct, she sucks the digit, and my cock fucking jumps for joy. But of course, letting me enjoy the tight seal of her mouth would be far too easy for my Rainy, so the next second she pulls her tongue back and bites down. Hard.
“Fuck!” I cry, yanking my hand away. There are visible bite marks on my index finger.
“No, fuck you, Cohen! I don’t need this shit tonight.”
She tries to push me away. Too bad I don’t plan on making it easy for her either.
Just how she likes it when she isn’t busy pretending to be someone she’s not.
Instead, I just press myself against her with more force than before.
Immediately, she can feel what I feel. My dick strains against the confines of the leather, as eager as ever to get to her.
My body might respond to her, but my mind is clear as I tell her, “This isn’t about you. For once.”
Bold as brass, her hand clamps like a vice around my shaft.
“Sure feels like this is about me.”
I groan. I can’t help it. She always did know exactly the right pressure. She continues to taunt me, “What? Not getting any from that imaginary girlfriend of yours?”
I’m not even sure she realizes she’s moving her hand, but God, I am all too aware. She’s practically jerking me off through the fabric of my pants. I have to grit my teeth to keep from openly fucking into her waiting palm.
“Better an imaginary partner than the Necker trash you’ve been fucking,” I finally manage to retort without blowing my load.
It didn’t take a genius to work out that the creep from the crowd tonight was the boyfriend in question.
Especially not after seeing him mouth You’re mine at her.
Motherfucker was wrong as hell, because I might not want her anymore, at least not in anything other than a physical way, but Rain Gamble will always be mine despite the denial which comes flying out of her mouth.
“I’ll tell you the same thing I told Dutch.”
She releases her hold on me, and her features turn to iron.
“You don’t get to judge me or my choices. You lost that right a long time ago.”
The reminder of our history is like a bucket of ice being dumped over my head.
My dick goes from hero to zero in a half second.
But like I said, my mind has been clear this whole time, and I’m not about to lose myself in Rain Gamble again.
I tear myself back from her enough that there’s space at her side for me to kick the dressing room door off its goddamn hinges.
The metal of it smashes, and there’s what will likely be a permanent dent in it.
“I didn’t lose the right to judge you. You just lost the privilege of having me give a shit. Now get the fuck out of my sight.”
She races from the room. Always fucking running, that girl.
Probably because she can’t bear to take responsibility for her shitty choices.
Not that I can say fuck all right now. I look at the door, which hangs lopsided thanks to a now-broken top hinge.
I’ll call tomorrow and give the venue owner a credit card number to cover the cost of the repair because this isn’t like when we were broke kids.
I’m Cohen Brady, and in addition to leading this band, I’m one of the faces of my family’s company, and the last thing I need is my reputation ruined by bad, rockstar behaviour.
Therein lies the fucking problem. Rain Gamble makes me crazy.
She has this way of pulling everyone around her in, making them feel like they are the most important people in her whole world, only for her to turn tail and run so fast it’ll give you whiplash; so fast, it’ll fuck up your whole life and leave you a hollowed-out mess.
The longer I’m around her, the more I revert to that mess.
The worst version of myself. The version that led myself and others right into the line of fire.
So I watch her run down the hall. I let her go. Because I never want to be that person again. Although if I jerk off in the dressing room shower thinking about a certain purple-haired brat, well, that’s my fucking business.