Edwards, Willa - Midnight Mirage (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) Page 2

  “We’re not joking, love,” Gabe whispered directly into her ear, his lips so close they were almost on her earlobe.

  “I’m here for the interview,” Mallory conditioned. “Nothing else.”

  “You want more than that.” Lincoln’s words were resolute, indisputable. His dark looks and brooding air were a perfect contrast to Gabe’s brighter complexion and personality. “We know the truth, even if you won’t admit it.”

  Lincoln’s navy eyes watched her, his gaze so intent she worried he might be able to see deep inside her to read truths about herself even she didn’t know. True, she’d started feeling listless lately. The constant movement was wearing on her. Life on the road in crummy motel rooms and living out of a suitcase had grated away the enthusiasm she’d once felt for her job.

  For the first time since she’d quit over a year ago, she missed her old life as a high school music teacher. At least her former coworkers got to be home with their families, friends, and lovers during the holiday. Mallory had to spend her New Year’s Eve working.

  Usually Mallory invited a friend, but this year she’d canceled on her at the last minute. Callie said something about having to spend the day in bed, and if she was sick, Mallory wasn’t interested in catching it. The worst thing about being a freelance writer--the health insurance plan sucked.

  All her other friends had already made plans. Mallory was jealous of them all.

  “Everyone ready to party till midnight?” The band onstage screamed into the microphone behind them, not nearly as talented as the duo before her.

  The passion and excitement radiated from the crowd. It’s what had prompted her to quit her career as a music teacher and change her life entirely. That, and the fact she’d never wanted to be a teacher in the first place.

  “It’ll be a night to remember.” Gabe stepped closer to her, pressing his body against hers. His hot, hard chest brushed her back, the thick bulge between his legs grazing her hip and making her thoughts scatter like uncoordinated jazz notes.

  “Give us a chance to show you how much we want you.” Lincoln’s lips grazed her hair, in what could have been a kiss or simply a slip. It was impossible to tell. But he did nothing more, simply holding there. Wetness gathered across her skin, along her neck, dripping between her breasts, and legs, at his proximity.

  Maybe that’s exactly what she needed to spice up an otherwise drab night, a good roll between the sheets. With anyone besides the men saddled up to her, touching her in soft, subtle brushes that made her entire body prickle. It couldn’t be them. Not Lincoln and Gabe. She wasn’t sure where the thought had come from, or the intensity of it, but she was compelled to listen.

  There were millions of men milling about, drinking, getting hornier by the second. Mallory would be able to find someone interested in taking her to bed, or at least his car. Why did the idea of having a wild, torrid affair, like everyone already believed she did on a regular basis, hold so little appeal?

  “Fine, if you don’t want to answer, I’ll ask a different question. What inspired your latest Mirage album?”

  Gabe’s hand slipped behind her body, landing on her ass. His hot palm burned where it touched. He waved at the crowd with his other hand, receiving return waves and screams of devotion. A silent thrill ran through her as his hidden hand squeezed lightly, her muscles convulsing beneath the pinch no one was able to see.

  “The fans,” Lincoln whispered, his words shuddering down her nerves, though they had no romantic or seductive meaning. His lips posed an inch from hers. If she turned, she could be touching them, kissing them, licking them. Her stomach twisted at the thought.

  Catcalls filled the air as their fans returned the attention. One shrill voice screamed out above the crowd, shrieking out, “Mirage!” A potbellied, shaved-headed man dressed from head to toe in black stood out from the sea of other fans. His hands cupped around his mouth to amplify his scream towards the men bracketing her with their heat. “I love you guys.”

  Lincoln waved from beside her, his arm grazing her side as he extended his hand to salute the fan. “Thanks.”

  “That’s why we do it,” Gabe whispered in her ear. “To make people smile. Like you are right now.”

  Mallory bit her lip, realizing she was smiling, among other reactions.

  She looked over at him, meeting the honey-brown eyes and tawny eyebrows of her favorite rock star, the lead singer of the band she’d idolized before quitting her teaching job to take advantage of her music degree some other way than instructing ornery children to play the violin. She had all their albums, attended all of their tours. She’d followed their career since their first hit.

  “And other emotions as well.”

  “Can I play with you guys?” The voice rose again from the crowd, feet closer than before, interrupting their conversation. The bright stage lights shone off his head. His eyes were glassy, most likely because he was drunk or stoned.

  Gabe dropped his hand from Mallory’s flesh, looking up from her to the portly man stepping ever closer to them.

  “We’ve already finished our set tonight. We’ll have to catch you next time.”

  The fanatic stepped closer, eyeing her up and down. He winked his left eye in invitation. One Mallory had no inclination of accepting. But as his gaze slide back to Gabe and Lincoln, she realized he wasn’t interested in her, not in any way beyond that she was with them.

  “I’ve been telling everyone I would fit right in with you guys. I could jam with you. Pick up chicks together. It’d be awesome, man.”

  Lincoln took a step forward, angling himself slightly in front of her. Normally she’d protest the gesture, but the look in the man’s eyes as he stared back and forth between his idols unnerved her to silence.

  “I’m sure it would. But we’re in the middle of an interview right now for Alternative Beats magazine.” His chin dipped to motion toward Mallory. She felt her blood go cold as the fan’s eyes fixed on her, peering at her as if she were the opposition to everything he wanted in life.

  “I’d kill to jam with you guys.” He continued on as if Lincoln had never tried to dismiss him.

  Stepping forward with a menacing gleam in his eyes, now only a giant step away from her, he focused on her like the New Year’s ball at midnight. Fear filled her, and she wished for Lincoln and Gabe’s warm bodies against hers again. Their absence overwhelmed her body until she froze as cool as an icicle.

  She’d heard stories of fans loving their idols so much they wanted to kill them. It had never made sense to her, but she’d never tried too hard to understand. Now she wished she had. The terror pounding in her chest told her this could certainly be one of those instances.

  From the corner of her eye, she saw a flash of firework light gleam off metal in his hand and she stepped back automatically, not exactly sure if she were trying to flee or throw herself on the bomb for these men.

  Her heel caught in a divot in the asphalt and twisted beneath her. Mallory fumbled forward, her hands flung out, searching for any solid place to land. Her foot tangled beneath her with two other much larger feet, torquing her ankle in the wrong direction as it exploded in a burst of white-hot pain. Electric shocks of agony raced up her limb to the rest of her body, every nerve shaking in surprised pain.

  Her knee slammed into hard rock, slicing along the frozen, rough surface. Her palm ripped, her skin forced to break by friction, as she gripped for a place to land. Her wrist jerked, a sudden sharp pain quickly dissipating into a warm wave of hurt.

  The fumbling of other feet around her was a vague, fuzzy noise in her ears, barely cutting through the hum of agony as security grabbed the portly fanatic. Two male voices bellowed above her. Two hands smoothed down her back, rubbing in a comforting circular pattern. But she heard and felt none of it, her body overloaded.

  She breathed deeply, hoping to calm the raging beat of her heart and the blur covering her eyes. She refused to cry in front of a crowd, no matter how bad the pain was, and it wa
sn’t that bad. If she just kept breathing, she’d be all right. Her long, dark hair fell around her face, curtaining her flushed features, hiding her humiliation and suffering.

  “Get him out of here,” she heard a stern voice scream from above her.

  “It’s okay, love,” another soothing voice whispered as the chaotic noises and screams of the fan being dragged away dissipated. “You’ll be all right.”

  When her breathing had returned to the normal rate of a marathon runner, Mallory looked up, her head resting upon a hard male chest, lightly covered in a worn, warm T-shirt. Gabe’s sympathetic golden eyes, fringed in thick black lashes, stared down at her. His soft, sandy hair spiked in random peaks around his head.

  Her face heated with embarrassment as she realized her breasts were smashed into his chest. Her groin pressed into his upper thigh, rippling with heat at the mere contact. A defined, hard bulge pressed against her stomach, inches from her diaphragm. A fever rolled through her at the intimate contact, heating her hotter than a sparkler.

  She shouldn’t be so turned on by just being close to a man. She was an adult, not a horny teenager. She ought to be able to control herself. But as her panties grew damp, she knew she was losing the fight.

  Mallory pulled back to give him a weak smile. She sucked in a surprised breath at how his features darkened. “I’m fine,” she said, trying to reassure Gabe even as she grimaced at the pain rolling through her, easing back from his muscled chest.

  “No, you’re not.”

  He placed a hand on her upper arm to steady her, stopping Mallory dead in her tracks with the single touch. Fire vibrated from where his skin made contact with hers, sizzling along her veins and gathering in her stomach into a tight ball, similar to the lit ball shining bright above the Times Square gathering. “You’re hurt.”

  She slammed her eyes shut, forcing herself to control the wild, rampant urge to lean into him for support and more bubbling up within her. Gabe threw a few commands over his shoulder as images of her recently formed New Year’s resolution with these rocks stars danced along her eyelids. His hands remained firm on her upper arms, lending her his strength as easy as counting down from ten.

  “Come here.” Gabe pulled her into his embrace, wrapping her arms around his neck as he hoisted her into the air. “I’ll take you back to our bus and get you cleaned up.”

  Chapter Two

  Mallory tightened her arms around his neck as Gabe hoisted her into the air. Not that he’d given her much choice, scooping her into his arms faster than the tick of the clock. His chest glowed with pride as he heard the slight snarl from Lincoln behind him, irritated he’d gotten the first touch, especially since Lincoln had seen Mallory first.

  He could still remember the night they’d first met Mallory. It had been almost a year ago, a night very similar to tonight, minus the crazed fan and her lack of grace. She’d been new to the magazine, only a few weeks on the job, but she’d still walked up to Lincoln, approaching him with a straight back and determined stride. They both knew most reporters had nicked named Lincoln “The Lion” due to his aggressive expressions and pension for growling at questions instead of answering them. But none of that had scared Mallory. She’d refused to leave until Lincoln answered all her questions. Gabe had seen the instant respect in his best friend’s eyes.

  Yet it was the soft smile she’d given him when Gabe complimented the streaks of blue in her hair that had drawn him in, so different then the warrior who had approached Lincoln. His mind instantly conjuring an image of that raven and cobalt hair sprayed across his pillow or chest. There hadn’t been a night since that Gabe hadn’t dreamed of her, jerking off in the shower night after night with her name on his lips.

  Just like the Strat he’d bought for twenty dollars at a garage sale while his mother’s back was turned, which had started his musical career and had been worth more than his college education, he’d known from that first smile Mallory was something special.

  If he’d had his way, their approach would’ve been more direct and forthcoming. They wouldn’t still be wanting. But over the last several months, Gabe had seen the merit of Lincoln’s plan to wait. He’d seen the slight glances Mallory gave them, the open smiles she bestowed upon them. Tonight, when they’d only mentioned spending the night with her, lust had flamed so hot in her eyes it could have burned down a small building. As much as he hated it, once again, Lincoln was right.

  “You don’t have to do this.” She clutched him tighter, as if preparing for him to realize she wasn’t worth the effort.

  He smiled triumphantly. She wouldn’t have to worry for much longer. They’d show her threefold how deserving she was.

  Gabe had already planned to make Mallory theirs tonight, but when he’d seen the flash of light on metal in the fanatic’s hand, and her fall to his feet as she tried to flee, his heart had seized in panic. It was no longer a plan. Now it was a certainty.

  It didn’t matter that it was only light reflecting off the man’s watch, or that she’d only skinned a knee and twisted an ankle. The fear had been real. It still felt real as it pounded through his blood. And he wasn’t going to let her live one more day without their protection and devotion, without knowing how much they cared.

  “Yes, I do, Mallory Macgregor.” He smiled down at her and extended his palms to cover more of her smooth skin. “I plan to take very good care of you.”

  Casting a glance over his shoulder, Gabe watched Lincoln trail a foot behind, moving closer with each step. He looked pissed, feral, and protective. Though Gabe felt his friend’s anger on the back of his neck like a brand, Lincoln’s gaze was trained entirely on Mallory, clearly as concerned and intent as Gabe was.

  In his arms, Gabe felt Mallory’s body still. He turned toward her, sweeping away the pool of her ebony satin hair, to see her stare cast over his shoulder. Her eyes, large as disco balls, watched Lincoln with frightened intensity.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered, her breath forming a soft cloud in the frosty air. “I overreacted.”

  “It’s not your fault,” Lincoln growled from behind them, his words clear, concise, and undeniable. “We all did.”

  “The man had no right to scare us like that.” Anger vibrated through Gabe’s chest. If he hadn’t been concerned with Mallory, he’d have pounded him into pâté.

  Mallory shivered in his arms. Gabe pulled her tighter to his chest, holding her close, savoring the contact. He prayed it was the cold that produced her trembles, an effect his warm body could cure.

  He hated to think of her scared of them, or scared at all. He never wanted her to feel that kind of fright again. And as long as he or Lincoln were around, she never would.

  “Almost there,” Gabe whispered in her ear, his face so close, he could almost brush his lips against hers. Her warm, soft body pressed into his made the idea seem better and better with each second. The orange and cinnamon scent of her skin floated to him through the air, an intoxicating respite from the sweat, stale beer, and cigarette smoke that filled the venue.

  Gabe took the stairs two at a time. His boots banged against the metal and carpet as he moved quickly into the bus interior. He raced three long strides into the living area, before reluctantly depositing her on the lumpy living room couch.

  He stood before her for a moment, merely looking at her. He’d wanted so long just to be able to look at her, to show her he cared, how much he wanted her, how truly she was valued. He shifted his hands anxiously at his sides. His breath gusted from his chest in great waves.

  Around them the bus was quiet. The only sounds ringing through the air were the thuds of Lincoln’s feet as he ascended the stairs behind them, and Mallory’s deep breaths. Lincoln’s brunet head poked up the covered stairwell to meet her confused stare. Above Mallory, their eyes made contact, sharing a silent moment of communication. Beyond them the city raged its own party, celebrating the New Year as only New Yorkers could.

  None of that mattered to them, to either of them
. They finally had Mallory in their bus, in their arms, and would very soon have her in their bed. Nothing else in the world mattered.

  “We better make sure she’s okay,” Lincoln commanded, spouting the words as if they were law.

  “Of course.” The only way Gabe could think to respond was a roll of his eyes.

  * * * *

  Mallory clenched her jaw. She wanted to scream at them for talking about her as if she wasn’t there, making decisions for her as if she didn’t have a mind of her own, for caring so much about her safety when she couldn’t see any reason they should. Sure, her blood still pounded with panic, and her brain was foggy from being held in Gabe’s arms for so long, but that didn’t mean she was incapable of making her own choices.

  But just as she was about yell, Gabe dropped to the ground in front of her. Mallory almost swallowed her tongue as she watched the lead singer of the chart-topping band kneel before her, concerned with her ankle. Lincoln settled into the couch beside her, tilting her head back with a finger to inspect for bumps or cuts. The slight whiff of his spicy aftershave teased her senses.

  Mallory looked up at him, watching his dark eyes narrow. She took a moment to study him, realizing she’d never seen either of them this close before, and would probably never get the opportunity again. His dark brows bent in contemplation, wrinkled lines of worry streaking across his forehead, his square jaw clenched tight, his eyes as dark as a midnight sky.

  “How could you not twist your ankle in these boots?” Gabe’s tone sounded more reprimanding than she could understand, his finger tracing her five-inch heel as if he held some responsibility for her protection. “You don’t have to wear anything like this for us.”

  Mallory opened her mouth to say she hadn’t worn them for anyone, but before she could speak, Gabe’s hand smoothed up her leg, stopping her words cold.