The Tour Page 9

  “I’m done,” I say, and start to move my leg forward out of this hold when his knee comes up between my legs and rubs softly. “Are you sure?” he asks as I cry out, because it’s more frustrating than satisfying.

  His hand on my stomach moves down just enough, and I cry out as his finger finally makes contact right where I need it. His sharp intake of breath is like a fire in my chest, and then his voice saying, “so ready for me,” has me rocking my hips to the rhythm of his finger. As my legs start to stiffen, he stops, turns me around, and pulls me to him by the small of my back. With his fist wound in my hair, he kisses me. His tongue lashes out in anger and in conquest leaving me breathless. A quick sheen of sweat has covered me. I’m naked, my muscles ache, and I’m sweating but he’s fully clothed. His hair combed. Flawless.

  I reach out for his pants, and start with the buckle when he bites my bottom lip. “No. I’ll be dripping down your leg all night,” he says, his voice dark, husky. The thought of that has me closing my eyes.

  And then he kneels slowly, keeping his eyes on mine until they’re staring up at me, pinning me in place with their sureness and pain. He plants his knees into the ground and nuzzles his nose into my sensitive crease.

  “Yes,” I cry out and move my hips to give him what he wants, feeling the roughness of his beard, and my fingers dive into his soft blond hair. When his tongue makes its first contact, I growl as he pulls my leg over his shoulder. I press my back into the wall, my hands in his hair as he sucks and flicks at me until I’m shaking against his mouth frantically, undone, and panting.

  I’m dizzy. My legs feel loose and flimsy. As they give out, my back slides down the wall and I hold him, pressing his head against my breasts. “I love you. I’m sorry. I don’t mean to hurt you.”

  “Don’t go to bed angry,” he says. “It’s a new rule.” I bite my bottom lip and nod my head obediently.

  “Let me,” I say, reaching for his zipper. He takes my hands, stopping me, and shakes his head.

  I watch as he stands, opens the closet, and pulls out a long black chiffon gown, and lays it on the bed. He takes my hand and pulls me up. I watch as he slowly takes the gown off the hanger and walks toward me.

  “I need a bra and a thong at least,” I say, breathless and weary, but he raises my arms up and feeds them through the straps, letting go of the thin fabric so the gown cascades over me, soft as water. It smells new and clean, but it’s obviously his mother’s. He’d told me the first time I was here that all her clothes were cleaned and hung back up.

  He stands back, cocks his head to the side, and a slow grin comes up on each end of his lips, still wet with my arousal. “You’re beautiful,” he says. “I just need to zip you up.”

  “It’s not right,” I rasp, with my still gasping lungs. “I need something on underneath,” I protest as I hold my breasts into the minimal fabric of this low-plunging neckline.

  “Why? Do you feel vulnerable again?” he asks, causing me to swallow down my punishment a second time. I nod my head. I feel a muscle in my lip flutter and heat rise to my cheeks.

  “Don’t treat me this way,” I whisper, looking down. Why am I submitting so easily? His lesson in pain and surrender, I think I took to heart.

  “No one will know but us.”

  I walk to the mirror over the dresser, the long gown shimmying around my ankles, and adjust the straps. I’m pretty sure I should use some of that fabric tape they used on me on The Stage to keep it from opening or moving, but I don’t have any. My hair is mussed up in the back. As I start to lift it up to pin it, he says, “Leave your hair down. It’ll cover the front of your dress.” I glare at him, but let it drop. He’s right.

  I lean into the mirror. The mascara and eyeliner around my eyes has smudged into a smoky eye look. I start to wipe it with the tip of my finger. “Don’t touch your make up, either. It’s perfect. You are perfect as you are.” He seems angry I’m trying to fix myself, like it’s an affront to him. To us.

  I’m flushed and pink. My lips red from kissing. He says such nice things, but they’re wrapped in a demand. “Why won’t you let me touch you now?” I ask, my breath calmer now, but not unaffected. “Or put something on underneath?”

  He comes up behind me and moves my hair over my left shoulder. Just the tip of his finger moves down the curve of my spine, making me shiver. As he pulls on the metal zipper, his finger moves up the curve of my ass, up my lower back, and he stops the zipper just there at the place where my hips meet my ribcage in the back.

  His hand wraps around my waist. “I need to look across the table when I’m feeling naked and uncomfortable with my secret on the tip of your tongue,” he says, just before his lips and the scruff of his beard softly caress the curve of my neck, “and know that you’re naked and uncomfortable, too. I know it’s wrong. Just like asking you not to watch the news is wrong, but I need you to do these things, Mia. Do you understand?”

  “But why are you denying yourself right now? Why can’t I touch you back?” He moves his hands through the tangles in my hair until it’s flowing down over my shoulder in soft waves.

  “Because I don’t want you to,” he states, and when I try to turn around to face him, he stops me, reaches inside the fabric under my hand and squeezes my breast into his palm. “Look at me,” he says in the mirror, because mirrors are where we can see our true selves. His thumb pushes the fabric out of the way, revealing me to both of us. I squirm, but I can’t look away.

  The taut, darkened skin of my areola pulls upward between his splayed fingers. I have to open my mouth and close my eyes, the rawness of it too much for me. “The way you look right now, that’s how I feel. Do you understand?”

  I nod and swallow down the unease. “Say, yes,” he says, pinching me light and soft, but with purpose.

  “Yes,” I comply, and he smiles.

  “We’re going to make a new memory there,” he whispers, causing my stomach to pull upward into my spine. “With you there, it will be our place—not hers.” His words echo some primal need to erase the past as his palm rubs my achingly sensitive peak one more time.

  He pulls the fabric up, covering me again, and I see the anguish in his eyes. I’d give anything to take that away. It’s so obvious I’m wearing nothing under this dress. It feels wrong, but I understand why he wants me like this. My comfort for his comfort. Like lovers—like more than that. Like partners in life. Give and take, take and give. It’s dizzying and honorable. It’s fair—or at least I think it is. It could be very unbalanced, because he’s so much more powerful than I am.

  He goes to the closet, comes back to me, and kneels. I balance my hand on his shoulder as he puts some black silk shoes onto my scarred feet.

  “No one can see them,” he says, as I look down. It just adds to the discomfort, another thing I have to worry about keeping covered tonight. My heart is heavy and I have a lump in my throat as he leads me out of the house toward the helicopter where everyone else is waiting for us. The one thing I do know for sure about tonight is this isn’t going to be any ordinary Christmas Eve.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  The Key

  “Wait! You’re flying us?” I question as we approach the large helicopter we’d come in.

  “Yeah,” he answers.

  “But, you’re taking pain meds. You haven’t been cleared to fly by your doctor.”

  “She cleared me while you were in the tub,” he says. “And I’m not taking anything. I’m fine.”

  “Who cleared you while I was in the tub?” I ask, stopping in the dirt near the helicopter.

  “The doctor.”

  “The hottie adulterous one? She was here again?” I ask.

  His expression is blank, unaffected by my temper. “Don’t pick a fight with me so you don’t have to go,” he says wryly, ignoring my question as he ushers me into the open door by the small of my back. I glare at him as he shuts the door, leaving me to be disgruntled without him.

  I sit down beside Riley, buckle
my seatbelt, and adjust the front of my gown to keep myself covered. “Are you excited?” I ask her. “We’re going to a fancy house for dinner.”

  “Yeah, I guess,” she says, shrugging her shoulders. As we rise up into the air, I look around at the guys, Deloris, and my sister wondering if they’ve noticed how naked I feel. The sound of the rotor soothes the angst running through my bloodstream, wrapping itself around my bones, one by one. I close my eyes, grasp Riley’s hand, and listen to my own breathing until I feel us start to descend.

  When I look out the window, I see a neighborhood of enormous houses. They all have pools, and, if I hadn’t known better, I would have assumed it was a neighborhood of apartment buildings. The houses are that huge. We circle one of them, a dark brown mansion with a fountain in the courtyard and Corinthian columns. We come down with one small hop on a portion of the grass near the house.

  Suddenly, looking at this mansion surrounded by manicured grass, I feel very, very unworthy. I don’t belong here at all, let alone in all my nakedness. The rotor stops and Kolton opens the door, letting all of us out. I don’t unbuckle my seat belt. It’s as if my hands don’t work.

  “Mia?” he says. “Mia! Come on.”

  “Okay,” I say, pushing on the buckle release and standing too fast, stepping on my dress and nearly falling to my knees. I yank the fabric up, nearly ripping it under my foot, and jump down the steps, ignoring his helpful outstretched hand. “Let’s get this over with.”

  I’m breathing heavily as all of us walk toward the double doors. My heels click along the cobblestone path, up the stairs, and then through the entrance held open by a tall, dark-haired man. As we step into the foyer, I have to blink. The whiteness of it, blatant in its message of worth and its serious tone. Everything in here is shiny, especially the marble catching and releasing the light. It’s too bright in my eyes—I’m literally blinded by his uncle’s wealth. This place is, crisp and sanitary; the scent is clean, like a hotel. The double cast-iron winding staircases wrapped in evergreen and light welcome us. A tall Christmas tree reaches up to meet the light of the twinkling chandelier in the middle.

  “You must be Mia,” a voice says. I shake my head and look up. The man in the doorway, is this his uncle?

  “Yes,” I nod slightly, letting him take my hand. He leans in and kisses my cheek, smelling like expensive cologne. It warps my nostrils for a moment, overcoming them with his scent.

  “I’m Tedd, Tedd Royce. Welcome,” he greets all of us as we gather in a circle around him. I adjust my dress, and stick my chest out to keep myself fully covered. “Thank you all for coming to our little soiree,” he adds, either genuinely, or condescendingly. It’s hard to tell. He puts his hand on Kolton’s shoulder.

  “Thanks Uncle Tedd,” Kolton says. “This is Deloris and Mia’s sister, Riley, too,” he introduces us, and then Kolton looks up toward the balcony at the top of the stairs. I look up, too, seeing a beautiful woman dressed in a plum colored cocktail dress, her dark hair tied up in a French twist as she gazes down at Kolton.

  I don’t like the look in her eyes, like he’s dinner, and she hasn’t eaten in years.

  “Welcome home,” she calls, her voice echoing off of the pure white walls, the white marble, and sliding themselves down the metal banisters. Her eyes dart toward me for a second, and then away. He purses his lips as she walks down the stairs, and gives her a smile that says he’s uncomfortable.

  “Let’s all go into the living room,” she steps off the stairs and starts walking under the staircases and into a room hidden on the other side. The floor is slick with wax, and there are no rugs anywhere except under the seating arrangement. When Kolton takes my hand, I wonder if people have fallen. I kind of want her to, for some reason.

  As we walk into the tall, dark wood trimmed room filled with two large couches, four chairs and dented with two sets of double doors and windows on one side, I elbow him. “Who’s that?” I mouth, but he doesn’t reply.

  “Have a seat, please.” She’s smiling with the fakest smile I’ve ever seen, which is saying a lot because everyone used fake smiles on The Stage to get votes. Whose vote is she trying to get?

  I’m grateful this room is darker and not so white; the white made me uneasy. I choose to sit on one of the beige linen wingback chairs rather than the couch. I feel like my posture will be better here, and there will be less chance of me spilling out of my dress. I let go of Kolton’s hand and watch him walk toward the couch. A lady brings wine on a tray and sets it down on the coffee table.

  I check her out, because …is she the housekeeper? It’s like I can’t get a good look at her face with the fancy lady standing in the way, whispering to her. When the plum-dress lady turns around, the housekeeper walks out a side entrance to the room, and I never get a good look at her.

  “My name is Vivien,” she says. She’s reaching for my hand as I catch Kolton’s expression. He knows what I’m thinking, and he’s not going to give away the secret. “You must be Mia,” she adds, looking down at me because I’m sitting.

  “Vivien, are you Tedd’s wife?” I ask, watching Riley pick up a cup with ice and a dark red liquid.

  “It’s cranberry,” Deloris clarifies.

  “Would you like some wine?” Vivien asks me.

  “She’ll have cranberry, too,” Kolton says.

  “Oh?” she says. “Aren’t you allowed to have a glass of wine, Mia?” I look at Kolton, who’s glaring at both of us.

  “She’s not twenty-one.”

  “Neither were you,” Vivien smirks, moving a sly finger up to her mouth to hide her scoffing expression.

  “That’s beside the point,” Kolton says. “She’s going to do things a lot different than I did.” The look on his face is defiant; he’s angry with her. Is this the lady who helped raise him? He never mentioned an aunt. I’m so freaking confused.

  “My tummy hurts,” Riley says. “I’m hungry.”

  “Let me see about those hors d’oeuvres,” Tedd says, walking through the exit the housekeeper took.

  “Where’s the restroom?” I ask, really just wanting an excuse to get ‘lost’ and ‘find’ the kitchen so I can spy on the housekeeper instead.

  “I’ll show you,” Kolton stands, moving toward me and taking me by the arm.

  “I can go by myself,” I say, as he walks me into a hallway and opens a heavy door where the bathroom is. He ushers me inside and shuts the door, the air crackling with his energy.

  “Knock it off,” he says, his face stern.

  “What?”

  “I want you to stop trying to figure this out. The housekeeper isn’t here.”

  “Who’s Vivien?”

  “She’s my uncle’s wife.”

  “Did she help raise you?”

  His eyes squint and he leans in toward me. “Yes,” he whispers into my ear. “Do you want to see my room?” he asks as the tip of his fingers ease up on the outside of my arm. A shiver runs up my spine as my body responds to his touch, to his tone.

  “No.” I force the negative response. “I won’t be going up there with you today.” He smirks, looks down at the nakedness my dress implies, and bites his bottom lip.

  “Take your time,” he says, opening the door, leaving me in peace. I wash my hands, since the warm water calms me, and I fix my dress. I walk back down the hallway and into the living room. They are laughing at something Tedd has just said.

  “Congratulations are in order,” Tedd proclaims. Is he talking about me? I look at Kolton and then back to Tedd.

  “I think you can take it this year,” Vivien says.

  “Take what?” I ask.

  “Kolton’s album was just announced. He’s nominated for EMA’s best male pop performance of the year,” she adds, proudly.

  “When?” I ask, looking at Kolton.

  “Yesterday,” he says, and looks down.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” I ask.

  “You’ve had a lot on your mind.”

  “But, thi
s is a good thing,” I exclaim, and when I look around the room, I realize my reaction is such a downer. “Congratulations, Kolton. God, I mean, you should be so proud.”

  “I am,” he smiles.

  “His single hit number three today, too,” Tedd says and I’m reminded that he had a single release the night of the finale. The album being released, it all happened without us. Like a chain reaction. The publicity, regardless of the fact that it’s negative, probably did wonders for his career. I mean, the song is amazing. It’s very special to me, of course, since he wrote it for me.

  “So, you’re next, Mia,” Tedd says.

  “I—”

  “She hasn’t signed with anyone, yet,” Kolton says, crossing his ankle over his knee and taking a sip of some dark liquor.

  “It’s been crazy for you, Mia. But the deal we’re giving you…”

  I don’t want to talk business, so I cut him off. “I don’t want Kolton to be my boss.”

  “We’d be partners. I don’t want to be your boss,” Kolton says.

  “You don’t know how to—” I start, thinking about how he always tries to control everything. He treats me like a child. How does he think he’s going to let me be his equal at something he has more experience in? And he would have a contract binding me to him, too.

  “It’s Christmas Eve,” Deloris chimes in, thankfully interrupting me. “Maybe we can talk business another day.”

  “Of, course,” Vivien says. “We have so much to celebrate. We can discuss your future later,” she smirks and I put my hands up to my chest.

  “Dinner is ready,” the lady who’d served the drinks earlier says from the doorway and I finally get a good look at her. She’s Hispanic, probably in her fifties. Her hands have seen hard work. Her face is lined and her eyes are untroubled. I know it, she’s not the one, but I’m sure Tedd has other staff.