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I shrug. “What?”

  He smirks and someone in the crowd squeals. They do it every damn time he does that. “Nothing, man. Nothing.”

  3

  Blair

  My whole body is vibrating, and I’m kinda lost in this suspension of disbelief and excitement that leaves me feeling like a squirrel on a sugar rush. The second I exit the stage, Maddie grabs me in a hug so tight, she crushes my boob with the impact.

  “Ouch, Mads.” I step back and rub my nipple through my top with the palm of my hand.

  “Oh, sorry.” She reaches out to rub my injury, but I slap her hand away.

  “Oh, sorry again!” She laughs. “Eeckkk! Three judges hit the button for you. It was almost instantaneous. Blair, you killed it. I knew you were going to, but you…killed…it!”

  I’m smiling so wide my face hurts. I can’t believe it. I can’t believe I got Dean Carter from Atomic Midnight to hit the button for me. It all feels like a dream. A really crazy dream, except I know it’s not, because in dreams you don’t feel pain, and my boob is still throbbing.

  “Dean Carter hit his button for you.” She smiles impishly and digs into the back pocket of her jeans. “Do you need these?”

  I snatch the boy shorts and tuck them into my own pocket. “I can’t believe you were flashing those, Maddie. What if Dean saw them?”

  She waves her hand dismissively. “Psht, he didn’t. And I’m sure the blush you sprouted nearly made him jam in his pants. He was toast when you blushed.”

  “Oh my word, Maddie. You are out of control.”

  She grins but then waggles her eyebrows. “Incoming hottie.”

  I turn to see Dean approach us, and my heart starts pounding like a backbeat. His dark brown hair is all messed up from his dramatic display to get me to choose him, and my eyes keep flicking from his unusual gray eyes—a soft dove gray outlined by a deep gunmetal color—to his full lips. Lips that have featured in way too many of my fantasies during my alone time. When I note his stubble, I try hard not to think about how it would feel…oh damn, I guess I’m going to have to try a little harder to contain my wayward thoughts. I want to rub my sweaty palms on my jeans, but that will look too obvious, so I pray he doesn’t want to shake my hand.

  No such luck! He shakes Maddie’s hand as she introduces herself, and then reaches for mine. I can’t even be upset because I’ve reached my quotient of answered prayers for today. I expect him to shake hands and let go, but he doesn’t. He holds my hand in his while he beams at me. “Blair, I’m so excited to have you on my team. We’re going to do great things together.”

  Maddie snorts. I glare at her while Dean is distracted by Kade clapping him on the back on his way to wherever the judges go when there’s a break. Dean looks back at me, and I threaten myself with fasts and kale salads if I sigh or do something equally uncool. “I’m looking forward to it.” My response is so lame I’m mortified, but thankfully I don’t redden.

  I don’t have to look at my best friend to know what she’s thinking loud and clear. Yeah, I bet you are.

  “I’ve got to get back out there, but I’ll see you tomorrow. Cindy will give you the schedule.” He points with his free hand to the clipboard lady, and that’s when I realize not only is he still holding my hand, he’s drawing lazy circles along my thumb. Maddie’s eyebrows are so high they are almost part of her hairline.

  I realize I’m staring stupidly at him and try desperately to come up with something to say.

  Maddie speaks up. “You gonna give her hand back, Dean?”

  He squeezes my hand and smirks at me. “See you tomorrow, Blair. See you around, Maddie.”

  ♫

  We are settled in for our last night at the crazy fancy hotel paid for by my grandparents. My papaw felt if I was going to spend the next few months in the house with the other contestants, then I should at least have a few nights of luxury. I also think he is trying to save my nonexistent virtue from strange boys.

  Maddie shuts the hotel-room door after tipping the bellboy and wrinkles her nose as she hands me my plate. “You have access to every meal in this place and you ask for frosting on toast.”

  I take a bite and moan. “It’s not just any frosting, it’s lemon frosting.”

  “It’s nasty, that’s what it is.”

  I take another bite, refusing to allow my best friend to spoil what has to be my favorite guilty pleasure. I’m going to have to hit the gym twice as hard tomorrow, but it is so worth it. Not the same kind of worth it as when Maddie makes it though. Maddie’s lemon frosting will make you turn on your own mother it’s so good. It’s why I’m trying to convince her to start her own baking business.

  “What did you get?” I lean over and take a look at Maddie’s plate, laughing when I see the bacon and avocado sandwich. “I should’ve known.” If Maddie was in a burning building and she had the choice of saving a human or the last avo on earth, you better bet she’s going to choose the avo. It’s her crack.

  I watch her shove almost half the sandwich in her mouth and shake my head around a rather more delicate bite of my own snack. Maddie is a tiny girl. I’m not short by any means, but at five foot eight, Maddie reaches to my chin and has the dinkiest little wrists I’ve seen on an adult. The way I’m describing her here, you’d imagine her to look fragile and waiflike, but people like Maddie are the reason the saying “dynamite comes in small packages” was invented. She’s petite, but she can hold her own, and that sandwich doesn’t stand a chance in hell.

  “So,” she says around a mouthful of food. “You’re going to be working with Dean Carter.”

  I have the last bite of toast and wipe my hands on the napkin. Leaning back against the couch cushions, I swallow. “Alright, out with it.”

  “Out with what?” Maddie looks at me, her eyes so wide she’s the picture of innocence, but I know better.

  “Out with whatever you’ve been chewing on since we got back. I know you, Maddie—you’re twirling your earring so fast you’re going to make the hole bigger, and you do that when you have something on your mind. So spit it out.”

  I reach for my bottle of sparkling water and lean back again. Maddie takes her time while she picks up her glass of wine and takes a long sip of the burgundy liquid. She places the glass carefully back on its coaster, and I can’t say I blame her. The cream carpet in the suite is so plush and soft, and I’d hate to know what it would cost to replace if red wine splashed all over it. Maddie is a teeny bit clumsy at times.

  She fiddles with her earring and turns to face me. “I’m worried about Dean.”

  “Dean? Why are you worried? You don’t even know him.”

  “I mean, I’m worried about you working with Dean.”

  Closing the cap on my water, I rub the bottle between my hands. “I don’t get it; you were excited for me.”

  She scoots closer and covers my hands with hers. “I am excited for you. Super excited. It’s just that you’ve had a crush on Dean for years, and I saw the way he looked at you. You know his reputation for hitting and quitting girls. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

  I laugh and slide the bottle in between my legs so I can grab hold of Maddie’s hands. “I love you so hard right now, but, Mads, this is Dean Carter we are talking about.” I hold up a finger to stop her from interrupting. “And yes, I know all about his reputation. He’s pretty much all over the place and with a different girl each time. I get it. But his type is models and actresses, not me .”

  Maddie reaches over and refills her glass from the bottle. I know the lecture’s coming, and I don’t even try to stop her because when Maddie gets on her tirade, it’s best to let her get it out of her system. “You listen to me, Blair McKenzie. No model, actress, or even the bloody queen can come close to how perfect you are.”

  “Well, the queen is in her nineties.”

  Maddie slaps me on the leg, and I rub furiously at the sting. “Ouch, dammit! That’s twice in one day you’ve hurt me.”


  “Stop being a baby. I’m serious, Blair. Just be careful. Guys like Dean are skilled at sucking girls like you in.”

  “You’re acting like he’s an absolute monster, and you don’t even know him.” I’m not sure why I’m defending Dean. Maybe it’s because he’s my coach now.

  “You’re right, I’m just a little protective of you. I don’t like the idea of leaving you alone here.”

  “Mads, I think if I can handle sleeping in the middle of the bush with only a knife and a campfire, I can handle life in LA.”

  Maddie leans back against the cushions. “I dunno. If you ask me, people are way worse than wild animals.”

  I nod. “You’re not wrong there.”

  I get up to get my own glass. “What are we gonna do on our last night here?” I shout from the kitchen.

  “Binge-watch Supernatural?”

  A night with Jensen Ackles. “Sounds like a damn good idea to me.”

  And it really does. I want nothing more than to relax with my best friend and decompress after an incredible day. It’s weird how something great happens to you, but it takes a long time for your brain to catch up. I think mine’s still catching up because every now and again my stomach will trip and I’ll remember that I got into Breakout.

  I put the wineglass back and reach for two champagne flutes. Calling down to reception, I use Maddie’s name and splurge on a bottle of champagne—I turn twenty-one in a few months, so I’m underage here. I smile as I hang up and walk back into the living room. I want to bottle this feeling and remember it forever.

  4

  Dean

  I’m just starting to come off my high. It was a great show, and I managed to pick a great team and Blair—damn did I strike gold with Blair.

  I grab a beer from the fridge, a bag of gummies and some Doritos from the cupboard, and plant myself on the couch. Propping my feet on the coffee table, I take a pull of my beer and open the bag of candy I shouldn’t be eating because they mess up my singing voice, but since I’m not performing officially for another couple of weeks, I cave into my craving. I flip to the Hawks game and am animatedly screaming at the TV when my intercom sounds. Pressing Mute, I pad to the front door and hit the button.

  “Hey, Clarence, what’s up?”

  “How’s the game going, Mr. Carter?”

  “We’re two down to the Sharks, but I have no doubt we’ll turn things around.”

  “Here’s hoping, sir.”

  I wish he wouldn’t call me that, but no matter how many times I’ve told Clarence, our ancient doorman, to call me Dean, he insists on either Mr. Carter or sir.

  “Uh, Mr. Carter, sir. I have a lovely young lady here to see you. She says you’re expecting her?”

  Ah shit! I’d completely forgotten about inviting her for the evening. Anticipating my show buzz, I’d set up a “date” with Kary last week, but now I’m not in the mood for company and just want to chill. Of course, I can’t tell Clarence that. Clarence has been married for fifty-nine years next month, and I doubt he’s ever kissed another woman besides Meryl in his life. Why do I suddenly envy that?

  “Send her right up, Clarence.”

  “Right away, sir.”

  “Oh, Clarence?”

  “Yes, sir?”

  “You still got that portable set I got you for Christmas?”

  “Right in my drawer, sir.”

  “Let me know what the score is?”

  “Of course, sir.”

  Less than three minutes later, a knock sounds on the door. I’ve just had enough time to rinse my mouth out with beer and change my shirt. I look down at the navy shirt and gray sweats and wonder what it says that I’m not even trying for this girl. I mean, who uses beer to disguise the smell of Doritos before a date? Feeling less than impressed with myself, I open the door. I take one look at Kary and feel underdressed and like a big dick. She deserves better than my half-assed attempt. She’s in a cherry-red dress that looks painted on and just skims her thighs. Her auburn hair falls in waves to just below her breasts, and her plump lips match her dress.

  She’s gorgeous, she really is, and not in a fake magazine kind of way that a lot of girls I hang out with are. She’s got a natural beauty that would shine through a hell of a lot faster without all the crap she puts on her face. I have to wonder if she’s doing it to hide behind. Like maybe it’s a mask. I shake off my dark thoughts because as it is, I’m not in the mood to do this, but if I dwell on this any longer—and on why a nice girl like Kary would be standing on my doorstep on a Thursday night instead of being on a real date with a guy who isn’t going to send her on the way as soon as she comes down from her orgasm high—I’m not going to get it up and she’s going to leave here thinking I’m not attracted to her.

  “Can I come in?” A bubble of laughter releases from her throat and eases some of the tension.

  “Sure, sorry. I was distracted for a bit there.”

  Her hands curl around my neck. “I can see that.”

  I’m suddenly feeling like more of a dick now that she’s up in my personal space. No girl deserves Doritos breath. I take a step back. “You know what, let me go a few rounds with some mouthwash. I was munching on Doritos.”

  She wrinkles her nose. “That’s a good idea. Doritos breath is never a good way to start the kind of night I have planned.”

  I smile at her and point to the kitchen. “Why don’t you get yourself a glass of wine, and I’ll be back in a few.”

  I hear her tinkering around the kitchen. She’s been over enough times to know where everything is. I didn’t show her; I never show a girl where I keep anything as simple as a wineglass. I don’t want them to ever get that “at home” feeling. But Kary is one of those girls who gets into your space, and she got into mine. I should’ve launched her the first time she put on one of my shirts and settled in front of the TV, but she seems to know where things stand. She knows we aren’t exclusive; she doesn’t get clingy and never asks to stay the night. Once we’ve gone a few rounds, she’ll flip the TV on to an episode of Lucifer, watch it, and then leave. It’s a fucked-up arrangement, but it works.

  When I get back to the kitchen, Kary has poured herself a glass of Chardonnay with ice. As I walk in, she takes a delicate sip and hands me a beer.

  “Thanks.” I twist off the cap and take a long swig. Leaning against the sink, I survey Kary over the bottle while I try to think of what my next move is. This situation is foreign to me. I usually don’t have to think about what I’m going to do; my needs take over and I’m driven by instincts. But today, my instincts are telling me I should be with someone else, and that’s a bit fucked-up.

  She must sense my hesitation, or maybe she’s just eager to get the party started. She saunters over to me and, tugging on the waistband of my sweats, pulls them down.

  My cock springs free, bouncing as it flicks against my sweats. Apparently, despite the fact I’m not into this, my dick has a different idea.

  She smiles at me as she sinks to her knees, not concerned with the fact she’s kneeling on the hard kitchen floor, and takes me into her mouth. Her tongue is cold from the ice, and I groan as I reach back and grip the edge of the sink.

  I close my eyes and instantly open them again. Blair’s face popped into my mind, and shit, I can’t be thinking of her that way. I don’t know why the hell I’m thinking of her at all.

  In an effort to get Blair out of my head, I maintain eye contact with Kary the entire time she sucks me off, watching how she takes me right to the back of her throat. She deserves for me to be present. I’m not so much of a dick that I can’t be in the moment with the girl who has me in her mouth. She takes me deeper, and her eyes water. I’m starting to get concerned she’s not breathing properly, but then she moves back until it’s just the tip of my cock in her mouth and sucks hard.

  My hands shoot to her hair, and I curl my fingers around the tendrils, pulling her till she takes in most of my shaft, then pu
shing her back. I pump into her mouth as I struggle to keep my eyes open. She moans as if she can’t get enough of sucking me. This is one thing I appreciate about Kary; she isn’t like most girls who pretend to enjoy blowing me so I think they’re some kind of sex goddess. No, this girl really is into the power she gets from seeing me come completely undone by the workings of her mouth.

  Her hand curls around me, and she pumps me with her fist while she licks around the head and then sucks along my shaft again, lightly scraping the nails of her other hand on the underside of my balls. Everything tightens—my stomach, my balls—and I’m getting close.

  “I’m gonna come.” I don’t need to tell her. I know she’ll swallow every drop I can give her, but I do out of courtesy and habit. Some girls aren’t happy to drink a guy’s load, and that’s okay.

  I jack furiously into her mouth, unable to keep my eyes open anymore but calling her name over and over so I stay with her and my mind doesn’t drift to Blair.

  It takes a few minutes to get my breathing under control and for the sensation to come back in my legs. Despite the fact I wasn’t into it, the girl knows how to get a guy off.

  When I come back to earth, I realize she’s still on her knees. She swipes a manicured finger over her lips and gathers my spillage. It’s fucking hot!

  I place two fingers under her chin and prompt her to stand. Once she’s standing in front of me, I lift her up and carry her to my kitchen island. I place her gently on the hard granite and hoist her skirt up—not that it has far to go.

  She’s already breathing like she’s starved for oxygen, and I feel how soaked she is for me when I move her panties aside.

  She leans back onto her elbows and bites her lip. “What are you waiting for?”

  I smile and proceed to repay her kindness.

  5

  Blair

  Nicole, the super-friendly Uber driver, pulls up to the Breakout house and lets out a whistle. “Holy crap!”

  Holy crap indeed. I try my best not to gulp out loud, but it’s nearly impossible. The house is white stone, three stories high, with imposing steel gates. It looks like it could house fifty people, never mind twenty of us.