Read Online The Magic's in the Music (Magic Series Book 5) by Susan Squires - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Susan Squires
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parking lot, he heard a woman wail, “Leave me alone!” It was like a punch in the gut.
He’d never even heard her voice. But, strange as it was, he knew who owned that wail.
Shit, fuck, piss.
She was the last person he wanted to see, let alone be around. But it was clear she was right in the middle of whatever commotion was going on in the parking lot. And she wasn’t happy about it.
Disgusted with himself, he turned the bike around and gunned it. He had no idea what he was planning. He’d be no good in a fight, unless vomiting all over somebody was an offensive technique. But as he raced the cycle down the alley he felt better.
The shadowed alleyway opened onto the brightly lighted parking lot, and he saw the crowd. Cameras flashed. Fans—mostly guys—crowded around something or someone. Everybody was shouting. He couldn’t even see her, but he knew she was at the center of that melee. He didn’t stop to think, just hurtled toward the crowd. It broke apart like shattered glass as he barreled down on it. A couple of guys were set back on their asses in the exodus. He screeched to a stop.
Huddled at the center was the girl he’d been avoiding, but who’d been living in his thoughts for the past three days. Damn, damn, damn. Figured. And the shittiest part of it was that, much as he didn’t dare be anywhere around her, he couldn’t leave her.
“Get on,” he growled, “if you want out of here.”
Her big eyes stared at him. She slowly straightened. Her knees were scraped and blood trickled down one shin. He was only three feet from her. Her eyes were ice-blue in the incandescent vapor lights, her face unnaturally pale. The crowd began to reassemble. He heard the muttered identifications. “It’s him.” “Ghost.” “Ghost.” A camera flashed.
“Now!” he growled. “Or I’ll leave your ass here.” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw one paparazzi running for his car. Another followed. The rest were closing in around them.
She swallowed, gave a jerky nod and threw her leg over the seat. Good trick with that tight little dress on. It rode up her thighs. Her body pressed against his, and he thought his heart might have been on the receiving end of about a hundred and twenty volts the way it stuttered. The volts raced from heart to groin, creating an immediate erection. He gunned the engine a little too hard. It leapt forward. He felt her balance go.
“Hold on,” he coughed out. God help him, she did. She clutched at his body, which made her breasts press up against his back.
He nearly spun out of control. The bike jumped the curb, and they landed with a thud on the north-south street. A little cry of fear sounded in his ear. Even through the leather duster, he felt like he’d been branded with hot irons. He turned south, righted the bike and sped off. She was gasping. He heard it over the air rushing by his ears, or maybe felt it. Her breath was hot on his neck. But his larynx wasn’t working and he couldn’t ask if she was okay. He accelerated like he couldn’t get his fist to stop twisting the grip. He had the handlebars in a death lock. She was holding on for dear life, making things worse. His cock was a rod in the constriction of his jeans.
Get it together, asshole. The speed would bring the cops down on them for sure. He tried to breathe. Better. He had some control. He slid the accelerator back down. Okay. He was thinking a little more clearly now. Didn’t mean he didn’t still have the erection of the century. It was positively painful. The cycle slowed. That was when he realized he had no idea where they were going. “Where to?” he shouted to her.
“Uh, well…” He felt her take a breath. That was bad. Pushed her breasts up against his back even harder. Her hands clutched each other right under his pecs. “I…I don’t know.”
He stopped for a red light. “Well, where do you live?”
“West L.A.”
“West L.A. it is,” he muttered. Why the hell did it have to
He’d never even heard her voice. But, strange as it was, he knew who owned that wail.
Shit, fuck, piss.
She was the last person he wanted to see, let alone be around. But it was clear she was right in the middle of whatever commotion was going on in the parking lot. And she wasn’t happy about it.
Disgusted with himself, he turned the bike around and gunned it. He had no idea what he was planning. He’d be no good in a fight, unless vomiting all over somebody was an offensive technique. But as he raced the cycle down the alley he felt better.
The shadowed alleyway opened onto the brightly lighted parking lot, and he saw the crowd. Cameras flashed. Fans—mostly guys—crowded around something or someone. Everybody was shouting. He couldn’t even see her, but he knew she was at the center of that melee. He didn’t stop to think, just hurtled toward the crowd. It broke apart like shattered glass as he barreled down on it. A couple of guys were set back on their asses in the exodus. He screeched to a stop.
Huddled at the center was the girl he’d been avoiding, but who’d been living in his thoughts for the past three days. Damn, damn, damn. Figured. And the shittiest part of it was that, much as he didn’t dare be anywhere around her, he couldn’t leave her.
“Get on,” he growled, “if you want out of here.”
Her big eyes stared at him. She slowly straightened. Her knees were scraped and blood trickled down one shin. He was only three feet from her. Her eyes were ice-blue in the incandescent vapor lights, her face unnaturally pale. The crowd began to reassemble. He heard the muttered identifications. “It’s him.” “Ghost.” “Ghost.” A camera flashed.
“Now!” he growled. “Or I’ll leave your ass here.” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw one paparazzi running for his car. Another followed. The rest were closing in around them.
She swallowed, gave a jerky nod and threw her leg over the seat. Good trick with that tight little dress on. It rode up her thighs. Her body pressed against his, and he thought his heart might have been on the receiving end of about a hundred and twenty volts the way it stuttered. The volts raced from heart to groin, creating an immediate erection. He gunned the engine a little too hard. It leapt forward. He felt her balance go.
“Hold on,” he coughed out. God help him, she did. She clutched at his body, which made her breasts press up against his back.
He nearly spun out of control. The bike jumped the curb, and they landed with a thud on the north-south street. A little cry of fear sounded in his ear. Even through the leather duster, he felt like he’d been branded with hot irons. He turned south, righted the bike and sped off. She was gasping. He heard it over the air rushing by his ears, or maybe felt it. Her breath was hot on his neck. But his larynx wasn’t working and he couldn’t ask if she was okay. He accelerated like he couldn’t get his fist to stop twisting the grip. He had the handlebars in a death lock. She was holding on for dear life, making things worse. His cock was a rod in the constriction of his jeans.
Get it together, asshole. The speed would bring the cops down on them for sure. He tried to breathe. Better. He had some control. He slid the accelerator back down. Okay. He was thinking a little more clearly now. Didn’t mean he didn’t still have the erection of the century. It was positively painful. The cycle slowed. That was when he realized he had no idea where they were going. “Where to?” he shouted to her.
“Uh, well…” He felt her take a breath. That was bad. Pushed her breasts up against his back even harder. Her hands clutched each other right under his pecs. “I…I don’t know.”
He stopped for a red light. “Well, where do you live?”
“West L.A.”
“West L.A. it is,” he muttered. Why the hell did it have to
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