Backstage Pass
Page 12

With one final deep thrust, he cried out, “Myrna. Oh, God. Oh God, yes.”
She felt him shudder violently behind her and regretted that she couldn’t see his face. He grasped her hips and held her stil , grinding deeply until his spasms calmed.
He pul ed out and col apsed on the bed beside her, eyes closed, breathing hard. “That was fantastic.” He drew her down beside him and placed a tender kiss on her shoulder. “I’d cuddle with you, but I don’t want to sweat off my riff and solo.”
She laughed. “That must be the first time that excuse has ever been used to avoid after-sex cuddling.”
He took her face between both hands and kissed her reverently. Never had she been kissed reverently before.
“It’s the truth, though. I’d love to hold you close for hours.”
She smiled. A sweet sex god. What more could a girl want? He kissed her again.
“Ah Myrna,” he murmured. “I think my muse resides deep, deep inside you.”
“You sure know how to use her in exactly the right way.”
Chapter 4
Walking through a hotel in nothing but a bathrobe and panties… Only Brian Sinclair could talk Myrna into doing something that bold. He’d actual y tried to convince her to go naked, but she’d reminded him that her stuffed-shirt col eagues would likely be roaming the hal s at this hour. She and Brian took the elevator to the top floor. While the car rose, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and kissed her temple.
“I’m sorry to make you miss your conference.”
“No, you aren’t.” And she wasn’t either.
He grinned deviously. “You’re right. I’m not.”
“At least I don’t have to present a session today. How would I look walking up on stage bowlegged and limping?”
“You’d look sexy,” he said. “Especial y since I’d know why you were walking funny.” He tapped her nose with his fingertip. She tried to ignore the little thril of happiness that fluttered through her heart. She was glad they’d be saying their good-byes tonight. The last thing she needed in her life was a distraction as monumental as Brian Sinclair. And he had her entirely distracted. There were only two rooms located on the top floor. Brian fished his keycard out of his wal et and opened the door to one of the suites.
“After you, gorgeous.”
She stepped into the marble entryway of the suite, impressed by its expanse.
“Is that you, Brian?” Trey stepped out of the bathroom, shirtless and in baggy black jeans, drying his hair with a towel. His best feature was undoubtedly his sultry green eyes, and hiding one of them behind long bangs made him sexier for some reason.
“And guest,” Brian said.
Trey tossed the towel aside. “Oh hey, pretty lady.”
“Hi, Trey.” She waved self-consciously.
“I guess he found you last night,” Trey said.
“Barely,” Brian admitted.
“Is that Lucky Von Shithead I hear?” Eric’s voice came from a room off to the right. “Goes out and gets himself some Certified Grade A pu**y while leaving us high and…” He paused in the doorway, his eyes racking over Myrna’s disheveled hair, bathrobe, and bare feet. “Shit. Sorry, Myrna. I figured you’d have dumped him by now.”
She flushed. “Not yet.”
“So we have this little bet,” Eric began.
“Shut up, Numbnuts.” Brian turned to Trey. “Did someone bring my guitar upstairs last night?”
“It’s in the dining room.” Trey nodded down the hal .
Brian headed in that direction. Myrna fol owed him, but Eric darted into her path. She looked up at him. His pale blue eyes seemed to penetrate her robe, skin, flesh, and peer right into her soul. She shivered and crossed her arms over her chest.
“Wait, wait, wait,” he said. “We need to know who won our bet.”
“I lost,” Trey said. “He found her room.” He stuck a cherry sucker in his mouth and brushed past Eric and Myrna to fol ow Brian.
“Hey, what’s going on? Why do you want your guitar? Did you final y come up with a new riff?”
“When did he pass out last night?” Eric asked Myrna.
“After he swal owed my banana and I forced him to consume my fluids.” She winked at him. His mouth fel open. “What?”
“Excuse me.” She brushed Eric aside and fol owed the sound of a guitar being plugged into an amp. A second guitar hummed with feedback.
“Myrna, hurry,” Brian cal ed.
She entered the dining room and paused. Brian “Master” Sinclair, his signature black and white Schecter guitar slung low. Trey Mil s, sucker stick jutting out of his mouth beside him, adjusting one of the leads on his yel ow and black guitar. Nice! Brian beckoned Myrna closer by flicking two fingers at her. He shifted her in front of himself and Trey, and then untied the sash of her bathrobe. He tossed the fabric aside, revealing his score, and the vast majority of Myrna’s naked body. Under the robe, she wore only pink bikinis. Heat flooded her face, but she stood stil .
“Nice tits, Myr,” Trey said around his cherry sucker. His gaze moved from her bare br**sts to the string of notes written above and below a single line. “There’s no staff, Brian. What in the hel am I looking at?”
Brian pointed to the start of the line, near Myrna’s right shoulder. “Middle C. The first chord.”
Brian showed Trey his fingering and struck the strings with his pick.
Trey moved his hand along his guitar strings, glanced back at the score on Myrna’s skin and nodded. “Okay. I see. Harmony or concert?”
“Let’s try harmony first.”
“Gotcha.” Trey shifted his sucker to the other side of his mouth, and then struck the first chord.
“Grungier,” Brian said.
Trey adjusted a knob on his guitar, tilted his wrist slightly and struck the chord again.
“Yeah, like that.”
“Okay, let’s go.”
Myrna’s eyes widened as they played one of the most amazing riffs she’d ever heard. The idea that she had something to do with its creation thril ed her.
Eric entered the dining room. “Sounds great.”
Trey missed a beat and his guitar rang with a discordant note. Brian paused and glanced at him. “Something wrong?”
“I can’t concentrate with those…” He lifted his hands in front of Myrna’s chest and flexed his fingers inches from her br**sts. “…in my field of view.”