Lilac

by B.B. Reid

“Dibs.” The sound of Rich’s phone dropping onto the counter stole our attention from one another. “What do you mean dibs? You can’t just call it.” “That’s literally the entire purpose of dibs,” Loren shot back dryly.

First of all, dibs? Is this what my attraction to Braxton has reduced me to? A fucking twelve-year-old? I knew why I said it—to fuck with my friends. Once it was out, I realized I meant it. I wanted to fuck Braxton, and I was too greedy to share.

Just as I was wondering if he’d told them who had requested her, she climbed the stairs, and her big eyes widened when she saw us sitting there. She was wearing this black number made spectacular only by her subtle curves as the dress hugged her body. Her brown gaze moved from Houston to Rich before narrowing on me. Of course, she assumed this was my idea. “What the hell are you doing here?” she demanded. “Miss Fawn!” the managed bellowed his outrage before turning to us and apologizing profusely. “She’ll be terminated immediately,” he swore. “Don’t you fucking dare,” I warned him. Utterly shocked, he blinked rapidly at me before regaining most of his composure. “I-I don’t understand.” “We know her,” Rich informed him. “And we like her,” I cheerily added with a wink directed at Braxton.

As soon as she walked away—yes, I watched her walk away—I turned to my friends. “A hundred bucks, she thinks we’re alcoholics.” “Does it matter?” Houston asked. Irritation creased his brow. “If I’m going to bone and possibly marry her, it does.” “You’re not, so I guess it doesn’t.”

“I’m only interested in her guitar skills.” “Which you act like she doesn’t have. Care to explain why you’re keeping her around then?” “Because you know as well as I do we don’t have a choice. You know what Carl is up to. We all know why he chose her.” “So you think you can get her ready in three goddamn months? Toot your own horn much?” Houston’s frustration was palpable at his point, so I leaned forward, eager to go in for the kill. “Just admit it.” “Admit what?” he snapped. “That either she’s a damn good guitarist, or you want her pussy bad enough to risk everything we’ve built. Same as me. Same as Rich.”

Instead of answering, his gaze moved to my background, turning from playful to assessing. “Where are you?” “Bus stop.” His brows instantly dipped as he shot up from his lazy lounge. “At this time of night?” he spat as if I’d done something out of line. “Gee, Dad, I didn’t realize I had a curfew.” After rolling my eyes, I added more amicably, “My car broke down, remember?” “You could have told us you needed a ride.”

“Speaking of late, what do you say we pick this up at a more appropriate hour?” Or not at all. “Don’t you dare hang up,” he ordered, but it sounded more like a growl. I hadn’t known Loren long, but this side of him had taken me by surprise. I assumed Houston was the only dominating one. Loren was more of an anarchist, staunchly rejecting authority and proudly boasting his devil-may-care attitude. I envied him. Right now, though, he looked ready to rip my head off—mine and an imaginary enemy who wished me harm. “I have pepper spray.” “Do you have a gun?” he countered. “Or even a drop of self-defense skills?” I wrinkled my nose. “No.” “Then keep your ass on the line.”

I don’t remember what we talked about for the ten minutes it took my bus to arrive, but even after I safely boarded my ride home, Loren refused to let me hang up.

Not hitting Houston was becoming a full-time job.

I was more than simply curious. I was obsessed. They hated me, unequivocally, but there was more to it. I’d never experienced hate-sex before, and it was quickly shooting to the top of my fantasies.

When I looked up, the question was obviously in my eyes because Houston answered before I could voice it. “I need you focused and devoted from this point forward.” The unspoken “to them” was heavily implied.

“You both can kiss my ass.” “Love to,” Loren smoothly and immediately responded. “I’ll quit Succulent and devote myself to this band when the three of you show me some respect.” Loren snorted. Houston stared. “And not a moment sooner.”

If Houston was on her ass anymore, he’d be in her ass. No doubt that thought had crossed his mind once or twice.

She was so damn enticing that I couldn’t decide if she was wearing a dress or lingerie.

The only thing that mattered was that I couldn’t breathe. Not while my eyes were on her. I’d never felt this clench in my gut before. It was hot, twisting, and painful. Demanding. Braxton’s gaze found mine, and for the first time, she looked unsure. Even when she was afraid, she pretended otherwise. Braxton Fawn was nothing short of a marvel. And right now, she was waiting for me to say something. My tongue, unfortunately, had been tied by the vision she made in that damn dress.

“You look beautiful.” “You wouldn’t happen to think so because I’m practically naked, would you?” My eyes widened at that. “Are you uncomfortable? I can see if—” Braxton laid her small hand on my arm before I could finish. The simple touch felt like a brand—like I was already hers. “It’s fine,” she assured me. “I’ve worn less in front of a lot more.” She smiled, and I had the feeling it was to put me at ease rather than herself. Fuck.

“Doing okay?” I asked Braxton as we waited for Ingrid and her team to adjust the lighting and switch cameras. It was all I could do not to touch her exposed thigh resting near my forearm as she sat on the bar. That fucking dress was so short that I’d caught more than one glimpse of the matching panties she wore underneath. I was surprised the stylist had even bothered. “I’m not sure,” she muttered before smiling down at me.

Eyes moving around the makeshift studio, Braxton missed the way Loren admired her like she was gold at the end of a very long and bleak rainbow. When her gaze landed on me, I realized she’d caught me staring. “You don’t talk much, do you?” she observed with a rare smile. “Only when I have something worth saying.”

Braxton inhaled so subtly that if I hadn’t been sitting so close or so wrapped up in everything she did down to the flutter of her lashes, I would have missed it.

“I assumed I had a better chance sprouting wings,” our fallen angel answered with a nervous laugh. “Sometimes, I think Punk’d has been revived, and my life is the pilot episode.” I wanted to reach out and hold her hand when I caught her nails digging into her thigh, but that wasn’t the message we were here to send. “If someone asked me six weeks ago to list a million impossible things that could happen before I died, playing for Bound would have been one of them.”

“Braxton was headhunted,” Houston interrupted before Braxton, who was tongue-tied and unsure of how much to reveal, could think of what to say. “She didn’t find us. We found her.” “Incredible. So the question must be asked. Why her?” Holly blurted. I felt Braxton tense next to me. “Excuse me?” Loren asked, tuning in for what was likely the first time. Even to the most forgiving ears, Holly’s question had sounded condescending.

What he did confess was something that made Braxton stop breathing. “She’s special.” I wasn’t sure if his statement or the missing sarcasm surprised me the most.

“She defies,” I blurted, causing them all to look my way. I only had eyes for Braxton as she stared up at me, her brown eyes bright with emotion. I noticed her nostrils flaring, not in anger but in response to something teasing her senses. Her brows dipped a moment later as if she didn’t recognize whatever it was. “She defies not just us but anyone willing to suppress her. Everything Bound has, we’ve all contributed—our lyrics, our melodies, every single bit. We chose Braxton because she’s willing to look beyond what’s been put in front of her.” Braxton smiled softly at me, and I found myself grinning back, forgetting where we were. It was that easy to get lost in her.

“Anyone can mimic art that already exists,” Houston spoke, stealing her focus from me. I made my fingers ball when I nearly reached out to grip her chin and force her attention back on me. I’d never been this greedy. “That’s not a testament of talent. She’s unknown, yes, but she’s far from unworthy.” A rare blush warmed Braxton’s cheeks, and then she quickly looked down so that we wouldn’t have a chance to notice. Too late.

You can still back out. There’s hope. There’s a chance. Except, the hope I felt burning in my gut wasn’t for breaking free of Bound. It was liberating Bound.

Something was ripping them apart at the very seam of who they are—Houston, Loren, Jericho—each different in their own way but incomplete when apart.

Houston Morrow just threatened to murder me, and I wasn’t quite sure whether I believed him or not.

“Why are you still here, Fawn?” His warm whisper intensified the ache between my thighs. “I-I don’t know,” I answered truthfully. I wanted to leave, and I wanted to stay. I wanted to see just how bad and terrible Houston Morrow could get.

Houston threatened to kill me if I didn’t fall in line and self-preservation told me to writhe all over him like a bitch in heat. Unbelievable.

As soon as my ass touched the leather seats inside the SUV, I shifted uncomfortably. The arousal soaking my thong was called The Houston Morrow Effect. It ruined panties and destroyed brain cells.

Rich promised I’d get used to it, Loren swore I’d hate it forever, and Houston told me to suck it up.

“Oh, but that’s where you’re wrong. They might not have good intentions, but that won’t matter in a couple of hours. You’re going to make those assholes find a heart just so they can eat it.” My head tilted to the side as I turned over her words. “Are we talking about the crowd or Bound?” Griffin shrugged while staring at me with unflinching confidence and a lack of remorse. She’d make a great lawyer one day. “Both.” Nudging Maeko with her elbow, she added, “Back me up here, Ko.” Tapping her clutch, Maeko nodded. “I packed extra panties just for you, Brax.”

I was still hoping my absence would give Griff the courage to make her secret feelings known. Maeko might have been oblivious, but I’d caught on a while ago.

She didn’t see us, but we saw her. We watched as one of our roadies handed Braxton the guitar she’d be using for the first half of our set. She then looked around again as soon as he was gone. It hadn’t been my intention to hide, but then I saw her and the last thing on my mind was the goddamn show. Closing my eyes, I leaned my head against the wall and willed my hard-on away.

“Damn,” Loren mumbled. I didn’t need to see to know that he was referring to Braxton. “Maybe having a chick in our mix isn’t such a bad idea after all. She’s certainly nicer to look at. Smells good too.” “Not wanting her in our band never had anything to do with her being a girl,” Rich claimed. “Uh-huh,” Loren mocked dismissively. There was a beat of silence and then, “If you’re picturing your grandmother naked, I wouldn’t advise it. She’s kind of hot.” My eyes flew open, and I found Loren watching me. “What are you talking about?” “Braxton. You want to fuck her.”

Feeling like I was on autopilot, I pushed to my feet anyway before making my way over. Closer now, I could see her shoulders trembling. “Hey.” Braxton whirled at the sound of my voice, her brown eyes rounder and brighter than ever. She was like a goddamn vortex, pulling me in and swallowing me whole. “Ready?” I could already read the lie on her lips, but then she surprised me when her shoulders slumped, and the truth came tumbling out. “Honestly? I’m not sure.” Cringing, she looked ready to take it back and assure me that she could do this. I knew she could, but clearly, she didn’t. “Stop.”

“No one let you have this moment, Fawn. You took it. You showed us what you were made of, and we decided we wanted more. So will they,” I assured her, referring to the crowd screaming our name. “And so do you.” As if I’d done it a million times, my hands gripped her waist. There was a sliver of bare skin between her top and her pants that burned hot underneath my hands. My thumb absently rubbed the soft skin near her belly button, and even if I wanted to stop, I couldn’t. “You want this, Brax. I know you do.” It was questionable whether I meant her newfound career or me. “Forget how you got here. All that matters is why you stayed.”

“Great! Braxton’s motivated,” her blonde friend with the big mouth piped in. Sighing, I forced myself to meet her gaze. What was her name again? Gretchen? “But were you giving my best friend a pep talk or copping a feel? I’m confused.” To make her point, Braxton’s friend fixed her gaze on my hands, still gripping Braxton’s waist. My thumb was even still sweeping back and forth. Fuck. I took a step back like a kid who’d just been caught stealing from the cookie jar. Loren lifted his chin arrogantly, even while his eyes flashed with jealousy. He was smug because he was right. I wanted to fuck Braxton.

I hung back as rehearsed, and while I waited for my cue from Jericho, I watched Braxton closely. No one would ever know she hadn’t done this a million times before.

After three months of rehearsing, I thought I’d be used to the chemistry between Braxton’s voice and mine. I realized now how irrational that was—about as insane as being struck by lightning and expecting it not to hurt twice. It was no wonder she ran her mouth all the time. She was impossible to ignore.

No matter how many times my gaze strayed toward Braxton, she never looked out of her element. Eventually, duty was no longer why I couldn’t keep my attention where it should have been. She had me under her spell. Our gazes met and held as she played, and I sang along to her rhythm. When it was time to deliver one of our harder riffs, she did this thing with her hair, whipping it before dropping into a crouch and letting the crowd have it. I preferred to think it was all for me. Hell yeah. Usually, I didn’t approve of the showboating, especially from an amateur since it made room for errors, but at this moment, I could deny Braxton whatever she wanted about as well as I could deny my heart its next beat. I wondered if she’d feel the same if I dropped my mic and hauled her someplace secluded. Would she deny me?

We blew through our setlist, and the moment we cleared the stage, Loren swooped Braxton into his arms and twirled her around like a lunatic. For once, I wasn’t annoyed by his antics. That show had been one for the record books. Flawless. If anyone had been in danger of screwing it up, it was me.

“Braxton whatever-your-middle-name-is Fawn, will you marry me?” Loren shouted after setting her on her feet. To make an even bigger scene, he’d gotten on one knee. My heart stopped as a frown marred my brow. I could almost swear Loren was serious. I’d caught the look in his eyes before he remembered he was only joking.

I grabbed Braxton’s elbow just as she started for one of the cars and held her hostage while her friends climbed inside. I had no doubt they were off to celebrate and envied the days when we were that carefree. “Something wrong?” she asked me with a deep frown. “You did great tonight.” Even though I meant it, I could barely form the words. I didn’t want her to get comfortable. When she beamed at me, I briefly lost my train of thought.

It didn’t escape my notice that he’d been quiet until now. Spending the last three months with them with another year to go, I’d already learned that Loren only felt the need to make his presence known when Houston was around. I wondered how much longer it would take me to grasp why.

“This bedroom is used on an as-needed basis,” Houston informed me. At my confused look, he added. “We share it.” “You mean, like, we sleep in here together sometimes?” What the hell would be the reason for that? “It’s interesting that your mind drew that conclusion first, baby fawn.”

“Because we don’t allow groupies with dicks on board.” “Let me guess. New rule?” Loren stubbornly chose not to answer as he stared me down. “Does this mean you won’t be bringing groupies with pussies on board?” Chuckling, he straightened before flicking imaginary lint off his open shirt. “No can do, baby fawn. It’s tradition.” “Ah, but a new member means new traditions, so let’s see,” I teased as I tapped my chin while pretending to think. “How about…if you’re getting laid on tour, so am I.” I had no intention of fucking anyone but being told I couldn’t by a misogynistic prima donna meant the gloves came off. “Sounds promising,”

I had the feeling I was one wrong move from being tossed on the bed and fucked. Afraid of how much I wanted that, I started backing up. I only made it two steps before I ran into a hard chest. Houston. Why wasn’t he stopping Loren? He hadn’t said a word all this time. Why? I was afraid to look over my shoulder. I knew I’d see the same hunger in Houston’s eyes that Loren was taunting me with now. What would I do then? I could ignore their desires, but I was powerless against mine. Another step, and Loren now stood over me with Houston at my back. “You have your pick of dicks already on board, baby fawn. Enough to have a good time. Just say the word, and one of us will service you.” “You’re disgusting.” “Oh, I’m filthy, baby. You’re fucking right about that.”

“You don’t get a say in where I stick my dick.” “She’s one of us now,” Houston maintained. “That means she’s off-limits.” It was a rather convenient time for him to finally admit it, but pride flared in my chest anyway.

“I’m not some excuse for the two of you to be at each other’s throats. My only desire is to be treated as an equal and to get through this tour in one piece.” Meeting Loren’s gaze, I let the rest of my decree rip my heart in half. “Everything else is just noise.” Betrayal flitted across Loren’s beautiful features. He’d offered those words to me in comfort and encouragement, and I used them as a weapon against him. His lips curled, and I told myself that I deserved the punishment that followed.