Free Rock Dirty (Rock Candy #2) by Virna Depaul

huge part of her draw. One second, it could be Dominique Lorenz, the businesswoman living in her mother’s shadow—the one with the faraway look in her eyes, and the shadowed gaze who could smack a photographer then freeze me out. The next it would be Nikki, the fun and flirty girl who’d rocked my world in the airport bathroom and has been one of the best fucks and best times I’ve ever had—and that was true even when she was vulnerable, scared, and telling me I should run in the other direction.
    Tonight it was Nikki. She pulled up to the front of my hotel on a motorcycle, one of the sleek Ducati models, wearing leather pants that were practically painted onto her legs and a low-cut red halter top that complimented her amazing breasts. There was no way in hell she was wearing a bra tonight, and I was both grateful and already standing at attention. Her red hair flared out around her shoulders.
    I sucked in a breath. My life and its mistakes were legendary, especially on the rock ‘n roll circuit. In that moment, I realized my next one was probably the woman riding through Paris congestion and going about thirty miles an hour—fuck kilometers, I can’t convert—without a fucking helmet. That was the reason I figured she was my next mistake—the very fact I noticed she wasn’t wearing a helmet. And how worried that made me. I imagined her getting into an accident. All that beautiful flesh—her beautiful soul—messed up on the pavement. It freaked me out how much it freaked me out, and I quickly shoved the thoughts away.
    I wasn’t her dad, thank God, and if she wanted to be channeling her inner hellion, then I was more than happy to help.
    I walked up to her as she idled the bike. “You have a long day prepping for your show?”
    Me? I’d spent the day sleeping and then grabbing food at the one McDonald’s I could find. The fancy French cheeses and pastries had gotten old after only a couple of days, and my hung-over ass had been craving fresh grease like crazy. “I wasn’t sure you’d be over.”
    “I have big plans, Mr. Benning,” she said, her smile wicked and devilish.
    My cock hardened even more at the memories of those full, plump lips wrapped around it. Ask her if she’d rather stay in instead , it whined. But my mind, albeit quite reluctantly, dismissed the thought. If she’d been going over stitching and swatches of fabric and, most likely, directing a bunch of assistants and putting out fires, then she needed some time out in the open night air. Clearly, she was aiming for something wild tonight. No one dressed like that if they weren’t out to party.
    “Then,” I said, hopping in front of her and gripping onto the bike. “Tell me the where and how to get there, and I’ll take us over.”
    “You ride?”
    “What kind of rocker would I be if I didn’t?” I replied.
    Of course, I didn’t tell her that the first time Liam and I had ridden dirt bikes, I’d broken my femur. It had taken close to a year to heal and my mom spent most of it threatening me within an inch of my life if I ever rode a motorbike again. Of course I’d been fucking hooked. I’d gotten a hell of a lot better and had a few Harleys back home. Yeah, I knew my way around these babies. In comparison to the thrill of riding the open road with the wind in my hair, booze and drugs could seem tame.
    On a bike, I could be anywhere I wanted, answering to no one.
    I liked that about it.
    Fucking reveled in it.
    Especially now.
    As Nikki leaned in to whisper the directions before we departed, her full, pert breasts pushed flush up against my back. Tonight, I’d have my tongue all over them, laving at them and giving them the attention they so richly deserved.
    “You got it or do I have to help?” she purred.
    Grinning, I looked back and stared into her gorgeous eyes. “Trust me, Nik. I’m in control here.”
     
    * * *
     
    When I pulled up to the valet, I snorted at the bar’s name— Sacre Bleu . Seemed kind of old