Free Rock My Christmas (FlameSmith in Love Book 1) by Laura Kitchell Page B

too-thin frame, and she smelled vaguely of sex. He suspected she’d either lost her panties at some point, or hadn’t bothered to wear any in the first place. How many fingers had felt her tonight? How many men had she screwed? He didn’t doubt she’d gotten V off at some point with that mouth.
    He used to not care. It hadn’t mattered. But it did now.
    Kendel always smelled pretty, and her hair looked soft and sexy. He never wondered about her cleanliness. He liked best that she seemed to have her wits about her every minute.
    Damn it, he hadn’t wanted to think about her. About how she’d snuggled against him in her sleep. About how he wanted to feel her silky hair between his fingers and across his chest. About how he wanted to bury himself in her sweet warmth.
    He groaned.
    “Oh, yeah, baby,” crooned Justina, an erotic gleam in her hooded, cloudy gaze.
    He swallowed his revulsion. “I appreciate the offer.”
    The elevators opened and he led the way off. She hurried ahead of him then walked backward while licking her lips and filling her hands with her breasts.
    “Not tonight.” Not ever.
    “Come on,” she purred. She stopped at a hallway intersection and pointed down one. “I’m this way.”
    He studied her for a second. She made all the right moves and said the right words, but her smeared eye makeup and limp hair made her attempt to seduce a pathetic one. He would need to be far drunker to find her appealing.
    He needed to find Kendel.
     
    *    *    *
     
    The sound of her shouted name roused Kendel from an exhaustion coma. She glanced at a bedside clock. She’d only gotten thirty minutes of sleep. Sitting, she recognized Burn’s voice as he called her once more.
    As if moving through water, she rolled from bed. Her thighs and ass protested. Apparently while she slept, the soreness from her hill climb had set in. She hobbled to the door, intending to hush him before he woke people. Then she remembered she’d left most everyone at the after party, and they had the entire floor.
    A woman’s laughter rang out, and she hesitated.
    “Kendel. Where the hell’s my room?”
    She yanked her door wide and met his narrowed gaze. “You’re drunk.”
    “I’m bladdered, more like.” He shouldered past.
    “Hey!” she yelled at his back before he went from sight behind her bathroom door.
    Justina took a step toward her room.
    “Don’t even think about it,” said Kendel, lacing her voice heavily with threat. Burn was with the groupie tramp? It bothered her more than it should.
    The groupie sized her up. “You look like shit. You shouldn’t do blow. It doesn’t become you.”
    She opened her mouth to protest, but Burn emerged, zipping his pants and doing a cute wiggle.
    “Blow?” he asked. “Jay gave you cocaine?”
    “No! God. I’m just tired. Please get out so I can go back to sleep.”
    “I need my room key.”
    Instantly contrite, she said, “That’s right. I’m sorry.” She handed him his key from her back pocket. “You’re next door.”
    He glanced at her bed. “Where’s Jay? I thought you came back with him.”
    Astounded, she opened her mouth then closed it. He thought she would go to bed with a married man? “You must think I’m a real lowlife. We shared a cab, and he spent the ride showing me pictures of his kid on his phone. Really, Burn? You think I’m capable of wrecking a marriage?”
    His face went blank. Then his forehead furrowed, and he said, “Sorry. I can be blinkered.”
    “If you mean drunk, I agree.” Kendel moved behind him and tried to push him toward the doorway. Her thighs screamed, but she ignored the pain. “I swear. You tell me at the concert that you think I’m fabulous then come here and call me a slut.”
    He didn’t budge, an amused smirk quirking one corner of his kissable mouth.
    “What? A slut can’t be fabulous?” asked Justina from the hallway, planting a hand on her cocked hip.
    “No.” Anger made Kendel shake. Why had she