Shattered by You (Tear Asunder 3)

Kite slapped me on the back. “She’s fine.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Then stop watching her.”

Fuck, I was so screwed. I chugged back the rest of my beer and Becky plopped down beside me. “Want to sing with me?”

She was cute and I was pretty damn sure if I wanted to, I could fuck her tonight. And that was what was screwing with me. I hadn’t fucked another chick in six months.

“No thanks, sugar. Vocal cords are on hiatus for the rest of the night.”

She pouted and normally I’d take advantage and kiss a chick, maybe even drag her into the washroom and get her to suck me off. Fuck, that sounded so bad. Never thought that before—now I did.

Becky’s hand came down on my thigh and squeezed. I should take her up on what she offered, but there wasn’t a doubt in my mind that I was taken. I’d been taken for six months and nothing was going to change that any time soon.

“Not interested.” I removed her hand from my leg. She stood, walked over to Kevin, and sat on his lap, to which he loudly slurred something unintelligible, and wrapped his arms around her.

Haven had a slight glow to her cheeks and her eyes filled with laughter as she watched Dillon sing the last verse to a Maroon 5 song.

The moment Haven came to her feet, my heart thumped and my eyes locked on her. She swayed a bit to the right and Lac jumped to his feet and reached over to steady her with his hands on her hips. There was a flicker of her brows lowering for a second then she took a deep breath as if she was shoving whatever she was thinking aside.

I was like my guitar strings, strung up too tight, as my gaze followed her every step of the way up to the front of the room in front of the big screen. She leaned into Dillon who had just finished singing and he smiled as he handed her the microphone.

“Woot, Haven,” Dana screamed.

This so didn’t seem like something she would do. I knew her. At least I thought I did. I’d pushed her to get up and sing before. This was on her own. She was reserved. Not in a soft, fearful sort of way, but definitely not a person who cared about standing up and singing in front of friends.

When the music began, I tensed because I knew . . . I fuckin’ knew with that first stroke of the guitar on the speakers that it was one of our songs. No, it was my song. I wrote it, not that she’d know that.

Holy fuck. All the blood went straight from my head down to my cock and it hurt. I was so turned on that she’d sing one of our songs, it took everything in me to keep from jumping to my feet and slamming her against the wall and kissing her.

Shit, I wanted to kiss her so badly. I wanted her beneath me, to feel her writhe and hear her moan. I wanted to taste every inch of her skin, touch every part and then I wanted to sink inside her and make her come so hard she screamed. Because Haven screaming in ecstasy would be one kick-ass fantasy come true.

Kite was right; I liked Haven more than I should. We were friends, but it was a hell of a lot more than that. She’d quivered under my touch earlier and I’d heard her sharp inhale. I’d decided to take a chance and push her a little, and what I’d gotten was heat radiating from her. The reality was, I wanted Haven and no other chick would do it for me. Known it for a long time.

The moment she started singing, her glassy grey eyes found mine and she half-smiled. Yeah, she was drunk and was probably going to regret getting up in front of her friends and singing, but the girl had a voice.

One fuck of a beautiful voice. Her brother did, too. It was a slower song and I was accustomed to hearing Logan’s gravelled voice that made the chicks go gaga, but if anyone heard Haven sing this version of it, we’d have a whole new crowd of fans—guy fans.

She moved easily to the beat, hips swaying side to side. She turned her back to us during the crescendo of Ream and my guitars, her slow sway erotic and sexy as hell.

“Jesus,” I mumbled as I stared.

“She can sing,” Kite said.

“Yeah.” I couldn’t take my eyes off her and I wanted to go up and join her, but I couldn’t move. I was frozen. Mesmerized by her as her body moved to the beat, eyes closed, head tilted slightly to the side so her hair covered half her face like a silk curtain.

When the song ended, everyone clapped and complimented her. I didn’t. I stared while my heart pounded wildly, hands shook, and with an overwhelming-as-fuck need to drag her out of here, take her home with me, kiss her until she melted in my arms and moaned my name with that sexy voice.

That image was sucked out of me like a high powered vacuum the moment Lac got up and strode over to her, his grin like a monkey getting handed a banana.

Yeah, well she was not getting his banana. Fuck that. And I was glad to see she failed to return the gesture of a smile. He didn’t seem to care when he leaned in and kissed her. He fuckin’ kissed her right on the mouth that had sung the words to my fuckin’ song.

I’d never given two shits about a chick. They used me just as much as I used them. I had no misconception that they slept with me because of who I was. Even when we weren’t famous, they slept with me because I was in a band and it was hot to fuck a guy with a guitar.

I played it up. And I kicked them out in the morning or better yet, right after. I didn’t give a shit because they were just happy to tell their friends they’d fucked a rock star. I was cool with that. It never bothered me.