A Wild Minds Novel
May 08, 2017
If Warren Price was gasoline, I’d be a lit match.
Addison Wanks, rock ’n’ roll’s favorite daughter, is good at keeping secrets.
She’s responsible for the long-standing feud between her father’s band, Wanks and Janks, and younger band Wild Minds. She may or may not have let Wild Minds’ sexy bad-boy lead singer Warren defile her backstage at a concert. Okay, she totally did.
She’s supposed to be attending college but instead skips town to follow Wild Minds on their European tour. Addy adores Warren Price.
Europe doesn’t go so well. Her sexy lead singer turned out to be king of a**holes. He’s arrogant, demanding and controlling. Addy loathes Warren Price. Oh, well.
Fast forward a few years and Addy is planning to attend her father’s farewell tour when she hears the news—Wild Minds is back in the good graces of Wanks and Janks. The two bands will be headlining together. This is going to make avoiding Warren difficult. Especially since it seems Warren doesn’t want to be ignored. He also doesn’t want a divorce. That’s right, Addy is married to the Wild Minds front man. Shh. Don’t tell.
What will happen when all Addy’s secrets are revealed?
Charlotte West writes romance about strong heroines and the sexy alpha males who love them. She lives in Washington state with her husband and very large dog (think miniature pony size). She spends way too much money on books, and way too much time reading. When she’s not reading, she’s feeding her reality television addiction, eating chocolate, or traveling. She’s been known to consume her weight in Girl Scout cookies.
She has a degree in Science and a Master’s in Education, neither of which she is currently using but is still paying for. Occasionally, she moonlights as a YA author.
Putting my head down, I decided to follow Ash. After all, Warren had said, “Get out,” to everybody. I was only respecting his wishes. That was nice of me. Considerate. I’d even collect my bags at a later time. Scratch that. I’d just buy all-new stuff. I’d use Billy’s card. He’d like that. Daisy could go shopping with me.
My arm grazed Warren’s. Heat pricked along my side at the contact. He stayed as still as a statue, his body taut and tense. He was going to let me pass. Thank you very much. I was almost home free. Until his hand shot out and wrapped around my upper arm, his grip tight enough to halt me but not tight enough to hurt me. I could feel the warmth from his palm through my damp sweatshirt, burning me, branding me.
“Not you,” he said, his voice hardening.
I shuffled back into the bunks, forcing him to let go. His stare went to my heaving chest. It felt as if the temperature had skyrocketed a thousand degrees.
Warren advanced. His nostrils flared and his septum piercing, a thin silver band, flashed in the low light.
I stepped back until I was pressed against a sliver of wall. Dammit, why’d they have to make these spaces so tight? Warren kept coming until he was flush against my front. I fisted his shirt. To push him away or bring him closer, I didn’t know. Then his fingers were in my belt loops, pressing me into him. I could feel his desire for me, his hardness against my stomach.
“Warren…” I started.
He closed his eyes. “Fuck, I’ve dreamt about you saying my name. Say it again,” he demanded. Always so bossy.
“Warren,” I said again, this time more firmly.
He didn’t understand my tone or he chose to ignore it. Probably the latter. His head lowered and then his lips crashed against mine. He cupped the nape of my neck and begged entrance into my mouth with his tongue.
Something inside of me broke free. A need so fierce it bulldozed all my common sense, all my reasons against this, everything I’d kept tightly reined in for the last few years. I yielded to him. His mouth tasted like whiskey and chocolate, two of my favorite things. Warren groaned and it was like a tiny earthquake inside of me, the vibration snaking down to my belly and igniting desire between my legs. As if he sensed it, his kiss became hotter, wetter, more demanding.
Somehow, my hands found their way under his thin t-shirt, caressing his abs. Cool air hit my stomach and then the tops of my breasts. Warren was stripping me. He broke the kiss for one second to whip my sweatshirt and t-shirt over my head. Then he was back on me, his tongue in my mouth, his body shifting down and up, forcing my legs to wrap around his waist to keep balance.
He rubbed against my core. I made a guttural sound. His lips withdrew and then plastered to my neck. Oh, God, he still knew my sweet spot, right behind my ear he licked and whispered, “I knew you’d come back to me. I knew it.”
What? A cold sensation crept along my spine. Warren didn’t notice. He sucked the thin skin on my collarbone. I almost forgot what he’d just said but then he opened his big fat mouth again. “Are you sorry for what you did? Leaving me in Rome?” He kissed a wet trail down to the top of my breast. “You want me back, don’t you? Jesus, I should make you beg but I don’t think I’m going to last.”
My phone chirped with an incoming text. I smiled at Pete, Officer Daniels, and held up the phone. “I’ll just be a minute. It’s probably Billy.”
Pete let go of the restaurant door he’d been holding open for me. “He still mad you didn’t let him come for graduation?” After spending the summer with Pete’s family, I’d decided to stay for my senior year, a decision my father didn’t understand and still wasn’t happy about.
“I think he’s coming around,” I said. Billy had wanted to attend to my high-school graduation. But the thought of my famous father in small town Beaverton, Oregon near all my friends figuratively made me break out in hives.
Pete nodded. “All right, but don’t take too long. We’re excited to celebrate with you.”
“Got it.” I smiled brightly. My gown fluttered in the early summer wind, I’d left my cap in the car. “Tell Gabe to save me a seat next to him.” Pete and Mel’s son Gabe had graduated with me and was set for a full-ride football scholarship to OSU. As for me, I’d be off to New York in a few weeks to attend college. Strolling the sidewalk, I peeked at my phone. It wasn’t my father.
Mystery number: Hi.
Me: Hi. Who’s this?
Mystery number: Warren Price. Remember me?
If it’s possible for your heart to fall straight out of your chest, mine did.
Me: Yeah. How’d you get my number?
Warren: I know people who know people.
Warren: It’s the digital age, babe. Not hard to find someone’s phone number. The right YouTube video and I could give myself a vasectomy.
Me: Would you really do that?
Me: Give yourself a vasectomy?
Warren: Hell, no. But I could.
Warren: You still there?
Me: It’s been a long time.
Warren: Sorry about that. Been thinking about you, though.
Me: I don’t think this is a good idea, you and me talking. Billy doesn’t want us to be friends.
Warren: I disagree. I think this is the best idea I’ve ever had. Besides, last time I checked we were a little more than friends. What you been up to?
Me: In a nutshell? Billy sent me away to live in BFE. Since then… Went to school dances. Drank my first bottle of peach schnapps. Saw Twilight four times.
Warren: Damn. That’s a lot of living for a small town.
Me: I know. Mind blown, right? How about you, what have you been up to?
Warren: Got booted from Billy’s celestial limelight just like you, working the dive bar circuit again.
Me: Ouch. Sorry.
Warren: Not your fault.
Warren: Shit. Got to go. About to the take the stage at a honkey-tonk in Nashville. This should be interesting. We don’t play country.
Me: All right.
Warren: Okay if I text you again?
Me: Thumbs up.
Warren: Did you just text me the words: thumbs up?
Me: Yep. My emoji button is broken. Sad face.
Warren: Okay then.