His Assurance (Assured Distraction Book 3) (3 page)

“Oh hello,
Papa
. Is everything okay there?” He didn’t call me often, so seeing his name on my caller ID surprised me.

“Yes,
ma petite
, everything here is fine. I wanted to check on you and see if you had recovered from your ordeal yesterday.”

“I’m fine. I think the news people found the incident and blew it all out of proportion. That man on the plane was certifiably crazy in my opinion. I did nothing wrong. He attacked me in the lavatory, Papa. I was defending myself.”

“I know,
mon ange
, I know. You would never harm someone that way without provocation.” My father knew me well. I was not a violent person. “On another matter, Lola. A man called and sent you a text message to your phone here. He wants to speak with you soon.”

“A man? Who was it? Did he leave a number? Was he French?” I bombarded him with questions, knowing I rarely gave the number to many people outside my circle of friends. My father was adamant about that given his position in the government.

“Yes, his name is Gunner Wallace, and he wanted me to give you the number he called from.” I grabbed a pen and was ready to write. I couldn’t believe it. After all this time, Gunner called me. This guy was seriously hot, like sex on a stick hot, and we had a fantastic night together in Paris.

Oh, but wait. He’s probably wondering what the hell I am doing in Houston. I wasn’t exactly honest with him. I led him to believe I was a French citizen and lived there all of the time. How was I going to explain this to him? I wasn’t in the habit of lying to men, but that was a special night. My friends and I were just out to have a bit of fun, and the next thing I knew we were backstage with the opening act, Assured Distraction.

About Two Years Ago…

My friend,
JeanMarie
, was stunningly beautiful and could talk her way into a club at sixteen without a fake ID. When she grabbed my hand and said come on, I ran with her, and we quickly found ourselves escorted to a room backstage with kick-ass badges to wear. Before we could hardly turn around in the room, these seriously hot, sweaty rockers came busting in the room laughing and talking, fresh off the stage. My eyes immediately searched until I spotted the drummer I might have been eye fucking for the entire set. Everything about him was to die for in a way that made my girly bits stand up and do a happy dance.

Watching him onstage behind his drum kit, I knew he was going to be the perfect male specimen up close. He obviously spent a lot of time working out because those arms, mmm, pure muscle. I don’t know what he bench pressed, but at that point, I hoped it was me sometime in the near future. His sinuous arms covered in the most beautiful tattoos ever were drool worthy. The art was gorgeous, and the colors that defined them were well thought out by the artist as though he was painting a masterpiece in each section from shoulder to wrist. On stage when he raised both arms over his head to pound out the beat of the next song, the muscles moved in such a way that my heart started beating harder, as though it was in time to the music. To see those muscles ripple in sequence under the ink and down his arms as he forcefully hit those drumsticks together, I thought my heart was going to have a tattoo of the image embedded in it before the concert ended. Instead, I decided I needed to bring a change of panties the next time.

At some point in the show, he stood up and ripped his white tank over his head. Forget bringing a spare pair; I thought my panties were going to melt off my body. His pecs were perfect and covered in a precise Oriental pattern. They didn’t match, but the two complemented each other in a round image that covered the entire pec. It was simply gorgeous. The colors were bold, and I fucking loved them. That was until I saw his hard, cut abs, and I knew I was in heaven just staring at him. They shined with a sheen of sweat that the constantly changing spotlights enhanced with a different color every few seconds. The smooth cuts of this section were obviously begging to be traced by my tongue while going down each valley as it followed my fingernails on a path to the prize waiting inside his low-slung jeans.

Yes, I did look at his face, too. How could I not? Blue-green eyes pierced a hole through me when I thought he was staring my way. I’m sure every girl standing in my vicinity believed the same. The irises were a shade that made me wonder if the color changed depending on his mood. First, they looked like the ocean, not quite aqua and not quite emerald, but suspended somewhere between the two keeping me guessing as the music played on.

His strong jawline seemed to grind a little each time he struck a solid beat on the drums, causing his dark hair to flip around as he played steady beats to the music. It was only long on top, with the sides sheared close to the scalp. To merely say he was hot, handsome, or gorgeous did no justice to his true exquisite look. But for lack of better description, the man was seriously hot, drop dead handsome and…and…to die for gorgeous. I suppose that’s the best my addled brain could conjure up at the time.

The one specific area I left for last, though, was by far his best feature, and that was his lips. Oh. My. God. I constantly wondered how they would feel as he rubbed them across mine, and smoothed them down my body. They were full and pouty, and all I could dream about was how it would feel to run my tongue over them, pulling that bottom lip in my mouth while I begged for his touch.

JeanMarie
got us backstage just before the band came through. The effects of the concert had them on a high only adrenaline could provide. While she was able to get us in the room, I knew it would be on me to make contact with this man who had my mind so fogged with pure lust. Once we were in, I knew she would go her own way. If anything was going to bring this drummer and me together, I had to make myself known to him. I’m not very good at doing that because picking up strangers has never been one of my favorite past times.

One side of my brain tells me:
You can do this, Lola. He’s just a man. He likes women. He’ll like you.

But the negative part of my brain has to chime in, too:
Are you the type of woman he likes? Too thin, too fat, too tall, too short?

Guess there’s only one way to find out. I plastered on my best
I’m coming to get you
smile, flipped my long auburn curls back over my shoulder flirtatiously, and walked across the room where he was standing talking to the bass player. Once I was close enough to him, I put my hand on his arm to get his attention. Touching him didn’t accomplish what I hoped for, but when the bass player made eye contact with me, the drummer looked down at my hand on his arm and slowly made his way up to my face.

“Bonjour. I am Lola.” I tried my sexiest French accent on him. I knew he was American, and it would capture his attention, but all he did was stare at me. The bass player took my hand off his arm and kissed the back of it.

“Well, hello, Lola. I’m Carter, the bass player for Assured Distraction, and this is my friend, Gunner, the drummer.” He put my hand in Gunner’s. “Kiss the girl’s soft hand, Gunner.”

“Oh, yeah, right.” He looked at me. “Hello, Lola, I’m Gunner, the drummer.” He then kissed my hand, too.

Carter spoke again, but neither of us looked at him. “Smooth line, dumbass, I just said that.” He then turned to me and said, “So, Lola, did you enjoy the show?”

Without taking my hand out of Gunner’s, I answered him, “
Oui
. Very much so.” Gunner smiled at me. I suppose I could have simply fainted then and there, and that would have made quite the impression, but instead I stared at Gunner like he was staring at me.

“I guess my work’s completed.” I heard this coming from Carter but didn’t respond to him this time. He finally left us standing there. I knew I had to look like a complete and utter fool, but I didn’t care.

When my brain finally made some connections, I tried to pull my hand away, but apparently, he wasn’t through with it. “Gunner. That’s an unusual name, is it not?”

He found his voice when I said his name. “Yeah, my mom let my dad name me, and since he’s all about hunting, Gunner seemed like a logical choice. Tell me about you, Lola. Do you live here in Paris?”

“
Oui
, I do. My father has a government job here in the city, and when I finished university, he wanted me to take the time to relax before starting a job. So, I’ve been enjoying Paris for a while now. Besides, what’s not to like about Paris?”

That was partially the truth. If I told him I graduated from UT in Austin, my entire ruse would be shot to hell.

“Yeah, we saw a little of the city yesterday and traveled on the subway and taxis. That scared the hell out of me, though. Who taught those guys how to drive?” A deep, genuine laugh rumbled from him and made me smile.

“Taxi drivers have a style all their own; I assure you. They like to offer distractions by pointing out places to the tourists in hopes they will not realize how close to losing their lives they are by riding with them. You’re better off on the Metro or subway as you call it.”

“Well, we’re leaving in the morning, so I don’t think I’ll have anything to worry about. We have limos for the night, and the hotel’s not that far.” He turned as he was speaking and looked at his friend Carter who had a woman on her knees between his. Was this how it worked? They found willing sex partners to do whatever right here in this room? I noticed some of the other band members were gone.

“Uh, you know, Lola. I need to get out of here for a few minutes and take a shower, but I’d like you to wait for me, please. Let me grab you a drink, and you can talk to the others until I get back. I’ll be fast, I promise. You don’t want to know how I feel when I come off stage after being under those lights. Honestly, I’m surprised you can even stand being within a few feet of me.”

I laughed and took the glass of wine he offered me. “I’ll be here when you get back. Don’t worry.”

“I’m more worried that someone else will whisk you away while I’m not looking, much less while I disappear for ten minutes. Let me introduce you to some people.” He took my hand and led me over to a group of women standing around Carter, who stood up when we approached.

“Dude, I’m going to have a quick shower. Keep her here with you. Notice I didn’t say hit on her, and don’t let anyone else hit on her, either.” Gunner looked at the three women, and the one kneeling between Carter’s legs. “And would you keep it in your pants until I get back?”