Jersey Six - Jewel E Ann Page 0,83
unknowingly a plane snob.”
“A what?”
“Your first plane was a private jet, an experience most people never get. It’s the most luxurious way to travel. Really wealthy people, including ego-driven rock stars, travel that way. You flew here first-class commercial. It’s how most fairly well-off people travel. You had all the luxuries of a commercial airline. But …”
She kept her eyes slightly squinted—the innocent side of Jersey Six.
“A majority of people travel coach. They get pretzels and pop, maybe one meal on an international flight. The seats are smaller and recline approximately two inches, less legroom, and no warm towels before your meals.” He leaned up and kissed her neck. “I’ve spoiled you.”
Jersey blinked several times, jaw slack. “Huh. I had no idea.”
“I’ll send you home coach, just so you can experience all forms and comfort levels of air travel.”
“Mmm…” Jersey nodded several times, concentration etched into her expression. “When I go home …” she whispered as if she didn’t say it for his ears.
“But I’m not sending you home—yet.” He pulled her closer, forcing her to fall into him, straddling his lap, arms around his neck. “I haven’t shown you the world—yet.”
She returned a sad smile and a slow blink while letting her gaze fall between them, chin down. “Coop, I’m afraid.”
His hand slid around her neck to the back of her head, pulling her closer, so his lips grazed her ear. “So am I,” he whispered.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Paris, France
Esc-sur-alztte, Luxembourg
Amsterdam, Netherlands
Berlin, Germany
Cologne, Germany
Gothenburg, Sweden
Stolkholm, Sweden
Five weeks and eight stops after Jersey arrived in Switzerland, they hit the tour’s halfway point in Liverpool, U.K. It didn’t matter that Jersey refused to call herself Ian Cooper’s girlfriend. The media stamped her with that label and a lot of other labels that were much worse. But … they didn’t know her name and that was a silver lining for the Ian Cooper camp.
No name meant no way to dig up more dirt on her than what had already been mysteriously leaked about “the woman in his bed.” Jersey gave Chris a little bit of credit for not entirely destroying her in his attempts to bring down the rock star. She liked being a no name to the media.
Ian let Max and his manager know that Jersey wasn’t going anywhere, and they needed to deal with it along with the rest of the world. He kept her close to his side, holding her hand, kissing her at will with no concern for the flashing cameras and gossip frenzy.
Jersey played the part, drawing him into her world, priming him for a confession. She took her clothes off anywhere, and at a moment’s notice, whenever Ian felt the need to have her—which was often. It was her favorite part of the plan—and the most dangerous part. Every time she let him inside of her, he took a piece away. As the weeks passed, she felt herself changing, weakening, missing those pieces that held her together and kept her strong. Resolute.
“Ian! Ian! Ian! Ian!” It didn’t matter where they were in the world, the chant was always the same.
“They want you,” Jersey said, buttoning her jeans as Ian pieced himself back together following their preconcert ritual which involved something quick and dirty that Max insisted they finish in under fifteen minutes.
Three minutes, forty-two seconds was their record.
“More than you?” he asked with his signature smirk firmly in place. Ian excelled in cocky. Really, he excelled in all things.
“Probably.” Jersey shrugged, hiding her grin.
He charged toward her, picking her up while continuing his forward movement until her back slammed into the door. His mouth took hers, and she kissed him just as eagerly without having to think.
They were always explosive.
Always ready to attack each other.
Always insatiable.
And always in trouble with Max.
“Tomorrow is the day, right?” he mumbled over her skin as he kissed his way down her neck, his hand sliding up her shirt, yanking the cup of her bra down. “Tomorrow is the day I stop needing you so fucking much. Right?”
“Tomorrow …” Jersey echoed with little conviction as her head fell back against the door.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
“Showtime! Let’s go.” Max maintained a flawless record of perfectly timed announcements.
Ian let Jersey slide down the door until her feet found the ground. He grinned, fixing her bra as she made a few adjustments to his hair and straightened his shirt.
On a begrudging sigh, he opened the door, taking her hand and following Max toward the stage with Shane bringing up the rear.
Max handed him his in-ear monitor and