Page 1 of Mic Drop (Passionate Beats #3)

Bennett

T he water pulses from above and I scrub harder. Why did Jenna get all defensive about using Untamed Coaster’s PR team? I was only being helpful.

My right leg bends as I wash it, careful not to aggravate the muscle pull. Again. How dare Lissa lie like a two-bit bimbo on national TV? There was no baby—not from me, anyway. Considering my background, no little Bennetts will roam this earth. Ever.

Those stupid hosts, Logan and Francis, suck. They certainly didn’t do any research into Lissa’s story. I duck under the shower head and let the water wash over my body.

It’s not refreshing.

I close my eyelids and hear echoes of sexy moans from Jenna. The way she loved exploring Graceland on our private tour. The freaking plaid miniskirt that drove me insane. The gray in her eyes that promised more .

I remember sharing showers with her. How adventurous she is, willing to try anything. Glancing down, my cock remembers too. My back takes the spray .

She’ll forgive me for offering professional support for her clinics. She has to.

Only a stubborn woman, like the one I’ve fallen in love with, would refuse the help of a professional PR team.

Fine, she built At Your Service PT from scratch, but she’s facing a shitstorm outside her wheelhouse.

No single person can bend the media to their will by sheer force alone.

Damn woman has more control issues than Elvis’s manager Colonel Tom Parker is rumored to have had.

Water sluices over my body, and this time I lean into the pseudo-massage. Jenna will either accept my help or not, but somehow she’ll come out on top. I hope she sees the wisdom in working with UC’s team, though, who have experience in handling media backlash. As for Lissa, she needs to disappear.

Looking back, I can still hear Lissa repeating the mantra that she was saving herself for marriage.

As high school juniors, we’d kiss and I’d feel her up, only to be shot down by her “convictions.” I was in my gawky stage, not yet full-grown or filled out.

Certainly not hitting the gym like I do now.

Pre-contacts, glasses were my constant companion.

In addition to her. A gorgeous blonde bombshell attached to my hip.

I thought things couldn’t get any better.

Until Curtiss swooped in and invited her to the senior prom, before I even was able to ask her to the junior prom. Some best friend he turned out to be.

Dumped and alone, I’d barely had time to process their betrayal before Dad died. Leaving me twenty-four-seven with the woman who birthed only me—and to her everlasting despair, not my twin.

Twisting, I turn off the shower. Enough with this memory lane. I need to correct Lissa’s bullshit and get my life back on track. Featuring Jenna. She better not still be annoyed with me. The fact she hasn’t joined me in here isn’t a good sign.

I grab a white towel and wrap it around my waist. With any luck, Jenna’ll help me dry off.

At the mirror, I examine my scruff, which can wait another day to be trimmed.

With a quick finger combing of my hair and a pat to the UC pendant Jenna gave me all those years ago, I open the bathroom door ready to grovel for her forgiveness.

Making her come a couple of times should do the trick.

My jaw drops when I see her packing her suitcase. “Where are you going?”

“Home! I never should have left!”

Jenna grabs a handful of clothes and tosses them into her suitcase.

My breathing accelerates. She can’t be leaving over my suggestion she use UC’s PR team. I shake my head to clear the wild notion. I position myself in front of her luggage.

“You have to believe me. If Lissa was pregnant, it wasn’t by me. We never had sex.”

She walks toward the bathroom, muttering, “Believe what you will.”

Believe what I will ? What am I supposed to believe? She’s packing her things as if she’s leaving me. No, not only me, but the entire tour. This makes no sense. First Mom, then Lissa. I can’t survive another woman leaving me in the dust.

I stomp behind her and rephrase. “What are you doing?”

In response, she cradles her cosmetics and toiletries against her chest but doesn’t say anything. I rake my fingers through my wet hair. “Talk to me. What’s happening?”

She adjusts the bottles. “You’re always so distracting.”

Is that a good thing or not? “This isn’t making any sense.”

“The world doesn't!” She skirts around me and dumps everything into her suitcase.

Given her crappy packing job, she can’t be going far. No one in their right mind would pack a suitcase for a trip like this. My hands raise to the air. “Stop!”

My growl garners the first appropriate response all day—she stands still. I temper my tone. “Talk to me. Tell me what’s going on.”

Her chest rises and falls in a staccato rhythm. “Nothing.” She pauses a beat. “Everything.” A longer beat. “All of it.”

As she reaches for more shirts, I place my hand on top of her forearm and lower my voice. “Jenna. ”

Beneath me, she goes stiff. “I won’t let you waylay me again.”

Again? “What are you talking about?”

“I can’t.” She yanks her arm free of my grip, dumping the rest of her clothes into the luggage.

All I can do is watch her leave me. I couldn’t stop Dad from leaving us way back when, and that was permanent. I couldn’t stop Lissa from throwing me over for Curtiss. I have to keep the woman I love with me now.

“I need you with me.”

“Bennett, I have to go home.” She tries to zip up one side of the suitcase, but it doesn’t close.

“I don't understand what’s going on.” My hands land on my hips.

“I have to leave,” she cries. Throwing her entire body onto the top of the suitcase, she struggles to zip it shut.

“You don’t have to go. I already told you—and the world, might I add—I didn’t get Lissa pregnant.” I pull her up and grab her by the shoulders. “After the way I was raised, do you think I want to have kids?”

Glazed eyes widen. “I suppose not.”

Too late, I realize my mistake. “Except with you. I could relax my stance if you were the mother.”

“Don’t bother.”

What the fuck are we doing? I let her go. “Stop this. What is going on?”

Her head snaps toward me. “It’s too much.”

I wasn’t too much for her an hour ago. She was defending me on the talk show. Spitting mad at Lissa. She’s loved being on tour with me, hasn’t she? “I’m the same man I was this morning when you woke up. Naked, in my arms, might I remind you.”

She shudders. “A mistake.”

“What do you mean? We’re not a mistake. I love you. You love me.”

“You make me forget everyone and everything I hold dear.” She bends and puts the suitcase on the floor, telescoping the handle .

“This makes no sense. We can do anything together.”

“Not this.”

“Talk to me. What happened?”

“Your mother,” she begins. “No. My mother?—”

I wait for her to continue, but she doesn’t. “What about them?”

Her eyes fill with tears. From pain? Frustration? Oh God, is she sorry she slept with me?

“Ma tried to call several times, but you distracted me.”

Her defeated tone, more than her words, bore into my soul. “I never told you not to talk with her.” She can’t be dumping me. Like Lissa did for a better prospect. Has another band member been sniffing around Jenna under my nose? Tris has been rather chummy.

“I let you.” A big fat tear rolls down her cheek.

I refuse to believe she’s faking her tears. Her orgasms were real too. “Are you leaving me?”

She sobs. “I have no choice.”

I pull her into my body. “You do. You always have options.” I kiss her crown, my hands skimming up and down her arms. Hers remain at her sides, while my torso gets wet from her tears. “Talk to me.”

“I have to return home. Ma needs me.”

Her mother needs her? She’s literally leaving me high and dry on the tour to run back to her mother? “She’s a grown-ass woman?—"

Eyes rounded, Jenna steps backward. “I need to be there for her.” Dragging her luggage behind her, she marches toward the door.

“What am I missing?”

Tears streaming down her face, she repeats her nonsensical words. “Nothing. Everything.” She inhales. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It matters to me.”

She sets her chin. “I can’t. I just can’t.” Her chin trembles.

None of this makes any sense, least of which is the fact yet another woman—whom I told I loved—is leaving me. The callus around my heart, which had all but disappeared when I let Jenna into it, reforms twice as hard. Two can play this game. My hands form fists.

“Fine! Go home to your mommy!”

She sucks in her breath and scurries out of my hotel room.

Out of my life.

It’s as if she took all the air in the room with her. My legs fail me, and I sink onto the bed, my hand stroking my right thigh. Where she had massaged and iced and kissed. I pull away from the offending area.

How could I allow another woman to worm her way into my heart? Didn’t I learn my lesson ages ago from Lissa? From Mom before her?

My chest expands in shallow, rapid breaths.

Well, I don’t need her. I’ve done pretty damn fine without any encumbrances for the past decade, so why was I thinking of adding one now?

I bet if I go down to the bar and snap my fingers, I’d have three women vying for my attention. I could bring all three to this room and make them scream in pleasure. Jenna doesn’t own my sexual prowess.

I should do just that. Prove to her how little she means to me. The guys in the band will be happy to see me back in action, as they always hooked up without any trouble when I was on the scene. They’ll probably throw a party to welcome me back into the groupie set.

Why would Jenna want to go back to her mother anyway? What was she spouting about me preventing her from paying attention to what mattered? I never told her not to keep up with her mother—or friends, for that matter.

I stand and dress for the bar, taking special time to get my hair styled. My tight shirt is guaranteed to turn heads. I bet my extra scruff will add another chick to my arm.

Placing rings on all my fingers, an errant idea takes hold. What if Jenna’s there? With Tris? I shove a bracelet over my wrist. No. Fucking. Way. She better not be there, with Tris or any of my bandmates. Not if they want to keep their heads attached to their bodies .

Anger coursing through my bloodstream, I finish and check out my reflection in the hotel’s full-length mirror. I’m ready to prowl.

Four long strides take me toward the door. On the fifth, my groin muscle emits a protest so loud I’m sure the rest of the hotel could hear it. I crumple down, massaging the injured thigh. Perhaps I should listen to my body and stay in tonight? If Jenna’s there, Luke will text me.

Right?

My eyes slam shut. I need to take care of this injury on my own, since my physical therapist has gone AWOL. I know the drill. Who needs her anyway?

I’m better off without her.