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A Rocker's Melody (Dust and Bones)

By:Katie Mars


"Baby, don't you think we should go somewhere?"

Dylan Bennett had a way with women, and tonight was just another night  in paradise. He was sitting on a stool in a crowded bar on Sunset,  cradling a beer in one hand and a girl in the other, as was his custom.

A wicked smiled curled at the corners of his lips, like a serpent  coiling in wait. He turned to the girl who had plastered herself to his  side, running a hand through his shoulder-length dark hair as if he was  giving the question some serious thought. "Maybe."

The girl smiled back, her plush lips parting in an obvious attempt at seduction. "Don't play," she said, with a teasing pout.

Dylan was used to girls like this-girls who pretended they wanted  something more than his name and his fame, but who really only wanted  one thing from him. The pretense was fun once in a while, but tonight  wasn't one of those nights. Despite that, high from the thrill of a  low-key gig and buzzed on the vodka shots he'd been consuming, Dylan was  ready and willing to succumb to a few hours of simple bliss.

Girls smelled nice, music was awesome, and life was good. What more could he want?

"I still can't believe you're the Dylan from Dust and Bones," she breathed.

Dylan's piercing blue eyes roved over her body, inspecting her  unashamedly. Her breasts were perfectly round and pert, barely hidden by  her low-cut tank top. She had a magenta dye job and a glistening silver  nose ring. She was probably a freak in bed too. A carnal pleasure. Yet,  for some unknown reason, Dylan didn't feel as satisfied by the promise  of an easy lay as he normally did.

"Tell you what," Dylan said, relaxing and wrapping an arm around her  shoulders to reel her in closer to his side. "You and I, let's have a  good time right here. We'll see how things go." He didn't want to hurt  her feelings, and if no other exciting prospects presented themselves by  the end of the night, he'd at least be able to fall into bed with her.

"How about I guess your favorite drink?" he asked, settling his other  hand on her thigh, keeping her close enough that the heat of their  bodies mingled in the same space. She blinked at him, seemingly dazed by  his proximity, and Dylan resisted the urge to sigh. This one definitely  wouldn't be a challenge. He'd guess something simple, like Jack and  Coke, and impress her to the point where she begged him to leave the bar  with her again. Even if he was wrong, he could just make up some  bullshit about it being raw and sweet, like her-either way, he'd be able  to take her home.

All roads led to the same horizontal position. Same old, same old.

He left her at the small table near the stage before she could pull  herself together to protest. After he reached the bar and ordered their  drinks-premium vodka for himself-he gave the crowd a quick once-over  and...


An unfamiliar face caught his attention from the room's periphery. Its  owner was stretching across the bar, reaching for a jar of cherries. Her  long red hair tumbled over her shoulders in a messy yet elegant  fashion. She pinched the stem of one of the bright, red fruits between  her fingers and brought it to her mouth. Her eyes rolled back and her  shoulders relaxed with a subtle sigh, perhaps in response to the  sweetness touching her tongue.

Dylan catalogued her automatically: the flare of her waist, the  curvature of her ass, the arch of her spine as she leaned across the bar  to pop another lucky cherry into her mouth. He found himself stunned by  how badly, how suddenly he wanted her. Lust bore down on him like a  speeding train.

He didn't think-didn't have to think. He just moved until he was right beside her, unapologetically invading her personal space.

She noticed him at once-had to, of course-and furrowed her brow like she  wasn't sure why he was standing so close to her. Like his presence  wasn't welcome.

It wasn't an expression Dylan was familiar with.

"Did you need something?" she asked, her voice piercing and melodic all at once.

Dylan felt another pulse of want in his stomach. "That was going to be  my line," he said, the words sliding out of his mouth instinctually like  the opening measure of a sultry ballad. He drew in closer and leaned  over her, ducking down to bring his mouth to the shell of her ear. "You  look like a woman who knows exactly what she needs, and trust me-you're  looking right at him."

The woman pulled away instantly, smoothly and calmly. She didn't seem flustered at all-in fact, she laughed. "Seriously?"

Dylan laughed with her, unfazed. "What I meant to say was-you have the  greatest eyes I've ever seen." That hadn't, of course, been what he was  going to say. He hadn't even looked at them, really, but once he was  able to tear his admiring gaze away from her body to look into her eyes,  he saw that it was true.         



Her heart-shaped face, full red lips, and deep emerald eyes were  overwhelming. She was a rare breed of exotic in a sea of mediocre women,  and he wasn't about to let her get away.

She leaned in for a moment, almost automatically-like her body was  moving without the consent of her brain. She caught herself a second  later, pulling back again. "Nice try," she said with a derisive scoff  and a curt shake of her head. "Points for that honey sex voice. It's a  nice touch."

"Some people pay a lot of money to hear this voice, baby," Dylan said with a grin, still unfaltering in his determination.

"Keep it real, Casanova," she said, disappearing into the crowd at the  back of the bar before Dylan could even register the fact that she had  actually blown him off.

"Mother of fuck," he muttered, wondering if he'd somehow stumbled into  an alternate dimension where he had absolutely no game whatsoever.

"Hey, stud." Dylan heard an appealing voice and turned around, his eyes  latching onto a brunette who was leaning against the bar a few feet  away. "I'm a big fan of yours. Looking for a good time tonight?"

He hitched his smile back into place and approached her. When he reached  her, he ran the tip of his index finger along the length of her upper  arm, and was pleased when she responded with a shiver of anticipation.  Then Dylan remembered the magenta-haired girl-she was still probably  sitting in the same exact spot, waiting for him.

"Well, I'm already with someone … but if you'd like to tag along," he said suggestively, "the more, the merrier, right?"

She flashed him a look that could only be described as sex kitten  bedroom eyes-lids hooded, lashes shadowing her cheekbones-and said, "I'm  up for anything as long as it's with you."

"Yeah, I know," Dylan said. All right, he was still in his own dimension  where everything was right; Green Eyes, whatever her fucking problem  was, had just been a fluke. He caught himself looking in the direction  in which she'd vanished and quickly shook himself out of it. He returned  his attention to the new girl at his side, flashing her a pearly white  smile. "Let me buy you another drink."

Dylan glanced back at the bar and noticed the Jack and Coke and the  vodka he'd ordered earlier. Who knew how long they'd been sitting there  while he agonized over a girl who wasn't interested?

Fuck. Why wasn't she interested?

Someone prodded him in the shoulder. When he turned yet again, irritation creasing his brow, the brunette was pouting at him.

"What?" he asked.

"I said, you can buy me a Cosmo," she said, practically whining.

Dylan turned back to the bar and grabbed his vodka, downing it in one  gulp. He waved the bartender over, shaking his glass. "Another-and a  Cosmo for the lady."

She beamed at him and leaned in closer to his side, pressing up against him.

Dylan wasn't an asshole to women. He treated them well enough and moved  on as politely as possible-but right now, he was treating this girl like  shit while she practically oozed desire through her clothes. His ego  swelled under this new attention.

He tried to be nicer in the minutes that followed, even though the  brunette didn't seem to notice or care. He made an effort to keep the  conversation going, flirting and implying that the evening might have  much more pleasurable events in store for them. But despite his efforts  to concentrate on her, he couldn't keep his gaze from wandering through  the bar and looking, almost subconsciously, for the one that walked  away.

A flash of red hair caught his eye moments later. He barely remembered  to mumble a quick I'll be right back to the girl chattering away at his  side before he took off to chase after that streak of crimson in the  crowd. The redhead was bent over the bar again, this time reaching for a  drink. Dylan came up behind her and-

"Oh, fuck a duck. I'm sorry."

A bright green concoction that smelled strongly of pineapple syrup  splashed from the glass in her hand and soaked through the front of  Dylan's white T-shirt. He couldn't help but notice the fact that the  green of the drink perfectly complemented the green of the redhead's  eyes-the color looked a lot better beneath her lashes than it did  staining his chest.