Feature and Giveaway: Always You by Roxie Noir

I’ve been broken since the day I was born, with a past full of ugly secrets and a brother doing life in prison.

Not that you’d know it if you read the tabloids. According to them I’m the rock-solid guitarist for the biggest band in the world. I’m the dependable one. The steady one. The anchor.

They don’t know the truth. No one knows who I am underneath, once the music is over and the lights are off.

No one but Darcy.

She’s my best friend. She’s my fucking savior, my light in the dark, beautiful as hell and talented as fuck and every bit as broken as me.

And I fucking yearn for her. I have for years. I see the way she looks at me, what’s behind her eyes.

I know what she thinks about alone, in the dark, because how could I not know.

It’s getting worse. Every second, every heartbeat, every moment we spend together and every secret we share makes me want her more. Even though I know that one kiss, one night could ruin everything we have, I need her.

And for Darcy, I’ll risk it all.

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It’s nothing, I tell myself. You’re cold and he’s nice. It’s nothing.

But God, it feels like something, and it’s terrifying. It feels like I can’t stop, standing here against him. I want this but I don’t; I want to hang out with Trent on cars in the wilderness and I don’t want more because the thought of changing what we already have, of leaving it behind, fucking terrifies me.

“So you’re warming me up to save your own skin,” I tease.

“If that’s what I say, will it work?”

“It’s in the sixties out here at least,” I point out. “I’m not gonna get hypothermia.”

I’m protesting, but I lean my head against him, nestling myself in the hollow of his throat despite the voice in my head saying don’t, don’t, don’t.

Trent doesn’t answer. He just holds me by the shoulders while I lean against him, careful of my back. Slowly, I put my arms around him, because otherwise they’re just hanging at my sides.

His chin’s resting on the top of my head. I can feel his stubble through my hair, and his hands keep moving like he wants to put his arms around me, but he doesn’t want to hurt my back.

“Thanks for this,” he finally murmurs.

“I wish I knew how to really help,” I say.

“You did.”

I finally pull back, looking up at him, my arms still around his waist.

“I thought this was dumb,” I tease.

“Throwing rocks as anger management is pretty dumb,” he says. “It’s also exactly what I needed.”

I pull back slightly and Trent looks down at me, an expression in his warm, deep brown eyes that I can’t quite read, though it makes my heart beat faster. He’s got one big hand cupping my shoulder, the other drifting down my side to my hip, careful of my bandages.

I’m still pressed against him, still warm and safe as I’ve ever been even though I feel like I’m in the very center of a tornado. The eye of a hurricane. Like it’s calm with deadly weather rushing around us, inescapable, the hum always moving closer.

Slowly, Trent slides his fingers along my shoulder, my neck, his calloused fingertips sending shivers over my skin.

I think my heart might explode, a combination of terror and excitement coursing through my veins, but I close my eyes. Now his fingers are in my hair, his thumb dragging along my cheekbone.

This isn’t what friends do.

It’s something else, and it’s fucking dangerous.

It feels like my nerves are catching fire and popping out of my skin, my whole body wild and alive like I’ve never felt it before as Trent bends down so slowly that it almost feels like time has stopped.

“Darcy,” he whispers.

His face is an inch from mine. Maybe less, his thumb still stroking my cheekbone, my eyes closed and head tilted back.

I want this. I might want this more than I’ve ever wanted anything.

I want it and I’m fucking terrified that I want it, a warning siren screeching through my brain that this is it, this is how you change everything and lose him.

I take a deep, shaky breath and Trent tilts his head, pausing, his lips a centimeter from mine.

“Don’t,” I whisper.

I love writing sexy, alpha men and the headstrong women they fall for.

My weaknesses include: beards, whiskey, nice abs with treasure trails, sarcasm, cats, prowess in the kitchen, prowess in the bedroom, forearm tattoos, and gummi bears.

I live in California with my very own sexy, bearded, whiskey-loving husband and two hell-raising cats.

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• 1 Signed copy of Always You

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