Boxed Set: Traitorous Heart Volumes 1-6 (The Traitorous Heart Series) Read Free

line for drinks we weren’t in the way.
    During the week a DJ played remixes of the latest songs. On the weekends, the music was live. Sometimes the bands were amazing. Other times they sucked.
    “Guy told me the band tonight is awesome.” Birdy sipped her Jack and Coke.
    We were sitting next to each other, yet we still had to shout to be heard. “What’s their name?”
    “Crushed Velvet,” Birdy said.
    I took a drink of my vodka tonic. “Sounds like a seventies boy band.”
    Birdy laughed. “They didn’t have boy bands in the seventies.”
    I raised an eyebrow. “Sure they did. I can think of five off the top of my head. Their clothes were even similar to what’s popular now.”
    The announcer cut off whatever Birdy was going to say.
    “Please put your hands together for Crushed Velvet!”
    Four guys walked on stage. One sat at the drums. Two picked up their guitars and one went to the keyboard. They wore the same basic attire: jeans and a white shirt. The drummer had on a tank. Both guitarists wore regular tee shirts. The keyboardist wore a crisp button down.
    Girls rushed to the front of the stage. They were already screaming.
    I looked at Birdy. She shrugged. From our booth we had a perfect view of the stage.
    The drummer started playing, then the guitars came in. The music wasn’t bad. After a while I wondered if someone was going to sing. Had the lead singer forgotten when to come in? It was hard to tell which one was supposed to be singing.
    After another eight count I glanced around the club. Everyone seemed to be waiting, perched on the edges of their seats. It made no sense.
    Until he walked on stage.
    If my panties could’ve dropped of their own volition, they would have.
    “Oh. My. God,” Birdy said. I was right there with her.
    He was shirtless, which was exactly how he should always remain. His body was perfection. Tattoos covered a lot of his body, including his left shoulder and down his arm to his elbow. Lust surged through my body. I wanted to trace each one of his tattoos with my tongue.
    He looked tall. His brown hair came to just above his shoulders. His bangs kept falling in his eyes. His broad shoulders were muscled, his posture like a piano player’s, and his abs and chest… good God. They looked fake. Magnificent. At each hip were slight indentions, like arrows directing me to want what was beneath his jeans. Those were tattered and sat low, allowing visual access to another tattoo and the strip of hair that started just under his belly button and went… there. I shuddered at what was there. He was also barefoot.
    He scanned the crowd and smiled. “How’s everybody doing tonight?”
    The crowd cheered their response.
    “This song is about fucking and how great it is.”
    The crowd’s screams got louder.
    “It’s called All In.” Then he started to sing.
    My panties no longer needed to drop because they’d melted off. I’d never had such a physical reaction to a person before. But the way he held the microphone, the way his lips moved when he sang, the way he moved on the stage, like a tiger ready to pounce.
    The next thirty minutes went by in a blur. The waitress brought fresh drinks. Birdy occasionally said something. I barely acknowledged her. When the band’s set was over I thought my heart would break.
    “Shit, Katie. You’re smitten.” Birdy laughed.
    I shook my head, trying to clear the lust coursing through my body. “He’s amazing.” The words came out before I had the chance to censor them.
    “He’s hot, and I swear there’s a tattoo across his chest that says fuck me, Birdy .”
    “No. You’ve got the name all wrong. It says Katie, not Birdy.”
    She giggled.
    I gulped down the rest of my drink and stood. “I’m going out for a smoke. Wanna come?”
    “No.” She scrunched her nose in disgust. “Dude, that is so two thousand and ten. When are you going to give those things up?”
    I shrugged. “It’s only when I drink. I’ll be back.” I pushed