Third in the Underground Encounters series
Lily Everett wants a lover, but won’t consider a permanent relationship, because she harbors a secret she’s certain no one will understand. When she meets the singer of a rock band at an underground nightclub, she’s disarmed by his sensual voice and mischievous good looks. After an icy introduction, Lily warms up to Nico’s charms.
A computer geek by day, Nico dons a rock singer persona by night. He’s tired of women pursuing him just because he’s in a band—the sex may be handy, but he wants something more. He’s intrigued by Lily’s reticence.
Keeping her emotional distance proves difficult the more Lily uncovers the intelligent, considerate man hiding behind Nico’s bad-boy persona. Their encounters are hot-hot-hot, but Nico wants more from Lily than sex. When Lily lets down her guard and reveals her other side, Nico’s shock destroys their closeness and they both doubt they can overcome their differences.
A Romantica® paranormal/shapeshifter erotic romance from Ellora’s Cave
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An Excerpt From: ROCK ME TONIGHT
Copyright © LISA CARLISLE, 2013
All Rights Reserved, Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.
“The band is the shit!” Ally said.
We hadn’t checked the club’s calendar before we went out. I was looking forward to a night of dancing. I didn’t go out often, but tonight was a special occasion. So I put on a hot little red-and-black plaid dress, spiky-heeled boots and chunky gold bracelets to go all out. But when we arrived, a loud rock band was playing.
My senses were assaulted by not only the sound, but also the scent of alcohol all around us and sweat coming off people dancing up near the stage. I wasn’t used to the nightclub scene and it took a few moments for my unusually sensitive senses to adjust.
“Yeah, I guess. They’re all right,” I agreed. I tried not to sulk, but it was a challenge.
“Give them a chance, Lily. I didn’t know you’re not into rock, but look at the crowd—they’re going nuts. We should join them.” She motioned to the people dancing in front of the stage. “Besides, the DJ will come out later and you can shake your fine little booty to some funky-ass music soon.”
“Little? Ha! You definitely need glasses,” I said. “I’m going to grab a drink first. Want one?”
Ally shook her head. “I’m going to get closer to the stage. See ya in a bit.” I watched her as she slunk into the crowd. She was hard not to miss with her dirty-blonde hair in shiny, thick curls hanging down the back of her slinky electric-blue-and-black dress, which definitely stood out among all the people wearing black. Within moments, the crowd filled in the spot into which her tiny body disappeared and I couldn’t see her anymore.
Might as well get a drink. When I scanned the menu for something tasty, the Fruits of Temptation caught my eye. Plenty of fruit and plenty more alcohol. Perfect to hit the spot. I found an empty stool under one of the many gargoyle statues mounted at the end of the bar and focused on my drink. Mmm, yummy. I took little sips through a tiny straw. It went down so smooth, but I had better watch it or I’d be on my ass before I knew what happened.
When the crowd starting singing along with the next song, I was distracted from my cocktail. Who wouldn’t be—they were chanting the chorus to Let’s Fuck All Over Paris. What kind of crazy-ass song was this? My ears perked up as I tried to catch lyrics over the crowd.
No money, no hope
But in Paris, I cope
Sad ghosts fill the air
Joy and despair
Then the crowd revved up again to sing the chorus, “Let’s fuck all over Paris, Under the moon, under Polaris.” I looked for Ally but didn’t see her. She was probably one of the jumping figures wearing black up near the front of the stage. Was she singing along too? From this vantage point, I only caught glimpses of the band through the pulsating crowd waving their arms.
I had to admit, Velvet Cocks rocked hard. Real hard. I knew very little about them except they were popular in Boston’s underground rock scene. Now hearing them play live at Vamps, I understood how word spread fast. Their energy spilled over into the crowd as they played short original songs and punk-style remakes of classics.
I’d never been to this club Vamps before, never even heard of it. When Ally suggested we go out to celebrate my new promotion, she said, “I know just the place.”
I only had time to check out the homepage of the website at work. It introduced itself as an underground club with live bands, Goth music, punk, new wave, techno and the best music from the vault, whatever that meant. There were no pictures of people on the homepage, only a few images of gargoyles and a spooky-looking sign reading “Abandon Hope All Ye Who Enter Here.” I wasn’t sure what to expect.
With the number of gargoyle statues around, from the ones guarding the front door to the ones hanging inside the main dance area, I understood why they were the prominent theme on the website. What struck me was the crowd. They wore all kinds of sexy outfits designed to attract attention, mostly black. Leather pants, catsuits, tight black dresses, schoolgirl outfits and outfits consisting of tiny vinyl straps I assumed were purchased from a fetish shop.
“Wow,” was all I could say when we walked in.
“What is it?”
“I’ve never seen so many—freaks—in one place at a time.”
Ally said, “Keep an open mind. Don’t make judgments, dance without a care in the world, and you’ll have the time of your life. I promise you that.”
“I didn’t mean freaks in a bad way necessarily. They’re just—wow.”
“You’re just wow. And I bet you’re a closet freak.”
“Ha. Hardly. What you see is what you get, baby.”
She laughed. “Your outfit doesn’t leave much the imagination tonight.”
“You said dress slutty. This is the best I could come up with.”
“I know. I know. You look great.”
I tried to keep her words about having an open mind as I listened to the band. They finished the song about fucking in Paris on a heavy rift and the singer said, “This next song goes out to Maya, a very special lady, from her eternal admirer.”
When he spoke, I detected a slight accent, maybe English, which wasn’t very noticeable when he sang.
Damn, that dedication was sweet. It must be nice to have someone so into you they’d request a singer to send a shout out to you declaring their feelings. I quickly ran through the guys I’d dated the last few years. Not a chance any of them would ever take that initiative. They were all too emotionally cut off to ever reveal something as personal as feelings. Then again, I wasn’t exactly professing any kind of eternal love either. Definitely not in the way this admirer was professing for this Maya. In fact, with my exes, I’d insisted we keep things from getting too serious.
But that was my hang-up. I knew no guy would be able to handle my secret.
My thoughts were distracted as I strained to hear the opening of the song. He sang so softly at first I barely made out the lyrics. Then his croon turned into a seductive opening of a song I recognized. #1 Crush by Garbage, an admittance of obsessive love . How the hell did he make it sound so tormented and yet so damn sexy all at once?
I had to get a better look and see this guy who was exacting complete control over the crowd. He had them worked up in a frenzy during the last song and now they had settled into a hypnotic sway as they listened to him sing with such intense longing. He delivered it with such a painful croon, almost haunted. That’s when I finally caught a glimpse of him.
My recent encounters with punk rockers led me to believe they were all a bunch of ugly bastards so I was not expecting someone so—so—like him.
He was wearing a plaid green-and-black cap, but I saw his dark brown hair was cut close to his scalp. He looked so young and innocent at the same time. I pegged him to be in his late twenties. Maybe my age or a couple of years younger than me since I was about to celebrate the first of many twenty-ninth birthdays later this year.
I stood up on the rung of a stool to get a better look and that’s when I saw he was also playing bass guitar. He wore torn camouflage pants tucked into tall, black Doc Marten-style boots and held up by a silver-studded black belt. His torn black shirt sported the Velvet Cocks logo—a rooster wearing a smoking jacket and an ornate V and C, which appeared very Victorian and proper. Misdirection perhaps as to the actual naughty words? Tattoos galore extended from beyond his shirtsleeves. The whole combination gave him a hardcore look of a total badass. Dangerous and sexy.
My mouth half dropped as I listened, entranced, to his voice.
A Top Pick by Night Owl Reviews
The chemistry between Lily and Nico is off the charts. The sex is hot and steamy. They are a great match together in and out of the bedroom. ~ Night Owl Reviews
The one area that never failed to excite in this story was the sex – anywhere and everywhere… Lisa Carlisle has penned a really good story here in this installment; I’m now going to search out the first two in the series. ~ The Jeep Diva