by Cari Quinn
Deacon sat up straighter. “Okay. Show us.” When she went to the small compartment under the instruments, he glanced at Nick. He just shrugged.
“Can I?”
Deacon returned his attention to Jazz. Her fingers were wrapped around the neck of his acoustic. “Sure.”
She settled on the couch, and his oversized guitar made her look like a little girl. But she quickly tuned the Takamine like it was her own.
“You play guitar too?”
“Yeah. The guitar was actually my second instrument after the piano. I can pretty much play anything.” She stretched her fingers. “I got bored easily, so I just kept learning instruments.”
Deacon could feel Nick tensing behind him. Compromise and lyric writing were hard things to share in Nick’s world. And this woman who’d changed so much of the band was going to insert herself into another of his spaces.
He just hoped that Nick would keep an open mind.
She strummed, the piece a simple three chords, soft as a spring breeze off the water. Her bell-like voice tripped over the words at first. She cleared her throat. “Let me try again.”
The road twists, and the world turns
The night swallows the day, and we begin again
But part of me stands still
Here in the dark, I hear your breath
In the light of day, your breath is gone
And part of me stands still
Nick stood and Jazz stalled. But instead of walking off, he unhooked his own guitar from the opposite closet and sat across from her. “Again,” he said simply.
So she repeated the song and the chords, and Nick built off the acoustic tones and layered them until her voice blended with the notes.
Deacon grabbed Simon’s Gibson and sat next to Jazz. He wasn’t the guitar player that Gray and Nick were, but he knew his way around a composition.
He adjusted the rhythm and the tempo, and Nick followed suit easily. They were in tune whenever he did small changes to a song. Like they linked up at a basic level.
The three of them played with the words, scribbled down a basic cord progression so they wouldn’t forget and hashed out eighty percent of a song by the time they came into the Dallas venue.
When Jazz looked up, she smiled. Deacon followed her gaze to find Gray in the doorway. The naked longing on his face shimmered hot and bright before slipping under his usual mask.
The question was, did he want Jazz or to write with them?
Maybe it was a little bit of both.
Joe’s voice boomed over the bus’s inner speakers. “Lady and asshats, we are pulling into Dallas’s premier attraction.”
Jazz scrambled up to look out the window. The eye-searing blue sky was cloudless. The pavilion looked like any other. Half concrete jungle, half forest in the middle of nowhere. This time, all the accent colors were stone gray, white, and Crayola blue.
The arches were a little rusty and the cement gave off rays of heat like coils in a stove. This part of Texas, he didn’t miss.
“It will be a cool one hundred and two today, so make sure you have water and SPF nine hundred. I’m talking to you, Nick, my boy.”
Nick shifted toward the window and scrunched down in his seat, his chin resting on the cushion as they rolled to the back of the venue. Jazz hopped forward as they parked and did her usual spiel with Joe about the venue and the highlights of the day’s scavenger hunt.
“We’re changing it up today. We’re sending our very delicious, very clever boys out to hide tickets in a few of Dallas’s hot spots. Well, in this freakish weather everything is a hot spot. More details to come as we pick hunting grounds. Happy scavenging!” She flicked through settings and set the video to upload.
The doors to the bus opened, and Gordo in his typical khakis and Oblivion blue polo shirt with their logo on the right breast climbed on. His soft-soled shoes were immaculate and his blond hair had been shellacked into its usual dome. He carried a messenger bag. “Hey, people. I have your scavenger hunt items. Great job with the video, Jazz.”
“How the hell did you see it already?”
“The video hit your Cloud account. Our phones and iPads are linked, remember?”
“How could we forget,” Simon grumbled.
“I sent you itineraries for today. Simon, you have three interviews in the city, so why don’t you go shower and change. Maybe we can do something for the scavenger hunt at the radio channels.” Gordo started typing with his stylus on the iPad.
“There’s a pretty impressive golf course around here, isn’t there?” Deacon asked.
Gordo tapped on his tablet. “Yes, about fifteen minutes away from here.”
Deacon remembered there were a lot of small parks on the edges of Dallas. “I’ll see if I can borrow one of the trucks and take a ride out.”
“Make sure you’re back for soundcheck at—”
“Yeah, yeah. Five as usual.” Deacon checked his watch. That gave him four hours with Harper.
He’d make them count.
Twelve
August 20, 12:00 PM – Storms
“Hello there, Chef Pruitt. Hiding from me?”
She scrunched up her shoulders and turned on the balls of her feet. “Of course not.” She popped up and grinned up at him. Before she could curb the instinct to touch him, she laid her palm on his forearm.
He pulled her around the table and curled an arm around her waist. He bent down to her, nuzzling into the space where her shoulder and neck met. He coasted around the curve of her ear with his nose, then his lips.
She went very still. Just because her bones were turning to taffy didn’t mean she had to show it. Because seriously, who did that to an ear in public. It was just rude.
In the best way ever.
She closed her eyes against the endless tingles from his lips and the light peach fuzz his scruff had become. “Come out with me. Play hooky. Play scavenger hunt with me in Dallas.” She shut her eyes when his lips coasted down the nape of her neck and his hand slid around her waist and under the apron to lightly scratch over her belly. “Come with me.” He nipped at the skin between her shoulder and neck then swirled his tongue around the spot. “Come with me, please.”
“That’s not fair in the least.”
“Who said I had to play fair?” His fingertips dug into her belly and then down into the waistband of her pants. Not all the way, just the tiniest fraction of an inch. “I want time with you today. I missed you last night.”
She rolled her hips because she couldn’t stop herself. God, she was still so wound up from the shower the day before. She hadn’t had a moment alone to even take the edge off. She needed to be able to think, and Deacon’s hands on her caused a whole lot of not thinking to happen.
His fingertips traced the top of her panties. “I can’t tell you how much I want to get my mouth on you.” Dragging her back to his impressive erection was just cruel. Who knew he had such a cruel streak? “All of you. I intend to know exactly how you taste.”
“Crap,” she said under her breath. She reached under and took his hand and dragged him out to the doorway. “Meg, I…”
The head chef was scribbling on a clipboard and didn’t look up. “Get out of here, newbie. I don’t want to see you until tonight.”
“But I have…”
Meg looked up. “If you go out with,” her eyes traveled up to Deacon, “McMuscles here, then you better come back with a big old relaxed grin on your face, capiche?”
“Uh.” Harper wasn’t quite sure what to say to that one.
“I’ll make sure she comes back in a great mood,” Deacon answered for her.
She frowned up at him. “Excuse you?”
Deacon slid an arm around her waist and propelled her out the door. “Playing hooky with permission isn’t quite as fun, but I’ll be sure to make sure we get into extra trouble to make up for it.”
“Where are we going?”
“I need to place one of the scavenger hunt pieces out in Da
llas. I was thinking at one of the parks near a golf course. I saw signs when we were driving in.”
“You do realize it’s over one hundred degrees out there?”
“I used to live in Texas. I can handle it. Can you?”
“I can handle anything you do, buddy.”
“Where’s the car?”
“There.” She pointed to the next row. “We haven’t unhitched it yet.”
“You don’t like making things easy on us, now do you?”
“Where’s the fun in that?” Shamelessly, she watched his biceps and shoulders flex as he detached the rusty hitch.
“Ready?” he asked.
She refocused on his face, blushing when his eyebrow rose. “What?”
“Enjoying yourself?”
She bit her lower lip. “Yeah, kinda. I mean I know I shouldn’t objectify you or anything. I’m sure plenty of women do that, but dang, Deacon…you have freaking rocking body. It’s a little daunting, actually.”
Surprise and that stupid dimple flashed. Seriously, how was she supposed to concentrate when he was so adorable? She was twenty-two years old, not twelve. She could control herself.
“I like when you objectify me. Just means you’re thinking about getting me naked. And getting me naked means I can get you naked. And that is all win.”
She rolled her eyes and threw the keys at him. “Objectify while you drive.”
“I should be keeping my eyes on the road.”
“Yeah well, I don’t have to. So I guess that’s a win-win for me, now isn’t it?” she said and slid into the passenger seat. He flashed her a grin and took a right toward the highway.
She’d never actually seen him do something so normal as drive. The road setting was getting to be all they knew. Stage and backstage, trucks and food carts, and of course, tattoos.
“How’s your back, by the way? I didn’t realize we were leaving so early last night or I would have found you.”
“To put my lotion on? Or just to see me?”
“Lotion, of course.” She couldn’t stop the smile spreading when he smirked.
“Of course.”
“I should have asked before we left, but they had us packed up so fast I didn’t have time to get near you.”
“Jazz took care of me.”
“Oh.” The twinge in her belly was stupid. He’d told her that she was pretty much a sister to him, but the idea of anyone else with their hands on him…
Had she even done it right?
Okay, what the heck? Now she was just being ridiculous. Harper had never had a jealous side before. To be honest, she’d never gotten involved with a guy enough to get jealous before.
So, why was she fantasizing about breaking a certain drummer’s fingers? A drummer she liked plenty under normal circumstances?
She needed her head examined and a reality check. Or was that the same thing? Whatever. She needed both of them because she’d known the man less than a week, and she was becoming a freak.
It had to be the hormones.
All she had to do was have sex with him and get him out of her system. And the sex probably wouldn’t live up to the foreplay anyway. It rarely did. It was the danger of discovery and the fact that they’d been interrupted again and again, that was all. So, they’d get sweaty for twenty minutes and that would be the end of it. Surely.
She reached into her purse and felt around for the trio of condoms she’d stashed in the zipper pocket. She wasn’t going to rely on the too-good-to-be-true nice guy Deacon seemed to be and deny herself again.
Memories of the shower and how close she’d been to doing something stupid told her more than anything else that she needed to step it up.
And if that meant she had to suit him up and take care of business, then that’s what she’d do. For both of them.
Even with the air conditioning blasting, the sun streaming through the windows made him feel like a fried egg. Harper was curled into the passenger seat with her feet up on the dash, leaving a wide expanse of smooth leg that teased him from keeping his eyes on the road.
She was a foot shorter than him, maybe a little more, but the woman was all legs. Lightly muscled and tanned from the wicked summer that was following the bus around like the tail of a comet, she was a California dream. Sun streaked blonde hair was bound in one of her endless braids. But it was her blue eyes that tilted up at the corners that wrecked him.
Secrets and delight seemed to vie for attention there. And he never knew which one was going to be pointed his way. Today seemed to be more on the amused side. With a side of no-mercy that made him so hard, he was having trouble thinking of anything but her and getting her out of those dick-torturing shorts.
She lowered herself in her seat a little more and crossed her legs. With a low groan, he curled his fingers around the steering wheel.
When she grinned and kept her eyes on the road, he knew she was doing it on purpose.
She snaked her hand through her legs and aimed the vents lower, then reached her arms up to grip the back of her headrest. “It’s ridiculously hot, isn’t it?”
Her more-than-a-mouthful breasts pressed against the bright blue tank, and the yellow cups of her bra peeked over the top.
“Keep it up, Harper.”
She slid her gaze over to his lap. “Oh, I intend to.”
“Jesus,” he muttered as he came up too fast on a car in front of them.
“Now, now, Deacon. You should be paying attention to the road, not my legs,” she said, pulling her phone up in front of her face.
He snapped his jaw tight as the traffic backed up to a standstill. And still, Harper calmly flicked through her phone. He reached over to redirect the vent, the back of his knuckles grazing her thigh.
She gave him a side-eye and gasped when he pointed the cold air between her legs.
“You looked a little warm.”
“You really want to start that game, mister?”
He grazed his nails down the back of her thigh. Smooth skin instantly turned to goose bumps. He got to the edge of her short-shorts and made a return trip to her knee.
A small car and long arms were definitely a good combination in this instance. He slid around to the front of her knee and down the inside of her thigh. Her soft gasp made him bolder. The fact that she slid her legs open just a touch wider made him smile.
Getting stuck in traffic didn’t have to totally suck.
Her hand fell to the console between them, her phone thunking into the cup holder. She lifted her right knee to block any curious onlookers in the car beside them.
Permission granted.
He swept the back of his fingers down the length of her thigh. Her breathing stopped as he found where thigh met center then traced his way to her outer thigh. When she blew out a breath, he felt his own lungs hitch.
He shifted to give his strangled cock a little room. He drew circles around the top of her thigh as they moved a few spare car lengths. Intimacy swirled between them. The intricate guitar licks from Keith Urban filled the space. When in Dallas, you got more country than rock. But he didn’t mind.
When her hips lifted and her hand rose to the headrest, he swallowed down the need to dive in and feel the slick wetness he knew would be waiting for him. Soon enough, he’d have her clasping around him.
Well, maybe not soon enough, but it was happening today. He’d raided the bus stash of condoms. Fuck it if he looked like he was expecting too much. He wasn’t going to be holding his blue balls tonight. And from the way she was twisting in her seat, he was pretty sure they were both on the same page.
Patience waning, he palmed her inner thigh and skimmed the edge of her panties. Warm, damp lace greeted him. She tipped her head back, the long line of her vulnerable neck urging him to bury his face in the warmth.
Her sunflower scent swirled in the car along with a more primitive scent that made him want to pull off the road, recline the seat, and drag her knees up to cover his ears.
He wanted he
r taste inside him. Wanted to drown in her and watch her come. He wanted to hear his name on that husky sigh she let out just as she went over.
Settling for the sound, if not the taste, he tucked his fingers under the elastic. And he wasn’t disappointed. She slammed her back into the seat and lifted for him.
Ages of playing the bass and the guitar was damn good practice for taking his time to please a woman. But he didn’t want to fall back on his usual tricks. No, this woman was different. Taking his time to learn the spots that made her writhe, that made her cry out, and the deeper clench of her inner muscles had sweat popping out at his temples and sliding down his neck.
She clutched around his wrist as he slid two fingers inside her. The warm clasp of her inner tissues and her silky arousal had him swearing.
“Fuck, Harper.”
She held him tight inside of her even as the traffic started moving again. Shit, he didn’t want to focus on the road right now.
He wanted to watch his fingers slide inside of her. Instead, he had to rely solely on touch. Curving his fingers deeper, his arm was on fire at the angle and the need to pound inside of her.
Instead, he held still as stone and felt her pulse around him. Her gasping pants filled the car, combating the air conditioner to steam the windows on her side. He held her down, sliding only a fraction of an inch inside of her as he accelerated.
Her nails bit into his skin, and he knew there would be a Harper brand by the end of this trip. But it was worth it. Controlling the edge of her orgasm was a heady experience.
And that control was going to keep him from coming in his goddamn shorts. He blocked out his own need to push her off the edge.
“Deacon McCoy, you are a sadist,” she shouted as she rose off the seat.
“You keep doing that and the businessman to our right is going to go off the road trying to watch.”
“Don’t freaking care,” she panted. “I’m so close. So—” she screamed out a growl as the flat of where his finger met his palm found her clit and slowly circled her.
