by Cari Quinn
“That song wasn’t meant for collaboration. Especially not with you.” Jointly writing a sex song for Jazz veered into weird-as-fuck territory.
For the first time since he’d arrived, Nick smiled. It was more of a smirk, but for Nick, it might as well have been a beaming grin. “If you didn’t want to offer it up, you shouldn’t have been fiddling with it when we’re supposed to be coming up with material for the album. Besides, this has single potential.”
Gray swallowed his protests. “You think so?”
“Hell yeah. Simon will be all over this. I’ll prove it to you.” He pulled out his cell and started typing, probably inputting some of the lyrics from Gray’s song.
It didn’t take long for Nick’s phone to light up with text after text. Nick read them silently, his smirk deepening. “Yep. Simon’s on board,” he said, tucking his phone away.
Gray gripped his knees and leaned forward. “Really? What did he say?”
“He wondered why it took us so long to write an ode to eating pussy.” Nick tossed the notebook back at Gray. “By the way, ‘Sugar Kiss.’”
Gray was too busy scanning the changes Nick had made to the song to hear him at first. They weren’t bad. Actually, he’d refined some of what Gray had come up with on his own, tightening it up and making it pop. He’d also reorganized a couple of lines, but it was still Gray’s song. Just better.
Then he blinked as Nick’s last words sunk in. “’Sugar Kiss?’ Christ, that’s perfect.”
Nick grinned. “Helps when you have some familiarity with the subject matter.”
Gray was about to grin back when he realized Nick definitely did—particularly with Jazz. His throat went tight but he shook it off, focusing on the words in front of him.
That didn’t matter anymore. Nick and Jazz were ancient history. She was his now.
“Thanks, man. This is great.”
Nick shrugged. “It’s your song. It was all there. Awesome stuff.”
“Yeah, but I couldn’t pull it all together. I’m rusty.”
He’d let too many things go the last few months. Songwriting had always been one of his favorite things yet he hadn’t done it seriously since last summer. He’d lost the last few months in a blur of self-loathing and white powder.
No longer. He had plenty of reasons to get his head in the present and stop dwelling on the past. Jazz. The band.
Jazz.
Nick grabbed the guitar he’d leaned against the side of his chair. “That didn’t read rusty to me. Now let’s see what you’ve got on the rhythm side.”
Gray dragged his guitar into his lap and started to strum his way through the chord progression he’d come up with between texts from his source of inspiration. “Here’s what I’ve got so far.”
Nick listened for a couple of minutes, joining in with him and adding an extra layer to the melody. He started to sing the lyrics, growled, and dug out his pencil again and the newspaper off the side table. “I can’t work without paper. I can’t just spin off notes in my head. That’s what Simon does.”
“I used to be able to do that,” Gray said, rubbing his thumb over a scuff mark on his Epiphone.
Before the coke. Before the last few years. Just…before.
“Useful skill to have,” Nick said at length. “Okay. Let’s run through it again. From the top.”
Twenty-One
Then
Jazz covered her mouth to contain her laughter. “I can’t believe we’re doing this.”
“Shh. Gotta be quiet. We have an hour before they’re due up yet.” Gray stopped in front of the rarely used fireplace—they weren’t often necessary in Southern California—and shoved his arm inside. He fumbled around. “Damn. Nothing. Last year this was a sure bet.”
It had been a couple of weeks since the party at the Feldmans’ house, and she and Gray hadn’t mentioned it since. She hadn’t brought up partying again. It would be too weird to go with him to a get-together when they weren’t a couple. So she contented herself with playing her music—and lusting after a sweet, sexy boy she would never, ever have.
“You search for your presents every year? Why not just wait?”
Gray dusted off his blackened hands and shook his head. “Must I explain everything to you? There’s a certain way we do things in the Duffy household. Since Brent and I were kids, we always snuck around and found our presents early. Now you’re my partner in crime.”
She shrugged in spite of the belly tingles his words caused. You’re my partner in crime. “Seems like a lot of work when you’re going to get them soon enough.”
“Didn’t you ever look for yours?”
Jazz scratched her bare toes over the back of her calf. It was hard not to squirm when Gray looked at her like that, his intense gray gaze probing into her head to ferret out all of her secrets. “I didn’t really get that many,” she hedged. “Especially after Molly came around.”
“Yeah. I saw her picture in your room. She’s cute.”
Jazz nodded, smiling at the memory of the tiny blonde girl with huge blue eyes. “Everyone thinks that. Mama wanted to get her into modeling.”
“Huh. I can see why. But she’s not half as pretty as you,” he said, turning away to poke at the leather ottoman.
His careless compliments always made her blush and now was no different. While his back was turned, she flapped her hands at her cheeks to try to dispel the heat coming off her face. “You need to get your eyes checked.”
“I see just fine. Now come over here and help me feel around under this chair.”
She scrambled to help. “Under the chair?”
“Sure. These recliners have a spot near the back where there’s just space. Dad hid my new video game console in here last year.” He tossed her a grin and went back to his task.
She knelt on the opposite side of the chair and began fumbling around underneath like he was, feeling more than a little dumb. “I’m not finding—” Her fingers bumped his and he gripped them, curling them into his warm, dry palm. She swallowed, expecting him to let go right away.
He didn’t.
“Hey there,” she said, voice shaky. She couldn’t believe how good even this kind of abbreviated hand-holding with Gray felt. “Don’t think my hand counts as one of your presents.”
“Hmm. Don’t know about that.” He finally let her go and emerged from the other side of the chair. “Gimme your hand back. I think you need a palm reading.”
“A what?” She laughed and tucked her fist into her side, strangely afraid to give it back. Her heart was beating so fast she knew he must be able to hear it.
“A palm reading. I’m about to predict your future. Now give me your hand.”
She held it out and tried not to shudder when he cupped it with one of his. He used the index finger of his other hand to draw a line down the middle of her palm and nodded thoughtfully. “Yes. Just as I suspected.”
“You can actually see something?” She bent her head toward his, peering at her palm. “I just see—”
“Jazz.”
The urgency in his voice made her glance upward. Her pulse jackhammered in her head as he leaned forward, his mouth a whisper away. His eyes even closer. All that hot, misty gray. She’d happily drown there.
“There you are,” his mother said from the doorway, causing them to break apart as guiltily as if they’d been caught half-naked. “Your father had to go into the office early today to wrap up some—” All at once she seemed to pick up on the strange vibe in the air, along with the fact that they were both half hidden by the hulking recliner. “What’re you two up to?” Mistrust had crept into her voice and lined the fine-boned face so much like her son’s. Gray’s features were more rugged, but there was no doubt they were related.
There was also no doubting the disapproval that fell around her like a coat she’d worn too many times before. Not with Jazz. Never with Jazz.
Until now.
“Nothing.” Gray squeezed Jazz’s hand and set it back i
n her lap, as casually as could be. “Just showing Jazz how you and Dad try to outwit Brent and me every year with your creative hiding places. Luckily we can’t be schooled.”
Jazz remained where she was as Gray walked around the chair to talk to his mom. She shut her eyes and drew in a deep breath. Now she knew Mrs. Duffy didn’t want her anywhere near her son, at least not like that. Jazz couldn’t blame her. Mrs. Duffy had been an amazing foster mother so far, a million times better than any other she’d ever had, but expecting her to be okay with her precious son taking up with someone like Jazz—if he’d even been about to kiss her, which might’ve been just her overactive imagination—was asking for way too much.
She was lucky Mrs. Duffy had taken her in at all. And it was time for her to stop asking for more when she already had so much.
After sucking in another breath, she emerged from beyond the chair and smiled her brightest smile. If it killed her, no one would ever know when her heart was breaking. She’d promised herself that years ago on the first night her mama hadn’t come home, leaving her all alone while Mama spent the night at her boyfriend’s with Molly. No one would see her cry anything but happy tears.
“Do I smell blueberry pancakes?” she asked, walking forward to give Mrs. Duffy a quick hug as she always did in the morning.
“You do. Never can hide anything from you.” Mrs. Duffy flicked her nose and smiled, her momentary displeasure from earlier all but gone. Her eyes were still wary, as if she didn’t know what to think of her anymore.
She’d overstepped her bounds. Again.
You’re nothing but a fucking slut, Jazz. I can’t even trust you around Jacob. That’s why I don’t bring you with Molly to his place. You try to tease him with those tits of yours.
Though Jazz’s smile wavered, she managed not to shrink back behind Gray. She’d just have to try harder, that was all. She’d do more chores and do better in school. If she didn’t give up, perhaps one day Mrs. Duffy would love her where her own mother hadn’t.
Most importantly, she would stay far away from Gray.
Twenty-Two
Now
Jazz knocked on Gray’s closed window, her heart throbbing with anticipation. The bubbling of the hot tub behind her didn’t help calm her pulse rate. Had he or Nick been using the Jacuzzi earlier? Was that why the colorful spotlights and the jets were still on? Or was it for them?
Warm hands slipped over her head to cover her eyes. “You’re late.”
She shuddered at the thrill of having his hard body pressed to her back. “We were in the zone.”
“Oh yeah? Tell me about it later.”
“Why?” she teased. “Got something else in mind?”
“Maybe.” He brushed his erection against her ass and slid his hands down to her breasts. “Maybe I’m in a hurry to get back in your zone.”
“By all means.” She turned and wrapped her arms around his neck, attacking his mouth with fifteen hours of pent-up need. She sucked his tongue between her lips and pushed her breasts into his chest, making sure he didn’t doubt for a second how much she’d missed him.
“Mmm.” He squeezed her ass and ground his cock into her belly. “I want to be in all of your zones at once. How am I supposed to pick?”
“You can have any of them in any order you’d like.” She trailed her fingers down his muscled torso and toyed with his zipper. Damn shame that tonight he was wearing a shirt and jeans, but that just gave her more clothing to enjoy taking off him. “All-access pass.”
“I like the sound of that.” He hauled her up in his arms and she wrapped her legs around his waist as he carried her across the deck to the hot tub. “Kick off your shoes.”
The gleam in his eyes made her dart a nervous glance over her shoulder. “Uh, Gray…”
He was already reaching behind himself to help her get them off. Luckily she’d only worn slingbacks tonight and not those crazy boots of Harper’s. “Don’t Gray me. You’re on my turf. We play by my rules.”
Amusement had her lifting her chin as he pulled off one of her shoes then the other. “Oh yeah? Is that so?”
“It’s completely so.” He dipped his head to bite her nipple through her top and she let out a moan. “If you’re good, I’ll sing you the song I wrote for you while I fuck you.”
She couldn’t stop the shiver. “You’re in some mood tonight.”
“Oh, you have no idea. It’s almost like I’m an all new man.” Stopping at the side of the hot tub, he cocked an eyebrow. “Want kind of underwear you got on under there, sugar?”
Already whipping out the sugar nickname. Damn. “Take a guess.”
Apparently that was the wrong time to play coy, because he dumped her into the Jacuzzi, laughing uproariously while she squealed and sputtered. “I’d rather see for myself.” He feinted left to avoid her wildly splashing hands, lifting his head only to proclaim, “Pink bra, huh? I approve.”
“Gray Duffy, you are so dead,” she shrieked, whipping her sopping shirt over her head and throwing it. He took the hit square in the chest, still laughing.
She couldn’t help laughing too as she removed her soaked skirt and panties as fast as possible and dumped them on the deck. Then she moved to his side of the hot tub and grabbed the waistband of his jeans to drag him close for a hot, wet kiss. “I fucking hate you,” she breathed between kisses.
“Liar. You know you love me.” He didn’t give her time to reply before he undid the clasp of her bra and filled his hands with her slick breasts. “And I love you. And these.” He ducked his head and slipped his mouth over her nipple, drawing it against the roof of his mouth. “God. I’ve missed you today. I couldn’t wait to get my hands on you again.”
She wove her fingers into his hair and tipped back her head to smile up at the ceiling of stars. It felt like they were shining straight onto her. Through her. “We have a lot of time to make up for.”
“We do. But we have forever to catch up.”
He stepped back long enough to shuck his shirt and jeans then joined her in the hot tub. It took him all of five seconds to pull her on his lap and another five to slip inside her. She gasped at the sudden shock of his intrusion before the brief sting dulled into pleasurable fullness. She gripped his shoulders and rose up experimentally, sinking down again with a moan that he echoed in her ear.
“You feel perfect.” He bit her lobe. “Like you’re mine.”
She’d never wanted anything more. “Yes,” she whispered, fearing her voice would crack if she tried to speak any louder. She toyed with his eyebrow ring, riveted by the sight of his gorgeous face transformed by the same passion that was blossoming inside her. “You’re mine too.”
“I always have been.” He grabbed her hand and kissed the tips of her fingers, the center of her palm, the inside of her wrist. “You own me. So…”
She rose up again and slid down, searching for the perfect angle to rub her piercing against him to generate more friction. She gasped as she found it, then swiveled her hips as she made the trip back up his erection. “So…” she repeated, licking the side of his neck. His skin tasted salty and he smelled like a different soap. This one held hints of cinnamon, like Red Hots. She brushed her nose along his jaw, inhaling greedily, desperate for all of his scents and flavors.
“I was going to ask…what…you planned to…do with me, but I think I know. Ahh, fuck. That feels incredible.”
“I can’t believe I’m here, doing this with you. That it’s you, and we’re— God.” She pressed her knees into his hips and rose up higher, letting her head fall back again as he sipped the water trailing off her nipples. His tongue swirled up over her breast, drawing erotic patterns, while he pumped inside her in long, deep strokes. He didn’t rush, just applied that same focused attention he used for practicing guitar on playing her body.
“I can’t get enough of you.” He pulled her down and rubbed his thumb over her piercing, strumming her flesh as if he had lifetimes to make her come. He latched his mouth on her
shoulder, nibbling his way across and up her neck. “Ah, baby, squeeze me, just like that. I want you all over me.”
She rocked upward, losing herself in the heated bubbles frothing around her and the penetrating glides of his cock. His hands bracketed her spine, giving her the support to move, to drive them both wild as she dropped backward, trailing her hair through the water. She clamped down tight, her eyes closing from sheer bliss. She nearly bucked out of his hold when he adjusted his grip on her to tweak her swollen clit. Two flicks and she was squirming and panting, on the verge of an explosive orgasm.
“God. I can’t come this fast.” She tried to shimmy away from his questing fingers. “You’ll break me before sunrise.”
He chuckled at her evasive tactics and jostled her on his lap, lifting her and driving into her until she couldn’t hold back her moan. “That’s what I want. That sound, just like that.” He ran his tongue down her throat, sliding over her stampeding pulse. “I wanna hear you scream.”
“But Nick—”
She realized her mistake at the flash in his eyes. He knotted his hand in her hair and powered into her again, spreading his legs so that she dangled off him into the water. It rushed around her ears, as relentless as the pulsing in her core.
“He doesn’t exist for us,” he murmured against her breasts, speaking just loudly enough for her to hear him. “This is only about you and me.” When she only whimpered, he brushed his thumb along where they were joined, teasing her with a hint of contact. “And if he hears, then maybe he’ll know that you’re mine. I don’t share.”
She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t speak under his renewed onslaught. All she could do was wrap her slippery fingers around his tensed forearm and hold on for dear life. She braced her feet on the wraparound bench he sat on, levering up to give him more room to thrust. The nerve endings he scraped on every stroke created a whirling need inside her that matched the pumping jets that surrounded them. She finally stopped trying to fight her orgasm, giving in on a long, shuddering moan.
