The stage had been a heady mix of terror and elation. It was exactly how he felt with Harper. Terror that she was going to slip away, and elation that he’d found her.
He wanted to hold both of them tonight until the memory was fused to him like his tattoo. Without words, they hiked the asphalt hill cut into the beauty that was Red Rock.
The bus was dark, just the running lights up the middle on so they didn’t kill themselves when they got back. Joe was gone, enjoying the show as the rest of them would.
Her fingers tightened on his as they went deeper into the bus. The swish of a curtain and thud of shoes surprised him. “Who’s here?”
A sliver of light cut through the piles of laundry strewn across the floor as someone came out of the bathroom. “Gray.”
“You bunking down?” Deacon tried to push the disappointment out of his voice. He lived with four other people. He couldn’t be pissed if they wanted time on the bus.
But he wasn’t like Simon. He didn’t want an audience tonight. At least for a little while.
“Nah, just wanted to get cleaned up a little. I’m going out to listen to Mumford.”
“That’s going to be a killer set, I bet.”
Gray’s eyes glittered in the near darkness. “There’s always another show, not always another girl.”
Harper slid her fingers around his forearm. “Hi, Gray.”
“Chef girl.”
Deacon felt her smile against his skin. He pulled her in front of him and rested his chin on her head. “Think you can send out the all good for a few hours?”
Gray bounced on the balls of his feet. Adrenaline must still be spiking through him. It was hard to shut off after a show. Emptying some of that tension into Harper had helped, but he already felt it welling inside him again. “You got it, Deak.”
And just like that, they were alone. Deacon kicked the worst of the laundry away from his bunk. He didn’t want guy funk ruining what little alone time they could wrangle. He held up a finger and leaned into the bathroom for the jar candle Jazz had bought.
He lit it and set it on the small storage bin built into the space next to the bathroom door. The flicker of flame and scent of clean sheets banished the shadows and let him imagine a better scenario for them, a room just for them instead of a cramped bus. Candlelight suited Harper. Her sunny hair glinted in the low light and the sweep of her lashes hid her blue eyes.
She stood in front of him, lifted the bottom of her shirt, and dropped it to the floor. Next came her skirt and then her bra. He watched the firelight accentuate the high rise of her ribs, the blush pink tip of perfect breasts, the curve of her shoulder, the little point at the end of her chin.
He sucked in a breath as she lifted her hands to cup her breasts, then trailed the tips of her fingers over her ribs to the flair of her hips. She slowly rolled down her panties and flicked them into the pile she’d made.
She stepped forward and did the same to him. Gliding fingers and unhurried movements were exactly what the night required. Maybe she knew it, too.
She knelt at his feet, pulling one foot and then the other out of the cluster of denim and shoes. The light rake of her nails followed up his calves to the back of his knees and around to his inner thigh.
His cock stood proud in the candlelight, already stiff to the point of aching. He hissed as she nuzzled along the underside of his shaft. A tiny flick of her wet tongue pushed him too close to the edge.
He couldn’t have her mouth around him right now. Tonight needed to be about her. Finally, he had a moment where he didn’t have to hurry, didn’t have to watch out for interruptions or storms, and he certainly didn’t have to curb his needs.
He twined his fingers in hers before she could circle his cock. Being at her mercy would put a halt to his plans. He pulled her to her feet, shuffled her back to his bunk, and rolled her inside.
She opened her mouth, but he shushed her with a finger to her lips. He leaned up over her and flicked on his ancient iPod in its docking station. The lilting guitars were a welcome backdrop.
Taking care to seduce Harper was another new experience. He curled his arm under her and settled her down in the bunk. Her hair fanned across his pillow and her feline eyes were steady on him.
He brushed a kiss across her forehead, over each closed eyelid, her cheeks, and hovered over her mouth. Each time she breathed out, he took it deep into his lungs.
He nudged her thighs open, groaning at her softness surrounding him. His hard cock pressed into her soft belly, his chest into her generous breasts, and finally his forearms braced around her arms.
For a moment, he simply rested against her. Her eyes were open and ridiculously blue. Like the channel of water that lapped against the beaches of Galveston, they were deep and crystal clear. She watched him as he kissed her.
Her even breath shuddered lightly just before she surrendered. He deepened the kiss, exploring her with a patience he didn’t think he had inside him. A lazy slide of tongues and the sweet nip of teeth over lips heated his blood slowly. She shifted restlessly under him, her fingertips grazing over his back lightly.
He scraped his teeth over her chin and down the column of her throat. He felt the flutter of her pulse under his tongue as he sucked there. She hissed as he nipped just a little harder. The bright bloom of red would be a bruise.
In return, her nails went from skim to score on his ribs. He rose over her, dragging his chest hair over her smooth skin. The heated tips of her breasts burned his skin. He moved down to capture a tip, sucking deeply.
She hiked her thigh up over his hip until the head of his cock slid through her wetness. It took everything inside him not to slide in and feel her clasp around him. The memory of her mouth around his cock, the warm wetness, and her incessant suction made his hips flex.
Her hand slid down to his ass, fingernails scoring there, too. No matter how she nipped and bit into him, he would give her gentleness tonight. She revved him up, twisted him into mindless knots, but not tonight.
Tonight, she’d be the one that had to accept the sweet and the loving. He’d show her more than just the sex between them. There was more brewing inside him, more that he wanted to share with her.
And none of that included running head on into traffic. There was a time and place for the wild, careening ride over the cliff. He wanted to give her the soft. He wanted to give her everything.
Compelling and scary as fuck, but the emotions wouldn’t be denied. They bubbled up his throat, demanding a release. No matter how much she wanted to ignore that side of them, he knew it was waiting inside him.
Her hands moved to his hair, twisting at the root to hold him tighter as he tasted the delicate underside of her breast and breathed over the raspberry red tips. Golden skin and a banquet of flushed pink skin glowed softly in the flickering shadows of his bunk.
He couldn’t wait to taste all of her.
He moved lower, his feet crowding at the bottom of the bunk as he coasted over her ribs to the shallow concave of her belly. She twisted his hair harder to pull him back up.
He didn’t listen. He simply drew in her scent as he brushed his nose across the tiny triangle of hair above her pussy. She smelled of outdoors, of sex, of sunshine, and of him. He grazed his lips over the peach soft skin and into the hollow where thigh met center. He pressed his cheek against her thigh, rubbing his beard across the sensitive skin then sucking on the skin there. Another mark in that sweet, sweet flesh. She arched off his mattress.
Opening her wide, he flicked the tip of his tongue into the lingering wetness and then went for her other thigh. He lightly scraped his nails over the tissue-fine skin before returning to her center.
Raspberry, flushed lips matched her nipples and her mouth. Fuck, she was so incredibly perfect. Saliva pooled in his mouth. He wanted her taste on his tongue. He locked his gaze with hers as he sealed his lips over her. He hooked his arms around her thighs and held her there for him.
A deep intake of brea
th and the most amazing moan shuddered through her and buzzed under his tongue. The need to give and take from her until she was screaming urged him faster, but he forced himself to slow.
He didn’t want that beast in bed with them now. He just wanted her. Even when every instinct burned in his chest to push her for more, he eased back and licked lightly. Earthy sweetness bloomed, and he drank from her.
She pushed a lock of hair away from his face and gently tucked it behind his ear. Her eyes were lake blue, dark with a mellow sort of happiness he’d never seen before. Loathe to pull his mouth away from her, he dug deeper. High on the taste of her, he licked lazily.
When her chin tipped up and her back arched, he reached up to palm her breast. He brought his thumb into play, keeping her clit hard as he plucked lightly at one nipple and then the other. Writhing beneath him, she made soft little sounds that would forever be etched into his memory.
And through it all, there were no words. Just her moans and sighs and a Candlebox song that was never leaving his playlist. Ever. She slapped the roof of his bunk, and a strangled moan shuddered through her body.
Finally, he couldn’t hold back any longer. He slid up her body and unearthed the condoms he kept stuffed in the corner of his bunk. Someday, he wouldn’t need a barrier between them. He promised himself then and there that someday, she’d be the first person he slid inside bare.
For now, he would take all that she had to give. And when he plunged inside her, she closed around him—legs, arms, cheek to cheek, until there was nothing between them but skin. He slowly rolled his hips into the welcoming warmth of her. They moved as one. Sinewy, pale gold skin and sweat, lips heavy with murmured sighs, and Harper clasping him so tight.
In her arms is where he was meant to be. And the chaos in his mind ebbed and flowed with lust and the heady first blush of emotion. She filled him up, made him ache, and when her surrender came this time, it was soft and sweet.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
August 23, 3:23 AM - Bus Full of Idiots
Harper woke to find herself draped over a heater. The candle had snuffed itself out sometime between orgasm one and eight. Sweet Pete, Deacon knew just how to bulldoze a woman.
Not just any woman.
She rubbed her nose into his chest at that thought. Hair dusted his pecs, alternately tickling her and making her want to slide back down and sleep for another dozen hours. As muscular as he was, he was insanely comfy at the same time.
His wide palm slid up her back, fitting her even closer to his side as he tangled their legs together with a soft moan. This was where she promised herself she wouldn’t end up.
Cozy and intimate.
She was supposed to have fun and then get back to work. But everything inside her wanted to stay right here. The fact that she’d gotten a solid block of rest in between the eye-crossing orgasms was a miracle.
Sleeping with a man had never been her forte. She liked her space—heck, she needed her space. She had a whole system of pillow and sheet ratios with a particular playlist she had to listen to. And maybe she’d get three hours.
Ten minutes horizontal with Deacon, when he wasn’t strumming her flesh like a bass, and she’d been unconscious. Un-freaking-heard of.
“I can’t believe we got to jam with them. When does that ever fucking happen?”
“At Red Rocks.”
Her head popped up. Crap. Harper tugged the sheet that had twisted under Deacon’s hip, but it didn’t budge. She poked his chest. “Hey,” she whispered urgently.
“Dude, you fucking missed it!”
Double crap. They were coming down the hallway. Probably to tell Deacon whatever story had them all riled up at—she glanced at her watch—three in the morning. She couldn’t tell whose voice was whose, but two men—probably Nick and Simon, as she was pretty sure Gray was a mute—were just outside Deacon’s bunk.
When Deacon didn’t move, she poked him again. He grunted and hauled her up on his hip until she was splayed across his chest like the sheet she was freaking missing. The curtain snapped back and she shrieked, shrinking back to push Deacon on his side.
“Oh, shit. Sorry.”
“Simon,” Deacon growled.
Harper peeked over Deacon’s shoulder. Thank God they were so damn wide. Simon tried to peer over his shoulder, but Harper snatched up the sheet that was finally free.
“Damn,” Simon said with an unapologetic smile. He stood up and leaned against the wall beside the bathroom. “You missed it. We fucking jammed with Mumford and Son at the after show party.”
“No shit?” Deacon sat up, nudity not an issue for him obviously. The flex of muscles along his back distracted her into trailing her fingers over his shoulder and following the fluid lines of his shoulder blade to spine.
She tried to pull her attention away from him. For God’s sake, she’d tasted every inch of his body, and still her lips tingled at the thought of kissing down each vertebrae.
Her gaze darted back to Nick as he leaned against the corner of the wall that connected the back of the bus with the kitchen area. Evidently it was group chat time. “It was unreal. They can play like a dozen instruments apiece.”
Jazz came down the aisle with her wild hair scooped on top of her head and her makeup smudged. Delight shined in her bright blue eyes. “I learned how to fiddle.”
Deacon grabbed his pants from the floor and quickly pulled them up. She couldn’t stop her eyes from drifting down his tattoo to the tight muscles of his ass and thighs. The man was a damn temple of sin in skin. Unreal.
He turned to her with one of his t-shirts in hand. His eyebrow winged up at her obvious perusal of his body. His gold and green eyes heated, and she wished the bus was empty again. She leaned forward and scraped her teeth over his lower lip before snatching the shirt away from him.
She turned his shoulders so he blocked her from Simon’s roaming eyes. Nick was staring at the ceiling, and Jazz was completely unaffected.
She dropped the t-shirt over her head and decided he wasn’t getting the shirt back right then and there. Toad the Wet Sprocket pulled tight across her boobs—the suckers really were too big if she could fill out Deacon’s shirt—but the ultra-soft material slid down and covered her thighs.
He turned and grinned. “Worth the boob prints in my shirt when it looks like that.”
“My shirt now, buddy.”
His grin bloomed into a full-on smile. With dimple. Evil freaking man. “Anything you want is yours.”
She shifted her eyes to her lap. Somehow that statement felt like it was about more than his shirt. She cleared her throat. “I’ll just get my stuff and go.”
His long fingers curled over hers. “Stay.”
She looked up again. This wasn’t her place. This was the band bus, and they were obviously winding up to talk for a while. Food Riot’s bus would be pulling out at eight, and if she was really lucky, she could get another few hours’ sleep.
He leaned in, catching her mouth in a soft, unhurried kiss. Nothing deep, just a brush of his lips against hers. “Stay,” he breathed into her mouth. “I liked having you next to me when I sleep.”
She cupped his cheek, sliding her thumb along the scruff that was on its way to a full blown beard.
“Stay.”
She nodded. “Do you have a pair of boxers or something?”
“They’ll be too big on you. Maybe you can wear one of Jazz’s—”
“Oh honey, I wouldn’t fit into anything Jazz wore.”
He grinned. “Her yoga stuff stretches. And man, you’d look good in some of the stuff she wears for that.”
Her thighs and hips were about two sizes bigger than Jazz. “Doubtful. Unless you find muffin tops sexy.”
He slid his hand under the sheet and palmed his way across her belly to her hip. “No muffin tops that I can feel.”
“I volunteer to double check.”
As if just realizing Simon was there behind him, Deacon turned back around. “Shut it.”
Harper’s eyebrows rose. She shouldn’t be surprised. The entire group was very familiar with each other on the bus, and especially during the scavenger hunts. The thought of Simon’s lighter skin trailing over Deacon’s tanned flesh as they curled around a woman made her swallow.
Did they do more than share?
He slid his hand down her thigh. “Sorry about that.” Deacon stood and pulled a pair of boxer briefs from his little cubby. “These okay?”
She nodded and accepted them, wiggling into them under the covers. When she rolled onto her knees, she caught the look in his eyes. Intense. Hot. Filled with intent.
“That’s way hotter than it should be.”
She looked down at the black shorts with the front opening that gaped a little. The same material that had cupped his long, hard cock. She could imagine slipping her hands into the slit and pulling him free. The smooth shaft with its tongue-worthy head that was so very sensitive. And the vein that pulsed along the underside as if it was a direct line to his heavy balls.
“You’re a menace.”
She looked up, sliding her hand over the front with a little smile.
Nick’s eyebrow winged up, but he didn’t say anything, just did an about face and walked to the front of the bus. He nodded to Gray, who was silently crawling into his bunk.
Jazz grabbed Harper’s hands and pulled her off the bunk. She couldn’t tell if Jazz was oblivious to the crackle between her and Deacon, or if she was simply ignoring it. “I’m so glad you’re with Deacon. He’s such a good guy.”
“Not with the hard sell, huh, Pix,” Deacon said with a sigh.
“I’m not. But seriously, he’s the best of us. He deserves to have a nice girl in his life. He’s been lonely.”
“Jazz,” he warned again.
“What?” Jazz slipped her arm through Harper’s and tugged her to the bus’s outer area. “Am I saying anything that’s not true?”
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