Wait (Bleeding Stars #4)

by A. L. Jackson

  He sat back on his knees, his striking face bold in the shadows. Mesmerizing. Breathtaking.

  My back arched, my body instinctively begging for his touch.

  Slowly, he tugged at the button of my shorts, watching my reaction. The sound of the zipper rang in the air. A rush of palpitations scattered through my heart.

  Oh God.

  I felt so nervous.

  So alive.

  I lifted my hips an inch off his mattress. Every part of me shook as he slowly peeled my shorts and panties down my legs.

  His voice was hoarse. Both rough and soft. “I can’t wait to be inside of you. To feel this body beneath mine.”

  That voice dipped, coated with slow seduction. “Can’t wait for my cock to be buried so deep neither of us knows where one of us starts and the other begins. To make you mine. I promise you, I won’t be giving you back.”

  It was almost too much when he grazed the tips of his fingers between my legs, barely touching all those places I was dying for him to be.

  “Take me.” It was all a throaty mumble.

  He slid off the bed, shed the rest of his clothes. Energy bounded from the walls. Dense and deep. Dark like this boy.

  Every inch of him was smooth, muscled perfection, the ink etched into his skin a work of art, so much like his body.

  He moved across the room. The defined curve of his ass made my throat close up and my thighs clench tight. Desire wobbled like a top in the lowest part of my stomach.

  His body was flawless.

  Exquisite.

  Meant for me.

  He grabbed a box of condoms from the drawer in his desk. He turned back, affection playing at his mouth when he gazed down at me as he approached.

  Be careful with me.

  He climbed back between my quaking thighs, his eyes never leaving mine as he covered his thick length.

  Trembles rocked me like a landslide.

  “You’re shaking,” he said, smoothing his hands from my knees to my hips, cinching around my waist.

  An unsteady smile breached my swollen lips. “Because you make me shake.”

  He groaned and crawled over me. Caging me in. Shrouding and protecting. My safety. My haven.

  He rocked against me. The tip of his cock brushed my belly as his mouth brushed across my lips.

  Shivers rushed, free and fast, skating across my skin.

  “And we’re barely getting started on this journey that’s never gonna end.”

  He nipped at my chin. At the cap of my shoulder. The top swell of my breast. “I’m going to love you forever. Touch this body every night. Kiss these lips every morning.”

  I fell a little further.

  Every inch afire, my nerves zinging and my heart rate careening out of control.

  He would be my ruin.

  My utter demise.

  My chaotic, blissful end.

  This boy who’d finally let me all the way into the deepest part of his soul.

  And I was letting him into mine.

  “Make love to me. Please.”

  Austin shifted, and I released another shudder of anxiety, my body wracked with pent-up need and old fears I was so ready to let go. He held onto his cock at the base, aligned himself with me.

  He ran just the tip through my center.

  Testing. Teasing.

  I moaned a wispy, “Yes,” and bowed from the bed. Begging with my fingers that clawed at his shoulders.

  Austin pushed into me. Not even an inch. But deep enough to knock me from my foundation. Deep enough to send a stampede of emotion galloping through my senses, my heart a thunder and my ears a roar.

  All singing his name.

  Love. Love. Love.

  His jaw clenched, ticked in restraint. “Are you okay?” he gritted, and I forced his bare chest to mine.

  Our skin tinder.

  The contact a match.

  I lifted my hips. “Take me.”

  He sucked in a breath and filled me in a long, hard stroke.

  Fire.

  I cried out against the stunning intrusion, breath stolen and body full.

  So, so full.

  It felt like the boy was touching me everywhere, taking me whole.

  His.

  Austin wrapped me up in those strong arms, his weight on his elbows, his fingers in my hair. He rocked his hips, the measured thrusts slow and sure.

  Deep and demanding.

  Edged in anguish. Rimmed in hope.

  He fucked me.

  Saved me.

  Adored me.

  Pulling pleasure.

  Again and again.

  Higher and higher.

  His pants grew harsh, and I clawed at his back.

  The threat of utter euphoria shivered through my body. It lifted and spun, a tightening inside that propelled me to another plane. Where the stars met water. Where the worlds became one.

  Where shadows and light became color and darkness grew thick.

  Where all sense was lost except for the feeling that you were one with something greater than you.

  At one with a love that had brought me here.

  One that lifted me from the depths and somehow held me under.

  Where I drowned in his darkness and that storm blistered and blew and overthrew.

  I gasped and hurried to meet each of his wild thrusts as his rhythm grew reckless.

  I struggled for the air I couldn’t find.

  Because each breath belonged to him.

  Darkness and light.

  Life and death. Energy spun and spun and spun.

  A rolling storm.

  Pleasure wound.

  Furious.

  Unrelenting.

  Austin gasped, and pulled almost completely out, my body begging for his return. He slammed back into me.

  The last of that dangling thread split.

  Shredded.

  Lights flashed at warp speed.

  Blinding, total bliss.

  Austin roared.

  Roared my name as he twitched and jerked, his orgasm my own.

  I whimpered as beauty spread. Saturating every cell.

  Two souls taken by the unending storm.

  He slumped down on top of me, his hands restless as they brushed through my hair, his face buried in my neck.

  “Edie, fuck. I love you. I’ll never hurt you. Whatever you want, I’ll give it to you. It’s yours. You are my light.”

  He dropped his forehead to mine, and an intense peace fell over me when he set a big hand on my face while we both panted for the nonexistent air. He swallowed hard, his heart manic where it pounded against my chest. He pressed his lips to mine, keeping them still, just the hint of a kiss as he breathed me in.

  Life.

  His eyes squeezed close, and the words flooded the room, almost pained.

  “Do you feel that?”

  “What?”

  “Me.”

  I caressed his twisted brow. “I’ve always felt you.”

  He exhaled, wrapped me up, and rolled us to our sides. We lay in the middle of his bed, tangled.

  “Sing to me…the way you used to,” I murmured into the calm, the relentless guilt that chased us both sated to a simmer.

  Wrapping us in a cloak of security.

  A blanket of darkness.

  Austin…

  This beautifully broken boy.

  He sang me my song.

  Firelight.

  And I knew. I would forever burn for him.

  I framed her face in my hands.

  Kissing her.

  She was on her tiptoes.

  Trying to get closer.

  The way she always did.

  I fucking loved it.

  Loved that it seemed like she couldn’t get enough.

  Like she couldn’t get close enough. Couldn’t get deep enough. Couldn’t get touched enough.

  I was all too eager to sign up for the task.

  My chest pressed full with that emotion that gripped me every time she
was near.

  Joy.

  I could feel her smiling under my mouth.

  Damn, I loved that, too.

  “I need to go.”

  “Why?” I said with a pout. Because hell. If this was your girl? You’d pout, too.

  She giggled. “Um…there’s this little thing called work. You know…pays the bills and the rent?”

  “There’s also this little thing called staying in bed…making love to my girl. All day.”

  She groaned a throaty sound. “Don’t tempt me.”

  “Funny, ’cause that’s all you do.” My voice lowered. “Tempt me.”

  “Mmm…well, as tempting as staying in bed with you all day sounds, I really have to go. Cash register won’t run itself, and I’m not sure Heidi is qualified to hold down the shop by herself quite yet.”

  A chuckle rolled from me. “I’m sure she’d be all too willing to try.”

  “Oh, I bet she would.”

  Edie and I? We’d been this way for the better part of the last month. Ever since the night I’d finally let her break down the last of my walls. When I’d let her into that place where I’d never let anyone else, and she’d turned right around and let me into hers.

  Trust.

  They say relationships are built on it.

  And I was still kind of reeling she’d trusted me with that.

  I pecked another kiss to her sweet mouth. “Fine. Go. But you’d better miss me while you’re gone.”

  She tossed a grin at me from over her shoulder. “You know I will.”

  Leaning with my shoulder against the door jamb, I watched her perfect ass sway as she walked to her car, because I couldn’t get enough of that, either, returned her small wave when she drove away, smiling like a damned fool when I turned around.

  Startled, I jumped and skidded to a stop.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me with this.”

  There was Deak, sitting at the table with his ankle hooked on his opposite knee, reading the paper and sipping at his coffee like he’d been there the whole damned time.

  “Always so damned jumpy.”

  I widened my eyes. “Always so damned creepy.”

  He laughed at the ceiling. “I am many things, mate, but creepy is not one of them.” He waved his hand over himself, at his bare chest and bare feet, board shorts his only attire. “Ladies love it.”

  It was my turn to gesture at myself. “In case you hadn’t noticed, not a lady.”

  He shot me a mocking grin. “Just keep telling yourself that.”

  I shook my head, fighting a smile. “Huh…if I didn’t know better, I’d say it sounds like someone wants to get his ass kicked.”

  “I’ll take ya any day, mate.”

  “And you just keep tellin’ yourself that, pretty boy.”

  “Pretty boy?” Deak scoffed, voice oozing with offense. “I’ll have ya know I’ve been running around the wilderness of Australia with snakes and spiders that will kill ya with just a nip since I was a boy. Swimming with sharks. This here is all man. Nothing pretty about me.”

  I snorted. “I bet you spend more time in front of a mirror in the morning than Edie and Blaire combined.”

  “Hardly. Wake up looking this good. It’s a sad, sad story for the rest of you assholes.”

  Chuckling, I shook my head as I went into the kitchen and poured myself a cup of coffee, wandered back out and sank down in a chair opposite Deak. “What’s on the agenda today? You giving lessons?”

  “Nah. Off today. Jed has some shit scheduled for me tomorrow,” he said, flipping through the pages of a newspaper.

  “Who the hell reads an actual newspaper anymore, anyway?” I taunted, kicking up my feet.

  “Real men.”

  “Right,” I drew out. I laughed beneath my breath as I took a sip, breathing in the easy atmosphere when I rocked back.

  I relaxed that way for the longest time before I felt something shift in the air.

  Deak stilled. Sat up a little higher in his chair. Eyed me over the top of the paper. Something that looked like confusion moved across his normally casual expression.

  He sat back, head angled as he stared across at me.

  Unease flitted and fired at my nerves. “What?”

  “Don’t talk much about yourself.”

  I blinked. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  He hiked a shoulder, as calm as could be. “Just wondering why this dude looks just like you and wears your last name, and I’ve never heard a thing about him.”

  Apprehension slithered down my spine. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

  But I already knew. When I first left L.A., Sunder hadn’t hit it big the way they had in the last couple years. I mean, they’d already had a huge ass following, sold a ton of records and constantly sold out their shows, but their style was too gritty and raw and hard to draw in the masses.

  But something had shifted on the last album. Things had exploded. Their faces showed up on TV more and more, stories about them popping up on my Facebook feed. Didn’t know if it was the song Baz had done with Shea that’d shot Sunder into the stratosphere or if it was just because the last album was so kickass, which it most definitely was.

  Brilliant, really.

  But whatever the factors, they were more popular now than they’d ever been.

  Deak folded the paper in half and slid it across the table.

  It was open to the entertainment section. At the top of the article was a big black and white photo of the band live on stage. Still, the static image managed to capture the intensity of the show. Beside it was a close-up picture of Baz grinning out, Shea wrapped around him, her head resting on his chest.

  Emotion throbbed. Hurt and respect. Love and regret. And a fuckton of fear.

  Couldn’t help but feel all of them when I thought of my big brother.

  Deak jabbed at the picture with his index finger, head cocked to the side. “Look familiar?”

  I scrubbed a hand over my face.

  No.

  I hadn’t ever told Deak who I was. He just figured I was some kind of stray roaming city to city playing his music, a gypsy who couldn’t stay in one damned place. He had no clue about the home I’d left behind.

  “Yeah, looks familiar.”

  “Yeah?” he pressed.

  “What do you want me to say, Deak?”

  “Uh, I don’t know….how about why you held out on me and didn’t tell me your big brother’s a rock star? You could start there.”

  “Don’t exactly advertise that fact. And if you didn’t know who he was to begin with, what does it matter?”

  He cleared his throat, paused while he sifted through his thoughts. “Doesn’t matter who he is, Austin. Couldn’t give two shits that he’s famous or what the fuck ever. Think ya know me better than that by now. Just figured you didn’t have any family to your name. That you moved around trying to find a place to call home and maybe you’d found it here. And for the record, I know of the band, but I’m hardly some fanboy who’s gonna go searching for pictures and posting them on my Pinterest wall. My apologies for not recognizing the connection.”

  The last was pure sarcasm.

  I scowled at him and he just kept right on. “You two not get along?”

  “It’s not that…it’s just…my past’s…complicated.”

  He laughed, but there was something dark about it. “Pretty sure the past is that way for the best of us, mate. Doesn’t mean ya have to go hiding it.”

  I exhaled heavily. “I…I don’t talk about it with anyone. Not you. Not Damian. So there’s no need to get offended.”

  Only person I trusted with it was Edie.

  “All right. I get it. Respect you.” He nudged the paper closer. “But you might want to take a look at this.”

  Standing up, he walked down the hall, leaving me to my privacy and a queasy sense of dread.

  I did my best not to read the caption at the top of the article, but there was no ignoring the words. My
chest tightened.

  Sunder Splintering?

  sun·der (sŭn′dər)

  sun·dered, sun·der·ing, sun·ders

  v.tr.

  1. To break into two or more pieces or parts; sever

  2. To force or keep apart

  3. To form a barrier or border between

  Warily, I pulled the article closer, swallowed around the lump growing thick in my throat when I began to read.

  How long until Sunder lives up to their name?

  Los Angeles bred Sunder is back at it again.

  Late last week, Sunder cancelled a sold-out show in Denver just hours before curtain drop due to an unforeseen emergency.

  Sebastian Stone, lead singer and founding member, was spotted hours later rushing into a Los Angeles emergency room.

  It was announced early the next morning the last three shows of their North American tour would be rescheduled.

  An undisclosed source says, “Baz is doing what is right for him and his family…and that’s being there for them when they need him.”

  Things seemed to turn around for the troubled band when their track, Forever, featuring Shea Stone, hit the top of the charts two years ago. Since then, sources close to the band say Stone has shifted his attention away from the band and turned his focus on his growing family.

  Sebastian and Shea Stone were wed three years prior. Shea, who already had a young daughter before Stone came into the picture, gave birth to the couple’s son, Connor, two years ago.

  Guitarist Lyrik West recently said, “Family is always gonna come first for us. Whether it’s our support of one another or for our growing families. That’s just the way it has to be.”

  West was recently wed this year. He and his wife are expecting their first child this winter.

  A statement from bassist Ash Evans added to the conflicting reports. “We were born to make music. Simple as that. The rest? Rumors or reality? It really doesn’t matter. Sunder isn’t going anywhere.”

  Can Sunder survive another crisis?

  Or will the old adage remain true?

  What goes up must come down.

  Come home.

  Come home.

  Baz’s petition spun around me.

  Pushing and pulling.

  Attracting and repelling.

  I just didn’t know if I ever could.

  “I’m off work. Why don’t I pick up take-out and I can bring it to your place? We can have a nice dinner. Just the two of us.”