I stand, ready to hit something. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
He doesn’t answer me, just chews on his gum slowly. “I didn’t hear you complaining about being closer to the girl you’ve had a hard-on for since before I knew you. And now you’re taking her on a trip all of a sudden. You’ve been distracted since Christmas, but sure, it’s all my fault for dragging you here and locking you in a room with my sorry ass for hours every day. Because being locked up with you pining for a girl who only wants you as a fake boyfriend is my dream vacation.”
“It’s not fake,” I grit out. Somehow that seems like the most important point, the one that needs to be addressed first.
“My bad. I didn’t realize. So you guys are actually together now?”
“Yes.” I’m breathing hard, still wanting to commit violence, but I hold myself back.
Meanwhile, Danny’s eyes flick over me calmly, his posture lazy and self-assured, like he hasn’t a care in the world. It’s an act. He’s pissed at me, at the world, trying to keep his obligations to the band while being pulled in another direction. I’m not the only one who’s been distracted, but I’m not going to call him on it. He’s on the verge of walking out as it is, not just from the studio today, but from Cataclysm. He hasn’t said so, but I can tell. I’ve known him for almost four years, the last two of which I saw him as much as my own reflection. The thought of walking out on us has crossed his mind more than once.
“Good for you, man,” he says at length. “Can I go make my phone call now?”
I nod, jaw still clenched, and he leaves, closing the door behind him, leaving me stewing in my own frustration.
Which is only made worse by the text from Blaire. Label called again. They want a status update. What should I tell them?
Chapter Fourteen
Kendra
The experience of the Grammys this year is different. For one, we’re in New York City instead of LA. Posing for pictures on the red carpet is almost the same, except only Marcus and Aaron are attending for Cataclysm this year. They aren’t performing, nor is Cataclysm nominated in any of the categories since they don’t have a new album or single out this year. So Marcus stays next to me in our seats, enjoying the performances, clapping for the winners.
When the category for Best New Artist comes up, he holds my hand. Cataclysm won this category last year, and his friend Jonny B is nominated this year. But the announcer reads a different name, and Marcus lets out a sigh of disappointment.
Another new artist, Jupiter Slater, sweeps the pop categories that Jonny B was nominated for.
“The guy’s still got a lot going for him,” I whisper to Marcus in an attempt to cheer him up.
He gives me a soft smile. “True. To look at him, you wouldn’t guess he lost anything.”
A glance down the row reveals him sitting with his new wife Gabby, their heads close together, a warm smile on his face, and then they share a sweet kiss.
“No kidding,” I whisper back.
The afterparty is about how I remember it—booze and beautiful people everywhere. Marcus is more subdued, though, not riding high on his wins like last year. He stays close to my side, making sure my drink is refilled as often as I want, saying hello to people he knows, his arm around my waist more often than not.
He stiffens up when an older man with graying hair approaches, his tuxedo jacket perfectly tailored to follow the lines of his trim form. Marcus shakes the man’s hand with a nod. “Jeff.”
“Marcus. I was hoping I’d see you. Aaron mentioned you were here.”
“Did he? How nice.” Marcus’s fingers dig into my hip, and I scoot closer to relieve the pressure.
That causes Jeff’s eyes to move to me. “And who’s your date?”
“This is my girlfriend, Kendra Strickland.”
Jeff extends a hand, shaking mine gently when I place it in his. “Girlfriend,” he says slowly, his gaze calculating. “I see. Lovely to meet you. I hope you don’t mind if I steal your boyfriend for a few minutes.”
“Of course not,” I say, because even if I objected, it’s clear he’d pull Marcus aside anyway.
Marcus, on the other hand, looks less than enthusiastic. But he follows Jeff to a corner. I look around, moving over to set my glass on a tray at the edge of the room. From the look on Marcus’s face, I have a feeling we won’t be staying long after he’s done talking to Jeff.
My hunch is proven correct minutes later when Marcus materializes from the crowd, grabs me by the hand, and heads for the door. “Let’s get out of here,” he mutters in my ear.
“Who was that?”
He glances over his shoulder. “Jeff Shaw. He’s the head of A&R at the label. He wanted an update on the new album. I told him Danny and I have a few new songs. He insisted I stop by his office tomorrow before we head back to Boston.” We stop in the hallway. “I’m sorry. I was planning on this being a fun trip for us. I didn’t want work getting in the way.”
I shrug and press a kiss to his cheek. “Don’t worry about it. I can take care of myself for an hour or two while you have your meeting.”
“You’re the best, Ken.” He kisses me back on the lips. I think he meant it to be only a peck, but once our mouths meet, it becomes more than that.
When he breaks away, we’re both breathing hard. “Come on. Let’s get back to our hotel.”
I was wrong about him getting a two bedroom suite this year. Which, in light of our conversation last week, isn’t actually surprising. But I can’t help the flutter of nerves in my belly as we walk through the lobby of our hotel.
The last time we shared a room was at my parents’ anniversary weekend.
This trip is a different ballgame altogether.
We’ve gone out a couple more times since we agreed to give this a try for real. But he hasn’t pressed for more than kisses, seeming to accept that I need time to wrap my head around the change and make sure it’s real.
But here? With a gorgeous suite and only one bed in a swanky New York hotel?
Marcus closes the door behind us, turning the deadbolt and closing the safety latch. I slip off my shoes, sighing in relief, and turn around in the living room to face him. “Marcus—”
But he closes the distance between us in two steps and cuts me off with a kiss. It’s all hunger and need, his hands holding my face, my mouth at the mercy of his onslaught.
I grip his shoulders to hold myself steady, feeling off balance and swept away by the suddenness and intensity. His hands move, one going behind my head, the other sliding down to my hip. With gentle pressure there, he guides me until I’m perched against the back of the couch. His knee insinuates itself between my legs, providing sweet pressure against my center, and the combination of his mouth, his tongue, and his leg between mine has me ready to climb the walls for wanting him.
When I give in to the urge to grind against him, he pulls back and hisses, “Yeah, babe. That’s it. Let me make you feel good.” The hand on my hip falls to my thigh, pulling up the fabric of my skirt till he can slide his fingers underneath. Tugging my panties aside, he moves his leg out of the way and replaces it with his fingers.
I let out a moan as his rough fingers strum over my clit, so turned on that I’m wet everywhere.
“God, you’re so fucking sexy,” he whispers. “I want to know what you look like when you come.”
As though I could do anything else with him talking to me like that. Eyes closed, fingernails digging into the padded shoulders of his tux jacket, I come with a gasp and a shudder.
His mouth fuses to mine in a searing kiss.
I’m reeling from his kiss, from his fingers still stroking me, from him getting me off in seconds flat. From the fact that it’s Marcus.
When I break the kiss, he gently slides his fingers away, fixing my panties, his eyes examining mine the whole time.
“What was that?” I breathe against his lips.
He gives me a crooked smile. “Babe, if I have to explai
n that to you, you haven’t had any good boyfriends before.”
I let out a soft laugh. “Well, that’s true too.” I bite my lip. “I mean, I didn’t expect that. I thought we were taking things slow.”
His smile fades, and his eyes scan all over my face like he’s committing this moment to memory. “We’ve known each other for years. Do we really need to wait until the fifth date or tenth date or whatever milestone you usually wait for? You know me. You know I’d never hurt you. You trust me with everything else. You can trust me with your body too.”
Chapter Fifteen
Marcus
I hold my breath after delivering that last line. My need for her is fierce and undeniable.
I’ve waited half a lifetime for her. I’m tired of being patient. And I don’t understand why she wants to go slow, anyway. It’s not like we don’t know each other.
“I know,” she says at last. “I do trust you. With everything.” There goes her lip between her teeth again. A lip that’s swollen and pink from my kisses, the skin around her mouth tender from my day-old beard.
I like knowing that I caused that.
“But?” I prompt.
She tucks her chin down, avoiding my eyes. “But. Crossing that line changes everything. We can never go back.”
“Kendra.” I wait for her to meet my eyes again. “Isn’t it already too late for that? We’re already so far past the point of no return we can’t even see it in the rearview mirror.” I swallow, forcing out my next words. “If you still want to wait, then we can wait. But the normal reasons for going slow don’t apply. We don’t need to get to know each other. I know you better than I know anyone. And I know you’re worried that our friendship can’t survive if we have sex, but think about this—what if that just takes our friendship to the next level? Friends and lovers. It has a nice ring.”
She gives me a cheeky smile. “I think you’re just trying to talk me out of my panties.”
I give a low growl. “Can you blame me? Have you seen yourself? I wanted to rip that dress off you the minute you put it on.” I let out a sound bordering on pain. “And damn, girl, the way you looked when you came all over my fingers. That was fucking hot. I want to see it again.” I kiss her cheek. “And again.” Her nose. “And again.” Her chin. “Every day. Forever.”
Her mouth.
She pulls away, brows wrinkled. “Forever?”
“Forever.”
Maybe it’s too soon, but at the same time, it’s been seven years. Seven years of pretending I didn’t want her. Seven years of secretly aching for her touch. Seven years of watching her date other guys.
I’ve wanted her for seven years. If time and distance has done nothing to temper my desire, then I doubt anything can.
I hold my breath, waiting for her to say something. Anything. Her eyes—deep pools of blue—hold mine, still dilated with desire, but with a shade of hesitation. Maybe I shouldn’t have given her an orgasm already. If she were still hanging on the edge …
But I’m not a douche. And this is Kendra. Yeah, I want her. But I want her to want me just as bad.
She’s not some groupie I want to screw and leave behind. She’s the only one who’s ever mattered.
And this matters.
I sweep my thumb across her lips and place a gentle kiss there, accepting her nonresponse as her answer. If she’s still hesitating, then that means she’s not ready.
I want so many things. I want her to be ready. I want to push, because I want her so bad, but I want her to not need me to push. It’s a mess. I’m a mess. The only coherent thread being that I. Want. Everything.
But when I cover her mouth with mine, she pushes up into me, her tongue slipping out and sliding along my lower lip.
With a groan, I open for her, sucking on her tongue, my arms wrapping around her back and hauling her up against my chest. Stepping as close to her as I can get, pinning her to the back of the couch, grinding against her.
Dammit, I need to get myself under control before I ravage her—turn her around, bend her over, and sink in balls deep.
She deserves better than that. Especially for our first time.
So I soften the kiss, relax my hold, and pull back.
Before I can step out of her arms, they tighten around my neck, one of her legs hooking around my thigh. “Where do you think you’re going?”
I suck in a shaky breath and close my eyes. “Kendra, please don’t torture me.”
“I have no intention of torturing you.” Her voice is low, silky temptation curling around my spine.
“Then you need to let me go.”
She makes a sound, a throaty hum, that has me getting even harder, my dick twitching in my pants. “I don’t think so,” she says.
My eyes pop open. “What do you mean?”
Her other leg hooks around me so her ass is perched on the back of the couch and all her limbs are wrapped around me. Instinctively, I tighten my grip on her, and she flexes her legs. “You never gave me the chance to answer. You just decided that my answer was no.”
“Kendra.” Her name is a sigh. “If you have to think that long, your answer is painfully obvious.”
“Marcus.” Her voice is tinged with equal parts humor and censure. “You have always been the biggest know-it-all. This thing between us isn’t that simple, and you know it.” She pauses for a beat, and then whispers, “This is a big risk. I’m scared.”
I run a hand down her back. “You don’t need to be scared of me.”
She gives me a withering look. “I’m not scared of you, you big doofus. I’m scared of us.” Her eyes drop, looking down to the side as she worries her lip again. “More specifically, what I might do to us.”
“Aw, Ken. There’s nothing you could do that would ruin our friendship.”
She raises her eyes to mine again. “Promise?”
“Promise.”
After examining my face for a long moment, I expect her to let me go. But she does the opposite, hitching her legs up even more so they’re around my hips, hooking her feet behind me, tangling her fingers in the hair at the nape of my neck, and pulling my face to hers for a searing kiss.
Damn.
I give in, kissing her with everything in me, sliding my hands under her ass to move her against me.
This time when I break the kiss, there’s no hesitation. “Take me to bed.”
“Are you sure, Ken? We don’t have to.”
She silences me with another kiss. Like she knows that her kisses drive all rational thought from my brain. This time she’s the one to pull back after too short a time. “I’m sure, Marcus. Bed. Now.”
I hoist her off the couch and carry her through the open door to the bedroom. She lets out a surprised squeak when I try to toss her on the bed. It doesn’t work like I planned, because she doesn’t let go of me, instead dragging me down on top of her.
I catch my weight on my arms so I don’t crush her, but her legs are locked tightly around me, crushing my hips to hers. I let out a low sound of appreciation as I move against her.
She throws her head back and moans.
Taking advantage of the smooth skin on display, I lick a line up her throat, starting at her collarbone and ending at her chin.
Glittering eyes find mine. “Did you just lick my neck?”
I nod, grinning. “Been wanting to do that a long time.”
Her eyes narrow. “How long exactly?”
“Doesn’t matter,” I mutter. I don’t want to go there. Not now. She’s mine, finally, and she doesn’t need to know that I’m a complete dork when I’m about to get inside her for the first time ever. That I’ve pined over her for nearly a decade. There’ll be plenty of time for that conversation later.
When she’s deeply in love with me and will find it cute and sweet.
Or maybe never.
I kinda like never.
Though with Danny and Aaron and Mason around, she’s bound to find out eventually. Doesn’t matter. We’ll cross that br
idge when we come to it.
Before she can ask any other potentially awkward questions, I return my lips to her neck, kissing and nuzzling it, taking her earlobe gently between my teeth. She shudders, and I graze my teeth back down her neck, nipping at the tendon that joins her neck to her shoulder. Soothing it with my lips and tongue.
She’s relaxing under me, her arms no longer wrapped tightly around my neck, instead her hands hang onto my shoulders. Not to control me, but like she wants to make sure I’m really here.
I’m good with that.
I nuzzle my way down the deep V of her neckline, using my tongue and lips on the bare skin of her breast along the edge of the fabric. But the fabric is stiff and resists my attempts to push it out of the way.
“Kendra,” I whisper against her breasts. “I need to take your dress off. Now.”
“Yesss,” she hisses, her hands falling to the bed, knees unclamping from my hips.
When I peel myself away from her, my body already regretting the loss of her warmth even though I know in my brain that the brief separation will be worth it to get her naked, she gets up on her knees, back to me, and pulls her hair over one shoulder. “Unzip me?”
“Of course.” My voice is hoarse, and my fingers tremble as I reach for the tiny zipper pull. Slowly I tug it down, the pink fabric separating along her spine, revealing inch by tantalizing inch of her back.
I place a kiss on the back of her neck. She shivers.
So I kiss her between the shoulder blades. Another kiss a few inches lower, skipping past the band of her bra. After lowering the zipper as far as it will go, my hands slide over her shoulders, taking the fabric with them and down her arms.
She pulls her arms free, twisting around to face me, kneeling up and tugging the dress down over her hips.
When the fabric is bunched around her thighs, I take over again. “Lay back.”
She reclines on the bed, propped on her elbows, watching me slide the dress down her legs and over her feet. Now she’s spread before me in a bra, panties, and lace-topped thigh highs.
Anything You Need (Cataclysm Book 1) Page 8
