by B. K. Rivers
His skin on mine is thrilling, full of heat and tingles that rush up and down my body. His lips drag along my jaw and down my throat, and with his hands he pulls my legs up and around his hips. He digs his hips into me and I gasp as his hardness presses against my center. He wants me, all of me, and as his fingers run over my bra once again, I find myself wanting him. Wanting more.
I want more.
I pull his face back to mine and with hunger, take his lips to mine and thrust my tongue into his mouth. He doesn’t waste time, and I find our kiss becomes a battle of wills. He takes and I give and his hips only press harder. A soft moan passes between us as his free hand slides down my body to the top of my thighs and then slowly makes its way back up as he moves the fabric of my shorts between my legs to the side. My body quakes at his touch and then he slides my panties aside and I gasp into his mouth as he gently pushes his finger inside me. My back arches, pressing my chest into Vic’s, and he moves his other hand under my back, supporting the arch.
His tongue teases my nipple through my bra and then as though he’s well practiced, he takes the shoulder strap between his teeth and pulls the strap off, setting my breast free. He returns his lips to mine and moves his tongue in and out, echoing his finger inside me.
“Can you come for me again?” he asks as I bite on my bottom lip. “Like last time? I want to feel you.” He gently pushes a second finger inside and then moves his lips to my breast, swirling his tongue over my nipple and then takes it into his mouth. “You’re so close, aren’t you?”
Closing my eyes and biting harder on my lower lip, Vic slowly bites my nipple, pushes his fingers deeper inside me, and lifts my back higher, sending me into a hip-thrusting fury of heat and explosion and out of this world pleasure. He continues stroking me softly as I ride out the orgasm, and when I’ve recovered, he collapses against me, pressing his hips into mine. Through heavy breaths and blood-filled cheeks, I kiss his forehead and nose, moving my way to his ears. My tongue traces the hard cartilage and then I nibble on the soft lobe.
“Vic.” I whisper his name and rock my hips into his, taking pleasure in his hardness. “I want more.”
His surprise is evident by the way he pushes up onto his elbows. “Jemma, as much as this kills me, we can’t. I don’t have a condom with me and I don’t want to rush things with you.”
“Rush things? Vic, we’ve been dating for six weeks.”
He plants a kiss on my lips, sits up, and pulls me onto his lap. Reverently, he slides my bra back on and picks up my shirt. He helps me slip it on and then smiles as his fingers work the buttons.
“Trust me, six weeks feels like an eternity, but I’m willing to wait even longer for you.”
“I don’t want to wait any longer.” Folding my arms across my chest, I try my best to give him my bedroom eyes. Not that I know exactly what that is.
“Jemma, what’s changed? Why are you so eager to do this?”
I rock back on my knees and gather the food for lunch. Why is he acting like this? Why, when I offer myself to him, does he pull away? Something in my chest cracks, and hurt slips through the crevices like yolk from a broken egg. I don’t know how to answer him. I don’t know what I was thinking.
“Jemma, don’t ignore me. Please answer me.” Vic reaches for my hand and instead of letting him hold me, I give him a sandwich wrapped in plastic wrap. He accepts the sandwich but sets it on the blanket and quickly envelops my hands in his.
“Don’t you do this. I want to make love to you more than anything. And God knows if I had a condom nothing would have stopped me. But the point is I don’t have one, and I’m not going to make a decision that could change your life forever just for the sake of having sex. It’s not worth it to me.”
As much as I want what he says to repair the ache in my chest and the knot forming in my stomach, it doesn’t. I was willing to forego my rules for him, but it doesn’t seem to matter. Somehow he’s tricked me into abandoning the protections I’ve surrounded myself with.
“Vic, I want to go home,” I say suddenly as I stand and begin putting the food back into the saddlebags.
“What?” he asks with his eyebrows knitted together.
“I’m ready to go home. And maybe we should slow things down. Or maybe take a break.”
“You can’t be serious.” Vic reaches for my empty hands but I shrug away. “Jemma. What the hell is wrong with you?”
“What’s wrong with me?” I swing around to face him with tears welling in my eyes. “What’s wrong with you? Why would you do those things to me, making me feel…making me…God, I can’t even say it! You’ve touched me in ways no one else ever has, a way I’ve never let anyone else, and I’m such a fool for letting you.” The weight of my tears is so heavy and they fall unbidden down my cheeks. “You’ve taken something from me and I don’t know how to get it back.”
“I haven’t taken anything from you. At least I sure as hell hope I haven’t. You’re scared, Jemma. I get it. But don’t shut me out.” Vic steps around me, wrapping his arms around my shoulders in a warm embrace. He softly presses his lips to my neck and then whispers, “I don’t want to lose you. I’ve never felt this way about anyone before and I want you to know that. I would hope my actions have shown you how I feel.”
Chapter 39
Jordan
Fresh, free air never smelled so good. It’s strange not relying on someone else to keep you honest, to keep you on the straight and narrow. My first thought is I should call Jemma, I should tell her I really want to see her, but the fact that she didn’t respond to my letters makes me think maybe she doesn’t want to hear from me. As much as I want to see her, I feel I should try to make it on my own first. And by on my own, I mean I need to call my band and make sure they haven’t replaced me.
The taxi arrives, scoops me up, and brings me back to the shitty apartment I’ve rented. When I unlock the door and step inside, I have to shield my nose from the smell of rotting food and the sweet, musty smell of pot. This is going to be harder than I thought. Just the smell of hash makes my fingers curl and my mouth salivate.
I have to get out of here.
I run to my nightstand, push past my paraphernalia, and grab my notebook, a stash of cash, and then go to my closet for a change of clothes. But even those smell like everything I need to get away from. Changing my mind, I throw the clothes back in the closet, sprint out the door, and lock it behind me. If the apartment had been a house, I may have burned it to the ground.
The manager is in his office and I toss him the key to the apartment at the same time I apologize for the state of the place. I tell him to keep the deposits and then hand him an extra five hundred dollars for his trouble. His eyes widen as he starts to speak, but I just wave and head out. I’ve overstayed my welcome and I want to move on with my life.
The cab I called shows up quickly and I instruct him to take me to the airport. I can buy a ticket to wherever the guys are and be with them tonight. On the drive to the airport, I dial Jeremy and miraculously he answers.
“White Shadow Management, Jeremy speaking,” he says, and it’s like a flood of memories washes over me. God, I was such an ass to these guys who were there for me through it all. Jeremy was the one who pulled me out of my father’s condescending grips and told me to prove him wrong, prove to him and everyone else I wasn’t the loser he told me I was. I guess my father was right in a way. I screwed everything up. But not anymore.
“Jeremy, hey! It’s Jordan.”
The line goes silent and for a second I think he’s hung up on me.
“Wow…Jordan. It’s been a while, man. How are you?”
And just like that I lay it all out. I tell him about Jemma, and rehab, and how I’ve realized what a jackass I’ve been. I apologize for all the shit he and the guys had to deal with and I promise to do better.
“What about the drugs, man? You can’t do that anymore.”
I can tell he’s not sure what to make of my call, and who can blam
e him?
“I’m clean, man, and I’m done with that shit. I’m done with the girls and the blow, all of it.”
“That’s great, Jordan. Really.”
A long pause falls between us and I can’t stand the silence. “Jeremy, I want back in, dude. Tonight. I can meet you and the guys wherever you are. I’ve got some great lyrics and we can make it big again. And this time I won’t screw it all up.”
Another round of silence. It’s agony, like being crushed slowly by the weight of the past.
“Look, Jordan. I don’t know what to tell you. The guys were beyond pissed at that last show. I don’t even know if they want you back.”
His words hit me like a fist to the gut. It literally knocks the wind out of me.
“Talk to them. Let’s all get together and we’ll talk about it. Hell, I’ll even sign some no drugs contract or something. Don’t leave me hanging. I’m on my way to the airport as we speak.”
“Where the hell are you anyway?”
“Still in Warner.”
“Where?”
I explain that I never really left the scene of my great demise and that I’m on my way out. Hopefully to meet up with the band. The conversation ends with a promise for a meeting with the band tomorrow as I arrive at the airport and book my ticket to Phoenix. God, I hate where I’m going. I hate that I have to be in the same city as my douchebag father, but I’ll do almost anything to get the band back together.
Chapter 40
Jemma
Vic and I agreed to meet up with Caleb and Angie at the club, and so far the night has been amazing, just like every other time I’ve spent with Vic. Dancing with him is electric in the way he moves my hips or swings me around. And his hands…a shudder runs through me. Those wandering hands are going to be the death of me. And then as if the room clears, Vic kisses me.
The kiss, it’s the one that makes me want to drop all my inhibitions and succumb to all my body is begging me to do. It’s his hands slowly moving down my arm and stopping at my upper thigh. There is so much heat there, so much desire in those five fingers. It’s the way his chest tightens when my fingers slip off his shoulders, stopping on his abs. If we weren’t surrounded by dozens of other gyrating bodies, who knows what would happen.
Our kiss breaks and Vic spins me around the room in time to the music. And when he suggests we head out, even though it’s early, I agree wholeheartedly. Vic has to work early tomorrow and I want more time with just him.
Back in Vic’s truck, we can’t keep our hands off each other. We fumble through our kisses until Vic slides over to the passenger side and slides me onto his lap. His hands roam my body, stopping at my hips, where he pulls me down against him. A gasp escapes as his tongue twirls around mine.
“I have a condom tonight,” Vic whispers against my jaw, and my hands pause at his shoulders. Am I ready for this? Here in his truck?
“Not here,” I manage to say as his mouth overtakes mine. “My house.” I pant as his fingers run over my breasts.
“So far away.” He groans and raises his hips so I know just exactly how much he wants me.
“Please?” It’s not like I’m using sex as a way to manipulate him, but as I slowly grind my core over him, he nods quickly and practically throws me off his lap.
“Let’s go,” he says decidedly as he peels the truck out of the parking lot.
***
Vic and I walk through the front door and immediately the sweet smell of fresh bread hits me. Gran’s bread is the best, especially when it’s hot and fresh. She’s in the kitchen pulling two loaves from their pans and I offer to take over for her. “You’re up late, Gran,” I say as she hands me the towels, pats my hips, and then Vic leans down and kisses her cheek.
“Couldn’t sleep. Good to see you again, young man,” she says affectionately. “Has my Jemma been taking care of you?” Blood rushes to my cheeks even though her question is innocent.
“Yes, ma’am,” he answers with a guilty grin. “Though I may have to talk to her about reciprocation.”
Gran’s eyes travel between Vic and me, and I can only imagine what she must be thinking. She pats Vic’s cheek and says, “You have another letter from Jordan by the phone, honey.” She turns and makes her way to the blue chair in the family room.
My heart drops to my stomach as I look from Vic to where Jordan’s letter sits. It’s like a giant red beacon flashing in the kitchen saying, here I am! I never mentioned the first letter to Vic and by the questioning look on his face I can see he’s hurt by my omission. I’m unable to move, and the fresh, hot bread is heating my hands through the towel.
“Aren’t you going to open it?” His tone is sharp and accusing. “One of many, I suppose.”
I swallow the hard lump in my throat, set the bread on the counter, and walk to the letter. The envelope is heavy and thick. My fingers tremble as I open the seal and pull out the letter along with a plane ticket and concert ticket.
“This is just great,” Vic says as he runs his hands through his hair. “Let’s hear it. What does he have to say?”
Taking a deep breath does nothing for the churning in my stomach. “He wants me to go to Denver in two weeks and watch his concert. He’s back together with his band and they have a bunch of new songs. He’s even paid for my hotel.”
“I’ll bet he has,” Vic says bitterly. “You’re not going, right?”
“I don’t know,” I say honestly. “I just got this letter. I haven’t had time to process it.”
“You’re actually considering it? You’ve got to be kidding.”
“It’s not like I can just throw the tickets away.”
Vic exhales and his hands drop to his sides. “You can’t go.” He pauses and then lowers his voice before continuing. “He’s only doing this to get you into his bed. You know that, right?”
My eyes begin to burn with unshed tears. “And what is it you’ve been trying to do for months? At least all he’s ever done is kiss me. You, on the other hand, have had your fingers places no one else ever has. What does that say about you?” My voice is beginning to rise above a whisper and I have to tell myself to calm down.
“I’ve only done what you’ve allowed. God knows how many times my balls have turned blue thanks to you.”
“We should go outside,” I say quietly as I walk toward Vic, hoping he’ll follow me outside to finish the conversation. I don’t want Gran overhearing just where he’s put his hands or the color of his balls. Vic folds his arms over his chest and firmly plants his feet on the kitchen floor.
“Tell you what,” he says with anger boiling up at the surface. “Go ahead and go. The two of you deserve each other.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“It’s been six months since you told me you last heard from him, and every time things start heating up between us you want to run.”
“That’s not true,” I argue.
“Sure it is. You’re scared, Jemma. I get it. You don’t want to get hurt and you’re terrified of what might happen if you and I do have sex.” Vic’s hands run through his hair and he turns his back to me. “Don’t you ever wonder if I’m scared?”
He’s facing me again with tears welling up in his eyes. My stomach clenches and I don’t know what to say.
“God, Jemma. I love you. I’ve loved you since the moment I first met you. How crazy does that make me when the girl I love wants to fly away to go see her ex?”
My shoulders fall inward in self-doubt. The weight of what he’s saying bears heavily down on me. “He’s not my ex,” I say, though I barely even hear myself.
“No, you know what? Just go. Go and spread your wings, but I can’t guarantee I’ll be waiting here for you when you get back.”
My fingers reach for him, tears spill down my cheeks, but I have no words. Vic shrugs away from my grasp and walks out of the house to his truck. He revs the engine and peels out of the driveway. Gran calls from her room and I let myself crumple to the floor in a h
eap of sobs and tears.
Chapter 41
My stomach is in knots, and truthfully I’m not sure what I’m doing here. Denver is a long way from home and a long way from Vic. I haven’t heard from him since our fight and I don’t know how to apologize when everything he said was true. He has been so patient, so loving and amazing, that I am afraid I’ve pushed him away for good. It’s been two weeks, the longest we’ve gone without speaking or seeing each other since we started dating. God, what have I done? My fingers worry at the hem of my coral boyfriend-cut shirt as I wait for Jordan in the band’s staging room. A million thoughts keep circling my head, including the one in the forefront that I shouldn’t be here.
The roar from the concert’s crowd begins to fade, signaling the band should be arriving any second. White Shadow, how this whole mess started to begin with. The door to the staging room opens and the band walks through and they are all obviously pumped up. They are speaking, more like yelling, to each other about how they nailed the concert. When they all spill into the room they stop mid-conversation when they see me.
Jordan pushes through his friends, grinning like he’s just won a gold medal, and his arms spread wide. He looks incredible. Not just in appearance, but overall. His face has rounded out and the dark hollows below his eyes are gone. He’s gained some weight and bulked up.
“Jemma!” he shouts, and then winces when he realizes he’s yelling. His arms wrap around me, enveloping me in a sweaty embrace. I return his hug, squeezing him tightly, and then he pulls away. “God, sorry, I must smell really bad.” He holds up a finger, grabs a towel from a chair nearby, and wipes down his face and hair. “It’s so good to see you.”
