by Jayne Frost
Before I could help myself, I offered up a truth of my own.
“You can have my dad if you want. He’s a math professor.” My lips ghosted the tattoo on her neck. “He’d love you. He doesn’t care much for me, though. So if you want to visit him in College Station, you’re on your own.”
Mel twisted until we were face to face. “How could he not like you? You’re such a—”
“’Disappointment’ is the word he likes to use.” Dropping my gaze to the shag carpet, I picked at the fibers. “But feel free to ad lib.”
Cupping my cheek, she guided my face to hers. “I was going to say ‘brilliant musician.’” She smiled the same smile she’d used on her nana. “But you’re more than that.”
After everything I’d just learned, it didn’t seem right that she was offering me comfort. So I returned the favor the only way she’d let me. Slipping my fingers into her hair, I cupped her neck and pulled her toward me. My lips met the side of her mouth, then blazed a trail down her neck to her collarbone.
“You’re amazing, Melody,” I whispered.
Autumn clung to her skin, warming my insides. And I wondered if she smelled the same in the summer, or if sunshine emanated from her pores.
I realized right then—I really wanted to find out.
Hanging the last ornament on the tree, I turned to Mo and Mel for their approval. Perched next to Mo’s chair, Mel nodded enthusiastically. “It’s beautiful, Christian.”
Mel’s hand rested on her nana’s lap, their fingers entwined. For the first time since I’d met Mo, her hands weren’t clenching and unclenching. The only movement came from her thumb, stroking Mel’s almost imperceptibly.
A baseball sized lump of emotion worked its way to the back of my throat at the sight of it.
Mo’s face was frozen in a mask, but her eyes danced with delight. She blinked at me twice, her lips twitching as she tried to form a smile.
“I’m glad y’all like it,” I said as I stood back to appraise the tree.
Scattered among the expensive ornaments I’d purchased were the one’s Mel found in the box in her closet. A clay mold of her tiny handprint. A cardboard cutout in the shape of a Christmas tree, the red glitter nearly worn off. And my favorite by far, a golden angel kneeling in prayer with “Melody Rose Sullivan—1991” inscribed on the bottom.
“Turn on the lights!” Melody exclaimed, bouncing in her seat.
I found the end of the long strand of white bulbs and then plugged it into the extension chord.
“B-beaut—” Mo spluttered. Drawing her brows together in concentration, she swallowed hard and then choked out, “B-beautiful.”
Melody beamed and I had to turn away. It was heartbreaking, the way she hung on any small word that left her nana’s lips.
“What’s the matter?” Mel asked, wrapping her arm around my waist. “You don’t like it.”
“I love it.” I pressed a kiss to her temple, composing myself. “I thought you promised me some grub, though.”
Melody laughed. “I hope you’re not expecting much. I’m not really a good cook.”
She glided away to turn Mo’s chair toward the television. After a silent exchange, Mel put on a Lifetime Movie and then motioned for me to follow her to the kitchen.
Leaning a hip against the counter, I watched as Mel buzz around the tiny cooking area.
Glancing at me while she stirred the gravy, she said, “You look like you’ve got something on your mind.”
I cut my gaze to Mo in the other room. “What does your nana have—ALS?”
Given my limited interaction with the woman, Lou Gehrig’s disease was the only thing that fit.
“It’s in the same family of diseases. It’s called PSP: Progressive Supranuclear Palsy.” Mel smiled ruefully. “Say that three times fast.”
“I’ve never…” I wracked my brain for any information and came up blank. “I’ve never heard of that.”
“You will.” Mel’s eyes sparked with determination. “It’s my second field of research. The protein I told you about at dinner that first night—Tau—that’s why I study it. It’s what causes PSP.” She lifted a shoulder. “Or at least, that’s the theory.”
“They don’t know what causes it?” A chill ran down my spine. “Is it…?”
She blinked. “Hereditary?”
Gripping the counter, I nodded. The thought of Mel paralyzed and motionless, trapped inside her own mind, was enough to cut me off at the knees.
“No.” The quick rush of relief evaporated when Mel added, “But there may be a genetic predisposition.” A frown tugged at her lips. “Someday, we’ll find out more. When there’s enough money for adequate research. That’s why I do the diabetes research. The school has funding for that since it’s in the mainstream. PSP is an orphan disease.”
“An orphan disease? What does that even mean?
“Not enough people have it, and there isn’t any known treatments.”
The timer went off so Mel scooted away. Nose buried in the tiny oven, she poked the sad looking bird with a fork, frowning. “I don’t think it’s ready yet.” She closed the door and turned to me sheepishly. “Like I said, I’m not a very good cook.”
Wrapping her in my arms, I lowered my lips to her ear. “I’m not with you for you’re culinary skills, angel.”
She jerked her gaze to mine, shock painting her features.
From the beginning, we’d agreed we weren’t a couple—that we weren’t “with” each other in any permanent sense. From the look on Mel’s face, my statement was a little too cozy for her liking.
Slipping out of my hold, she glided out of the room and left me standing there, cursing my stupidity.
After a few moments, she called my name.
I dragged my feet on the way to the bedroom, hoping she wasn’t going to freak out and kick me to the curb for my awkward slip of the tongue.
When I walked through the door, Mel thrust the silk scarf in my hand.
I looked down at the swath of fabric. “What…?”
She shimmied out of her flannel pajamas and then offered me her wrists. “Tick-tock,” she said, an amused smile tilting her pouty lips. “We’ve only got a few minutes before I have to take the turkey out of the oven.”
Chapter Thirteen
Pacing the length of my bedroom floor, I paused when the bathroom door creaked open. Mel stepped out, tugging self-consciously at her short, black skirt. The plunging neckline on her teal blouse stopped somewhere short of indecent. Maybe. Since every thought in my head centered around ripping the garment from her body, I wasn’t sure.
“Too much?” She slipped on a pair of black stilettos and then grimaced. “It’s too much, huh?”
I caught her around the waist before she disappeared for another hour to mull over her wardrobe choices.
“You look,” my eyes dropped to her cleavage, “amazing.”
I made a mental note to keep Logan and anyone else over six-feet tall far away from her.
After our Thanksgiving Day celebration last week, Mel finally agreed to come to The Parish for a show. She even arranged to clear tomorrow’s schedule. Which meant I’d have at least twenty-four hours to ravish her.
“Are you sure I look all right?” She bit her lip. “I feel naked.”
Taking tentative steps to the full-length mirror, she scrutinized her reflection with a frown.
“If you were naked,” I smiled at her reflection, “we wouldn’t be leaving this house.”
Why were we leaving the house? Bending her over the couch seemed like a much better option.
She sighed, stalking to the dresser to affix some dangly earrings. “You know what I mean. I’m more comfortable in jeans or a lab coat.”
A wry smile lifted my lips. “I seem to remember doing some pretty dirty things to you in your lab coat.”
She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, about that: who has fantasies of fucking someone in a lab coat?”
Me.
It didn’t hur
t that she was handcuffed to the bed at the time. Or that she was wearing her special red stilettos.
From the look on her face, I’d lost a couple moments recalling that fantasy.
“Freak,” she muttered, shaking her head.
“Right back at you, angel.”
She pushed me away when I determined we had about nineteen minutes before we had to leave. Plenty of time to show her how freaky I really was.
“You don’t understand. I’m trying to fit in,” she grumbled. “It’s bad enough that I have nothing in common with these people.”
“These people are my family.” Defensiveness crept into my tone. “And you’ve never even met them.”
She sighed. “I didn’t mean anything. I’m the freak. And not in a good way. I don’t fit.”
“That’s not true.” Brushing the hair off her neck, I kissed her shoulder. “You fit.”
We fit.
I stopped short of that little admission.
“But—”
“No ‘buts’,” I squeezed her ass, “except this one. I don’t know what you’re so keyed up about. I go to your study groups.”
“Study groups are fun.” Cringing, she squeezed her eyes shut. “See, that’s what I mean. That’s the kind of shit that pops out of my mouth. ‘What do you do for fun, Melody?’ ‘Oh, I study diseases. You?’” She groaned. “I’m sure that will go over really great with your friends.”
Leading her to the couch, I took a seat, coaxing her onto my lap. “These aren’t just any friends. I told you, they’re family. And they’re going to love you.”
Love. My stomach twisted as the word hung in the air. Absorbed in her thoughts, Mel didn’t respond to my tension.
“If you say so.” She swallowed, her mouth twisting like she tasted something sour. “I just don’t want people…you know…to wonder why we’re seeing each other.”
I tilted her chin and she reluctantly met my gaze. “The only thing my friends are going to wonder is what you’re doing hanging out with me.”
She smiled with no confidence. Even as I lowered my mouth to hers, kissing her with all the passion I could muster, trepidation spilled off her in waves.
I smiled against her lips. “Time to go.”
Guiding her to the door, she lagged behind as though she faced imminent execution.
“Hold on,” I said, doubling back to snatch her scarf from the bedpost. “In case you get cold.” I winked, sipping the soft fabric around her shoulders. “Or horny.”
She snorted a laugh, straight from her belly. “I am not going to fuck you in the bathroom at The Parish.” She narrowed her eyes. “You do know that, right?”
“Of course not.” Resting my hand on her luscious ass, I squeezed. “The bathroom is way too crowded. But there’s always the dressing room.”
“Dude, your girl is a hoot.” Cameron nudged my shoulder. “Why didn’t you bring her around sooner?”
I smiled tightly, my eyes never leaving Mel and Lily, dancing a few feet from the VIP section. My stomach twisted when I noticed them weaving through the crowd, headed for the bar. Again.
By my count, this made shot number three. Plus the two beers she had in the dressing room before the show.
For me, that was nothing. For Mel? I wasn’t sure. She was too nervous to eat before we came, so my anxiety catapulted straight through the roof when she started pounding shots.
Unable to stand it any longer, I shot to my feet. “I’m going to check on the girls. Be right back.”
Cameron grabbed my arm. “Whoa…hold on a minute.”
“What the fuck?” I snapped, shaking off his hand. “I said I’d be right back.”
“Don’t be stupid,” he said evenly. “Send Seth. That’s what we pay him for. You might get mobbed if you hit the main floor.”
The security guard in question stood in front of the VIP area, his thick arms crossed over his chest.
“I’ll take my chances.”
Cameron groaned, but followed me nonetheless.
“Dude, what’s your problem?” He fell into step behind me as we elbowed our way into the crowd. “You’re the one who’s always talking about security. All these people just saw us on stage an hour ago.”
Waving off Cameron’s warning, I reached the bar in time to find Mel and Lily clinking glasses.
Wrapping my arm around Mel’s hip, I leaned close to her ear. “Having a good time?”
She looked up at me with unfocused eyes.
“I’m having a greeeat time,” she purred. “Where have you been? I haven’t seen you in aaages.”
Rising to her tiptoes, she planted a sloppy kiss on my mouth. Or near my mouth.
“I need another drink.” Eyes hooded, she rocked against me. “Buy me a drink, rockstar, and I promise you’ll get lucky tonight.”
“Is that right?”
Sliding my fingers into the damp hair at the nape of her neck, I pressed a kiss to her lips.
If distracting Mel was my goal, she turned the tables on me. Her tongue swept into my mouth, twisting and tangling around mine for what seemed like forever. The alcohol mixed with her unique taste, enlivening my senses.
My eyes popped open when I felt an insistent tap on my shoulder. I twisted to find Lily glaring at me with mock irritation.
“You need to quit pawing my dance partner.” She slapped my chest with an uncoordinated hand. “We’re not done yet.”
My hearty laugh died when Lily wiggled between us, forcing another shot into Mel’s hand.
Taking a sniff of the clear liquid, Mel’s brows shot to her hairline. “What octane is this?”
“That’s tequila—fully leaded.” Lily giggled at Mel’s skeptical expression. “You’ve never tried tequila? Where you been hiding, girl—under a rock?”
“Kind of.” Mel took another whiff.
Grabbing a saltshaker, Lily continued, “I used to work in a bar. There’s a right way and a wrong way to do a shot of tequila. Let me show you how it’s done.”
Mel peered up at me as Lily forced Cameron onto a barstool. “What are they going to do?”
“Watch.” Wrapping my arms around Mel’s waist, I tucked her back to my chest. The longer this little show went on, the more time I’d have to either down Mel’s shot, or hide it.
Lily snagged the lime from the rim of the glass and waived it in Cameron’s face. “May I?”
He smiled. “Sure, darlin’. I’m game.”
Lily slipped the fruit between Cameron’s teeth, drawing the attention of a few rowdy patrons nearby.
“Body shot! Body shot! Body shot!”
The chorus rang out as the revelers clapped and hooted, their cries drowning out the music pouring from the speakers above the bar.
Eager to comply, Lily grabbed the shot of tequila while simultaneously gripping the front of Cameron’s jeans. Catching her wrist, he shook his head emphatically.
Once upon a time, Cameron not only enjoyed a woman retrieving a shot from the waistband of his jeans, he encouraged it. But Lily was his girlfriend. And a picture of her diving head first into his crotch was not an image he wanted circulating.
Prying the glass from her hand, Cameron held it gingerly between two fingers. Lily pouted, but in this case it did her no good. The boy might be whipped, but he wasn’t that whipped.
Since Cameron wasn’t budging, Lily put in some extra effort when she licked her wrist and applied the salt. Cam’s eyes glazed over as her tongue darted out to retrieve the granules.
When she was sure she had his full attention, Lily launched herself at him.
Everyone cheered as she crushed her lips to his. Oblivious to the cameras memorializing the moment, Cameron devoured her mouth. It took a good minute for Lily to pull away with the rind between her teeth.
Caught up in the moment, I clapped along with everyone else until I felt Mel grip my arm.
Eyes wide, she blinked up at me. “I want to do that.” She licked her lips. “Right now.”
I slanted
my gaze to the shot dangling from her fingertips. “How many of those have you had, angel?“
Ignoring the question, Mel pinned me against the bar, a devious smile curving her lips. My wariness faded as she coaxed the fruit into my mouth. She looked totally fucking hot, clumsily licking the salt from her skin. And I wasn’t the only one who noticed.
After Cameron and I arrived, more and more people wandered to the bar. And since we had no security to hold them at bay, I got a clear shot of the dude checking out Mel’s ass. I was about to stand, when she downed the shot.
Then her mouth was on mine, and her fingers were in my hair. I fought valiantly, but she won the battle, her nimble tongue prying the lime wedge from my teeth with little effort.
Stumbling out of my arms, she took a wobbly bow in deference to the cheers ringing out around us. The asshat who’d been staring at her ass was now looking directly at her tits, a lascivious grin on his mug.
Mine.
“Come here,” I rumbled. “I’m not done with you.”
She yelped as I cupped the back of her neck, my mouth descending on hers possessively. As my thumb caressed the soft, dewy skin at the hollow of her neck, the background noise fell away, my world reduced to the faint beat of her heart thrumming beneath my touch.
Mine.
Hearing Logan’s loud chuckle, I slid my lips from Mel’s. Leaning against the bar with Seth the security guard at his side, Logan shot me a shit-eating grin.
“I can see why Christian’s been keeping you under wraps,” he said to Mel. “You’re a wild thing, aren’t you?”
Instinctively, my fingers dug into the curve of Mel’s waist. “I haven’t brought her around because she’s busy. I told you she’s a grad student. She studies—”
Mel slapped my arm in a playful yet decisive gesture. “Nobody wants to hear about thaat.”
Ignoring Logan completely, Mel pecked me on the lips and then lurched toward Lily. The two of them nearly fell into a heap, giggling when they bumped heads. I caught Mel’s elbow to steady her, but she shimmied free.
“We’re going to dance,” Lily announced, grabbing Mel by the hand. “See y’all later.”
