Wrecked (Blind Man's Alibi #1)

by Sarah Grimm

  “Shower or bed?” she whispered against his lips, before coming at him from a different angle.

  He couldn’t think past the way she was mimicking the thrust of his fingers with her tongue. Tearing his mouth away, Joe blinked her face into focus. “Huh?”

  “Shower or bed? I don’t care which it is, but for the love of all that is holy, quit teasing me and choose.”

  He started walking. Straight into the bathroom where he flicked on the water without setting her down, then tipped his head toward the counter. “There.”

  She looked down and a smile played across her lips. “The counter works for me.”

  Christ, she’d be the death of him. “I meant the box of condoms. Grab one.”

  For someone who’d just told him to stop teasing, she sure did take her own sweet time pulling a string from the box. When the tip of her tongue poked out from between her lips like she was thinking hard on which one to tear off first, Joe stepped in the shower and beneath the spray.

  She gasped, then started climbing his body to get away from the water. “Jesus! It’s freezing!”

  Laughing, he tightened his grip on her, which was difficult to do with her wet and squirming. “Hold still.”

  She thumped his shoulders with her fists. The string of condoms still in her hand flew up, slapping the side of his face. “Turn around! I swear to God, Joe, if you don’t turn—”

  He turned, his laughter dying as the water poured onto his head and back. Shit. “It’s not that cold,” he lied.

  “Sure.” Her tone of voice told him she knew he was full of shit. “Put me down macho man, it’s all yours.”

  The minute her feet hit the ground, she shifted to the far side of the tub, curling into as small a ball as possible to remain out of the spray.

  He smiled, squirted shampoo into his hand then washed his hair and face. Under no circumstances would he give her the satisfaction of shivering.

  “You know,” she said, laughter in her voice. “You might be more convincing if there wasn’t any…shrinkage.”

  “There isn’t.”

  She laughed aloud.

  He grinned despite himself. “If you’re so concerned about my so-called shrinkage, why don’t you come over here and help reverse the situation?”

  Working shower gel into a lather, he soaped his shoulders and pecs, his abdomen, then lower. Her eyes followed his movements. Her nipples hardened into two tight peaks.

  “Emma?”

  She didn’t move.

  Wrapping his hand around his cock, he stroked from base to tip once, twice, then again as he watched her every reaction. A flush covered her chest, just below her key necklace. Her breath came faster.

  Straightening, she took a step in his direction. “Looks like you’re doing fine all by yourself.”

  No matter how arousing it was to have her watch, this wasn’t somewhere he wanted to go alone. Lucky for him, she was beginning to crack. Her tongue swiped across her lips. A few more strokes of his hand and she was trembling.

  Suddenly she was there, adjusting the temperature of the water with one hand as the other covered his hand on his cock. She pressed her lips to his chest, dragging her tongue over his nipple as she followed his lead, learning his pace. He let her take control, groaning as her hand replaced his, squeezing, stroking.

  “Is this what you want?” she whispered, then dropped to her knees and looked up at him through her lashes. “Is this what you think about while you—what did you call it—have a wank?”

  “Yes.” He cleared his throat when his voice began to fade. “You’re what I think about.”

  The slow slide of her mouth over his cock was better than any fantasy. She sucked and kissed, working her mouth up and down his length as her hand caressed his balls. Pleasure shot straight up his spine. His hands shook.

  In less than three minutes she had him ready to beg.

  “Fuck, Sunshine…your mouth….more…”

  Bloody hell. She not only has me begging, I’m stuttering.

  She hummed, sending flashes to senses already overloaded. She curled her fingers around him at the base, stroking, pumping, as her mouth continued to work his tip. Heavy breathing filled his ears and he didn’t know if it came from him or her. He didn’t fucking care.

  “Emma.” He couldn’t last much longer and he wanted to be in her pussy when he came. Still giving him the more he’d begged for, she drew him in until she deep-throated him. He slammed his hand against the wall as his knees started to buckle. “Stop,” he whispered. “Emma.”

  Snagging her beneath the arms, he hauled her to her feet. Thank Christ, she let go of the important bits as he did. They faced off, both of them gasping like they’d just run a marathon.

  Joe shook his head. “Not in your mouth. Not this time.”

  “Okay.”

  “Condom.”

  She looked around, then squatted at his feet. He closed his eyes and held his breath, sending up a silent prayer that she was going for the condoms. He teetered on the edge. If she touched him, he would snap.

  “Here,” she whispered.

  She held the strip of condoms, water dripping off the foil wrapper. With no way to hide the tremble in his hand, he scooped them up, tore one off and dropped the rest. Rolling the rubber over his cock caused the rigid flesh to jerk and he hissed a breath. His self-control shattered.

  With an animalistic growl, he dropped his hands to her hips and spun her to face the wall. He caught one of her wrists, and pinned it above her head, then the other, shackling them in place with one hand. Then he pressed his knee between her thighs, forcing her to spread her legs.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered, as he dipped his knees and used his free hand to line the head of his shaft even with her core. “I won’t last if you touch me.” He pushed inside, working past her initial tightness. “Fuck, you’re so wet…so soft…let me in.”

  She hissed, shoving her ass back against him, allowing him greater penetration.

  “That’s it…relax.”

  “Can’t,” she gasped. “Going to come.”

  Her pussy convulsed around his cock and he drove deep, crowding her against the wall. He withdrew and did it again.

  “More,” she commanded. “Give me more.”

  “Fuck yes.”

  He dipped his knees lower, lifted her hips higher and found an angle that made her gasp. He held her tightly and hammered into her, driven by his own urgency. He thrust harder and harder until the sound of their flesh slapping filled the room. Until her body shuddered and shook, her pussy clenched, and she cried out.

  His own orgasm bore down on him and, with one last thrust, he gave himself up to it. Exhausted and spent, he collapsed against her.

  This time it took longer to get his heartrate under control. He wasn’t even close when she spoke. “Joe?”

  “Mm?”

  “You can put me down now.”

  He opened his eyes and looked first to where his hands continued to hold her hips, then to where her feet dangled a few centimeters in the air. “Right. No problem.” He pulled out, then settled her, leaving his hands on her until he knew she had her balance. Once she did, he pressed his back against the cool tile next to her, and pulled her into his side. He switched off the shower.

  She placed her head against his pec and sighed. “You may have to carry me to bed.”

  “Sorry, Sunshine, I’m not sure my legs will hold me up much longer.”

  She was leaning more and more against his side, as if all her bones had melted. He knew the feeling. “Where’s your bodyguard? I bet he could help.”

  “You seriously want me to call Gare to help us back to bed?”

  “I’d call nine-one-one but my phone is dead.”

  He chuckled. “It’s also farther away than the bed.” He closed his eyes, trying to recall the last time he’d felt this at peace. He was calm, centered, his mind focused on nothing more than the soft press of her body against his and the question of how
he was going to make it to the bed without falling flat on his face.

  “Good point.” She stirred, shifting out of his hold. “All right, let’s do this. I could use a nap.”

  He cracked an eye open and checked out her ass as she stepped from the tub. He liked what he saw. “My mark looks good on you.”

  “What?” Standing at the sink, she faced him, her eyebrow raised in question. Then she followed his line of sight and brushed her thumb over the imprint of his teeth.

  “Sorry about that,” he mumbled, removing the condom. Tying the end, he disposed of it and stepped out of the shower.

  She handed him a tissue. “No you’re not.”

  “Not really, no.” Pulling her close, he pressed a quick kiss to her lips, smoothing his hand down her back to rub the spot. “I may have gotten a bit carried away.”

  “Ya think?”

  “You obviously don’t understand the sweet temptation that is you.” How could she, when even he didn’t? Sure, she was beautiful. She had a smile that could brighten his any mood and a body that brought him to his knees. But none of that explained this relentless hunger for her. He couldn’t fucking get enough of her. Not once tonight had he thought about losing himself in the fog of alcohol. Instead, all he thought about was losing himself in her. Even now his cock was rising to the occasion.

  She felt it, too, for she pressed her pelvis against him, tearing a groan from the back of his throat. God, he needed another taste. Unable to resist, he kissed her. Not simmering hot and full of passion this time, but slow and soft. He couldn’t deny the surge of satisfaction that swelled as she melted against him.

  He wasn’t sure how long he’d been kissing her when they came up for air.

  She swayed a little as she stared at his mouth. “It must be all the vocal exercises.”

  “What?”

  “You’re really skilled with that tongue.”

  Joe threw his head back and laughed. Christ, she was something. “How long can you stay with me?”

  She ran her thumb across his bottom lip, then pushed it into his mouth. “How long do you want me?”

  Instead of an answer, he scooped her into his arms and carried her to the bed. It was going to be a long, long time before he was ready to let her go.

  Emma closed her eyes and sighed, the lazy circles Joe was tracing on the base of her spine enough to tempt her to sleep. Joe was on his back, his arm thrown over his eyes. She was on her stomach, using his right ankle as her chin rest. They were sideways in his bed, naked and sated.

  She shifted, groaning as muscles not used to lovemaking protested. It had been a long time for her, and never had it been like it was with Joe. Propping herself on her elbow, she looked up at him, wondering why he got enough sheet to cover his essentials, while she wasn’t allowed any.

  Cool air blew from the ceiling above them, causing her to shiver. “Joe?”

  “Mm?”

  “Where are the blankets?”

  Still drawing circles on her back, he lifted his other arm and motioned over his head. “Floor.”

  On the opposite side of the bed.

  Too tired to move, Emma decided it wasn’t worth the effort. Sleep pulled at her. She was just beginning to drift off when someone pounded on the wall outside the bedroom.

  “Time to go,” a male voice called out. “You decent?”

  “I am,” Joe replied. “But Emma—”

  Gary walked into the room.

  Emma scrambled off the bed and to the floor. Shit, she still didn’t have anything to cover herself with. Reaching up, she snaked the sheet off Joe and wrapped it around her body.

  “Okay, now I’m not, but Emma is.”

  Gary just stood there, a small smile on his face. Apparently, the state of Joe’s undress was something those around him were used to as Beth hadn’t reacted to it, either.

  Joe tossed his arm back over his eyes. “Give us twenty, Gare.”

  “You’ve got ten.”

  “Shit. It’ll have to do.” And just as easy as you please, Joe fell asleep.

  Emma knew, because a soft snore slipped from his lips. Giving in to the temptation, she trailed her gaze over him. Even in sleep he was larger than life—built and beautiful. He stole her breath. She wanted to crawl back in the bed next to him, rest her head on his shoulder and curl into his heat.

  Blinking away the thought, she returned her gaze to Gary.

  His smile widened, giving her another tease of the dimple she’d first glimpsed weeks ago. Then he reached into the thigh pocket of his military-style black pants and pulled out a pint of chocolate milk, which he tossed at her.

  Emma caught it and returned his smile. “You knew I was here.”

  He tipped his head.

  “Let me guess—”

  “Beth,” he supplied. “She’s made certain everyone has learned of your arrival.”

  “Great.” Cracking the top on the milk, she took a drink. “So it’s like high school all over again. Where everyone gossips about everyone else’s secrets.”

  “It can be difficult to keep secrets when you’re stuck together 24/7 for eighteen months.”

  “Wow, is that how long you’ve all been touring?”

  “This time, yes.”

  She couldn’t imagine. Day after day, show after show, the buses, the crowds. It had to get tedious. After a while, wouldn’t they all begin hating each other?

  “It’s not about secrets.”

  “What?”

  “The news of your arrival spreading like wildfire through the members of the band and crew?” Without taking his eyes off her, Gary tipped his head toward the bed. “It’s about him.”

  “Joe?”

  “He’s not drunk, he’s not being an unbearable ass.” Gary’s voice softened a bit, telling her without words that he cared for Joe. “You calm his demons.”

  Emma sat on the edge of the bed near Joe’s feet, tucking the sheet tighter around her breasts. “I don’t know how,” she admitted.

  “It doesn’t matter how, just that you do. Thank you for…being here.” Gary’s gaze glanced off Joe, still snoring on the bed. He shook his head. “Twenty minutes,” he said, then walked out of the room.

  April 17

  I’ve never been good at letting go. Honestly, I’ve not made that many connections in life, so learning to deal with the loss of those I care about isn’t something I have much experience with. Growing up, I was the odd kid – the one parents didn’t want their child to hang around. I was too loud, too hyper and way, way too good at blurting out the first thought that popped into my head.

  The last one I’ve never been able to shake, which is why I don’t connect easily. Most people don’t like being a party to your thoughts. I’ve been called a bitch more times than I can count. But I don’t apologize for who I am. Why should I? I’d rather be someone’s shot of whiskey than everyone’s cup of tea.

  I suppose that is why my pain is so great. We connected, Joe and I. He didn’t seem to mind my bluntness. I threw it in his face the first night we met and instead of driving him away, it brought him closer. In return, he brought me closer. Joe drew me into his life and I was happy there. I looked forward to the phone calls that lasted for hours. The moments we were so excited we talked over each other as well as those when we would lapse into silence; not feel the need to fill the space just…be together.

  Now I have to let him go. I always knew one day what we had would be gone. Not because I’m sick. No, Joe growing tired of me and moving on was bound to happen long before my illness played into it. I thought he would drift away slowly, the time between calls would grow longer and longer and one day it would be over. I was prepared for that. What I wasn’t prepared for was losing him to the bottle.

  Which is utterly ridiculous since I’ve known about his love of alcohol for as long as I’ve known Joe. I was naïve to think a few phone calls could keep him from falling back on old patterns and behavior. I know that. But knowing it didn’t keep me from b
eing blindsided. I was completely unprepared for angry Joe, drunk Joe, enjoying the groupies and the after party Joe. Maybe that Joe has been here all along, but he never showed him to me. Not until tonight.

  I’m so angry I’m shaking. I don’t know if it’s with him or myself.

  That’s not true, I do know. I’m angry with him. Life is precious. How can he just throw his away like this? I can’t watch him do it, I just can’t. God, the pain of putting that on paper is even worse than the pain of giving voice to it. How can that be? Maybe it’s just beginning to sink in. I told Joe good-bye and now…now I have to learn to let him go.

  If only I knew how.

  Number of days since I decided to live: 57

  Number of days since I met Joe: 14

  Current level of panic: 7/10

  NINE

  April 20

  An hour after Gary delivered his twenty-minute warning, Emma found herself in the hotel freight elevator. Joe was on her left, his hand at her back, beneath her shirt. Having slept the entire time, he was still a bit groggy and she was certain the moment he was prone, he’d once again be out like a light. On her right Gary looked the exact opposite: alert, aware of his surroundings, and ready to take on whatever the hell they were sneaking out the back door of the hotel to avoid.

  “It’s two-thirty in the morning, you know,” Emma said to neither man in particular. “Isn’t this a bit of overkill?”

  No comment. Obviously she was talking to herself.

  “You could have pulled those big black buses up to the front entrance and no one would notice.”

  Again nothing.

  She sighed and did her best to breathe through her mouth. It wasn’t that she minded sneaking out the back of a hotel so much as the elevator smelled. She couldn’t quite place it; some sort of spicy food or maybe it was strong cheese? Either way it wasn’t pleasant. Not when combined with the fact it was hotter than Hell’s waiting room in there.