Wrecked (Blind Man's Alibi #1)

by Sarah Grimm

He grunted and started in her direction, yanking the comforter off the bed as he passed.

  “Of course, there’s a minor risk of being spotted since the front railing is glass but…What are you doing?”

  He tossed the comforter onto the balcony and set his hands on her hips. “I want you on your back, outside. We’re going to need a little padding.”

  “Yes, but—”

  His lips stopped whatever she’d been about to say. She melted against him, wrapping her arms around his neck and rubbing her chest against his. Not wanting to waste time, he backed out onto the balcony, bringing her with him. His breath hissed as the rain hit his back. “Shit.”

  “It feels incredible, doesn’t it?” she murmured against his lips.

  The wind whipping off the lake was cooler than he had expected, the rain against his overheated skin a shock to his system. It was a moment before he adjusted but, once he did, he had to admit it felt pretty fucking spectacular. Especially with her heat pressed against his front. “Lie down, Sunshine. Arms over your head.”

  She squatted, taking a moment to stroke her hand along his length as she eased down on the comforter and stretched her arms over her head, pressing her palms flat against the wall. “What do you have in mind?”

  He sank to his knees, held his cock in his hand and rolled a condom on. She watched his every movement.

  “I think you’ll enjoy this.” He tested her readiness by trailing a fingertip through her folds. Back and forth until her hips rose and fell with each stroke and dampness coated his fingers. “I’m going in deep. You won’t be able to control the depth.” He slid his fingers inside and she clamped down on them. He waited for her to relax before moving again, plunging in and out of her. “You’ll tell me if it’s too much.”

  She trembled. He wasn’t sure if it was excitement or something else.

  “Emma?” He stilled as he waited for an answer.

  “Yes,” she whispered, arching her hips, forcing his fingers deeper. “I’ll tell you.”

  He stroked her again, thumb flicking her clit. His name slipped from between her lips as he bent first one leg, then the other, setting her heels against his shoulders. The view was incredible; she was wide open to him, unable to hide. He could see every inch of her, from the top of her head to the heels on her feet and everything in between. He could go deep. Feel her tightness all around him as he watched every emotion, every sensation cross her face.

  “I’ve wanted to fuck you like this since I first laid eyes on these shoes.” He curled his fingers inside her and her entire body trembled. “Are you ready for me, Em?”

  “God, yes.”

  Using one hand on her ass to lift and steady her, he guided his cock to her entrance, rubbed himself along her lips then pressed forward until his tip disappeared inside of her. He withdrew and did it again.

  “Mm. You like to watch, don’t you?” She let her legs fall farther open, giving him an even better view.

  “Watch my cock disappear into your body?” As promised, he pressed forward, went deep, until his balls slapped against her ass. “Fuck, yeah. Your lips turn rosy when you’re aroused. Did you know that?”

  She trailed a finger over her mouth.

  “Not those lips, Sunshine.” He found his rhythm, the one that had her eyes glazing over and her breath hitching. “Play with your breasts for me. Let me see you.”

  She immediately complied, cupping and squeezing them, pinching and tugging her nipples. Her head shifted from side to side, her back arched.

  He groaned and pressed harder, deeper. The cool rain against his back, the bite of pain where her heels dug into his shoulders and the heat of her body—it all combined until the pounding in his chest matched the throbbing in his cock. He didn’t think he could take much more. “Look at me. Open your eyes and look at me.”

  Her eyes popped open and locked with his.

  He pressed deeper, faster. The pressure inside him built. “I want to watch you come, Emma.”

  “I’m close. I need you to…”

  “Tell me.” Like every time, the feel of being inside of her, the clench of her body, stole his control. She held him in the palm of her hands and she didn’t even know it. He’d do anything, give her anything to get to this place only she could bring him. “Tell me what you need.”

  Gasping for breath, she reached between their bodies and fingered her clit.

  “Fuck,” he muttered. One hand on her breast, the other her clit, she pleasured herself as he pounded into her body.

  “Joe,” she whispered, her body tightening.

  His gaze snapped back to hers so he could witness her gulp in air. Her body trembled and she cried out, pulsing, tightening around his cock as she came.

  “So sexy,” he whispered, then couldn’t speak as his orgasm roared through him.

  Thirty minutes later, dry and sated, they lay crosswise in the bed, Emma draped on Joe’s chest. He stroked his fingers along her spine as she propped herself on one elbow and pressed her lips against his sternum. Exhaustion pulled at him. Every muscle in his body cried out for sleep. But his mind wouldn’t shut down.

  He’d had good sex in his lifetime. Hell, he’d had great sex in his time. But sex with Emma was heart-stopping, mind-blowing and draining on more than a physical level. She engaged him emotionally, too. Something completely new and unnerving for him. His need for her shook him to the core, had him stumbling, and left him exactly what she’d called him in his dressing room—vulnerable.

  He didn’t like the feeling one bit.

  Tilting her head, she met his gaze. “What’s the matter?”

  “Nothing.”

  She traced a finger over his lips. “You think after weeks spent wrapped up with you, half the time literally one with you, I can’t tell when something is wrong?”

  He sighed, lifted his head to get a better look at her. “This morning when you left?”

  She shifted, moving her body higher up his. “Yeah?”

  “I didn’t know if you were coming back.”

  “And that made you feel?” She ran her mouth over his jaw to his ear, the key she wore teasing his neck.

  “It made me feel,” he agreed, knowing full well that wasn’t the answer she’d been after. He rolled, pinning her beneath him. “Tell me about your necklace. You never take it off. Why?”

  “Nice subject change.”

  He didn’t even try to deny it. “Thank you.”

  Her answer didn’t come immediately. He waited as she danced her fingers over his collarbone, frowning at the marks left by her shoes.

  “You’re going to have bruises,” she whispered.

  “I’ll wear them with pride.” He pressed his lips to the hollow of her throat, savoring her swift intake of air as he traced the delicate chain lower, across her breast, before easing the key from between their bodies. The metal was warm. He stroked his thumb down the stem, over the bow and back again.

  Her eyes searched his face. “It’s difficult to explain.”

  Joe had to laugh. “Really?”

  “Why is that surprising?”

  “You don’t usually have a problem speaking your mind.”

  She winced. “True.” She fell silent again, staring at his hand still holding the small silver key. “I was struggling with something.”

  Some of the light left her, letting him know it was something big. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

  Her gaze returned to his as she ran the backs of her fingers over his shoulder, down his arm. “Have you ever had a dream that felt so real it stayed with you for days?”

  “Yes.”

  “She had red hair and this…glow about her. Big, sad eyes and, in her hand, she held a key, on a chain.”

  A strange ball of disquiet formed in his stomach, which made no sense since she was talking about a dream. “The key you wear.”

  “Exactly like it, yes. She was offering it to me. No, that’s not right. She was adamant I take it. I c
ouldn’t hear what she was saying, but I knew it was important. Then I woke up.”

  Her story triggered a memory. He reached back for it, trying to recall how he knew the image she described. “She was an angel.”

  “Yes!” She blinked and shot him a confused look. “How did you…the sunflowers.”

  “That’s it.” The memory solidified. Him standing center stage, head pounding from his wicked hangover, while the guys argued over the upcoming show. A text alert, the sound piercing as he’d yet to do anything with his new mobile besides turn it on. “You sent me a snap of sunflowers sitting on a mantel. Next to the vase there was a sketch of an angel.”

  She nodded. “I drew it when I woke up. Then a few weeks later, I found the necklace in a jewelry store and…” She curled her fingers around his, clutching the key in both of their hands. “I don’t know what it means, but I can’t get myself to take it off.” The body beneath his went taut. The sound she released similar to a laugh, only it felt strangely more like pain than humor. “It’s probably a hallucination from…”

  “From what?”

  “Stress. I was struggling.”

  “Maybe it’s the key to your future,” he offered, trying to lighten whatever had come over her.

  Her gaze skittered away. Her breath hitched. He had the terrible feeling something was very wrong as she blinked rapidly, finally hiding behind closed eyes. “Maybe.”

  “Sunshine?” He propped his elbows on either side of her head and cupped her face. His concern ratcheted up a notch when his thumbs stroked her cheeks and found them damp. “Em, you’re scaring me.”

  She looked up at him with eyes a little too bright and trailed her finger down his bottom lip. “I’m sorry.” She traced her fingertips over his brow, his temple, ran her thumb over his cheekbone. “It’s been a long, emotional day is all, and I’m exhausted.”

  “Okay.” There was more going on than exhaustion. The pain in her eyes tore a hole inside him, but the thought of pushing her for the truth filled him with a fear he couldn’t explain. One he was too chickenshit to explore. Instead, he allowed her to keep her secrets, rolling to his side and tucking her head beneath his chin. “Sleep. I’ve got you.”

  She snuggled closer, until her chest pressed flush against him, and sighed. “Don’t let go,” he thought she whispered, but then the tension left her as she drifted to sleep.

  “Never,” he said, his voice echoing back at him in the silent room. It was a long time before he relaxed enough to follow her.

  May 3

  I’m exhausted. Barely two weeks on the road and already I’m so tired – physically and emotionally wiped out. How do the guys do it, day after day after day? Sure, they don’t have a monster in their head but, they’ve been at this for eighteen months. A year and a half! It doesn’t seem plausible.

  I imagine it helps that none of them seem to mind sleeping in the bunks. Climbing into their dark shelf, drawing the curtain and tuning out the world. It’s getting so bad I was staring at those holes in the wall the other day, wondering if I could take enough sleep aid to not mind the dim coffin-like space. My inability to snag more than a few restless hours on the bus is catching up with me. I’m the youngest person on this tour and the most drained. It terrifies me. My time is running out faster than predicted, yet I have so much left to accomplish.

  The headaches are getting worse. I no longer make it weeks between attacks, but merely days. They’re not all bad enough to require medication, but it’s not a good sign. I’ll have to make a call to my oncologist soon. The medication dosage will need to be adjusted, maybe add another drug to my daily routine. When last we spoke, he mentioned a time would come when I would need that. Won’t he be thrilled when I make that call, when he discovers I’m not sitting at home waiting for the end, but on the road with my rock star lover and his band. Hah! Who could have ever imagined. The doc will lecture and scold. He’ll tell me what I already know – that this lifestyle isn’t good for me, it’s speeding my progression. I need more rest, but rest just feels like time lost. Time I can be laughing and living.

  Time I can be with Joe.

  He smiles more now than he ever used to – the sadness once so evident in his eyes, is fading. He spends less and less time staring at a bottle of whiskey like a long-lost lover and more time writing, walking with me beneath the stars, or making love. He’s letting go of the darkness a little more each day and I want that even more than I want sleep.

  I want that more than anything.

  Do you think it’s the same for everyone, no matter how long a life they get? Do the elderly wonder where the time went? Question why they can’t have just one more day, one more month, hell, one more year? Or is it just an affliction of the young? I imagine, for everyone, there is always one last thing they want to do. One final moment they long to experience.

  Listen to me, getting all maudlin. God, if I could kick my own ass, I would! I’ve been in this damn bus for too long. It’s time to get outside and find a thrill. Time to stare death in the face and tell her to kiss my ass!

  There’s a golf cart sitting outside, left behind by one of the arena staff after Gary called them away.

  I wonder….how fast does that thing go?

  Number of days since I decided to live: 73

  Number of days since I met Joe: 30

  Current level of panic: 6/10

  FIFTEEN

  May 9

  “You sound happy, Em.”

  Emma had been in the bathroom applying her makeup when Alison called. Startled by the ringing of her cell phone, which had been handed off to Gary last night, she’d darted into the lounge area and snagged it off the table before it could wake Joe. She preferred not to wonder just when Gare had returned both phones to the room, for Joe’s sat there too, and instead, stood in front of the wall of windows overlooking the city and smiled.

  “I am happy.”

  “You also sound tired. Are you getting enough sleep?”

  Emma let out a long breath. “Yes, mom.”

  “Stop it. You have few days in Chicago before heading out again, right? It looks that way from the schedule you sent me.”

  “We do.”

  “And how do you plan to spend your time?” Alison asked, her tone teasing.

  Emma smiled. “Sleep, make love, repeat.”

  “Sounds heavenly.”

  “Doesn’t it?” Three days. She and Joe had three days with nowhere to go and nothing to do. Emma planned to spend as much of that time as possible in bed. Long uninterrupted hours of sleep followed by lovemaking. Because it wasn’t just sex anymore. Sure, Joe could call it fucking, and often did during his dirty talk, but it was more than just a quick pleasurable release of sexual frustration or tension. So much more. Their chemistry had always been off the charts but, now that emotion played a role, every touch, every caress meant so much.

  “Emma, did you just sigh? You did, didn’t you?”

  “I did not!” She totally did.

  “You’ve already admitting to only being up for twenty minutes and yet you’re dreaming about crawling right back in bed, aren’t you?”

  “Can you blame me?” Emma tipped her head against the window and ran the tips of her fingers across her stomach, imagining it was Joe’s touch causing her quick intake of breath. “He makes my body stand up and sing the Hallelujah Chorus.”

  It was Alison’s turn to sigh.

  “Why are you giving me shit, anyway? It’s not like you can’t crawl back into bed with Kevin.”

  “I can’t, actually. Kevin’s at work.”

  This was new. “It’s Saturday. Since when does Kevin work weekends?”

  “Since he was assigned a big case. It’s fabulous for him. It is, I just…we were supposed to spend the day together and now I don’t know what to do with myself. I would bake, but my main consumer is two states away.”

  “You could always send me more. I mean, I’d choke them down if it meant giving you something to take your mind o
ff being alone.”

  “You’re a true friend,” Alison said with a laugh.

  “I know, right?”

  Alison laughed harder. “You and your addiction to sweets. They were that good?”

  “They smelled fabulous. The boys got to them before I could, though.”

  “Seriously? That doesn’t sound at all like you. You’re not very good at sharing.”

  She wasn’t.

  “I’ll see what I can do.” Al drew a deep breath and exhaled. Her tone turned serious. “How have you been feeling? Any headaches?”

  “No.” An outright lie, as she had one currently brewing, but she didn’t need Alison worrying over her. “I haven’t needed to medicate in a week.”

  “Good. You’re telling me the truth, right?”

  “I’m fine, Al.”

  “That’s not really what I asked though, is it?”

  “No, but that’s the best you’ll—” Emma caught a flash of movement reflected in the window and turned. Her body went hot. Her heart took a good, hard leap. She had no idea what she’d been about to say.

  Joe leaned against the doorframe between the two rooms. He smiled at her as he sipped from one of the insulated cups the hotel stocked. Tea, she now knew, never coffee. Fresh from a shower, he was shirtless, shoeless, and once again wearing a pair of jeans barely staying on his hips. With his bi-color eyes and his full lips, the dragon roaring across his chest just below the imprint of the heels she’d sported last night, he was a thing of rare beauty.

  “Em?” Alison questioned. “Let me guess. By that little shuddery breath you released, Mr. Sexy just walked into the room.”

  Emma sighed again. Al was right, her breath shuddered. “He did.”

  “Is he naked?”

  The question was so out of character for her friend, Emma laughed. “No!”

  “Too bad.”

  “Says you. He looks pretty damn hot in nothing but his jeans.”

  Joe straightened away from the doorframe, moving across the room. His eyes never left her face as he closed the distance between them, each step making it more difficult for Emma to draw a deep breath. Would she ever get used to what the sight of him did to her?