Bulletproof Weeks

by Taryn Elliott

  He gripped the arms of his chair. Voicing agreement made it real, but Z was right. For too many years he’d allowed the label to dictate what direction their albums went. They had enough experience to know when a song was phoned in and when it came from the gut and the heart.

  The last one he played for Zeke was the wild piano song he’d written the night Isabella had crashed into his life again. It had taken on a different lyric after she’d taken him back. It had become her song, infused with the heart and the heartache he associated with Izzy.

  “Caged Soul” was the title track and definitely fit him right now. Thanks to her, the bars were weakening. He had further to go, but he was getting there.

  The album seemed to be mirroring that in a lot of ways. In the end, the underlying story of the album was a fight for freedom. It was enough of a wide scope to bring in mass appeal, and personal enough to quiet the demons that had been riding him for the last year.

  “We need that ballad track.”

  “I know.” Logan cracked his knuckles. He and Z had been hacking away at a song for weeks, but it just wasn’t there yet.

  “I was thinking we should change up the pronouns. It needs to be more personal.”

  If it was any more personal, Logan was going to have to change out ink for blood on the page.

  Zeke stood and grabbed his acoustic off the wall mount. He dropped onto the couch and tuned the guitar. “Go on. Get Lucy.”

  Logan laughed. “So we’re really serious about this if I have to get Lucy.” It was his guitar from the very first All the King’s Men album. The guitar he’d written Izzy’s favorite song on.

  He snapped open the stickered and scarred case and pulled out the Taylor. Nicks from his bracelet scraped over the lower portion of the body and the polished mahogany had dulled where his hand always rested.

  He didn’t rely on Lucy like he once had and maybe that was the problem. He knew the guitar in a way he couldn’t explain. Tuning her was a bitch but worth it, even if she went out of tune easier than any other guitar in his collection.

  The scars and calluses on his fingertips were grooves from her. As the strings teased to wakefulness, he didn’t even realize he’d sat next to Zeke. They played the opening of “The Light” and Logan whispered the words.

  When madness meets life

  Who will survive

  Logan paused, slashed a line through the words and scribbled a correction before repeating the opening, his voice stronger this time.

  I am madness, she is life

  How can she survive me

  I am darkness, she is light

  How will I destroy her

  It seemed to be the infusion they needed. An hour later they had Emerson, Chris, and Julian all crowding the studio to listen. By nightfall they had the track laid down. He’d go at it with fresh ears the next day for the final.

  The guys had abandoned him for food, but he couldn’t quite let the album go. He listened to it from track one through eleven, messed with the arrangement of songs, and piped up the speakers until it was a wall of sound.

  “Logan.”

  He spun in his chair and simply stopped. She was wearing one of her sweater jackets and a pair of worn jeans. Only this time she’d forgotten a shirt beneath the sweater. A single loose bow held the sides together over her mouthwatering breasts. Her hands were fisted in her pockets dragging her jeans low to show her hip bones.

  His music filled the space and he moved to turn it down.

  She pulled a hand free. “No, don’t.”

  He drew his hand back from the dial and swallowed when she slowly tugged the end of the bow and the sweater started to give way.

  “I locked the door. Hope that’s okay.”

  Fuck, yeah. Did he nod? He wasn’t sure. The one thing he did do was set the song on a loop. Because she was holy shit beautiful and he didn’t want anything to break the spell. He swallowed as the steel guitar tones of the song seemed to be made for the gentle sway of her hips as she walked to him. The drums and reverb of the guitar punched his heartbeat up.

  The weave of her sweater let skin peek through. She brought up her other hand to brush the pads of her fingers over the tips of her breast. The deep wine color of her nails made the pink of her nipple look achingly fragile.

  She stopped in front of him, her knee nudging his thighs open. She offered him the end of her sweater’s bow string. He let out a groan as he tugged the end slowly free and her sweater gaped.

  She slid her fingers around the nape of his neck, through the short hairs and drew him forward. He nosed the material over and circled her nipple with his tongue. All the while her topaz eyes burned. He lightly trailed his callused fingertips over her belly to her other breast and revealed it as well.

  Her head fell back as he increased the suction. She held him tight to her breast as he watched her sway to the music and his touch. He grazed his teeth over the tight tip, tugging it away from her before letting it free. He repeated the entire process on her other breast until both were flushed a raspberry red.

  He flicked the button of her jeans open and dragged the tab of her zipper down. The flimsiest pair of panties shielded her from him. He closed his mouth over her right nipple again and peeled her jeans over the curve of her ass.

  She stepped out of the jeans and flicked them aside. Instead of straddling him like he thought she would, she slowly lowered to her knees.

  “Oh, fuck.”

  She gave him a sly smile and unzipped him, then drew his jeans down around his legs and down to pool at his ankles. Short nails coasted up his inner thighs then skipped up to his belly before one hand disappeared under his shirt. She made little circling tracks around his chest and belly to distract him, but there was no way he was focusing anywhere but on her lips.

  She brushed her cheek along his shaft and circled his head with her soft hand. She pushed him up against his belly and licked a trail from the underside of his shaft to the tip and stopped. Her thumbnail flicked over his nipple and he hissed just as she covered the head of his cock with her warm mouth.

  Her name was a groan of need as his hips lifted with each pull from her mouth. He gripped the chair arms so he wouldn’t do something stupid like grab her hair and guide his cock deeper into her throat. She set the pace and he loved that. Wanted to see it through, even as a red haze came over him.

  The drugging quality of the song and her hot mouth made his breath catch. He didn’t want it to be over, but the way she handled him made it hard to do anything but let go.

  She took him deeper, milked him with her hand, mouth, and throat. Finally he couldn’t stop himself. He fisted her silky hair and guided himself just a fraction deeper. She took him and went for more until he broke.

  Her nails dug into his thighs as she licked and swallowed. She stood on shaky legs and he tried to get his brain to engage, but all he could concentrate on was the wetness of her panties.

  She’d gotten off on getting him off.

  Jesus, she destroyed him.

  He dragged her mouth to his and slid his fingers inside of her. He knew she wouldn’t need much to go over. His girl liked a firm, gentle friction when she was this close. So he let his fingers play her and his mouth love her.

  He tasted himself, the heat of her cries, and the thunderous sob trapped in her throat. When she let it go and her body dissolved over him, he curled her body into his and held on.

  She tucked her face into his neck. “I heard someone was grouchy.”

  “Oh, yeah?” He huffed out a breath. “Where’d you hear that.”

  “Birdie.”

  “Was the birdie named Zeke?”

  “No.”

  He leaned back enough to get a better look at her. “Who?”

  “Julian.”

  “He was down here for all of an hour.”

  “Your guys know you.”

  “So this was a pick-me-up? I should be surly more often.”

  She slid off his lap and stepped into her
jeans. “I haven’t seen you all day, then you holed up in here. What’s a girl to do?”

  “I can get behind that sentiment.”

  “I bet.” She pulled the sweater on and tied the edges together a little tighter. However, it was still distractingly see-through.

  Logan stood and hiked up his jeans before leading her over to the leather couch. “Too many people in the house. I was just…” He trailed off, not really willing to own up to it.

  “Sulking like a bitch?”

  “Nice.”

  “It’s okay, I was like that Tuesday. Especially when Z finished the last of my Fruit Snacks. Stupid, but I wanted them and was tired of sharing everything. Including you.”

  He collapsed against the couch back. “It’s like living with five teenagers with a bottomless pit for a stomach.”

  “That’s fairly accurate.”

  He draped her legs over his thighs. “I had to triple the grocery order.”

  “Emerson needs a budget. He keeps making huge batches of food then serving the masses and freezing the rest.”

  “Probably so he can steal it when he leaves.”

  She nudged him with her toe. “No.”

  “Oh, yeah. He’s famous for it.”

  “I better acquire some of his chili for Nic and Adam.” She peered down at her nails. “Zeke says you guys are almost done.”

  “Getting there.”

  “Were you going to tell me?”

  “Of course.” He moved down to brace himself on the arm of the couch and tipped her chin up. “Z’s idea of done and mine are completely different.”

  “How different?”

  “It’s not time for champagne yet, but soon.”

  She shielded her eyes again. “That’s good.”

  “Hey.” He cupped her face. “What’s up?”

  “Does that mean you’re leaving soon?”

  They’d been avoiding this topic. Things were going well between them. Even with his house being taken over by his band, he and Izzy had fallen into a comfortable cohabitation.

  She’d created a library out of half of the atrium with the books she called the readers. The kind that she touched and leafed through when she passed through. The ones that he found her reading in the sunny corner of the room when downstairs got too chaotic.

  Then there was their room. She’d convinced him to get floor-to-ceiling bookcases that Cam had installed and stained to match the room. It added a specific style to his space and made it theirs.

  She filled it with books and trinket things that women seemed to like. But she didn’t turn it fussy. Just made it Izzy.

  He liked the idea that she would stay there when he was gone. That it was becoming their cabin, not just his.

  He coasted his thumb along her cheekbone. “Promo stuff will start a week before the album drops and I’ll have to go into the city to meet with the label so they can listen to it.”

  “That’s not bad.”

  “No.” He signed. “Touring won’t start until the summer.”

  She stiffened under him and he sat up, drawing her up with him so she could sit cross-legged in front of him. He covered her hands in her lap. “I’ve been talking to the guys. We want to make sure we have at least a four day break every two weeks.”

  “Can you do that?”

  “Technically, I’m the boss of these animals. Kind of. It’s weird how we have it set up. It gives them more freedom on the off times.”

  She nodded. “Okay. If it works for you guys, then that’s all that matters.”

  “I don’t expect you to drop everything and go on tour with me. I’d love it, but I know you have a life and a company of your own.”

  “I could come out for a few days maybe? I have auctions all over the states and Canada. Maybe some could overlap.”

  He brushed a soft, lingering kiss against her lips. “We’ll make it happen.”

  She rolled onto her knees and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Yes, we will.”

  The schedule he could handle. Leaving her alone was what left him in a cold sweat.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Bella curled onto her side and propped her head up on her hand. “How long are you staying in the city?”

  “This is just a day trip. I’ll be back tonight,” he called from the bathroom.

  Logan’s electric trimmer buzzed to life. Must be a big meeting if the mountain man beard he was sporting was getting a trim.

  She dragged her laptop off her bedside table and checked on a few of the auctions she’d been watching from London. She smiled at the French translation of Anne of Green Gables she’d had her eye on. Not especially pricey, but damn hard to find. And now it was hers, soon to be Michele L’Argent’s for a tidy little sum.

  With a few keystrokes, she sent an email to the auction house to finalize payment and another to Nic so she’d be on the lookout for it. As she went through emails, she listened to Logan’s morning ritual.

  It was a rare occurrence for him to get up before her and she liked the way he hummed Metallica when he brushed his teeth, and sang along with the waterproof radio she’d installed in the shower.

  The highlight of her week had been a “Shake It Off” and “Radioactive” medley the morning before. When his trimmer went silent and the water went on, she rolled over onto her back. A few seconds later, music echoed out into the bedroom from the door he’d left cracked open. She laughed as she heard his snapping fingers and Sam Smith’s “I’m Not the Only One” hit the rafters with his an accompaniment of Logan’s powerful voice. When it changed over to “Don’t”, she slid out of bed.

  This one she had to witness herself.

  His face was tipped up to the spray and he gargled out a few lines as shampoo sluiced down his shoulders and back. Then he turned around and efficiently scrubbed his body with the sandalwood and vanilla scent that lived in her brain. All the while he shook his hips and sung every blessed word to the Ed Sheeran song. Even gave the lyrics a British flavor.

  She leaned against the doorjamb and enjoyed the show. He opened the glass door and noticed her there. Instead of stopping, he snapped a towel off the rack and dried himself as he sung to her.

  Cracking up, she shook her head as he slung the towel around his hips and danced his way over to her. He’d trimmed down to a barely there layer of scruff and took years off his boyishly handsome face. He pulled her into his arms and moved his hips in a way that made her laughter turn to a wolf whistle.

  He leaned down to her and mimicked the singing-rap style of the words to the last verse against her lips.

  She hooked her arms around his neck. “You’re crazy.”

  He hefted her onto his hip and dragged her into their bedroom. “You’re the one who put that stupid radio in there.”

  “You love it.”

  “More like you love it.” He dropped her onto the bed.

  She rolled over onto her stomach and watched him get dressed. “It has had some entertaining moments.”

  He pulled out black dress pants and a midnight blue button-down shirt. The material pulled at the back a little thanks to his increased muscle mass. Mercy, she had a hot boyfriend.

  He sat down next to her and pulled on dress socks. “So, what are you going to do with yourself today?”

  “I’m going to work at the store and have dinner with Nic and Adam.”

  The tiny lines that gathered at his brow smoothed. “Good.”

  She knew he would worry since she’d be home alone, so she’d made sure to make plans. The idea of sitting in the house with the quiet had some appeal, but she was getting used to all the bodies and noise in his house. Absolute quiet might actually freak her out at this point.

  “So you’re really coming home alone? Leaving the animals?”

  “Yes, they are going home. Or to do whatever the idiots do on their own time.”

  “Well, text me when you’re almost home and I will meet you here. And maybe I’ll be naked.”

  “Now there’
s incentive.”

  She grinned up at him. “I try.”

  “Julian is cooking breakfast if you want to come down.”

  “Can’t miss that. That means French toast.”

  “I don’t know how you stay so damn tiny.”

  “Hot Yoga.”

  His eyebrow winged up. “Hot?”

  “Yep.”

  “I don’t think I can picture that right now and leave the bedroom.”

  “Well, I don’t wear much.”

  He stood. “All right. I’m leaving.”

  “Just a sports bra and these tiny little tight shorts.”

  He ducked back in the room. “There’s no dudes in there, right?”

  She laughed. “Go. I’ll be right down.”

  “You didn’t answer my question.”

  “No, I did not.”

  He made a little growling sound and headed down the hall.

  She brushed her teeth and freshened up, got dressed, and ran into Zeke in the hallway. “Morning.”

  “Do I want to know why you guys were laughing so much?”

  She patted Cody, Zeke’s dog, as the massive Akita leaned into her. “Just an impromptu concert.” She bent down to Cody’s massive head and nuzzled. “I’m going to miss you.”

  “Yeah?”

  “The dog,” she said with a deadpan face.

  “Nah. You’re going to miss us, too.”

  “Maybe.”

  “You’re good for him, you know.”

  She tipped her head to the side. “I know.”

  “Cocky brat.”

  She wrinkled her nose at him and grinned. She crouched down to the dog. “Cody, I smell bacon. Do you smell bacon?”

  The dog’s tail swished madly.

  “You spoil him worse than I do. How are you going to have kids?”

  She caught herself before she landed on her ass. Barely.

  Zeke’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh, shit. Domestication on the horizon. What are you doing to my best friend?”

  “We haven’t talked about that. We just started living together.”

  He hauled her up. “Couldn’t tell. Seems like years. You fit in, and he loves you stupid, Izzy B.”

  “Yeah, well, let’s not scare him off, all right?”