The tears come hot and heavy, and within seconds I’m heaving, gasping for breath, feeling like my heart is going to tear out of my chest. Dez’s arms are around me in a flash, and I sob once, hard, into his shoulder. He pulls me onto his lap, and I curl into a ball and shake, that horrible icy cold that entered my chest when my father told me the news working its way through my entire body.
But after awhile, I begin to feel something else, and it’s warm, soothing, and soft, like a blanket. As my breathing calms, and I become more aware of my surroundings, I feel Dez’s hands—on my back, in my hair—gently caressing me as he murmurs things in my ear.
“It’ll be all right, baby. I promise. It’s all going to be okay.”
I press myself against him as tightly as I can, my knees drawn up against my chest, my face pressed to the crook between his neck and shoulder. He smells like sandalwood and good Karma, and I press a soft kiss to the skin under my lips.
“Shh, shh,” he whispers in my ear. “I’ve got you now. It’s all going to be okay.”
And when he says those words, “I’ve got you,” my mind races back to that alley behind Savvy’s pub, and Tully giving all of her anguish to Blaze like I’m giving all of mine to Dez. I realize in that moment that Dez and me aren’t something I can choose, we already are. He’s known it all along, but it’s taken me weeks and the rejection from my father to see it.
I pull back so that I can see his face. He looks down at me with such tenderness it nearly breaks my poor suffering heart in two. Maybe I’ve been looking for love in all the wrong places.
“He gave the company to Liam,” I say without preamble.
Like always, Dez doesn’t lose a beat. “Then he’s a fool,” he tells me, conviction saturating his words.
“It hurts,” I answer.
“I know.”
And he does. He knows, because he knows me. I don’t understand how and I don’t understand when, but somehow, Dez Takimoto, this guy I didn’t even see for three years, knows me. And I am stunned and humbled, and I think maybe a little bit in love.
“I was wrong,” I say, my voice hoarse and strange sounding to my ears.
“What about?” he asks gently, rubbing his thumb across my cheekbone.
“There is a you and me,” I say. “And I was an idiot to think there wasn’t.”
“No, you’re not an idiot, you’re human, and sometimes it takes us awhile to see the important things because there are so many more unimportant ones in our way.”
“Thank you, Dez,” I whisper as my eyes start to close.
“For what?”
“For missing me,” I say.
Dez
When my eyes open the plane is dark and quiet except for the small guide lights in the plane’s walkways and the whir of the engines outside in the night sky. My legs are numb, but I don’t want to wake Shannon who is still curled up on my lap like a child. I shift slightly trying to allow some blood to flow to my thighs. Shannon sighs and settles in closer to my chest. I can’t stop myself from stroking a hand down her long glossy hair. It smells like strawberries and I inhale deeply, just letting the feelings I have when I touch her wind their way around me. I’m about to close my eyes and drift back off when I hear her voice, small in the darkness.
“I’m sorry.”
“You don’t have anything to be sorry for.”
“For the breakdown earlier. I couldn’t even manage to say ‘hi’ before I dumped it all over you.”
I kiss her on the forehead and lift her slightly to reposition her. The blood that’s finally allowed to flow to my legs rushes so fast that a sharp pain stabs at my thighs.
“Fuck!” I hiss.
“What? Did I hurt you?” she gasps, sitting up and trying to climb off of me.
I place my hands on her hips helping her stand. “My legs fell asleep,” I answer. I stand too, keeping my grasp on her to steady my poor stiff limbs.
“You need to walk some. C’mon.” She takes my hand and leads me past a partial divider to the very back of the plane where there is a small bar area and the restroom.
At the bar she stops and stands under the spotlight that illuminates the area. “You want something to drink? Or eat?” She leans down and opens the small fridge beneath the bar. “Looks like there’s fruit, some sandwiches, and any kind of juice you could want.”
“I’m good, thanks,” I tell her as I watch her dig through the other cabinets until she comes out with a chocolate bar.
“How about…” she peers at the label, “rainforest seventy percent cacao vegan chocolate with organic macadamia nuts?”
She looks at me with a brow raised, and I chuckle. “Nah. I’m really fine.”
She nods and puts the chocolate bar away.
“How about you?” I ask, watching her carefully. “You fine?”
She steps out from behind the bar and leans against it next to me, crossing her arms.
“I will be. I think mostly I feel like a fool. All these years I thought that if I could fit into my dad’s world then he’d care about me.”
I take her hand, lift it to my lips and kiss her knuckles, waiting for her to continue.
“And maybe he does, in his own way, but I don’t think—” She catches her breath for a moment. “I don’t think he’ll ever care about me the way a parent should.”
I pivot to stand in front of her, still holding her hand. “I’m sorry, baby.”
She nods, her eyes on my chest instead of my face. “It is what it is.”
She’s tough, this woman, but this is going to hurt her for a long time. She put everything into Richard’s business, his clients, his way of life. And still he tells her she hasn’t done enough. I’m a devout pacifist, but even I’m tempted to explain some things to daddy dearest with my fists.
“You’re going to be just fine,” I tell her as I lean my forehead against hers. “Give it a little time, but you’re going to come out of this better than you’ve ever been.”
Her breath leaves her in a soft, warm rush against my skin, and before I know what’s happened our lips are pressed together, soft at first, but seeking and frantic within moments. My tongue slips into her mouth and I taste her—deep, rich, and yes, sad.
I pull back. “We shouldn’t do this. You’ve been through a lot lately. You need time to recover before I start putting pressure on you again.” I give her a wry smile.
“No.” She shakes her head vehemently. “I don’t want to recover. I want to hold on to this—the way I feel right now. I want to take the leap before I have time to let all those doubts and daddy issues fuck with my head again.”
She leans into me and pushes to her tiptoes to kiss me gently on the lips. “I think you’re amazing, Dez, and I miss you too. Let’s not miss each other any more when we don’t have to.”
My heart beats hard against my ribcage and my dick beats a couple of times against my fly as well.
I plant my hands on either side of her waist, leaning into the bar, caging her in. “And how do we not miss each other?” I ask softly.
“Like this,” she whispers before running a hand down my chest until she meets the bottom of my t-shirt. Her hand slips under the cotton, coasting along my bare skin, and I can’t control the groan that leaves my lips.
“Jesus, you feel good.”
Her lips brush up the side of my neck and she murmurs in assent. I bend my head to the side, giving her room to kiss me over and over again. When she reaches my earlobe and takes it between her teeth, scraping it slowly, I wrap an arm around her tiny waist and pull her up against me, digging my other hand into her hair and pulling her head back so I can look her in the eyes.
“I’m not asking for a lifetime, but if we do this it’s not a one-night stand.” She nods, almost imperceptibly. “And if you keep touching me like that we’ll be doing this in the bathroom at forty thousand feet.”
She smiles at me, slow and hot, like warm chocolate sauce rolling over an ice cream sundae. “I’ve always w
anted to join the Mile High Club,” she says, a wicked gleam in her eyes.
I nearly groan at the thought. “I thought you’d never ask.” I lift her feet off the ground and move to the bathroom and we tumble inside, lips and hands in a tangle.
The bathrooms on private planes are, fortunately, larger than those on commercial jets. And thank the aviation gods, because I really don’t know how people could fuck in those things. As I lock the door behind us though, I’m pleased to find that this bathroom is large enough to house a sink, a toilet, and a small shower stall. I do a split second assessment and decide that’s the best bet, so I shove Shannon into the curtained space, wedging myself inside with her. I press her into the wall of the shower, palming her beautiful breast as I feel the nipple harden beneath my hand.
Her head rocks back against the plastic wall, and she moans quietly. I’m kissing along her jaw when I feel her hands fumbling with the waistband of my jeans.
“Get all this off,” she commands, and I smirk at her as I ever so slowly peel first my t-shirt, then my jeans off. She licks her lips, her eyes pinned to my torso. Her touch is tentative, but her small, smooth fingers are like licks of fire along my pecs and abs as she explores.
“Your turn,” I tell her lifting up her top and yanking it over her head. Her bra is a deep purple satin, trimmed in black lace. I smooth my hand over it before I yank the cups aside and drop my head to take a taste. Those creamy orbs topped with dusky pink areolas and plump nipples taste like the sweetest honey in my mouth while I lick and suck, my dick becoming impossibly hard as I do.
Shannon works a hand between us and grasps my cock through my boxers, stroking up and down several times before I pull her hand away and yank the boxers down, never letting my lips leave her skin. When she touches my bare cock I freeze, my self-control and my thoughts scattering like dandelion fluff on the wind.
She starts to drop to her knees but I stop her. “Not tonight, baby. I want to be inside of you.”
She responds by stripping out of her jeans and lingerie in the blink of an eye. And there we are, naked, in front of each other, and her face is more open and real than I’ve ever seen it. Her green eyes are wide, eager, ready, and when my hand slips between her thighs, everything else about her is eager and ready as well.
She shifts her hips into my grip and I slide my middle finger inside of her, beginning to fuck her slowly, bit by bit.
“Oh, Dez, yes,” she sighs. Her hands roam my body, skating over my hot skin, touching my back, my chest, my shoulders, my abs. Until she settles on my cock, fisting it, and stroking me again. She spreads the moisture from my tip down the shaft and the extra lubricant nearly sends me over the edge.
“I’m not going to make it long like this,” I grunt as I push into her hand harder. Instinct is taking over and no matter how much I wish we were in a bed with hours to luxuriate in one another, we’re not, and I’ve waited too long for this to have my usual patience.
“Just skip to the good part,” she gasps. “Foreplay is overrated.”
I thrust two more fingers into her and stroke her g-spot, making her give a short, sharp cry. “Foreplay with me isn’t, and I’ll prove it to you when we get to a bed, but for now I’m going to take you up on the offer.”
I reluctantly pull my fingers out of her, and her eyes open as she looks at me, all languid sex and liquid heat.
I kiss her on the tip of her nose. “One second, baby.”
Once I’ve secured a condom from my wallet and suited up, I put my hands on either side of her head and lean in, kissing her hard and deep, my tongue finding every last secret place in her beautiful mouth.
Then I lift her leg, hooking her knee over my arm, spreading her wide and forcing her up on her tiptoes. I bend my knees and line up, sliding into her in one motion.
She cries out my name as I hit home, and then there’s nothing. Just the two of us, motionless, unable to move or speak or even breathe for a moment that I’m sure is seconds, but feels like a lifetime.
“I knew,” I gasp finally, realizing if I don’t breathe I’ll pass out. “I knew.”
Then I pump, over and over, my heart breaking each time I pull out, then exploding with sheer joy each time I push back in. The room is filled with the sounds of our skin slapping, and our breaths catching, our mouths meet sporadically, tongues and lips twining together in the oldest of all human rituals.
When her gasps become more ragged and she’s whispering my name like a prayer, I command her, “touch yourself,” because my hands are busy holding us the hell up. She reaches down and touches her clit. That’s all it takes, and she’s flying apart, incoherent cries filling the tiny room, and when I feel her warm soft walls clench around me, my balls turn to stone, and my entire body goes rigid as I explode, the orgasm tearing a hole in my soul that only Shannon can fill again.
“So, is it true that Blaze is shagging the girl from Lush?” the blonde in front of me asks as I sign her arm with a sharpie. I have to admit I’ve never completely understood having your skin signed. Even sharpie washes off eventually. I have heard of some fans getting a tattoo done over the sharpie. And I have to admit that makes me more than a little uncomfortable. My signature permanently set into someone’s skin like a brand. It feels like a violation of everything I stand for—free will, equality, the unique nature of every human. But every time I autograph someone’s skin I realize that it’s a possibility.
“So hey, thanks for coming out to see us,” I tell the girl, purposely ignoring her question about Blaze’s private life.
“You’re even hotter in real life,” she gushes, as she leans over the table, putting her substantial cleavage nearly in my face.
I smile. “Thanks.” I glance over at Shannon who is messing with her phone. As though she has a sixth sense about when I’m watching her she looks up, seeing the girl with her tits six inches from my face, her brows draw down for a moment, then a grin breaks out and she smirks. I sigh and turn back to the girl who is now drawing circles on my arm with her long black fingernails.
“I could give you a tour,” she says.
“I’m sorry?” I ask, realizing I’ve lost track of what she’s saying.
“Of London. I know all the best places to go. Clubs, parties. I could show you a great time while you’re here.”
“I’m sorry, we have a really tight tour schedule, slip into town, do a signing, move on to the next city. No time to sightsee.” I look around again, hoping to catch the eye of the tour security guys who are assigned to us while we’re signing. She’s not a danger, but I can tell it might take a little push to get her out of here. There are lots of other fans waiting behind her and I can bet they’re getting impatient.
Her fingers walk up my arm to my biceps where she gives a little squeeze. I look over at Shannon again just in time to see her motioning a security guy toward me. Thank fuck.
“I heard Garrett sometimes takes girls with him on the tour. Maybe you want some company too? I could help you relax after spending all day signing things.”
“Excuse me, miss,” a burly guy in a suit and earpiece says, touching her elbow. “You’ll need to move along now, there are others waiting in line.”
“I’m talking to Dez,” she says with a little huff. “Aren’t I, handsome?”
This poor girl. Her desperation is heartbreaking. While she tries to come off as coy and confident, I can feel the loneliness rolling off of her.
“I’m sorry,” I say as gently as possible. “But I have to sign for other people right now. I’ll tell you what, you have a Twitter handle?”
Her eyes light up. “At SexyHolly,” she reels off.
“Great.” I make a production of writing it on a scrap of paper and shoving it in my pocket. “I’ll tweet you when I get to the next city, send you a picture.”
SexyHolly squeals in delight and flutters her fingers at me as security escorts her away from the table.
I let my head drop between my shoulders for a moment as I tak
e some cleansing breaths before I look up to greet the next fan. But when I look up it’s into the eyes of the first guy I ever slept with.
“Hey, Dez,” Jason says, a timid smile on his face.
“Wow.” I swallow, blindsided by someone I haven’t seen in years. “Jase, how the hell are you?” I stand and clasp his hand, giving him a hug at the same time.
“I’m good,” he answers as I sit back down, wishing there was a seat to offer to him.
“What the hell are you doing in London?”
“I live here now,” he says, his eyes travelling over me, and a definite glint of interest alighting there.
“Really? What brought you over—a job?”
“Yeah, I’m an architect. I work for an international firm, London is one of their main offices.”
I look at his stylishly mussed hair and perfectly trimmed beard, the short-sleeved plaid button-up and skinny khakis. Yep, architect fits perfectly.
“Well, that’s great, man. Were you at the convention already or did you come just to see me?”
He colors up a bit, and I see a hint of that quiet kid who loved art and started off our relationship by asking to paint me for his class. “I uh, heard that your band was going to be signing and took a chance that you’d be here.” I nod, wondering what he wants or needs from me. Maybe just to see what I’m like as Dez the rock star versus Dez the chill guy whose sexuality was a mystery to everyone in school.
“Well, thanks for coming to see me, man. I appreciate it.”
Just then I feel a hand slide over my shoulder and down onto my chest. Shannon. She leans down from behind me and says loudly enough for Jason to hear, “I’m sorry, Dez, but we have to move things along. The tour has a time table that we have to meet.” As she pulls away her lips brush my hair as if on accident, but I sense that it’s no accident at all, like the placement of her hand on my left pec isn’t either.
Racing to Rhapsody: A Rhapsody Novel Page 12
