With every few bites Ian mutters, “Mmm. Oh, my gosh.”
Grace’s belly is full to maximum capacity. Ian’s hand rubs over the top of her thigh, squeezing it tightly. He turns onto his hip so that he is facing her and she follows him and does the same. The romantic music fills the air between them.
“Grace, I love you,” he says, not taking his eyes from hers and looking like he has had a revelation.
“I love you too, Ian.”
He takes her hands in his and squeezes them. “Can this really be happening? Us, all of this, or am I dreaming?”
Grace laughs. “I pinched myself earlier this morning. We aren’t dreaming. It’s really happening.”
“You are so adorable.” He laughs and kisses her repeatedly, tiny soft kisses all over her cheeks, nose, forehead, and chin. “Whenever I look into your eyes, I see the man I want to be. Being with you last night and today, I feel like a changed man. You’ve taken a man who was unsure of his future and just kinda walking through life, letting it happen to me, to a man who can’t wait to see what tomorrow brings.”
“Ian…do you really have to leave so soon?’
“No. I mean I should, I have business to take care of back home, but I’m not going to leave now. I…I can’t.”
Grace throws her arms around Ian’s shoulders, laughing. She beams like a child on Christmas morning. “How much longer can you stay?”
“At least another week or two.”
“That would be wonderful, but, Ian?
“Yeah?” he asks, his tone deep and filled with love and desire.
“I love your hotel and all. I mean, it’s really beautiful, but I want you to stay with me. I don’t want to be apart from you for a moment.”
Two nights later, Grace finds herself riding in the back of a limousine on the way to a No Quarter concert.
“It’s bien. Just how you say ‘good,’ and add veh nu. Bienvenue.
Ian smiles, flashing perfectly white teeth. “Be y ova nu.”
“Oui, but veh nu. Make the ‘eh’ sound,” Grace says, crinkling up her nose and opening her lips.
“Bienvenue.”
Grace claps. “Bien! Très bien!”
Ian lifts his arm and Grace snuggles up to his chest. Leaning down, he places kisses on top of her head. “Gracie?”
“Yeah?”
“When I’m on stage I play a part.”
“Meaning what?”
“Well…I’m Ian Taylor, rock star. You know, I talk about sex, drugs, and rock n’ roll. I swear a lot.”
“I’m used to you cussing, Ian.”
He pulls her tight up against his body. “I know, but I’m just not me when I’m up there.”
Grace brings her hand up to Ian’s chest and pats it. “Babe, I’ve seen you play before. I know who you become and frankly I’m looking forward to seeing you become Ian Taylor, rock sex god.” She smiles, making sure to let him know that she means what she says. “In fact,” she slinks closer, lays her leg over his, and runs her hand over the middle of his other thigh. “You better be ready to fuck me right after you walk off that stage, ‘cause just thinking of you up there is already making me wet.” Slinking up to his ear, she takes a hold of his lobe with her teeth and bites down.
“Holy shit!” Ian laughs.
He grows hard under her palm, which now has a firm grip on his leather-wrapped package. Letting go of his ear, she runs her tongue behind it and then down his neck. He tastes like his cologne and his scent causes a weak feeling in her knees.
“Oh fuck, Gracie,” he moans.
She unbuttons his pants and Ian responds by lifting his butt off the seat and pulling them all the way down. Kneeling down on the back floor of the limousine, Grace crawls between Ian’s legs, never taking her eyes off his. She runs her palms over the outside of his thighs until she reaches his butt, giving each cheek a squeeze. Ian’s mouth falls open and his head drops back onto the leather headrest. Bringing her hands to his inner thighs, she massages, pushing her fingers deep into his flesh.
“Mr. Taylor,” the driver’s voice comes over the intercom. “We’re about ten minutes away from the venue, sir.”
The sound of the stranger’s voice excites Grace. She has never been this adventurous when it comes to sex, but Ian brings out the seductress in her. The thrill of knowing that the driver is only a thin piece of dark tinted glass away makes her ache. Her mouth falls over him while her hand cups his balls, gently caressing them. She sucks and licks and becomes more eager when Ian hardens in her mouth. His desire throbs as he pushes her head down, forcing himself further down her throat. Moments later, he explodes in her mouth. She swallows what he gives her and licks the remainder off his tip.
Ian gasps for air. “You amaze me.”
Lifting herself off her knees, Grace sits back down beside him.
Ian lifts his butt up and struggles to pull on his tight pants. “Whoa…you…you’re fucking incredible!”
Grace lifts his arm, ready to take her place back under it.
“Ah…no, baby,” Ian says, pushing her against the car door. “Lay down.”
He puts his hand up her leather skirt and slips her panties down to her ankles, then with both hands he thrusts her skirt up to her hips. He does everything so quickly that her head spins with desire. His mouth is on her in an instant, taking her clit between his lips and flicking it with his tongue. Grace lifts her body and pushes herself closer to his mouth, bracing herself by planting her hands on the roof. She bites down hard on her bottom lip to try to control the screams of ecstasy. Ian takes her ass into his hands and helps her to rise even higher off the seat, then drives his tongue into her. In and out. In and out, he plunges his long, wet tongue deeper and deeper inside. Her body convulses as she slaps her hand over her mouth to quiet her orgasm. When she opens her eyes, Ian is still between her legs, smiling.
“Sir,” the driver’s voice interrupts. “We’ve arrived.”
Ian sits up, pulls Grace’s panties back up, helps her to get her skirt down, and wipes his lips with his hand. He presses the intercom button. “Thank you.” The limo pulls to a stop just as Ian gets his words out. He turns to face Grace beaming from ear to ear. “You ready?”
Grace straightens her blouse then fans herself with her hand. “I need just a minute.”
“Are you hot?”
“Aren’t you?” She laughs.
He smiles. “I’m okay.” He reaches for the knob, turns the air conditioning on full blast, and points the vents toward Grace.
“Thanks,” she says, leaning close to the air.
“Want a water?”
“Sil te plait.”
Ian hands Grace a cold water, and she rubs the chilled bottle over the side of her neck.
“You’re beautiful.”
“I’m a sweaty mess.”
“You look so sexy right now. Cheeks all red, lips so full. If I didn’t have to be on stage in a half hour, I’d take you right here right now.”
“Save it for after the show, stud.” Grace giggles. “Okay. I’m ready.”
Ian opens the door and scoots out, then reaches for Grace’s hand. Every attentive move he makes causes a warm sensation to sprout up and grow larger in her chest.
Ian and Grace walk through the back entrance to the venue. Grace’s heart pounds hard in her chest and her eyes grow wide when she takes in the crowd of screaming people waving and some even crying out Ian’s name. Amazed she turns to look at Ian. “Wow!”
Ian only raises his eyebrows and smiles a modest grin. With his hand on the small of her back, he escorts her along the pathway. He stops here and there to take a photo with a few of his fans or signing the cover of No Quarter’s CD.
Once backstage, where it is quiet, Grace latches onto Ian’s waist and pulls him close to her body. She wants him as close to her as she can get him.
He rests his chin on the top of her head. “You okay, baby?”
Grace takes a deep breath. “It’s just a bit daunting
.”
“It was for me too, the first few times.”
“I can’t believe I didn’t know you were this famous. I mean, it’s not like I’m socially inept.”
Ian chuckles. “I’m not famous.”
Grace pushes away. “Are you kidding me? Did you not see all those people out there? Those girls were going crazy for you. I thought the redhead was going to spontaneously combust when you put your arm around her for the picture.”
A loud bellow comes from Ian as he takes Grace back into his arms.
“You’ve been keeping your stardom from me!”
He takes her face into his hands and looks deep into her eyes. “I’m just a lead singer in a rock band. The only thing that makes me a star is your love.”
Her cheeks grow warm. “There you go again, pouring it on thick.”
“Well, it’s true.”
“Ian Taylor, it was like 1964 and the Beatles just arrived in America out there!”
With a smile, Ian shakes his head. “Half of those kids were probably here to see the band we’re opening for.”
“Do you really not see it or are you too humble to admit it? I am certain I heard ‘Ian, Ian, Ian!’ chanted by these fans.”
He backs away and takes both of her hands into his. “Does it scare you?”
Taken back by his question, she looks away. His fame does make her a little uneasy. It was always difficult in the past to watch women fall over him. She brings her eyes back up to meet his. “A little.”
“Who I am on stage isn’t me.”
“It’s all just part of your act, right?” she snaps.
The smile on Ian’s face disappears. His words from their past fill Grace’s heart with pain and she regrets speaking them. He lets go of her hands and takes a few steps back.
“I’m sorry,” Grace says. “It just came out.”
Ian closes his eyes and his head falls. “No, I’m the one who should be sorry.”
Grace steps closer to him and runs her hand over his face. “It just slipped out. Please, let’s forget I said it.” She leaves her hand on his face and he covers it with his. “I can’t wait to see you play.” She smiles, hoping that her smile will take him out of his sorrow.
“Come here,” he says, pulling her to him. He kisses the top of her head again. “I love you, babe. No one is ever coming between us again. Especially me. I will do everything in my power to keep you happy.”
“Just being here with you,” she places her hand over his heart, “is all I need to be happy.”
Anticipation rises up Grace’s throat from her stomach as her eyes lock with Ian’s. Instead of focusing on the crowd of over 50,000 screaming No Quarter fans, his gaze remains set on Grace. A smirk forms on his face. His posture changes as he straightens up and faces the crowd. Lifting his chin, he brings the microphone close to his lips by tugging on the stand. “Paris,” he shouts, his voice echoing throughout the stadium. “Bienvenue, motherfuckers!”
Grace giggles that he said ‘welcome’ perfectly.
The crowd erupts into shouts, some chanting, “No Quarter!” The guitarist, who Grace has yet to meet, slams into a hard riff and Ian leaps up into the air in perfect timing with him. Because she was so absorbed in Ian, Grace did not notice Coral’s bright pink hair at the back of the stage. Now that Coral pounds on her drums, Grace catches sight of her out of the corner of her eye. Coral lifts one hand to smack down hard on a symbol then waves, smiling at Grace. Grace waves back with a grin that stretches across her entire face.
Ian takes off running across the stage while belting out the intense lyrics to a heavy song. Stopping in front of a pack of barely clothed girls, who are smashed up against a gate that keeps them an arm’s length away from the stage. Ian runs a hand up and down his chest while staring at them.
Grace is surprised that she is not jealous. Instead, a yearning for him pounds between her legs. Ian takes off across the stage at full speed, this time stopping center stage. Leaning back, his long hair dangling onto his back, he belts out a high octave and holds it for longer than Grace thought he had the breath to. Grace looks at her cell phone and checks the time. She knows Michelle and François will arrive any moment and is eager to see them.
Images of Jaden on stage, in a small Hollywood club, find their way into her mind and she wishes that things between all of them would work out. She longs to see Ian, Jaden, Micah, and Coral on stage together again. There is nothing like the magic that was Black Dog.
“Hell, yeah!”
Grace turns around to find Michelle clapping and jumping, her blue eyes sparkling with exhilaration. Even François who is standing next to her radiates excitement. Michelle latches onto Grace’s arm and her heart swells with pride over Ian’s performance.
“Ian, Ian, Ian, Ian,” the mob chants in low voices, their arms raised. The stage is shadowed in darkness, except for the faint light that shines on Ian’s fingers as they stroke the keys of a dark purple piano. The only light in the stadium is the flicker of thousands of lighters and illuminated cell phone screens. The voices in the crowd grow soft when Ian plays louder.
Ian looks out over the swarm of people and it is as if he is looking into a midnight sky of sparkling stars. Knowing what song he is about to play, he glances in Grace’s direction. He catches her in the red light that comes from an amplifier. He can barely make out her features, but the light shines on her face in such a way that he can see her biting down on her bottom lip and holding a hand over her chest.
“Paris,” Ian whispers into the mic. They go crazy at his word. He raises his voice to a shout, “Are you Falling from Grace?” Ian strikes the first chords of No Quarter’s number one song and delves into the lyrics that cause sharp physical pains in his chest.
When he reaches the piano solo, he loses concentration trying to make out Grace’s expression, but does not skip a beat. When he is finally able to see her face, he sees glinting tears falling down her cheeks. It takes every ounce of strength he has to finish the song without bursting into tears himself. Ian never imagined that he would play in front of such a large crowd. Never, after losing her, did he think that he would look up to see Grace standing at the side of the stage, crying. He opens his mouth to finish the song and his melody comes out in a deeply pained tone.
Once the song reaches its end, Ian leaps from the piano bench and runs to the side of the stage, straight into Grace’s open arms. Her body shakes while she sobs. Wiping her tears away, he tries to calm her. “Shhh,” he breathes. “It’s okay, Gracie. It’s okay.”
Chapter 7
Their arms coupled, Grace and Ian walk across the Pont Des Arts bridge. The last two weeks have passed by in a whirlwind of romance for Grace, and with every passing day, she fears the moment he will get back on the plane to leave for home.
A ferry in the Seine River below putters by, making waves in its wake. Grace cranes her neck to get a glimpse of the ferry.
“So this is Love Lock Bridge, huh?” Ian asks while eyeing thousands of locks linked on the railings on the bridge.
Grace wrinkles her nose. “Just one of the city’s most popular tourist destinations.”
Ian looks around at the other tourists placing locks on the bridge, taking photos, and taking a moment to smooch with the Seine behind them. “And you don’t want to do this?”
Grace shakes her head. “I mean, it’s sorta cute and all, but they’re so ugly and they already made the bridge collapse once.”
Ian pulls her by her hips, close to his groin. “Just a selfie, huh? Are you sure?”
“I don’t need a lock on some stupid bridge to symbolize our love.”
“I’m more about throwing the key away.” Ian pulls a lock from his pocket.
“You didn’t.” Grace laughs.
Ian shrugs his shoulders. “I didn’t know you felt so strongly about not participating in this Paris ritual until the boat ride over here.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were going to want to put one on.”
“I didn’t know you wouldn’t want to.” Ian looks at the lock while rolling it around in his hand.
Guilt takes over. “Come on,” Grace says, tugging on his t-shirt, pulling him to the edge of the bridge.
“No, babe.” Ian laughs. “It’s cool. It’s just a lock. I’m sure I can use it for something.”
“Let’s do it.”
“I love when you talk dirty to me, but here on the bridge.”
Laughing she continues to tug.
“Seriously, Grace, we don’t have to do it. I’ve got an idea.”
The smile that reaches his eyes liquifies her insides.
Ian pulls a marker out the same pocket that he stashed the lock in. He writes the letter I and then draws a heart and then writes the letter G. “Just like our oak tree.”
Grace’s heart flutters at the mention of Ian’s carving on the oak tree. “Ahh, Ian, our oak tree. I miss sitting under it, just talking for hours.”
“We have a billion more hours under a variety of trees to talk. Here,” he says, taking her hand and placing it on the key. “Lock it with me.”
Together they turn the key in the lock and then Ian slips it out of Grace’s hand. He tosses it over the bridge and Grace watches it plummet into the water below. She turns to look at Ian and he is holding the key up, between his thumb and pointer finger. “Now this is for you. Let’s get a chain so that you can wear it on your neck. It can symbolize our hearts being locked together for eternity. Whenever we’re having a fight or I piss you off, you can pull out your key necklace.”
Her lips twist into a smile that she could not stop if she tried. “Sometimes, Ian Taylor. Sometimes.” She takes the key from him and slips it into her pocket.
“Now, let’s do that selfie.”
They snap a photo together, the river glistening in the background, onlookers smiling at them and whispering how adorable they are.
Ian slides his arm around Grace’s shoulders and they walk back to the ferry. “I can’t believe it’s already been two weeks since we got back together, Gracie. It’s almost like we were never apart.”
The Falling of Grace (The Falling Series Book 2) Page 8
