4 Play

by Quinn, Cari

  Not enough, dammit.

  She wanted that fullness. The way he owned every part of her when he slid inside of her. She remembered that. Wanted it again.

  “Logan. Inside me.”

  He looked up at her, his mouth shiny from her as he drew the side of his thumb through her wetness and coated her clit as he drew a tight figure-eight pattern through her folds then up to her clit and back around to start again. Relentlessly pushing her higher.

  She hissed.

  She was one huge, exposed nerve. But he didn’t give her that little bit to push her over. Instead he just kept her there, on the edge as he watched her.

  Never one to be passive, she cupped her breasts, twisting the tips. A flutter of excitement made her thighs quiver. “Yes.”

  Logan’s eyes dilated and his tongue went from lazy to a controlled burn. She curled into herself as the orgasm she’d been chasing leapt out and rolled her under. Logan climbed up her body and she heard the crinkle of plastic then he was there.

  She wrapped her legs and arms around him as he surged into her. Slapping skin and a symphony of words flowed between them, nonsensical and demanding. He hooked her knee over his shoulder and then he was impossibly deeper.

  Splitting her apart.

  She grabbed onto his arms, his shoulders, his hips. Whatever she could hold onto as she took each deep stroke of his cock inside of her. He cupped her jaw, his thumb brushed across her cheek as he scraped his teeth down her mouth to her chin then back up to kiss her roughly.

  When his thumb slid down to her throat and he gently held her down, she whimpered.

  “Izzy,” he said gruffly. “Izzy, mine.”

  She arched and broke. His voice catching up to the pleasure she’d been chasing. She folded around him as he pummeled her body. The slap of his balls against her ass as he hammered inside of her left her in pieces. His pieces. She pushed her face into his neck, breathing him in as he went from long, powerful thrusts to frenzied.

  She kissed her way up the column of his throat to his stubbled chin and finally found his mouth. “That was supposed to be a quickie, not a destroy-Bella-so-she-can’t-work-the-rest-of-the-day kind of deal.”

  “You mean destroy, Izzy.”

  She couldn’t stop the smile.

  “Izzy, mine,” he said gently. His eyes fierce.

  “Yours,” she answered.

  Sixteen

  Logan leaned back and took care of the condom, reaching for a tissue from her bedside table. What he should have done was slide off the bed and say something funny. That was the plan.

  Keep it light. Make her laugh.

  But her flushed face and all that midnight hair spread across her pillow lured him back in. He drew her up, off the mattress until she was draped over his legs. Her topaz eyes burned with pleasure. The possessiveness taking root inside him seemed to echo there in her eyes.

  “A weekend isn’t enough,” he said against her mouth. “Not nearly enough.”

  She teased her nails down his beard and deepened the kiss. “No.” There was a world of confession there in her eyes, but she closed them before he could find the answers he was looking for.

  No, she wasn’t going to give him more? Or no, she was agreeing with him. Not nearly enough time. His watch chimed and he growled.

  Her eyes slitted open. “Time to be a grown-up?”

  “I thought we just did some pretty grown-up activities.”

  She laughed. “You bet we did. And after the show, we’ll do it again.”

  “Tonight?”

  She wrapped her arms around his neck. “All night.”

  He grazed his teeth down her chin to her neck, then back up to her mouth. “Now that’s the best incentive I’ve had in a damn long time.”

  “I aim to please.”

  The sparkle in her eyes pushed out the heaviness in his chest from a few moments ago. He wasn’t sure when he’d gone from wanting to get inside of her, to wanting her tied to him. Maybe it had been that very first time. But now, surrounded by her scents and colors, he knew it was simply Izzy. One time or one hundred, she already owned him.

  He tried to move, but denim and leather dug into his thighs. “Son of a bitch.” He shook his head. Again, he didn’t even get his damn pants all the way off before he’d gotten inside of her. He stepped off her bed and hiked up his jeans and stuffed his feet into his boots.

  She curled into the middle of the bed, a huge pillow blocking her from him. “I’ve never actually had a nooner.” She twisted her watch. “All right, more like a tener. Whatever.”

  “Next time,” he kneeled onto the bed and stroked her naked hip, “we’re both getting all the way naked. And there will be mac and cheese for dessert.”

  She tucked her chin into the pillow so only her eyes and a fringe of bangs were showing. “Big, bad, rich rock star likes box mac and cheese as his after sex treat?”

  He raised a brow. “Problem with that?”

  Her eyes crinkled over the edge. “I’ve got a five pack in my cupboard.”

  “Perfect.” He rolled her onto her back with a groan. “Salty and perfect, just like you.”

  She stretched her arms over her head. “Sounds divine.”

  God, in a minute she’d be purring. She was all soft and still flushed from his touch. He leaned down and licked the diamond pattern of freckles along the side of her breast. He nipped her lightly and she hissed.

  “I’m supposed to be leaving.” He moved, sucking her nipple hard. When she gripped the back of his head, he circled the point with the tip of his tongue. He drew his hand down the middle of her, over her ribs and the slope of her belly to the completely bare lips of her pussy.

  He’d tasted every inch of her and wanted more. He turned his hand and hooked two fingers between her folds, groaning at how wet she was.

  His phone trilled out a text reminder as well as another clash of bells. “Dammit.”

  She closed her legs around his hand. “No.”

  He leaned over her. “No?”

  “I don’t want you to go.”

  He licked over the seam of her mouth and tangled with her tongue. She tasted of wild wind and cinnamon. How he’d gone so long without kissing her, he’d never know. With a groan he made himself lighten the kiss and pull back, both mouth and hand.

  She trailed her fingers along the nape of his neck. “Who came up with the whole adulthood thing? Let’s run away to an island that doesn’t have cell towers or Wi-Fi. Pure hedonism for a month.”

  He growled. “Don’t tempt me, woman.”

  She laughed and pushed at his shoulders and followed him off the bed. The sweet sway of her breasts and all that tanned flesh in the sunlight was going to kill him. She grabbed her robe from a crazy patterned purple chair and tugged it on. “Out. Go. I need a shower and to make sure everyone’s ready for the show tonight. Thanks to you and Cam I have two stages to keep track of.”

  He dragged her against him. “Will you be able to come by the barn tonight?”

  She toyed with the charm of his necklace. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

  “Good.” Relief hit him harder than he thought it would. He’d been able to focus on the set-up, the artists, and putting one foot in front of the other. Now, there was the show. He twisted the silk of her robe. What if he froze up? The intimate cluster of people had always been the lure, but what if she was there again? What if it became like every other show?

  “Hey.” She raised her hand to his face and swiped a thumb over his cheek. “Leave the worrying to me. Your people know that setlist backwards and forwards. This is supposed to be fun.”

  He nodded, hating that she’d seen through him. He brought her palm to his lips before stepping away. “Don’t worry about me. This is old hat.”

  She tipped her head. “Of course.”

  He bent and picked up his shirt, pulling it over his head as he walked toward her door. He stopped at the lever of the huge metal door and turned. Worry filled her gaze, so he added a smile. �
�I’ll be looking for you in the crowd.”

  “You better.”

  He slid the door closed behind him and rushed down the stairs. Luckily Nic and Adam were busy with customers, so he could slip out without explaining…well, anything.

  When his pocket buzzed again, he dug out his phone. Three missed calls and four texts as well as a half dozen reminders. He hopped into his truck, stuffed his sunglasses on his face, and pulled out into traffic. Between the pedestrians and cars on the road, he’d have been better off walking up to the barn.

  The festival didn’t officially start until four in the afternoon, but vendors setting up and curious townspeople meant a town overrun. The local stores were doing a booming business and the park was overflowing with foot traffic.

  He grinned at the little girl pushing a stroller that had a doll sitting where she should be. Harried parents flanked her, steering her correctly. Logan nodded at Cam who waved from the main stage. His gaze flitted from person to person, absorbing faces, discarding others.

  A long stretch of canvass was being papered against the side of the drug store. His face dominated the space. It was a concert shot with him in full gear. Whomever had edited the picture had gone a little crazy with a fade of smoke. It was striking and felt like another person.

  How long had it been since he’d been like that on stage? So present and fierce looking? The last few pictures he’d seen of himself had been so vacant. He was so tired of being missing in his own life.

  A flash of auburn hair in a severe short cut sucked him back into the moment. She was there? He scanned the faces, but couldn’t find her again. Had he been imagining it?

  A horn blare behind him got him moving again. He pulled off to the side and jumped out of the truck, tucking his sunglasses into the front of his shirt. Angry horns turned into a cacophony of noise. The crowd of people started pushing in on him.

  “Is that Logan King?”

  “Oh, my God. Can I have a picture?”

  Logan twirled around, but there was no Aimee in the crush of people. Earnest faces in every age range surrounded him. The flash bulbs from cameras and phones added to the repeated blasts of horns.

  Where was she?

  His heart raced. The pounding behind his eyeballs funneled all the sounds down to white noise.

  “Logan.”

  The grasp of a hand on his shoulder had him swinging around with a raised fist.

  Zeke raised his arms. “All right. Everybody back it up. We’re doing a special meet and greet later on today after rehearsal. Then you can get a little piece of him. How’s that sound?”

  The crowd made sniping comments, but the rushing wind in his head drowned most of it out. Some small part of his brain engaged and he hid what had to be crazy eyes behind shades.

  Zeke pushed him through the crowd and back to the truck. Instead of letting him drive, Zeke pushed him further into the cab of the truck. The blast of the air conditioning canceled out the silence and brought the world around him into sharp focus.

  “What the fuck?”

  Logan shook his head and pressed his forehead to the cool glass.

  “You gotta pull it together, man. I was hoping a visit to Bella would get your head on straight.”

  He didn’t answer him. Too pissed off and too afraid his voice would sound like a prepubescent. Fuck. He had a dozen interviews to do in less than ten minutes. He hooked the charms from the ends of his leathers into his palm and squeezed until pain fired all of the fog out of his head.

  “Dammit, Lo. Another panic attack?”

  Logan cleared his throat. “I saw her in the crowd, then there were all these people in my face and I was surrounded.”

  “As I said, panic attack.”

  He scrubbed his hands down his face. “Christ, I was good literally five minutes ago. I did get to see Iz.”

  “So you should be all cranked up and…well, empty of the bullshit if you catch my drift.”

  “A cloistered nun could catch your drift.”

  Zeke slapped his chest. “Thata boy. There ya are.”

  Logan blew out a breath. “I thought she was going to skip this one. Winchester Falls usually isn’t big enough for her to come to.”

  “Yeah, but then you went and made it the Must-See-TV of concerts, man. Everyone will be here. I got a call from Charlie that our VIP list could fill the damn barn.”

  “Son of a…” Logan tipped his head back on the headrest. “I just want to play. Is that too much to ask?”

  “No, it’s not. It’s up to you to get over your shit. This woman is just getting under your skin. And you’re letting her.”

  The muscles between his shoulder blades tightened and Logan shut his eyes. Shame and embarrassment swirled in his gut. “She’s not getting to me tonight. I’m going to kick ass tonight—we’re going to kick ass. Hell, even Nash is coming in for the show tonight.”

  “Well, how about that?”

  If anyone knew what it was like to climb into a bottle and close off, it was Alexander Nash. He was a few years younger than Logan, but they’d bonded over an antique upright in a seedy bar in New York City. That piano had gotten a workout and they’d played the little dive until five in the morning.

  It had been the first time Nash had sung in public since the car accident that nearly killed his voice. Five years later his friend was playing producer more than singer, and Logan’s career had gone on a much different trajectory. But near Christmas the previous year, Logan had heard that the little club in New York was going out of business. He’d bought that upright and sent it to Nash.

  The fucker owed him another show.

  They pulled up to the barn and two security guys opened his door and ushered him through the crush of people waiting to get inside. They were lining up already? That was insane. The show wasn’t for another nine hours.

  He and Zeke snuck into the back. Tables were set up in the center of the general admission floor. Reporters sat with their microphones and phones on tripods for video. Leave it to Charlie, their manager, to set it up like this. Lindsey, Johnny, and Cole all sat at separate tables answering questions.

  Logan scanned the room, found his band on stage, and circumvented the tables to get to the back of the stage. He slowed as he saw the small upright piano sitting where a keyboard had been before. He smiled. “Son of a bitch.”

  “What?”

  He turned to Zeke. “Check out the piano.”

  “No. That isn’t the piano.”

  “One in the same.”

  “Son of a bitch. That’s an omen, my friend. A good one. The kind that adds up to magic and panty removal.”

  Logan laughed. He stood up straighter, and the focus he’d been trying to find came in crystal clear. He’d been in the game too long not to have a few superstitions. The piano was good juju all right. He rolled his neck and headed back down the stairs. He held his hand out to the first reporter that stood.

  “Thanks for coming.”

  “Logan, it’s good to see you again. It’s been a long time since you’ve given an interview.”

  He sat down and waved to the other three reporters sitting around the table. He folded his hands together. “I’m an open book tonight.”

  Seventeen

  Bella hopped out of the bathroom, tugging on her wedge heel.

  “Hot mamacita.”

  “Shut up, Nic.”

  Her best friend was sitting in the center of her bed. “So, tell me. Is this get up to get laid?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Did you already get laid?” She looked over her shoulder at the mussed sheets. “Oh, man. Did you come up for a nooner?”

  Bella laughed.

  Nic slid off the bed. “I hope I didn’t sit in the wet spot. Urgh.”

  “Is there a reason you’re up here harassing me? I’m late.”

  “I know. That’s why I’m up here. Adam is already down at the barn trying to shoehorn us into the back near the bar. Evidently that country dude—”


  “Cole Deveraux.”

  “Whatever. Hot country dude with long hair and sky blue eyes.”

  Bella stopped in front of the mirror and tucked in her cotton tank. “Pretty accurate for someone who doesn’t know his name.” She held up two belts. “White or black?”

  “Red.”

  She looked down at her white shirt and black dress shorts. “Are you sure?”

  “Yep. Makes that tiny little waist—I hate you by the way—look all cute and cinched in.”

  She ducked back into the closet and pulled out the thin red crocodile belt. She slid it through the loops of her leather shorts. “So I should do the red wedges huh?”

  “Tanned legs. Hells yeah.”

  Bella waggled her eyebrows and kicked her black shoes into the closet and stepped into the red. “What about Cole?”

  “Oh, yeah right. He opened the shin dig tonight with that foxy chick.”

  “Lindsey.”

  “Right. Lindsey York. She’s a sweetheart. We had dinner with all of them last night at Valentine’s.” Nic folded her arms. “You were strangely absent.”

  “Hair up or down?”

  “Changing the subject, B…”

  Bella sighed. “I’m not giving you all the details.”

  “So, there are details to be had? How many times have you got it on with the super sexy stud millionaire dude?”

  “Do I ask the details between you and Adam?”

  She curled a lock of her thick hair around her finger. “No. But I’d tell you. Like this one time, he pushed me right up against the mysteries bookcase in the back. Wow, we—”

  “Oh, I so don’t need to know.” And now that’s all she’d see in her head. Not cool. She twisted her hair up, then let it fall to her shoulders. It was going to be a crazy hot at the concert.

  “Hair up, by the way.”

  Bella nodded and gathered it up with a clip. She messed with her bangs a little and turned around. “Okay. How’s this?”

  Nic held up a finger and went over to Bella’s jewelry box. She came back with a long silver chain with a red glass pendant and a chunky silver ring. “Now you’re done. And I expect details at eleven.”