by Cari Quinn
At least they could tell the grandchildren they’d known each other for years, and it wouldn’t be a lie. Exactly.
Wait, what? What grandchildren? Getting married by accident was one thing. But accidental procreation? All right, you could do that too, but it was totally a different kettle of diapers when little people were involved.
“Thank God I stopped drinking,” he muttered, pushing a hand through his hair.
Chloe handed back the marriage license. “What did you say? By the way, I’d like a copy of that.”
“Sure. Coming right up once I have a home office and a scanner. Or else we go to Kinko’s. That name always sounded dirty to me.”
She scrunched up her nose. “Are you okay?”
“Yep, fine. Never better. Let me grab you a drink.” And me a reality check. “Be right back.”
“Do you have diet Co—oh yeah, you hate Coke. Fudge.”
“Fudge? If you’re going to live with me, honey, I should warn you. Only actual swear words allowed.”
“I’m not living with you. This is just temporary until I get my feet back under me—” She pressed her lips together as if she’d said too much. “What kind of soda you have?”
“Dr. Pepper and grape. Lots of Dr. Pepper. I have this thing for spicy flavors lately. So weird.”
She flushed. “I’ll take that, please. Thank you.”
“Gotcha. Be right back.”
In the kitchen, he poured Dr. Pepper into two glasses of ice. His mother’s insistence on always serving company tea cookies on a tray had him opening the cupboard and taking out the box of Girl Scout cookies he kept for that purpose. Not that he’d actually ever served cookies to anyone. Like who? His mangy bandmates? Right. Not happening.
He blew off the layer of dust on the box and took out a couple of lemon cookies to arrange on the plate on the counter. His mother would be proud.
Taking a bite of cookie, he cocked his head. Tasted okay. Didn’t smell funny. Probably fine.
Maybe the sweets would get Chloe to start talking.
He wanted to ask questions. Lots of questions. Like why she seemed to be barely holding on to her composure, and why her fingers shook every time she fiddled with her hair. Hair she’d forgotten to tie back for once. Maybe she’d tell him what was going on if he gave her space. Demanding never seemed to get him anywhere.
Chloe was on the phone when he walked back into the living room with the two glasses and plate of cookies.
“Sure it’s okay if he spends the night? I can call my dad, see if he can—”
“Or he can come here,” Michael interrupted, setting down the drinks and plate. “This is his home now too.”
It felt more than a little weird to have her there—and to invite her son to move in as well. But she was his wife, so that made Axl his stepson.
So freaking weird. And yet nice in a way. Especially since the kid wasn’t there to remind him of all the ways he wasn’t cut out to be a parent, step or otherwise.
Chloe shot him a look and rose to walk to the French doors, stopping dead as if he’d just realized how close he was to the beach. From her end of the conversation, it was either that or she’d had some kind of mental break.
“Ah, yes, um, yeah tomorrow. Yes, I’ll get him. Noon? Oh, great, right. Um, thanks. You’re a lifesaver. I’ll call Axl tonight in bed. I mean before bed. Okay, bye.” She clicked off and tucked her phone into her pocket, then stepped forward and pressed her palms to the glass. Almost as quickly, she dropped her hands and started buffing the glass with her shirt. “Holy shit. You’re on the beach.”
“Above the beach, but yeah. Is Axl okay? Where is he?”
“With my neighbor, Lori. He’s fine. I can’t even think with that out there.”
He took the opportunity to cup her shoulders and rest his chin on her head. “You like the view?”
“Like it? Are you crazy? How do you live here every day and do anything but look out?”
He didn’t tell her he forgot to even glance outside some days. He’d gotten too used to the view, too jaded.
Feeling her tremble from excitement made him see it all as if it were the first time. The strip of white sand beach, the relentless roll of water toward the shore, the sparkle of the waves under the fading sun. It was almost time for the sunset, and he couldn’t wait to experience it with her.
“Wait here,” he murmured.
She barely glanced back as he headed into his bedroom to grab the light blanket off the end of the bed. He barely used it even in the winter, since he was perennially hot. But she’d get chilly outside as the sun went down.
And if things progressed the way he hoped, she could use it as a cover-up.
He came back out to find her still staring through the glass. She hadn’t opened the door and gone on the balcony. Did she think he’d snatch away the toys if she enjoyed herself too much?
“Let’s go out,” he said, stroking a hand down her hair.
The instant he opened the door, she flew across the space and right to the rail. So much for being afraid of heights.
Smiling, he watched her lean forward so that her loosened hair blew in the breeze like a banner. “I smell it,” she said over the wind. “The ocean. Oh, God. Michael.”
After he set the blanket on the chaise, he came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. It was cheating to take advantage. So not fair. He should let her have her moment, and not take something for himself.
Being near her was like standing in the path of the sun. As much as he just wanted to bask in her warmth, he needed more. Had to taste every part of her and remind himself that even if none of this made sense, even if it never did, he didn’t have doubts when it was just the two of them.
Was it insane? Sure. Absolutely. An insanity he craved.
Maybe that was all he needed to know.
To try to bring himself back, he laced his fingers with hers. He’d picked the hand that still bore Snake’s ring. That should’ve been a cold shower to his libido, but it wasn’t. Not today. Logically, he knew he couldn’t expect her to turn her back on her past so soon. If he wanted her to be his—and fuck, he did—he had to give her reason to want to be.
“I don’t come out here enough anymore. Barely check out the view. I love it, but I’ve gotten too used to it.”
“How could you get too used to this?” The delight in her tone could have buoyed him for weeks. “It’s like a fantasy. The warm breeze, the smell of the sea, the sun starting to sink into the ocean…”
“I guess sometimes you stop seeing what’s right in front of you.” He toyed with her hair, turning a handful of it to study the twined colors of red and gold in every strand. “That’s why I saw you but I didn’t see you for all that time. I’d slotted you away as forbidden and looked right through you. My loss,” he said as she turned to face him.
She studied him for a long moment with the pink and orange hue of the setting sun haloing her head. “Not just yours. I didn’t see you either.”
“I was the last thing you wanted to notice. You’ve had enough of dealing with guys in bands.”
“Yeah.” She lowered her gaze, her lashes fluttering against her cheeks. “Axl comes first in everything. I can’t risk him.” She took a deep breath. “Michael, what I do affects him. I can’t make a mistake and hurt my little boy.”
“I understand that. And he’s so lucky to have you. My parents—” He broke off and stared into the distance at the crying seagulls. “Me and Mal weren’t their priority, put it that way.”
“Mal?”
“My older brother. Irish twins.” Michael smiled and curled her hair around his fingers. “He was on the drums at the House of Blues. Giant bald dude. Looks like me not at all. Doesn’t act like me either. Rarely says a word unless he feels like it, and most often they’re rude.”
“Your brother is in your band?”
“No. He’s not. He has no interest in that life. He just pinch hit for Ry when he injured his wris
t. We made a deal. One night only, then he split.”
“But that night he was amazing. I mean, I wasn’t really focused on anyone but you, but I could tell he was really good. I kind of pay attention to drummers, you know, after Snake.”
Michael tipped up her chin, relishing the ruddy flush of her cheeks. Her feelings telegraphed onto her beautiful heart-shaped face like a projector on a wall.
No wonder he was transfixed.
“You were focused on me,” he said quietly. “Just like I was focused on you. Only you. For the last week, you’ve been like a spotlight. You’ve blinded me. I can’t see anything else around your glow.”
“It’s attraction.”
“You’re right. It absolutely is.” He swayed closer, knowing she would be able to feel how hard he was for her. Constantly.
Wanting Chloe had become a primitive beat in his blood. He couldn’t imagine living without that all-consuming need ever again.
“That’s just not all it is.” He traced the bow of her mouth. “I want to get to know all the things I don’t know about you. All the hidden chambers and vaults you hide away to keep them safe. You can open them for me.”
“Let’s say I do. And you get bored. You go on tour, and that pretty Tabitha girl shows up in your dressing room. Then what? I shouldn’t even have a right to get mad, because we did a crazy thing.” Chloe flicked her windblown hair out of her eyes. The sun was lowering in the sky, and with it, up came the chill. “Who gets married after a couple of hours?”
“Two people who’ve been looking for something, and finally found it.”
Her gaze shot to his and stayed. “That’s not enough to build a life on. Chemistry fades. The excitement will fade. It has to.”
“So we don’t build a life yet. We build a relationship, day by day.”
“But we’re married. We’re supposed to have all of this figured out, and how can we? I had to run from reporters to even get here. My picture is everywhere. Today I lost—” She swallowed hard. “I lost so much, and now this is what’s left.”
Of all the questions he needed most to ask, one roared to the fore. “Axl is okay?”
“Yes.” She let out a weak laugh. “My boy is okay, and that’s the most important part. But God, everything else. It’s all such a mess.”
“Let me reassure you on one point.” He tucked her hair behind her ears. “As for Tabitha, she isn’t an issue. I’d vowed never to touch her again before you. After? I barely remember what she looks like.”
Her huff of breath nearly made him smile. “Sure. Right. She’s a gorgeous girl, and you don’t care about her because you’re married to a mother who hasn’t been out on a date in years. Who doesn’t even recall what it means to have fun and be wild. The one weekend I tried to be the girl I used to be, I ended up with a ring.”
“All right, yes, that’s unfortunate.”
She laughed, throwing back her head. “Unfortunate. Yeah. Except everything with you is so bright and full. I feel so full, like I’m going to burst with all the emotions you’ve unlocked inside me. And I can’t. I can’t. I’m a mother now. What I need doesn’t rank.”
“You can’t take care of him if you’re not taking care of yourself.”
“I don’t have the time—”
“So let me. I’m standing right here, and I’ll take care of you so you can take care of him.”
“Why?” she whispered. “Why would you do that?”
There were so many things he could have said. So many reasons. He went with the one he thought she’d understand most.
“My mother never put me first. My father definitely didn’t. They both were too busy looking out for themselves. I see you, and I see everything that my mother should have been and wasn’t. And I see you fighting to hang on by your fingernails, when I have everything available that could help you and I haven’t done one meaningful thing with it. I’ve done nothing, except play a guitar and focus on myself.” He cupped her face and stroked her damp lower lip. “Let me focus on you so you can focus on him. Let me, Chloe.”
Chapter 23
For about the five-thousandth time, she left him hanging.
No big deal. It only felt like his chest was in a vise. Eventually the pressure would ease, right?
Chloe’s eyes went too bright before she closed them. “There’s quicksand under my feet. Everything is slipping away.”
“No, it isn’t. I swear it’s not.” Michael pressed his forehead to hers and absorbed the uneven puffs of her breath. “Lean on me for a while. Trust me to be the bedrock you need. That Axl needs.”
“That’s not fair.”
“You’re right. I don’t play fair when I’m winning back my wife.”
She sighed and the fight seemed to drain out of her. “You can’t win back what you never had.”
“Au contraire. I’ve had you now, and I remember every second. You around me so, so tight. Your pupils swallowing those beautiful browns. Those sounds of yours when you can’t take any more and I make you.”
“Michael…”
“And that, especially that. How you sound so exasperated when you say my name, but still with that little plea that lets me know I’m not alone in this. You feel just as chaotic and needy as I do.” He brushed his thumbs over her cheeks until they met over the seam of her lips. “Tell me you do, Chloe.”
“How could I not?” He moved away his thumbs so she could speak. “I saw you on that stage and you were everything I’m not. Strong. Cocky. So, so talented.”
“You’re all of those things and more. Let me show you.”
Wordlessly, he drew her toward the chaise. He grabbed the blanket and draped it around her shoulders while her gaze roamed his face. She was uncertain and worried, and he should be soothing her with words and not actions she could dismiss. But he had to do more. Not for himself.
For her. Just for her.
He bent to pull off her sandy ballet flats and then encountered more sand on the damp hems of her jeans. “You were on the beach before you came here.”
“Yeah. It’s my safe spot. Always has been.”
Something twisted in his chest. What he’d grown far too complacent in even noticing, she sought for comfort. “Now you can see safety from here.” Watching her face, he undid the button on her jeans and drew down the zipper. “While I show you anything but.”
“We’re outside. All the cameras…”
On his knees, he pressed a kiss to her peach panties as he drew down her jeans. “Tell me you don’t care. That you want this as much as I do.”
“You know I do. I’m destroying my whole life because I can’t stop wanting you.”
He didn’t know what that meant or if she’d ever spell it out for him. As much as he needed to demand answers, he needed this even more.
Her.
He pulled her jeans down her legs and tossed them on the chair beside them, then went back for her panties, hooking his thumbs in the sides. Above them, she wore a tight Rafferty’s T-shirt that revealed the full outline of her small, pert breasts. Her nipples were already distended, and he leaned up to take one between his teeth through the cotton. She moaned and grasped his head, weaving her fingers into his hair.
Fuck, he loved those subtle little tugs as she lost control. He needed more of them. Now.
“I’m going to recline all the way on this chaise, and you’re going to climb up on my face. And if anyone is taking pictures, I want you to make sure they hear you scream.”
Rather than denying him—and possibly asking if he’d lost the last of his sanity—she clasped the blanket around her shoulders. “Not going to do that through my panties,” she said, making him grin.
“Oh, I could. But for the sake of argument, you win.” He yanked them down her long, pale legs and tossed them on top of her jeans. Then he rose and sat on the chair, leaning back and pulling on the lever that controlled the incline. It was sturdily built, more than capable of holding both of them. He’d never been more grateful for
springing for quality than that very moment.
Once he’d lowered the back, he waited, breathing so hard his lungs were starting to cramp.
She was a goddamn vision. Eyes darker than the clouds rolling in, freckled skin flushed pink, her hair nothing but a flame in the dying sun. He couldn’t do anything but hope to God she quickly put him out of his misery.
She moved up the chair and straddled his chest. Biting her lip, she hesitated.
“Uh-uh, Red. All the way. Don’t make me die of thirst.”
Without warning, she turned around, facing the other way. He was sure she’d changed her mind and was going to go inside, maybe leave his place entirely.
Instead she grabbed his belt.
He started to tell her no. This wasn’t about him. He already knew they were taking a risk. As far as he was concerned, anyone could take pictures of them and plaster them all over the web. She wouldn’t see it the same way.
The blanket over the shoulders should be enough to disguise what was happening, but he couldn’t be sure. He couldn’t protect her when he was on his back. Leave it to his dick to do the thinking the minute his brain vacated the premises.
And his dick always made very, very bad choices.
Shit, she’d already undone his jeans.
“Lift,” she murmured, and he did, because he was only a man. Just her using her hand on him would be enough to make him go crazy. Forget anything else.
She pushed his jeans and boxers down his legs, leaving them around his lower thighs like rope. Just one flex of his hips and her mouth was on him, exploring him without any of the reticence he would’ve expected. They were outside, and fuck, her pussy was too far away.
They’d have some tit for damn tat here.
He grabbed her hips and pulled back to his mouth, latching onto her swollen pink slit with a longing he couldn’t hold back. He’d been craving this taste for so long, since the first time he’d gotten a hint of it in the club. Drunk, half delirious, he’d been consumed with the desire to taste her. The reality had nearly killed him, but a long, slow lick from the source was enough to make his body shake from the force of his groan.
