Exclusive

by Mel Teshco

Fifteen minutes later, she pushed her half-full plate away, patting her drum-tight belly. “I think you’re trying to fatten me up.”

  He chuckled and reached for her plate to eat what she hadn’t. “Kitten, thin or thick, you’re perfect in my eyes.”

  She blinked and gave him a little smile. “Little wonder you’re such a great songwriter.”

  He looked up. “Oh?”

  “You know just the right things to say to a person.”

  He reached over and clasped her hand on the table. “I write songs from my heart. The same goes with what I say.”

  She looked down at their hands. Maybe it was time to also lay the cards on the table. “I’m a call girl, an escort you pay for sex and social engagements. Our relationship is strictly business.”

  If she expected anger or even flat out refusal, she sure as hell hadn’t expected his bark of laughter. His hand tightened on hers even as he shook his head. “My god, you sound like an auto recording, a spiel you save for particularly bothersome clients.”

  Her body tensed. “I’m sorry it came across like a joke.”

  He sighed. “Don’t be mad at me, kitten. The truth is, even if I wanted a relationship, I can’t be in one.”

  Odd how that piece of news was exactly what she needed to hear, yet it made her feel… deflated. She cleared her throat. “Work commitments?”

  “Something like that.”

  She managed a nod. “Then I’m glad we’ve cleared that up.”

  Amos placed his fork carefully onto his plate, his expression brooding. “Yeah, me too.”

  The distant whomp-whomp sound of a helicopter grew in volume, and Amos scraped his chair back and stood. “The clothes I ordered for you are finally here.”

  She stood too. “Wait. What?”

  “C’mon and I’ll show you.”

  Twenty minutes later, Tiffany stood in front of the dresser mirror in Amos’ bedroom. The clothes he’d ordered in the nearest town and which had been picked up via helicopter fit her perfectly. From the dozen or so outfits, she’d chosen light colored denim jeans, an aqua cotton long-sleeved shirt and tan ankle boots.

  As for the underwear, she had her choice of dozens of Victoria’s Secret little scraps of silk and lace, not to mention lingerie. She sighed. The one thing she loved to indulge in was expensive bras and panties. There was nothing quite like the perfect body-hugging fit of a thong or sexy bra.

  She pulled her hair back and tied it into a knot on top of her head. She grinned. If she added an Akubra hat, she might even pass for a cowgirl.

  Amos stepped into the bedroom and whistled approval. “I’m starting to believe you could wear a sack and still look gorgeous.”

  “There you go again, saying all the right things.” She looked at him from the mirror’s reflection. “A girl just might get used to it, you know.”

  He approached her in a couple of easy strides, his hands encircling her waist from behind. When he bent and kissed the back of her bared neck, she shivered with need.

  “A girl could get used to a lot of things around you,” she added with a croak.

  He lifted his head, his eyes gleaming in the mirror. “Is that such a bad thing?”

  She inhaled sharply. “Whatever happened to not wanting a relationship?”

  His stare held hers. “Maybe I’m getting well and truly over someone else trying to dictate my life.”

  She frowned. Who the hell held such sway over him? His band? His manager? His legion of fans?

  His hands tightened on her waist momentarily before he loosened his hold with a sigh. “Look, why don’t we forget about everything today but enjoying ourselves.”

  She nodded. It wasn’t her place to question Amos’ motives, even if she had to remind herself that every time she was with him. “Okay.”

  She turned to him and he took hold of her hand, leading her outside to a shed where a shiny, red off-road quad bike was parked.

  “This is our ride?” she asked, grinning from ear-to-ear as butterflies danced in her belly.

  She’d never ridden on any type of bike before, and she didn’t mind having an excuse to wrap her arms around his waist.

  He grinned in return. “It sure is.”

  He handed her a helmet and helped tighten her chin straps. Her skin shivered as his callused hands brushed her neck.

  He put his own helmet on. “Ready?” he asked in a voice that sounded far away behind the confines of his headgear.

  She nodded and he started the machine before she climbed behind him and placed her booted feet on the back foot pegs. Within minutes they’d left the house far behind, the wind whipping past them and the sun warming her back.

  She turned her head to the side and leaned against his strong back, watching the blue sky and the vivid green ground skate past. A woman really could get used to this life. Her hands tightened around his waist. But only a fool would make the same mistake twice.

  She lifted her legs with a shriek when a striped orange snake slithered out of their way.

  Amos turned his head and yelled. “A tiger snake, harmless if you leave them alone.”

  Deadly if you didn’t.

  She could probably learn something from that.

  Half an hour later, Amos was maneuvering the quad up the start of an incline, where a faint track weaved its way around eucalyptus trees, fallen branches, and large, moss covered rocks. The big, white-trunked trees with their leafy branches allowed dappled sunlight through, where yellow butterflies danced in the late morning warmth, and birds flitted through the high canopy.

  He rode the bike with a skill that allowed her to simply enjoy the solitude and the glorious vistas the higher they ascended. Far below, his house sat in the middle of the vast expanse of green, smoke lightly billowing from its rooftop in the breeze.

  A goanna scuttled from a patch of sun on the track ahead, its tongue flickering in and out before it moved with a fast, ungainly gait out of their way and climbed the nearest tree with ease.

  The track sharpened and she clung to Amos a little tighter. She mightn’t be a farm girl, but she was well aware of the danger of four-wheelers on steeper terrain, where they could easily upend. But Amos didn’t falter, his riding sure and confident, and her nerves dissipated long before they topped the rise and she saw the cabin ahead.

  He pulled the quad to the side of the building and she dismounted and removed her helmet, caring less that her hair probably stuck out like a birds nest as she took in the view behind the cabin. “That’s spectacular.”

  Amos took her helmet and placed it on the quad’s seat with his own. He turned back to her with a grin, his delight all too evident as he too surveyed the sweeping views. “It’s about as close to being a bird as we’ll get without actually flying.”

  She walked with him to the back of the cabin and stepped up onto the huge deck. Her heart skipped a couple of beats as she walked to the edge and looked down at the void below. “Wow.”

  Amos stood behind her, his big arms encircling her waist as though preventing her from falling. “It puts things into perspective, doesn’t it,” he murmured.

  She leaned back against him, soaking in his strength, his… purity. She blinked, for a moment not seeing the glorious sweep of green far below. It seemed incredible that out of all the men she’d met, including smooth-talking Toby, it was a rock star who revealed a clean soul and a heart of gold.

  She swallowed past the thickness in her throat, and said, “It sure does.”

  They stayed that way for some time, Amos seemingly needing her in his arms as much as she needed his arms around her.

  She only moved when he murmured, “Let’s go inside, there’s something I want to show you.”

  She followed him through the glass sliding doors, surprised by how much bigger the cabin was inside than it looked from the exterior. A basic kitchen with big windows to let in the sunlight and take advantage of the views, and a lounge with faded recliners and a couple of squishy beanbags centered around a f
ireplace.

  “No television?” she asked.

  “No. This is my escape from civilization.” He took hold of her hand and led her past the lounge and toward a closed door. “It’s also where I write a lot of my songs.”

  He swung open the door and she stepped into the large room which was clearly a recording studio. She recognized a few pieces, from a mixing desk and computer, audio interface, microphones on stands, headphones hanging from wall hooks and a dozen cables snaking from one thing to another.

  Amos revealed a few of the things she didn’t recognize, from bass traps to acoustic panels, diffusers and monitor isolation pads on stands. “It’s only a basic setup compared to the recording studio Frankenstein’s Blood often uses, but it’s everything I want at my fingertips.”

  She nodded. “It looks like the perfect place to chill and write music.”

  He nodded. “It is.” He took a guitar off its stand and plucked a few notes, before he looked up at said, “Want to hear a bit of my latest song?”

  Her breath stalled in her throat. Any fan of Frankenstein’s Blood would drop to the floor in a dead faint to hear even a few words of a yet to be released song. “I’d love to.”

  He nodded and then strummed the strings, his voice ringing out husky and clear, and his eyes capturing hers and not letting go.

  She was mine before I even knew she was mine…

  A woman I can’t live without

  Though she might never be my own

  A woman I can’t stop thinking about

  I wish she was mine alone

  Because she was mine before I even knew she was mine…

  Tiffany rubbed at her goose-bumped arms, sensing she’d heard the song before even though it’d yet to be recorded. And then it hit her. He’d sung it to her when she’d drifted off to sleep the night before!

  Her own lullaby.

  It was almost… incomprehensible. Women would sell their soul to be in her shoes right now. She put a hand to her mouth and listened in awe to his crooning voice, the emotion he injected into every word. It was breathtaking. Surreal.

  He stopped playing and put his guitar back onto its stand. “You’ve inspired my muse.”

  She didn’t know what to say to that. Instead, she quietly reveled in the moment, soaking it all in to examine more thoroughly another time.

  Amos stepped toward her, his stare possessive, intense. “You probably realize now just how badly I want you.” Emphasizing the point, he took her hand in his and pressed her palm against his erection.

  She glanced up at him, her womb clenching and her sex moistening. “I’d say about as badly as I want you.”

  His stare glinted. “I’m no longer even sure I care about all the obstacles in our way. I just want to be with you.”

  She didn’t have the willpower to tell him there was no happily ever after for them. But she’d always lived in the moment and, right now, she wanted him. She wouldn’t—couldn’t—think about a future without him in it.

  He bent and kissed her, devoured her, and a hungry moan escaped her lips as he pulled her tight against him, mashing her belly to his bulging cock. Her arms slid around his neck like they truly belonged there, her fingers curling into the longish strands of his hair.

  Their kiss deepened, their colliding bodies sending Tiffany stumbling back. Something tipped and crashed to the floor, something undoubtedly expensive. Amos whirled her away even as she dragged her mouth from his.

  His eyes burned. “Don’t worry about it.” Then he lifted her and she wrapped her legs around his hips, their mouths joining once again as he strode out of the room and into a bedroom. Not that she took the time to notice.

  All she comprehended was something soft beneath her spine before she toed off her boots and they feverishly helped one another out of their clothes.

  She reclined, naked, back onto the bed and Amos followed her. It felt so right for him to lean down, his eyes blazing and his cock poised between her thighs. Felt all too acceptable when he growled, “No more condoms between us, okay?”

  She nodded, knowing it wasn’t acceptable behavior as a call girl but trusting Amos with everything she had, and all too aware this would be their last night together. “Okay,” she answered huskily.

  He slid into her with a hissed breath, his eyes barely focused, with pleasure clearly swamping over him. The pleasure was equally shared. Having his bare length sink balls-deep into her was incredible, her nerve endings tingling and alive, while every cell rejoiced even before he pumped fast and then faster inside her.

  Her back arched and she lifted her legs. Amos’ primal grin pushed heat through her pussy even before he stilled for the couple of seconds needed to clasp her thighs and elevate her legs up and over his shoulders.

  He kneeled, the most intimate part of her open for his inspection. He tipped his head back and squeezed his eyes closed, and she knew he was fighting not to stroke a couple more times before exploding inside her.

  Except she wanted him to lose control, wanted to see him stripped bare of everything but desire. She waited a few beats, her whole body suspended with exhilaration, flushed with need and damp with want. The moment his hips drove forward again she realized she was the one who wasn’t going to last more than a few seconds.

  The angle of his stroke hit a special place inside her and she fell apart on his next downward stroke, stiffening for a nanosecond before her every muscle dissolved into putty. Her vision blurred and all rational thought vanished as heat barreled through her and lit her up from within.

  The next instant, her inner muscles locked. Amos’ jaw clenched and he thrust deep before his whole body jerked, his eyes glazing and his throat constricting as his seed spilled into her again and again.

  She was just as awed by his response to her, the way he lost himself to her the moment they joined. The way his whole body seemed to need hers, and vice versa. She stifled a surge of trepidation and dropped her legs back onto the mattress. Their chemistry and connection wasn’t exactly ideal, given their call girl and client roles.

  Yet satisfaction left her warm and deliciously drowsy, even as Amos gently disengaged and then lay beside her, an arm moving across her belly and his lips brushing her scalp.

  “We really need to talk,” he murmured.

  “About?”

  “Our future.”

  She sucked in a jagged breath. Way to spoil a perfect moment! She no longer wanted to think about anything beyond the present, no longer wanted to think about anything but the wonder of great sex with a skilled lover.

  She lifted her head to meet his warm stare, aware she needed to be… brutal. “You’ll have to talk to Maisey if you want to secure more time with me.”

  For a second, he stared at her with unblinking eyes. Then he jerked away from her as if scalded. “You know I never meant it from a professional standpoint, right?”

  Bloody hell. He was going to force her to hurt him even more just so that she could save her own heart from bleeding dry.

  She pushed a note of censure into her voice. “You seriously can’t believe we can ever be a couple outside of what we have now?”

  “Why the hell not?” He growled. “Do you love your career and all those strangers you fuck more than what I’m offering?”

  She sat, and his eyes this once didn’t leave her face to take in the sway of her breasts, her aroused and flushed, naked body. “Just what exactly are you offering?”

  He pushed to his feet, pain and rage and a whole lot of other emotions stamped onto his face. “Me! Hell, my fortune too, if that’s what you want!”

  Something within her withered and died a little. God, she deserved that. She’d given him nothing but the woman who lived for sex and money. Yet she desperately wanted so much more than that, craved what he offered until it took everything she had not to crumble.

  Her chin lifted. “I’m sorry, it wouldn’t work.”

  Color drained from his face. His hands fisted, his knuckles going white. �
�Then tell me what I have to do to make you change your mind?”

  Her heart beat double-time, her willpower sucked ever so slowly under by a rising tide of hope.

  This time, it was her hands fisting as she croaked out, “You can meet my dad.”

  Chapter Nine

  ‡

  Amos couldn’t keep his eyes off Tiffany as she climbed into the back of the limousine that waited just outside his Sydney home. The helicopter ride had been a rather silent affair, but he hadn’t pressed her for more details about her father and why she wanted Amos to meet him.

  It was clearly a big deal for her, one he wasn’t going to make her regret.

  He climbed in beside her. “I can have the driver take you home first if you’d prefer to freshen up and change?”

  Not that she didn’t look damn fine in jeans and a long-sleeved shirt, but whatever she felt most comfortable in was all he cared about. Besides which, he’d get to see where she lived.

  She brushed a hand along her denim-clad thighs. “Thanks, but this is the perfect attire for seeing my dad.”

  He ignored a deep pang of disappointment and leaned back against the plush leather seat, his mind ticking over and his instincts coming to the fore. Either her father didn’t know she was an escort or he couldn’t accept it. Amos didn’t doubt for a second there wouldn’t be many parents who’d like the idea of their daughter being in the sex game.

  He frowned. He knew so little about Tiffany, her family, her background. Jesus, he didn’t even know her real name.

  He turned to her. “What do I call you in front of your father?”

  Her hands squeezed together in her lap and he had to ruthlessly quash a desire to pull her into his arms. He wanted answers from her, and he wanted them now. Touching her would only distract them.

  She looked up at him. “My real name is Natalie.”

  “Natalie,” he murmured, testing out her name and feeling honored to know it. “It suits you.”

  She huffed out a breath. “The name probably goes better with my jeans and cotton shirt.”

  He chuckled, a visual of Tiffany in her sexy lingerie and call girl outfits flashing through his head. His dick jerked in response. He’d gladly fuck Natalie in whatever guise she preferred, even though right now he’d happily settle for a long, drugging kiss. But he was pushing her boundaries just in meeting her father, she probably needed her space.