“Can one of y’all call an ambulance?” he answered.
He had a crew of neighbors watching his life turn into an episode of a talk show, the kind where people threw chairs and half their words were bleeped out for the network. It wasn’t until he felt the sick sink of shame that he realized just how little shame he’d felt over the past month with Emme.
For once, he’d been who he wanted to be, not who he was forced to be by circumstance. She had looked at him and seen a man she wanted, a musician she could respect, and he’d found someone he could trust for the first time in his whole damn life.
The flash of blue and red lights reflected off the stop sign at the end of the street as the police and paramedics arrived. He half expected Katie and Eric to take off running, but to his surprise, neither did. He walked down toward the street to direct the EMTs and to talk to the police, just as the first light of dawn began to show over the horizon.
Chapter Fourteen
Two days had passed since Emme had texted Tom. Two days with no reply. Forty-six hours, to be precise, so slightly less than two days. Not that she was counting.
Her mother, however, had begun calling daily.
“I see you’re famous again.” Inhale. Exhale. “Do you know where I heard about you?”
Emme sighed. “Garden Club?”
“No. Church. Church, Emily. Donald is humiliated. We’ve tried so hard to help you fix your reputation and then you throw it away like you don’t even care. Do you have any idea how much money Donald has spent on your house since you’ve been away?”
Emme could imagine her mother when she closed her eyes, mouth tight, pink nail polish shining against the filter of her cigarette, skirt neatly tucked under her legs as she tapped her foot against the floor.
“Mom. I never asked him to. I appreciated his offer, but I tried to turn it down.” She rubbed her forehead. She didn’t have a headache, exactly. More like enough pressure to push her skull open from the inside.
“Well, I asked him to. I told him we could help your career, that it would mean a lot to me if we could do something for you. And you take both hands and grab the nearest man and throw it all away.”
“Tom isn’t the nearest man,” Emme said. She looked over at Andy, who was the nearest man. He raised an eyebrow at her. She lowered her voice. “He’s important to me.”
“Which is why you immediately jumped into bed with that other guy?”
“Mom! I didn’t. Andy’s married.”
“It didn’t stop you before.”
“Actually, it did stop me before. I never did anything with Jared.”
That pulled her mother up short but only for a moment. “Pictures don’t lie, Emily,” she said.
That would have made her cry, once, that lack of faith in her. Or maybe she’d have just felt ashamed, drowning in it. It still hurt, but it hurt because she knew her mother would never really know her, not because she thought she’d done anything wrong.
“I love you, but I’m hanging up now,” she said. And did.
She wanted to call Tom, tell him what a gift he’d given her, but he’d left because his personal and business life was in shambles. The last thing he needed was for her to create another responsibility for him, to make demands of him. If he hadn’t called her back, it was for good reason. She ought to leave him alone.
But she missed him. She worried about him. She wanted to know how he was doing, wanted to ease some of his burden. And she missed touching him, watching his eyes go hungry when she teased and taunted until there was nothing left in his life but him and her and the sparking lust between them.
They’d reached the phase of the tour when the van began to smell like fast food and boy-socks. Her forehead had etched a permanent splotch on the rear passenger-side window where she leaned against the cool glass, tracing raindrops with her fingers. Because of the mountains and the rain and the unwieldy top-heaviness of the van, Dave drove slowly, carefully. Emme knew it made good sense, but she still felt trapped and mired and sunken, watching sullenly as the rain and the road passed outside her window.
He would respond when he had a chance. She would wait until then.
When the text alert on her phone sounded, she nearly sent it flying across the van, she fumbled so quickly to grab it.
Thinking about you, too. Where are you? It was Tom, and suddenly her breath rushed into her body with such force she realized she’d been nearly holding it for two days—no, forty-six hours.
Outside Asheville. She had to retype the city name three times, her thumbs clumsy. She felt like she’d lit up from the inside, just from seeing words from him on a screen. What took you so long?
I lost my phone for a while. Dew isn’t good for a touch screen.
Sounds bad, Emme typed back.
Oh, it’s worse than it sounds.
Emme wished she could hear his voice. Can I call you?
It took him a while to answer. I’d rather text, if that’s okay.
Where are you?
In bed. I didn’t sleep last night.
She wanted to ask him how he was doing, wanted to ask about his sister, but she held herself back and followed his lead. She could show him that she trusted him to do what he needed, take what he needed from her.
Are you in the hotel?
No, in the van.
Emme nearly saw his dimples in his response. Oh, that’s too bad. I was hoping to get you alone.
She couldn’t help but grin at that. Oh, really?
Yeah. But this might be fun, too …
Emme shook her head. Sounded like Tom was doing okay. Tease.
Oh, right, normally that’s your role. Are the guys in the van with you? Who’s riding in the back?
Emme looked around. Andy was sitting on the other side of the backseat, his earbuds plugged in. Guillermo and Dave were up front as always. The interior of the van was quiet except for the sound of the windshield wipers and the rain against the roof and the buzzing of her phone when Tom’s texts came through.
Andy’s in the back with me. Dave and Mo are up front.
Hm. If I were back there with you …
She waited for him to continue but he didn’t. What would you do?
I’d scoot a little bit closer to you. Get close enough that I could feel the warmth of your body beside mine, smell your perfume. You always smell sexy. I get a hard-on from the smell of your shampoo.
Heat flared to life through Emme’s body at that. She could feel him, close enough for his heat and scent to wash over her but not actually touching her. Not close enough to make Dave or Guillermo protest from up front.
You always smell like soap. Makes me want to get you dirty. She typed it quickly like Andy might grow X-ray vision and read it over her shoulder. It was something she’d always thought about Tom but would never have said. It would sound too stupid spoken aloud.
I love it when you get me dirty. There was a pause and Emme pictured his naughty, dimpled grin as he typed that. I’d wait until no one was looking, and I’d trace letters on the back of your neck, spelling out everything we could do when we got to the hotel.
Emme felt goose bumps rise all along her skin at that. What sorts of suggestions would you make?
When no one was looking, I’d whisper that I want to crawl to you, worship you, make you come with my mouth until you push me away.
God, who was in charge here? She couldn’t remember. Her cheeks were burning, her body was buzzing. Every bump in the road made her aware of the wetness between her legs, how restless and empty she felt. How much she wanted him here with her. Just knowing he was on the other end of this conversation brought color back to the world. Agonizing color, to be sure, since she was so aroused with no hope for relief any time soon, but brightness that she’d missed in the past few days. Her hands shook as she typed back. What if I ordered you to do it in the van? Kneel on the floor in front of me, push up my skirt, and lick me until I came all over you? Would you do it?
She kne
w the answer. She had a feeling she knew what his answer would always be.
I’d fucking love it. A pause, then he typed: I was going to wait for you, wait until you got to the hotel. How much longer?
At least another hour. Emme thought for all of two seconds before she continued. Don’t wait. I want you to come. I want you to tell me what you’re doing. Are you dressed?
I was. Now I’m in my boxer briefs, lying on my bed.
She could picture it, his lean, muscled body stretched out atop the covers. She wanted to run her hand over his midsection, follow the line of hair that disappeared into his waistband. Touch yourself. Start at your chest and run your hand down over your belly. Do it slowly.
Emme nearly shivered as she pictured his hands on his own body as she watched.
Feels good. His messages were taking longer to type and getting shorter. She could imagine him taut and breathless from his own touch.
Slide your hand over your cock but don’t touch under your boxers. Pretend it’s me. Imagine my mouth is open and wet and that I’m sliding it over your erection through your underwear.
Fuck, Emme. That feels so good.
She very nearly moaned aloud before she remembered that she was in the van with Andy only a few feet away. She shifted in her seat, trying to find some way to ease the ache between her thighs, and turned back to her phone. I wish I could hear your voice. She typed the confession more furtively than she’d typed the far more explicit directions she’d given him.
God, baby. When you sing, I feel it in my whole body.
Pull your boxers down. Think of me doing it while I kneel over you with my mouth so close to your cock.
Emme could almost taste him. She closed her eyes for a moment and tried to catch her breath, slow down her frantic heartbeat.
“You okay?”
The sound of Andy’s voice startled her so badly she nearly shrieked. Her phone flew out of her hand and landed on the van floor. “Shit!” She scrambled for it before he could pick it up and see what was on the screen. “Yeah, sorry. Fine. Just lost in thought.”
He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye but shrugged and turned away. She curled herself into a ball, knees against the armrest, phone cradled protectively in the shelter of her body.
I’d just breathe first. You’d be able to feel the heat of my mouth, but I wouldn’t touch you—just like you said you’d do, sitting next to me in the van.
I want to rest my fingers in your hair. It’s so pretty all messy.
Emme wasn’t sure why that made her blush when all the other messages they’d sent each other didn’t, but her face heated anyway. I’d like that. She imagined his calluses catching on the strands, the tenderness in his touch. How cherished he made her feel, and how much she wanted to spoil him. I’d lean forward and let my hair fall over you. Then I’d lick from the very bottom to the tip of your cock until you were good and wet.
She waited for what felt like an hour for his response. It feels good, but it’s not enough. I’m trying not to thrust toward you, trying not to pull your hair.
Go ahead and thrust. I’ll open my mouth and take you in. Are you touching yourself, imagining it? Emme could feel him, the heavy solid weight of him against her tongue; she could taste him, soapy and bitter and warm in her mouth. When he texted back, she could barely suppress her sigh.
Yeah. It’s good. It would be better if you were really here.
Shhh. I know, sugar. She gave herself a full minute to pity herself, to pity him, before she typed more. But I’ve got you in my mouth, one hand wrapped around your base, and you taste so good. Do you want to come in my mouth? Or on me? All over my belly, maybe?
God, Emme. I’m going to. Soon.
She squeezed her thighs together, trying to ease the ache she felt. She could see him, hand tight around himself, forearm flexing as he stroked. She wanted to watch him come, wanted to see his head fall back and his face twist into a grimace of pleasure-pain, wanted to watch as he relaxed muscle by muscle into the bed afterward. Come on, sweetheart. Do it. Come all over me. I want to see it. I want to feel it.
I am, I am. God. Emme.
Her hand opened and closed helplessly against the base of her throat. She’d seen it before and the scene played in her head again; come coating his hand and his belly, the abandon on his features as he gave himself over to it. She wanted to clean him up, hold him close, stroke his hair while he nuzzled into her shoulder.
I’m holding you, my body curled around yours. She only paused for a moment before she added it. I love you. I miss you.
Do you need me there? The reply came almost instantly.
Emme thought for a moment. She desperately wanted him with her,. She wanted to share her songs with him, hear the rhythm he’d create for them, watch them take shape as they worked together to give her work life. She wanted to hold him at the end of the night, wanted him to reach for her hand in the back of the van like a fifteen-year-old being driven to the movies with a girl for the first time. She wanted the dirty film that had dropped over the world to lift again.
But did she need him?
He’d had enough of being needed. The best gift she could give him now would be her ability to stand on her own.
No. I don’t need you. I want you and I love you but I don’t need you. I’ll be fine until you’ve done what you need to do.
Her eyes stung as she sent the answer. It was honest, but she didn’t know if it was what he wanted to hear. She hoped to God he understood her and wasn’t hurt by it.
I want you, too. This isn’t enough.
She exhaled when he responded, the breath leaving her body in a slow, controlled swirl. You can hear my voice tomorrow. I’ll be live on Jed and Greg’s show again.
I’ll be listening.
Chapter Fifteen
The number of phone calls he’d had to make was astounding.
By the time Tom finally hung up for what he hoped was the last time that day, the right side of his face was hot from being pressed against his phone. He hoped there wasn’t any truth to that rumor about cell phones and brain tumors, or he’d be in big trouble by tomorrow.
Tom’s jaw ached. His whole body was sore, and his eyes were gritty from lack of sleep and from worry. And yet, he felt resolved. Lighter.
He only sank when he went to the SoundGap main page to listen to Emme’s interview and saw a picture of his sister in handcuffs on his front lawn.
Trouble for Emme? the headline read.
Bassist Tom McKinney involved in legal drama. “It looked like he was in a fight over a girl,” witnesses say. “He and this other guy. He knocked the other guy out, but then the girl got arrested!” Could this be why Emme asked him to leave the tour?
Sick fury swirled through his stomach at the sight of his sister’s face splashed on the site. Her struggles were her own, not his, and even if he had chosen to be in the public eye, she hadn’t.
But then, despite his anger, he reread the text of the article. A fight over a girl. He knocked the other guy out. It was so far from the truth, such an insane distortion, that he couldn’t help it. He laughed.
And really, was it any more ridiculous than the claim that Andy was cheating on his wife? Andy was a faithful guy, and Tom wasn’t fighting over his own sister.
He was worried about Emme, though. He hadn’t told her about what had happened when he’d texted her. He’d meant to. She had offered him comfort before. Tell me what you need.
He’d needed an escape for just a moment, something that was for him alone, and he’d taken it. Now he had to hope it didn’t come back to bite him, or her.
He made his last trip out back to the garbage cans and poured powdered cleaner all over his kitchen. It wouldn’t take much longer to make his house livable again, at least. Having the more tangible physical mess under control had made the emotional mess feel a little less tangled and overwhelming.
He set up his computer to the live streaming option on the SoundGap site and w
aited for it to buffer. He was tackling the stove with a sponge and all of his weight when the interview kicked on midsentence.
“… address the rumors?” Jed was asking.
“Sure.” Emme’s distinctive voice was muffled, since she was joining the interview by phone. “I’ve tried to keep my personal life private but apparently I’m not very good at that. So I’ll be honest with y’all. I was pretty shocked to see myself on the front page of your blog; I would’ve worn more makeup to the airport.”
Tom scrubbed harder at the dried-on red stain on the surface of the stove. She didn’t sound nervous, not like she had during that first interview, but his stomach was trying to lurch out of his body through his esophagus for her.
She took a breath, and the sound of her sigh sent a wash of longing over him. “My band has had a rough time. The bass player we had on this tour, Tom McKinney, had to leave the tour suddenly to deal with an emergency at home. He’s the one you see in that picture taken in the bar. When he left, Andy graciously agreed to fill in for him for a part of our tour. He’s the one you see me hugging in the airport. Andy and I have been friends since just out of college. He is married to a lovely woman, and we have never been more than friends and colleagues. That hug was because I was so glad to see him and grateful that he was willing to take the time out of his work and personal schedule to help us out when we were in need. I realize that’s not a very exciting answer, but I feel that it’s unfair to his wife to allow speculation to continue.”
“Well, you don’t have the best track record with married men …,” Greg interrupted.
“Sugar, you ought to know this. A faithful married man wouldn’t break his vows if I stripped plumb naked and danced on his lap. He’d tell me to get lost, and I would. An unfaithful married man wouldn’t need more than a glance as an excuse to cheat. Andy is a faithful guy, and while I think he’s a fantastic bass player, I certainly haven’t danced naked anywhere near him.”
Tom snorted then imagined Emme dancing naked and almost immediately got a hard-on. He’d gotten ridiculous over her.
“So, what about Tom McKinney? What can you tell us about him?”
Have Mercy: A Loveswept Contemporary Erotic Romance Page 19
