I smiled at the term. “You sound like that song.”
“I always sound like a song,” she said, tossing an arm around me. “Elle, sweetie. It’s simple. All you need is a man who wants to be your man, and wants it hard. Not a man who wants you to be something you’re not. Not a man who wants you hanging on the line, adoring him, for his own shits and giggles. You need a man who wants to be Elle’s man, period. Who’ll do whatever it takes to be your man. No more games. No more bullshit. It’s time for the real deal.”
“I know.”
“So maybe you need to ask yourself if Seth Brothers is that man. And if he’s really worth losing your band over.”
“He’s not,” I told her. “No one’s worth that.”
But there was a tiny kernel of doubt, a little root unfurling and taking hold deep inside of me… that maybe I was wrong about that.
“Fuck,” I said, folding forward over my knees.
“Yeah,” she agreed, rubbing my back in sympathetic circles. “I guess that’s about it.”
After Summer left, I stayed back in the bedroom by myself. I no longer felt like socializing—at all. What was I even thinking, coming to a party tonight?
I was considering texting Seth and Flynn and asking them to take me home, when Seth slipped into the room.
“Summer said you were in here…” He came right over to me, but instead of sitting down on the bed, he dropped to his knees on the carpet in front of me and wrapped his arms around my waist.
And I wanted to cry, right here in his arms. But I didn’t. I kept my shit together, just barely. I even put on a smile. I wrapped my arms around him, too.
“Hey,” he said, studying me, “what’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” I shook my head. “Just more tired than I thought. I don’t think I want to stay too long. Maybe go home soon?”
“Okay,” he said, smoothing a hand up my bare thigh. “We can do that.” His gaze dropped to the hemline of my short dress, which had ridden up when I sat down. Way up. My black lace panties were in full view. “But maybe I should just help you with this dress first…”
Instead of pulling my dress down to cover more of me, he pushed it up, with both hands. And I sighed as arousal coursed through my body.
There was no doubt about it: Seth, turned on, turned me on.
Like, instantly.
His thumbs trailed over my panties and I spread my thighs, letting out a breathy moan of anticipation. His face hazed over with lust and I leaned back on my hands to give him better access.
I watched as he peeled my panties aside with one finger and stroked his thumb over my clit. My pussy clenched and pulsed.
God… I needed him right now.
I needed him to erase all the shitty feelings I’d just been through, the emotional rollercoaster of this day… and every day of the past few weeks. And maybe he sensed it, when he glanced up into my eyes… right before his mouth pressed between my legs. His tongue… those fucking lips of his…
He ate me out slowly, lovingly… hungrily. Like he had all the time in the world. One hand gripped my panties, holding them out of the way. The other stroked my inner thigh, gently. He teased my opening with a fingertip, spreading the slick wet of my arousal over my sensitive flesh. Touching me so gently, it was setting me on fire.
I needed more, but he was holding back. Taking his time…
He sucked on my clit, gently, exploring with his tongue. He laid soft kisses all over my pussy, sucking and teasing as he went. He licked in a gentle rhythm, tasting me, pausing now and then to lick his lips, like he was savoring the taste.
“Fuck me, please,” I begged. “I need you to fuck me, Seth.”
His smoky eyes met mine. “I wanna taste your come,” he said, caressing my opening, lightly, with a finger. “Then I’m gonna fuck you…”
I groaned as he kissed my clit softly, slowly, several times, until I was squirming with pent-up need. Then he dug in with his tongue… and the orgasm shook me suddenly apart. He sucked on my clit as I came, and I bit my tongue to keep from screaming the house down, even as bass throbbed through the wall—music cranked up so loud now that I realized no one would hear me. It was a Summer-style remix of Ice Cube, “You Can Do It.”
Breathless laughter bubbled up in my throat, because I knew Summer was spinning the song just for me…
He better put his back into it.
The thing was… Seth did put his back into it. Every time.
When the onslaught of pleasure subsided to a reasonable level and I could see straight again, I looked up at him, choking back my ecstatic giggles. He’d worn a blazer tonight with his T-shirt and jeans, a tweedy, rocked-out gray one with frayed edges, and it looked so fucking cute on him I just wanted to hug him and take him home as he shrugged it off. His pupils were blown as he looked down at me, sex-high. He was undoing his jeans, taking out his cock.
I had never wanted a man inside me like I wanted him right now.
He stood over me, and I watched as he rolled a condom on. His eyes drifted closed with the intensity of it; he was rock-hard. He slid his hand over his cock a couple of times as he eased the condom all the way down, then looked at me.
I was still lying back on the bed, waiting for him.
But he didn’t come to me. His eyes, instead, moved slowly over my body.
Now it was my turn to ask. “What’s wrong?”
“Just need a minute,” he rasped, “or I’m gonna blow it. Literally.”
“Oh,” I breathed. “Well… just don’t leave me waiting too long…”
I watched him peel off his T-shirt; so gorgeous. His lean, hard body. His cock in his hand.
He came to me, finally, and peeled my panties off, then lowered himself slowly over me. I’d just had a totally mind-melting orgasm, yet I was breathless with need. “What the hell is happening…?” I managed. I wasn’t even talking about the sex, exactly.
“What? This…?” he asked, kissing his way up my neck. “This is happening…” He nibbled his way up to my ear. “It’s fucking on.” He licked the sensitive spot below my ear and whispered, “I want you.”
Yeah. I wanted him, too… And I was so crazy turned on by his certainty.
“I’ve been through shit, Elle,” he rasped in my ear as he lined up his cock with my pussy, “and I know a good thing.”
I did, too.
I wrapped my legs around his waist as he pushed into me, filling me. I closed my eyes, savoring the feeling as my body hummed with pleasure. I wanted more of it. I wanted more of him.
“You okay?” he asked, brushing his mouth over my bottom lip.
“Yeah.” I opened my eyes, meeting his gaze. Then I kissed him softly. “Give it to me.”
He did. He gave it to me deep… thorough and slow. He was watching my face, my lips, parted and trembling as I breathed… my eyes, drifting closed and open as I rode the sensations… being filled by him, over and again…
“That good, baby?” he murmured.
“So good…” I breathed.
He’d never called me baby before. I liked it.
I liked him.
I grabbed his ass and tried to pull him deeper. I wanted him as deep as he could get. I wanted him to come harder than he’d ever come. I wanted him to forget every other girl he’d ever had.
I wanted him to be mine.
And when he suddenly lost it, giving up the struggle to hold himself back and letting himself go, his cock jerking inside me… it set me off. I came with him, rolling on the waves of ecstasy with him.
His eyes caught mine as he panted for breath above me. His mouth was open, his lips swollen. His eyes were smoky-dark.
He looked so beautiful… strong and vulnerable, in the aftermath of sex.
He looked like a man in love.
He pressed his forehead to mine… and it felt so right. Just breathing with him. Holding him close.
I knew this wasn’t supposed to happen. We both did.
We weren’t suppose
d to fall for each other… but we were. We both knew we were.
I was falling for Seth Brothers, and he was falling for me… hard and fast.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Seth
The auditions had ended. Six full days of them, and Dirty was finished hearing guitarists in Vancouver.
The next stage in the process, Elle had informed me, would involve more auditions, if they decided to go there. But apparently they had two prospects they were seriously considering.
“There’s this guy who came up from Atlanta, and another one from Toronto,” she explained. “Neither one of them is perfect, but we’ve given up on that.” She gazed at me across the room, the guilt clear in her steel-gray eyes. We were in her studio, setting up to play. “Brody and Liv are in talks now with the series producers, figuring out if we want to continue the auditions or just start narrowing it down now with what we have. It’s a whole fucking process.”
She sounded weary of that process as she flopped into the big, fluffy white chair in the corner by the windows. She looked like an angel sitting in it, the soft morning light glowing in through the windows behind her. She was cupping a mug of coffee and watching me change a broken string on my favorite Fender.
“You have to do what’s best for the band, right?” I said, noncommittally.
“Yeah,” she said, “I guess.” And I knew what she was thinking. She was thinking that I was what was best for the band.
But there was no point in either of us saying it.
I agreed with her, but in the end, it was too fucking depressing to talk about it anymore.
A distant chime rang through the front of the house, and Elle frowned a bit, getting up. “Doorbell,” she said. “I’ll get it.”
When she returned a few minutes later, she was trailed by a giant redhead. All six-and-a-half-feet of Dylan Cope strolled into the studio behind her, his green eyes landing on me.
I froze, guitar in hand. I had the Fender plugged in and I’d been playing the saxophone solo from The Doors’ “Touch Me” on the guitar, just kinda mucking around while I waited for Elle.
“Seth,” he said, nodding a greeting at me.
“Dylan,” I choked out. “Good to see you, man.”
He didn’t come over to shake my hand or give me a hug or a fucking kiss, so I didn’t go in for one, either.
Elle gave me a quick look that was somewhere between apologetic and resigned. She sat down neatly on her fluffy chair and said, “Dylan just stopped by to see me. I told him we have something to play for him.”
I put down my guitar. “Right. Okay.” I wiped my now-sweaty palms on my jeans.
As Dylan sat on the couch, I played back the track we’d been working on last night, the one Elle told me to play for him. It was a ballad, heavily acoustic, the first song I’d played for Elle in this studio. We’d called it “Somewhere.”
Dylan listened carefully, gazing at the carpet as he did, his mind deep in the music. When it was done, I felt the need to say, “It’s rough.”
Dylan looked up, straight at me. “It’s good,” he said.
I glanced at Elle, who was sitting back in silence in her angel chair. “You wanna hear some more?” she asked him.
Dylan’s eyebrows went up. “There’s more?”
“Yeah. A few more.”
“How many?”
“Three.”
“Three…” he repeated, looking from Elle to me and back. “Three like the one I just heard?” He looked kind of astounded. “You guys’ve laid down four songs, already?”
“Yeah.” I shrugged, uncomfortable. “Well, one of them’s probably better. It’s Elle’s favorite, anyway. Summer came by and played on it…” I glanced at Elle again, wondering if it was okay to say that.
“Do you wanna hear the songs or what?” Elle prodded Dylan.
“Yeah,” he said, looking me over as he leaned back, putting his feet up on the coffee table. “Lay ’em on me.”
So I played him all the songs we’d recorded so far, and after the last one finished, Dylan nodded and said, “It’s good,” again.
Elle’s eyes met mine. She was holding back a smile, which I took to mean Dylan’s “good” was pretty great.
After a minute, he said, thoughtfully, “Summer laid down some decent beats on there. But you guys should really get a decent drummer to play some drums for you.” He looked at Elle. “Too bad you don’t know anyone like that.”
The grin spread across Elle’s face; she lit right up.
Then she flew out of her chair and gave Dylan a hug that was so tight and so long, I might’ve been jealous if I didn’t know better.
The next day was fucking surreal.
In the morning, Flynn drove Elle and I to Left Coast Studios, where she’d booked time for us. It was one of Vancouver’s most well-known recording studios, but I’d never been inside.
The engineer who greeted us, Elle told me, was an old friend of Dirty’s. His name was Cody, kind of a big, beefy teddy bear of a guy, and surprisingly young. He welcomed me in, showing us around.
The space was huge, even larger on the inside than it appeared on the outside, and state-of-the-art. Pictures of dozens of famous musicians and bands who’d recorded here adorned the walls of the front offices, gold and platinum records decorating the walls of the luxury lounge.
I wasn’t sure how Elle had managed to wrangle us studio time of this calibre on such short notice, but then again, she was Elle. Cody seemed more than happy to have her here.
When we walked into the studio we’d be using, a few guys were setting up for us, a massive drum kit already in place in the drum room for Dylan. Dylan was there, behind the kit, making some adjustments and talking drum shop with the studio staff.
This was really fucking happening…
Dylan came to greet us, hugging Elle and offering me a hand, which I shook in silence. I was in too much awe to speak. I was afraid if I did, I might break the spell and wake up from this dream.
We talked for a while with Cody, about the songs, about why we were here today. Apparently, Dylan had been up half the night with the recordings we’d given him, playing around with some beats.
But it was a solid few hours of playing through the songs with Dirty’s drummer before it all really sank in… That I was here, playing with Elle and Dylan, and we were recording music.
It was just for fun, Elle had told Cody. Just tinkering around with some fresh material to see how it all sounded. But as the day progressed, I knew it was far more than that.
I got the feeling we were documenting our case, something formal to present to the rest of Dirty. Elle and Dylan hadn’t said so, but I was pretty sure if Dylan knew about this, it wouldn’t be long before the rest of the band did. Elle probably felt she had something to prove to them when they came knocking and accusing, and maybe this was her way of doing it. Her way of saying, Here you go, take a listen and judge, if you dare.
I wasn’t sure that was the best way to go about it, but I went along with it.
Somewhere in the back of my mind, I couldn’t help wondering when this was all gonna fall apart, though.
I wondered, too, at what point Dylan would notice one of the lingering looks Elle and I kept giving each other as we played. The private smiles and stolen glances. I was more aware of them than ever, with him in the room, and Cody watching through the window from the control room.
But if he noticed, Dylan didn’t say a thing about it.
It wasn’t until halfway through the afternoon, as he strolled back into the studio bearing coffees that Joanie had picked up for us, and found Elle in my arms, that I knew we’d been caught.
It was an innocent hug. I’d already finished groping her and kissing the fuck out of her. Actually, I’d already dragged her off to the bathroom to fuck her. Not the classiest move I’d ever made, but as soon as Dylan had walked out, Elle had cupped my cock and given me that storm-about-to-break look of hers, and it was either drag her off to the women
’s room or fuck her right here, in front of Cody.
What else was I gonna do? Turn her down?
Not fucking likely.
We’d fully recomposed ourselves, and I was pretty sure all our clothes were back on properly, but Dylan stopped in his tracks to stare at us. And it was clear, as Elle drew away from me, that it was too late. Our mutual post-sex satisfaction was written all over our faces.
Dylan took his coffee and handed the tray with the others to Elle.
“So,” he said as he watched Elle hand me my coffee, “what’s really going on between you two?”
“Is it that obvious?” Elle asked, too innocently.
“It is to me,” Dylan said.
Elle sipped her coffee. “We’re friends.” She held my gaze, and the look she gave me was far more than friendly.
“Uh-huh,” Dylan said, but that was it.
On day two at Left Coast, Joanie poked her head into the studio, a frazzled, apologetic look on her freckled face, while we were recording. Seconds later, Dirty’s lead singer swaggered in, all blond fauxhawk, ice-blue eyes and killer confidence.
Zane’s presence instantly changed the vibe in the room.
I felt it, the second he walked in. Like the electric current that buzzed between us as we played together had been shut down, and everyone kinda froze.
Elle immediately stopped playing her bass and whirled on Dylan, who was sprawled on the couch. He’d been listening to the two of us lay down some guitar work. “You told him?” she demanded.
“Hey,” Zane said, feigning offense as he tossed his leather vest aside. “What kind of welcome is that? You know, usually when I walk into a recording studio, people are pretty happy to see me.”
Dylan just shrugged. “Didn’t know this was a private session,” he said to Elle, and the two of them exchanged a brief, wordless argument that ended in Elle giving up a pissy sigh.
“Bring me up to speed, kids,” Zane said casually, stretching out on the couch next to Dylan. “I wanna hear it.”
Elle looked helplessly at me, and I shrugged. This really wasn’t my call. I did not wanna do or say anything to cause problems between Elle and Zane.
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