Anything But Mine

by Taryn Elliott

  Reminder number one that he wasn’t just any man. This was Logan King, veteran musician. And the mood in the room was completely different than last night. No fooling around, tighter playing, and a new addition on the stage.

  She forced her eyes off of Logan and the unsettled feeling that was pinging around her chest. Johnny Cage sat on a stool, a scarred acoustic guitar settled on his lap. She didn’t recognize this voice. She knew the bombastic anthems and pub crawl songs from his band, Rebel Rage.

  Nothing like this.

  He was curled over his guitar, his lips butted against a mic with his eyes closed. The song was loss. There was no other word for it. It was pure sadness with a rough edge to it that made her feel like she was intruding on something painfully intimate.

  Cam flicked a finger over her arm to let her know that he was moving on. She found herself gravitating to Logan. Each note climbed inside her and squeezed. It wasn’t a song to be alone with. It wasn’t an easy song in any way, but it was a powerful one. When the last note hummed through the room, she finally took a breath.

  “Fuck, yeah,” Logan muttered. He seemed to blink out of whatever trance he’d been in and scanned the room. When his eyes tripped over her, he closed the distance between them. “I didn’t think you were going to make it, Izzy.” He nodded to the stage. “You’re missing magic.”

  She had the strongest urge to pull back, but fought it. She wasn’t going to let this man affect her tonight. Be strong. “So I see, or hear, actually.”

  “You keep things so close to the vest, but I think I saw a little bit of thawing there. This is going to be a great show and you know it.”

  “I never said it wouldn’t be.”

  He stepped even closer and that distracting dichotomy of fresh sheets and sandalwood curled around her like a caress. Even in her heels she had to peer up at him. His jaw and neck were shadowed with stubble, drawing her eye down to the triangle of skin showing. The trio of freckles made her mouth water and the tip of her tongue flicked over her lower lip.

  The low groan that slid out of Logan didn’t help.

  Johnny started up another song, dragging her out of the moment. She tried to walk around him and Logan lightly braceleted her wrist, holding her in place.

  “Iz.”

  The crisp cotton of his shirt sent a shudder down her bare arm and tightened her nipples. One minor touch and her body was such a damn traitor. She’d promised herself to put this stupidity aside last night.

  It was a whisper soft song that Johnny shared with Lindsey. It was the kind of song that urged lovers together to sway in that mindless way that made the room fall away. The kind of song that allowed lovers to disappear into the shadows to let the touches grow bolder.

  The heartbeat kick drum echoed her own.

  “Logan.” His name was barely a breath. “Don’t. There’s a room full of people.”

  “One word and I can clear out this place.”

  She snapped her gaze up to his. She saw the absolute truth there in his steady green eyes. “We have work to do.”

  “I did all my work. And you work too much.”

  “Do you have three finalized setlists in my email, as well as the schedule for all your musician friends at the main stage?”

  “Yes.”

  “Rehearsals are complete?”

  “We finished an hour ago. Cage was just showing me one of his new songs. He wants to play a set in the barn.”

  “Lighting, electronics, whatever you use for your instruments. All of that?”

  “This isn’t my first show, Izzy. Nor is it my first time playing at the festival.” He leaned into her enough that his breath fanned across her cheek. “Play with me tonight. Stay here with me when everyone else leaves.”

  “I need to get back. I have a million things to do.”

  He turned her cheek toward the back of the room where Cam was herding out the last of the volunteers. The overhead lights dimmed, leaving only the handful of spotlights focused on the stage.

  Cam gave her a light tip of his baseball hat and left through the back door. The creak of the metal locks engaging dissolved under the slamming truck doors and spitting gravel outside.

  She slipped out of his hold and crossed the newly stained floor to the group of people she’d met last night. The farther she got from Logan, the more she could think. She smiled at Lindsey and tried to ignore the heavy air blanketing her shoulders. The humidity hadn’t broken after sunset like it usually did this time of year.

  “You two sounded amazing.”

  Lindsey’s eyes sparkled. “I’ve never had so much fun trying out new songs.”

  “It shows.” She slid her gaze to the new addition. Wide shoulders filled out a threadbare t-shirt with Elvis scrawled across his chest. His skin was the sort of tan that spoke of tropical temperatures. Even his hair and eyes had a dusting of gold to him. His eerily clean-shaven face at ten at night was a bit weird. Compared to the rest of the musicians on the ticket, he was positively baby smooth. “Thanks so much for joining us early, Mr. Cage.”

  “Logan bellows and we all come running.”

  “Is that right?” Bella turned to find Logan right behind her. She faced the stage and tried to ignore him.

  “Cage wanted the exposure, don’t let him fool you.”

  That voice. So dark and smooth right above her ear. He was close enough to touch if she just backed up a single step.

  Play with me.

  Those words were going to haunt her. There was no playing with a man like Logan. There was burning and there was scarring. She had enough scars dammit and yet she didn’t want to go. Being around him made her feel alive, and the tension between them might just fizzle out when they did…everything.

  At this point, the only way she could get him out of her system was to go all in. She’d deal with the fallout when he left. Because his kind always left.

  But he was here now.

  She reached back and curved her fingers around the back of his thigh with a gentle squeeze then dropped her hand back to her side. He stilled behind her with an indrawn breath.

  Let the games begin.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Logan swallowed a groan. He half expected to go home tonight with the saddest case of blue balls in history. He was willing to wait. The possibility of seducing and teasing her into the possibility of a night with him was worth the effort.

  With one touch, he was hard enough to wish for a deserted island and unlimited time with her.

  Johnny snapped his guitar case closed. “I’m ready to get out of here. I’m still on L.A. time. I’m also hungry enough to eat my damn guitar.”

  “Valentine’s is staying open late for all the volunteers pulling all-nighters for tomorrow. They make a killer short stack. Or, even better, the best fries and gravy I’ve ever had.” Lindsey rubbed her hands together. “You’ll love Sam and Dee.”

  “It is our one eating establishment in town, but the food is exceptional.” Izzy swayed lightly and her ass brushed along the tops of his thighs. She turned her face up to him. “Hungry?”

  The smile was there, hinting at the edges of her mouth, but it was her eyes that urged him to get them out of there faster. Topaz fire. Whatever she did with her make-up seemed to accentuate the bronze of her summer skin and emphasize her eyes.

  “No, we have a few things to discuss,” Logan said. Christ, was that his voice? He sounded like he’d gargled with hot sauce.

  Johnny’s lips twitched as he urged Lindsey out in front of him. “All right, bombshell, how about you show me these gravy fries.”

  Lindsey looked between Logan and Izzy, then smiled. “We’ll leave you kids to it.”

  “Kids?” Logan sighed. “Never mind. I’m too tired to care.”

  Lindsey hooked her arm into Johnny’s and dragged him to the door. She turned back. “The security wrapped up the stragglers. You sure you two will be all right here alone?”

  She said it to the room, but Logan knew she was checki
ng on Izzy.

  Izzy slipped away from him and climbed the stairs to the stage. “We’ll be fine. I can kick his ass if he gets out of line.”

  Lindsey’s laugh filled the room, echoing into the dark. Johnny swung the barn door shut. The silence was disarming. After hours of unending music, the silence felt too loud. He followed her up the side stairs, tracking her slow, swaying walk around the drum riser to his keyboard.

  She wore a flowing little dress that swished around her knees with every movement. As usual, she had on a killer pair of heels on that accentuated superb legs and did something to showcase her ass. An ass he’d felt rub against him.

  There was no doubt where this was going. A few nights ago he’d fought every instinct to get close to her, and now they were all clamoring in his head. The freedom to touch came with a million other problems.

  Namely, how was he going to stop?

  He moved to the portable board they’d been using to program the lights to go with the songs. He dimmed the lights to a soft glow and made a quick playlist of songs on his Mac. The final song made him smile as he pushed it to the top of the list.

  Gary Allan’s smoky voice and dirty guitar filled the space. Izzy turned from her inspection of the setlist and a slow smile teased her lips.

  “Our song?”

  “I couldn’t resist.”

  The click of her heels on the stage were slow and methodical as she walked toward him. The sway of her hips made his throat go dry. She lifted her arms up and fiddled with a clip in her hair. Instead of letting her dark hair free, she twisted it up, leaving the long, elegant lines of her neck unadorned.

  His feet were cemented to the stage. He didn’t realize just how much he wanted her to come to him until now. Without a lure, without an ulterior motive, without anything but hunger lighting those amazing eyes.

  She stopped in front of him, her hands resting on his shoulders as they slowly swayed together.

  “Touch me.”

  He closed his eyes as her jasmine scent hit him a moment before her breasts grazed his chest. He slid his palm over her hip to her bare back and up the silky dip of her spine. With his other arm he wrapped her close. Chest to chest, thigh to thigh, they swayed into a lazy spin.

  The brush of her forehead against his chin, the heat of her breath against his neck, the way she fit against him, all of it felt right. He trailed the tips of his fingers up her back to the nape of her neck. Silky soft with just a hint of damp from the unrelenting heat. He curled his fingers into her hair and drew her head back enough to sip from her neck.

  Her skin was salty and warm. He traced the column of her neck to her collarbone and made a return trip up, scraping his teeth where she swallowed hard, then lighter over her chin to hover over her lips. He watched her eyes slit open as he flicked his tongue along her lower lip. Just the lightest touch.

  He breathed her in, accepting her hot breath and sweet moan. On the edge of his first real taste of her, he wanted to hold onto it, to resist her lure. He pulled away and bussed his lips along her cheek and along her jaw.

  The song spun out as the guitars grew darker, grittier. It suited his mood. He was already wound too tight to touch her. He wanted her taste inside of him so very badly. Denial seemed to be his only way out of this without going a little mad.

  Her hands slid down his shoulders and gripped his triceps. He jerked her away and around, hauling her back against his front. Her quick indrawn breath rumbled into a groan as he fastened his mouth to the soft skin between her shoulder and neck. He nudged the strap of her dress aside and swirled his tongue around the slightly indented skin.

  He kept the sway of their bodies in time, letting her feel just how much she affected him. Palm flat on her lower belly, he used his other hand to stroke up her ribs to cup her breast. When she arched into his touch, he grew bolder, filling both hands with her firm breasts.

  “Tell me if I’m going too far.”

  “Not far enough.” She reached behind to cup his ass, molded her fingers over his thigh, and then around to his zipper.

  He groaned as she followed the line of his shaft pinned to his lower belly by the placket of his pants. She dropped her chin forward, exposing her neck to him. He followed the line of her spine, gripping her hips as he lowered to the delicate skin between her shoulder blades and dipped his tongue into the small of her back.

  He crouched behind her, coasting over the flare of her hips to her thighs and down to the hem of her dress. He slipped under her dress, scraped his fingers over the lightly muscled flesh of the backs of her thighs. The higher he climbed, the louder his heart slammed in his chest and reverberated in his ears.

  He dipped his thumbs along her inner thighs and opened her wider. “That’s it, Izzy. Open for me.”

  “Logan.”

  He drew his thumb along the elastic edges of her panties, drawing her dress higher until the curve of her ass was revealed. He traced his way to the front of her panties, mimicking the trail with his other thumb until he reached the front of the pale purple silk.

  She swayed once, then widened her stance. He rubbed his chin lightly along the hot, petal-soft skin where her cheek met thigh. He followed the line of her panties one more time, this time with his tongue.

  Soft, with a hint of salt, her skin was addictive. He returned to the center of her thighs and lapped at the cotton panel protecting her folds. The click of her heels was loud in the room as she shifted again. He smiled against the silk and lace and rolled them down the high curve of her ass.

  They dropped to the floor and she stepped free, kicking them to the side. Logan dragged his chin along the back of her thigh until the scrape of his stubble made her gasp out his name. When he got to the top, he dipped inside of her. Salt and heat and the fusion of Izzy’s taste exploded across his tongue.

  He slid his hands to the front of her thighs and held her still. Now that her taste was inside him, he was starved for it. He braced one arm across her thighs, shoved her dress up, and tipped her forward. With more access, he buried his tongue deeper. Needing more, he drank from her until the sounds of her moans rivaled the wetness coating his chin.

  She swayed again and he stood, dragging her back against him as he feasted on her neck and brought his hand up to cup her.

  “God, so wet.” He scraped his teeth over her earlobe. He curled two fingers along the front of her pussy. She was swollen and greedy for his touch. He wanted to delve inside again, to feel that sucking warmth, but he knew it wouldn’t stop there.

  Instead he stroked her high, tight clit. Again and again. Until her head thrashed against his chest, and her thighs quaked.

  “Izzy.”

  She moaned and the sound rolled into a broken cry as she came apart for him.

  He held her, soothed her as she shuddered against him. He buried his nose into her hair. Jasmine and the earthy soap she used he could handle. It didn’t make him any less hard, but it wasn’t that honeyed scent of her. The scent that he’d hold onto and hope to God wouldn’t make him insane in the process.

  She closed her fingers over his hand, the nails no longer digging as her breath slowed. Her other hand slid between them, cupping his cock.

  He pressed his cheek against hers. “I’m good.”

  “Yeah, you are.”

  He grinned, shocked that he could with his mind so full of her and his cock aching. “That was for you.”

  “I totally won the orgasm lottery.”

  This time he couldn’t stop at a grin, but laughed outright. He brushed his mouth over her ear, tugging on the lobe as he slid his fingers over her folds. “If I’d known making you come would result in such a good mood, I would have done it days ago.”

  She groaned. “And here we were, fighting it.” She held his hand still when he went for a longer stroke. “I can’t.”

  “Now don’t make it a challenge, Izzy. That’s not the way to get me to stop.” He widened his fingers to frame her slick clit between them and rubbed slowly until th
e webbing of his palm buzzed over the top.

  Her back arched and he held on as her hips twitched in reaction. “Logan.”

  Christ, he’d never get the way she said his name out of his head. Like it was being torn out of her throat. As if she was fighting it the whole way.

  He dragged her dress strap down and pushed at her strapless bra until there was nothing but skin. Satiny cool with a tight, pale pink nipple. Her breast was a lighter color in relation to the tan of her skin. He plucked the distended tip, twisting lightly as he continued to stroke her clit.

  Her hand came up to his hair and scraped up the tightly shorn hair to the longer strands on top, then gripped tightly, dragging his mouth down to her shoulder.

  “Yes,” he growled and rubbed harder, increasing the pressure on her nipple.

  The panting scream rocked him. He sucked on the sensitive flesh at her neck and held on. She stumbled away from him, a sob exploding from her.

  “Izzy.” He went after her and she held up a hand.

  “Wait, just…You gotta.” She bent at the waist and pieces of her pinned hair fell forward. “God.” She ran a shaking hand through her hair. “Freaking guitarist. There’s no other explanation.”

  He clasped his hands at the back of his head. “I’m not sure what that means.”

  She laughed, but it came out more like a shaky squeak. “No one should be able to do that first time out of the gate. Stupid, destructive, dexterous fingers.” She panted and curled her arm across her belly.

  He wanted to go to her, but had no idea what had set her off. Had he done something wrong? Read her wrong?

  She flipped her strap up and did something under her dress, then tugged out her bra. She threw it over with her underwear. Without a word, she stalked across the space between them and dragged his head down to meet her desperate mouth.

  There was no softness, just a raw meeting of mouths and tongues. He wrapped his arms around her, lifting her up, so she could hook her legs around his middle. With a groan, he filled his hands with her ass. The kiss was brutal. They couldn’t seem to get enough. Sliding tongues, the nip of teeth along his lower lip only to have her lave her tongue over the pulsing flesh in the next moment.