by Jayne Frost
She licked her bottom lip. “Warm. Slick.”
“Are you wet for me?” Her lips parted, and she nodded. “Say it.”
Dropping her gaze to my hand squeezing my denim-clad erection, she swallowed hard. “I’m wet for you.”
For me.
I wanted to believe it, but I wouldn’t know for sure until we were face-to-face. “Come here.”
She stepped out of the pool, achingly slow and so graceful. And then she was in front of me, amber eyes hooded, lithe fingers toying with her erect nipple.
Dropping a knee between my thighs, she leaned forward, brushing a kiss to my lips. And fuck … she tasted so good. Like sugar on my tongue.
Her touch traveled south to the brass button on my jeans. Catching her wrist, I brought her hand to my mouth and licked her taste off her fingers.
She watched me with rapt attention, just a hint of her pretty pink tongue peeking out from between parted lips. “What do you want, Lo?”
My free hand cupped her nape. “Your mouth. On my cock.”
Oddly enough, blow jobs from Tori weren’t high on my list of priorities. I preferred the feel of her tight pussy. But tonight, I wanted those lips around my shaft and my hand on her throat when she swallowed me.
She tugged at my zipper, then hooked her fingers into my belt loops and dragged the denim just low enough for my erection to spring free. I guess if I’d really intended to keep things PG, I would’ve thrown on a pair of boxer briefs. But whether I wanted to admit it or not, sex with Tori was never off the table.
Threading my fingers into her hair, I guided her to where I wanted her. Eyes locked on mine, she slid down until her knees were on the deck. And then she lowered her head and swirled her tongue around the bead of pre-cum on my engorged tip.
“Suck, baby.” And she did. Curling her hand around my base, she took me to that heaven in the back of her throat. “Fuck … fuck … fuck,” I hissed as my fingers unfurled and I found that spot on her nape. “More.”
My thumb glided back and forth along her throat, over the smooth skin and the tiny scar. And when she swallowed, I felt myself there. It was so fucking hot. Too hot. Too much.
“I’m going to come,” I warned, and those eyes flicked to mine, a smile evident in the amber hue.
Even as the frenzy built, my stomach coiling and my balls tightening, I held back.
“No,” I managed to grunt. “I want to fuck you.”
Releasing me with a pop, she pushed to standing, and it was so quiet, just her gaze on mine as she stripped off my jeans. I managed to yank my shirt over my head before she climbed on top of me.
I froze when I felt her slick heat against my bare cock. Tori didn’t notice, her hot mouth on my neck.
“I don’t have a condom.”
Tipping back, she blinked at me, and time stood still.
Telling her I was clean, that I never fucked without protection, sounded too much like begging. “I’ve got some upstairs,” I said. “Be right back.”
Her palm molded my shoulders, holding me in place when I tried to shift her body off me. “Have you been with anyone else since … you know… us?”
She stumbled over the words, and I fought to keep from lashing out.
How could she even think?
“Nobody.”
Snagging her bottom lip between her teeth, she nodded like she already knew. “Okay … and how long before that?”
Really? We were doing this now?
I sighed. “About a week.”
She searched my face, her gaze everywhere at once. “Before or after the health screening?”
“What?”
“The health screening for the insurance waiver? Twin Souls set it up.”
“Oh … before.”
Admitting to my manager that I put off the tests until three days before we left for the tour probably wouldn’t do me any favors. But right now, Tori wasn’t my manager.
“You got a certificate of good health,” she said. “I saw it in your file. No drugs. No diseases. And I’m on the pill.”
“I thought you couldn’t …”
My jaw clamped shut when she winced. And this time when her gaze found mine, there was something else. A different pain.
“Physically, I can.” She shrugged. “Maybe. I only have one ovary. But I can’t carry … I’ll never be able to …”
My mouth crashed into hers, stealing the words. And the pain. And her breath. She cupped my cheeks, pulling me closer.
When I finally broke our connection, there was lingering sadness in her eyes. And it gutted me. Threading my fingers into her silky locks, I touched my forehead to hers. ”Shhh … it’s okay.”
She nodded, resigned. Because what else could she do? And then she slid forward, and I felt her slick heat like an invitation. She rose slightly, allowing me access, and my hand found my cock, guiding the head to her entrance. And when she eased down on top of me, there was nothing in the world but her.
A vague notion took hold as she began to move. A tear raced down her cheek, and I kissed it away, tasting the salt and the sweet. And I knew then what it was—the glow spreading from my chest, owning every part of me.
Love.
40
In the morning, I followed Logan out to the garage to make sure the Shelby would start. A wistful smile curved my lips once the tarp came off.
“Candy apple red, and sexy as fuck, just like you.”
Rhenn’s voice receded quickly, leaving only a warm glow. No mind-numbing pain.
Logan knelt to check the undercarriage and cocked his head at my license plate. My cheeks ignited. “It’s because of my nickname,” I said of the “Beauty” vanity plates.
He nodded, then ducked his head and peered under the bumper. “Yeah … ‘Belle,’ I get it.”
I laughed. “You mean ‘Beauty.’”
Pushing to his feet, he wiped his hands on his jeans, glancing at the plate again. “That’s what I said. And I’m sure nobody’ll disagree once I’m behind the wheel.”
Slanting my gaze to his smiling face, I arched a brow. “You think you’re prettier than me, don’t you?”
He shrugged, and I tried to pull away in mock indignation, but he hauled me against his chest and said seriously, “Nobody’s prettier than you, Victoria.” Lifting me off my feet with lightning speed, he hoisted me to eye level. “Nobody.”
Pushing the hair out of his face, my gaze traveled over all his fine features. Despite my teasing, I wasn’t far off the mark. He was prettier than me. I traced a tiny scar right above his left brow. “What’s this from?”
That familiar frost touched his eyes, and I could tell he was fighting to keep his smile. Cursing my stupidity, I blurted, “I’m sorry. I didn’t—”
“I did a swan dive off the kitchen table when I was four.” He rubbed the tip of his nose over mine. “Not everything in my life was tragic, princess.”
He brushed a kiss to my lips, and his breath became my air. Sweet and hot and necessary. Before he could dive in for another kiss, I rested my forehead against his. “I’m having an early supper with my parents if you want to meet me there.” When he blinked at me, I slowly tried to shake off the bear trap I’d stepped in to. “I thought you might like a home-cooked meal. No worries if you’re not down.”
One corner of his lips pulled into a half smile. “What time?”
“You’re going to laugh.” He shook his head even as his grin widened. “Four.”
“Four?”
I sighed. “My dad used to work this weird shift where he got off at three, so my mom started serving supper at four. I’d skip lunch and dine with the fam. Then I’d eat my real dinner around nine. You can put me down now.”
He tightened his grip. “What other weird habits are you hiding?”
I thought about it. “I put salt on my watermelon.”
He wrinkled his nose. “Ugh. That’s—”
“Delicious. And I’ll order a melon from the grocery store and prove it.�
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Pulling a face, he eased me onto my feet. “You order your groceries? Why?”
I laughed. “Because I hate getting cornered in frozen foods while I’m trying to find my favorite ice cream.”
He swept a curl behind my ear. “What is your favorite ice cream?”
“Blue Bell.”
That half smile was back. “What flavor?”
“It’s Blue Bell. Does it matter? Tell me your favorite, and I’ll order some.”
Dipping his head, he slicked his tongue over my bottom lip. “I don’t care. As long as it goes well with cookies.”
Sean’s ringtone pierced the air for the fourth or fifth time, and I bit my tongue to keep from asking any questions. The lines were all blurry. If it were band stuff, didn’t I need to know?
Logan’s hand cruised through his hair as he took a step back. The loss of his proximity bothered me more than I liked to admit. “I’m going to take off so I can get finished by four.”
Nodding, I pressed my lips together. “I’ll text you my parents’ address. Don’t worry if you can’t make it, though.”
One beat turned in to two. And then five. “How long have you known me?” His tone held the frost he usually carried in his eyes when he was irritated. “A year and a half?”
I crossed my arms over my chest to ward off the cold. “Your point?”
This time when he pulled me close it was rough. His gaze snagged mine and held. “I don’t do anything I don’t want to do. And if I say I’m going to be somewhere, I’m there.”
My teeth grazed my bottom lip. “I’m—”
“Giving me an out. I know.” His features softened. “Am I that much of a dick?”
My gaze dropped to the polished floor. “No.”
“Then what is it?”
Someday when this was over, Logan and I would still be friends. I’d still be his manager. So keeping my inner thoughts to myself was probably the best plan. But then his hand was in my hair, his thumb nudging my chin to meet his eyes.
“When I was eighteen, there was this girl who worked as a wardrobe consultant on our first tour. We used to talk. But then she sold a story about me to the tabloids. After that happened a couple more times I stopped being friendly with everyone, and I think I lost something. Because now I tend to order people around. I’m trying to get better.”
His thumb skated over the column of my throat. “It’s kind of cute that you think you can order me around, but … no. If I don’t want to do something, I won’t do it. I won’t even offer. So four o’clock?”
His words should’ve put me at ease, but they didn’t. Because inside, I knew they were true. When Logan was done, he’d be done. And where did that leave me?
“Yep.”
I managed a smile when he pulled away and strode to my car without a care in the world.
Balance.
He had it.
Shielding my eyes from the sun when the garage door slid open, I stayed rooted to my spot until he was gone. As I turned to walk back into the house, my gaze coasted to the other side of the garage, where another vehicle sat that no one would ever drive. I shuffled over and pulled the tarp back, revealing the bumper of Rhenn’s Ford F150 Lightning.
Plopping down on my ass, I brought my knees to my chest and traced the letters on the vanity plate—Beast.
You’re the Beauty to my Beast.
When I felt the clouds roll in, I pushed to my feet. On my way to the door, I spotted an empty box just sitting by itself in the corner. I didn’t know why it was there, or where it had come from. Glancing over my shoulder at the truck, a knot formed in my throat.
“Thank you, baby,” I whispered to no one but him.
Then I grabbed the box and headed upstairs, past the second floor to the studio.
“Belle?”
I nearly fell off my step stool when Taryn’s voice rose up behind me. Whipping my head around, I found her hovering at the door to the studio, looking around at the mess I’d made.
I hadn’t actually packed anything, which was discouraging, but many of Rhenn’s personal belongings were now in piles.
“What are you doing?” she asked, her voice quivering with emotion. “I thought you were going to meet me at the office?”
For all Taryn’s talk about me moving on, now that she was faced with the possibility, uncertainty etched her features. And sadness. So much sadness.
“Hey, babe,” I said gently as I found my footing on the carpet. “Sorry, I lost track of time. Come in.”
Taryn blinked at me as I moved slowly toward the couch. Normally, she’d have me in a hug by now, but she just continued to watch me with a wounded gaze.
“It’s okay,” I soothed as I sat down, patting the cushion beside me. “I’m glad you’re here.”
She licked her lips and stepped inside, glancing around like she expected Rhenn’s ghost to jump out.
“What are you doing?” she repeated as she eased herself down next to me.
I’d often thought of how this would go, what it would be like to finally move forward. And in every scenario, I pictured Taryn pushing me. But if I were honest, this was better.
“Just packing some stuff.” I smiled. “Are you going to give me a hug?” She scooted closer, banding her arms around me tight when I pulled her into an embrace. “Don’t be sad, Panda Bear.”
Shuddering involuntarily at the name Rhenn used to call her, she sniffled. “Why now?”
I stroked her hair. “Because it’s time.”
The rest we’d get to. In a minute, or an hour, or a day. At some point I’d tell my best friend about Logan. But not until she was ready.
Pulling away, she wiped her soggy cheeks with the back of her hand and sighed. “So where do we start?”
For two hours we worked, sorting through the piles, but I only managed to pack one box. The carton I found in the garage. Taryn knelt beside me as I laid Rhenn’s shirt on a stack of old sheet music.
“Here’s some tape,” she said, brows drawn together as she glanced over the treasures. At the last minute, she grabbed my arm, frantic blue eyes catching mine. “Are you sure you want to pack that shirt?”
I sank back onto my heels. “I don’t want to pack any of it.” Tears blurred my vision, and I pressed my lips together to keep my chin from wobbling. “Remember when my mom used to talk about miracles?” Taryn nodded. “I prayed for one. Every day, I prayed and prayed that he’d come back.” I looked around at the pieces of Rhenn scattered throughout the room. “But he’s gone. And this is just stuff. I don’t need stuff to remind me of him, T-Rex. He’s with me.” Pressing my fist over my heart, I smiled. “Right here.”
By the time I got around to sealing the box, my hand wouldn’t cooperate, so Taryn did the honors. Flinching at the snap of the tape as she dragged the spool over the cardboard, I reclaimed my seat on the couch.
A moment later she joined me, her eyes clear and focused. “Are you going to tell me why you’re here? Is it Logan? Did he do something?”
He did a lot of things. Most of which I couldn’t share.
“Logan’s … with me.”
We were so in tuned, I expected Taryn to catch on. She didn’t. “Oh, God.” Her face fell. “Is it Laurel? Is that why he came with you?”
“No. No. Laurel’s fine.”
I think.
Logan said he had to take care of some stuff, but I wasn’t sure what that entailed.
Taryn cocked her head. “Then why is he here? And why are you here?” Confusion threaded her tone, along with panic. That was there too. So telling her not to freak out was a moot point.
“Logan and me … we’re … seeing each other.” I hated the way that sounded. So formal. So wrong. “We’re together,” I amended. “For now.”
Sinking against the cushions, her mouth hung open. “Together?” Her eyes slowly scanned the room. “Is that why—”
“No.” Technically it was true. But I couldn’t say that having Logan sleep one floor below
while I kept a shrine to my dead husband didn’t play into my decision to box up some stuff. “It’s time for me to move on.”
“With Logan Cage?” She spit out his last name like it left a sour taste. “He’s our client.”
Anger bubbled up. And indignation. For me. For Logan.
Crossing my arms over my chest, I dug my fingers into my sides. “You’re going to marry Cameron’s brother,” I bit out. “Who happens to be our partner. And you were engaged to Beckett for years. So crossing lines doesn’t seem to be a problem for you. And I’m guessing that if it were Dylan I was sleeping with, you wouldn’t have an issue with it.”
“You’re sleeping with him?” she spluttered. “And you didn’t tell me?”
“The way you told me about Harper Rush?” Taryn blinked, her jaw coming unhinged. “That’s why I’m home. Because Dylan’s little fuck buddy showed up at the Central Park gig. With Mac. We can skip the part where you’ve kept this from me for a year and tell me how much trouble we’re in.”
The column of her throat bobbed as she swallowed. “How did you find out about Harper?”
I sighed. “You signed her to our company. And yes, she has an NDA. She showed it to me when I paid her a visit in California. Obviously, she didn’t think that applied to me.”
Taryn shuddered. “Did you see it? The tape?”
I snorted. “No … why would I …?” Something about how she was looking at me was way off. “What’s on the tape, Taryn?” The longer the silence stretched, the deeper my feeling of dread. “Did Dylan … do something to her? Or did she do something to him? What are we talking about?”
Picturing Harper in some dungeon strapped to the ceiling, or worse yet, Dylan up there, I braced myself while Taryn struggled to find her voice.
“He said your name.” Guilty eyes found mine. “During … when they were … He said your name.”
My name.
My. Name.
