Tunes (Beekman Hills Book 2)

by KC Enders

  “Good on you, Gavin. That’s … that’s fantastic.” Her smile lights up her face, eyes sparkling, her gaze dancing across my face until it settles on mine. “You did it. You really did it,” she whispers on an exhale.

  I nod, taking her in. Happy as shit to see her again, to have this opportunity to just sit with her again and enjoy her infectious light. Drowning in it, basking in her. But fuck if I don’t have questions that I want answered.

  I check my phone, digging my teeth into my upper lip when I see that it’s well after midnight. “It’s late, G. What time do you have to be at work?”

  Her head flops back against the arm of the couch I’ll be making peace with tonight. “I really need to get in early, so I can talk to Mr. Langston. And I’ll have to check in with my dad. So, seven thirty?” Gracyn throws back the rest of her whiskey and pushes herself up, sliding her skirt back into place where it rode up from all the shifting around she did. “Give me five to wash my face and brush my teeth. I’m thinking the extra blankets and stuff are in the closet in the bedroom?” She stretches her arms over her head and arches her back.

  Like a teenager, my mouth goes dry, and my jeans feel way too fucking tight.

  “Thank you for this, Gavin.”

  She trails her fingers across my shoulder on her way to the bathroom, and I have to suppress the groan begging for escape from the contact, from seeing her again. From being reminded of how much I want her in my life.

  I lean back, watching her ass sway as she walks away from me. Fuck, we have a lot of catching up to do.

  Chapter 22

  Gracyn

  My T-shirt barely covers my ass, and even though I shouldn’t let them bother me, Brooks’ words wiggle their way under my skin. I tug at the hem, trying hard to make the shirt longer to hide the thighs that have never once bothered me before.

  “Your turn, Gav.” I peek into the attached bedroom, assuming he’ll be getting his shit together, but the room is empty. “Gavin?” I pad down the short hallway to the living room and see his bare feet hanging off the end of the couch, blankets and pillows all in place but just not enough real estate for his tall frame. “What are you doing?”

  Blond curls tumble around his face as he looks up at me from the screen of his phone. He taps a few more times and drops it to the flat slab of abdominal muscle on display above the blanket folded at his waist. I swallow, willing some kind of moisture into my mouth, studying the ink that has multiplied since I last saw him this exposed, sprawled across my bed in Florida.

  The simple tree of life tattoo on his shoulder has become a forest of ink, a journey of life chronicled in the smooth, flawless skin stretched taut across his chest, cherry blossoms dancing across the side of his torso.

  “Just getting comfy. You have everything you need?” He nods toward the back of the suite.

  “Yeah, but let me sleep there. I’ll fit a lot better than you.” I laugh, slapping at his dangling foot, trying futilely to ignore the glint of metal pierced through his nipples.

  Gavin doesn’t miss the stuttered way my eyes rove over his body. “Nah, I’m good. Hit the light on your way back?”

  I grab the blanket and give it a tug. “Take the bed. It’s your hotel.”

  His hand darts out, knocking his phone to the floor. Tightly clutching the blanket in his fist, Gavin huffs out, “You might not want to do that, babe. Might get more than you bargained for.”

  My cheeks flame as I bite my lip. “No laundry service on tour, or you just not bothering with the boxer briefs anymore?”

  “You want to see? Need a happy thought to help you fall asleep?”

  He slides his palm down the bumpy ridges of his abs and lower, taking the blanket with it. My eyes glide down the deeply etched V of muscles … that disappear beneath the waistband of boxer briefs sporting little cartoon elephants with disproportionately large trunks.

  “You ass.” I snort, chucking a throw pillow at his head. I turn and make my way into the bedroom. I crawl between the sheets and wrap my arms around one of the many, many pillows on this luscious bed.

  Rustling and sounds of shifting drift in from the other room as I make every effort to unwind. Funny, the harder I try to relax, the tenser I get. A tension I haven’t felt in a lot of months. A tension I can’t seem to get out of my mind now that my thoughts have gone there.

  I push the pillow away and roll to my back, arms flat at my sides, doing my deep yoga breathing, willing my brain to stop the Tumblr-worthy GIF of Gavin’s hand sliding south that’s playing on loop.

  More rustling accompanies the matching deep breaths from the couch.

  I flop to my stomach, wrapping back around another pillow, and start counting backward from one hundred, one number for each deep inhale and another for the slow exhale. It’s been forever since I had to resort to this in order to get myself to sleep. Somewhere around seventy-two, I hear footsteps coming down the hall.

  “You awake?” His voice drifts through the darkness.

  “Yep. Need to crawl in?” I ask, scooting to the side to make room in the ginormous bed. It’s totally an unnecessary move, but my counting and breathing were just starting to relax me.

  The mattress dips behind me, and the blankets shift. Red numbers from the clock glare at me, reminding me that I have less than five hours to sleep and a long day of tedium when I get to work.

  And Brooks. I’ll have to deal with that dickhead.

  My mind races with the way that entitled prick treated me, the things he said. The way he put his slimy hand on my ass.

  “You’re not gonna solve it until you talk it out.” Gavin’s gravelly voice seeks me out in the pitch black. “Or you could go back to that deep-breathing thing you were doing.”

  “Sorry.” I fluff my pillow, inhaling and exhaling once I’m settled. Three more breaths, each growing more forceful than the one before, and instead of relaxing, the tension builds in me again.

  I should probably just go read and at least let Gavin get some sleep. Just as I make my decision, the mattress shifts again, and warm fingertips trace featherlight circles down the center of my back. No, not circles, letters.

  G-R-A-C-Y-N.

  The motions soothe me. Guessing the letters and what they spell take my mind off the stress of what awaits me in the morning.

  S-O G-L-A-D I F-O-U-N-D Y-O-U A-G-A-I-N.

  My body relaxes, limbs and lids growing heavy with each pass of his fingers over my spine.

  “Me, too.” My mumbled words carry far more honesty than I might have wanted to show so quickly.

  As I float away, finally drifting to sleep, I feel that warm hand slide down my arm. His leg settles between mine, and his chest rests against my back.

  Safe.

  Grounded.

  Warm breaths skate across my skin, soft lips press a kiss to the nape of my neck, and like I’m finally comfortable for the first time in ages, I drift away into the type of peaceful sleep I’ve been lacking.

  GAVIN

  The last remnants of tension ease out of Gracyn’s muscles as I inhale the scent of her hair, pressing my lips to the sexiest spot on a woman’s body. Don’t get me wrong; her ass and the swell of those hips send my blood flowing south with a vengeance. The perky dancer’s tits make me believe wholeheartedly in God and all of his greatest accomplishments. But the back of a woman’s neck is the spot I dream about.

  And, of course, now that she’s asleep, all I want to do is wake her back up.

  Chapter 23

  Gavin

  Despite the late night, the lack of sleep, I wake before my alarm, still wrapped around the body I brought back to my room.

  Gracyn laughed at my boxers last night, but my trunk is happily nestled up against her ass, warm, stiff, and perfectly cradled between the round globes. I rub my nose along the back of her neck, placing soft kisses as I go, hoping for a reaction. When I get nothing beyond a sigh, I switch to open-mouthed, wet kisses and throw in a nibble here and there until she squirms, arching
her back, pressing that ass into me.

  My groan is what finally wakes her, and Gracyn startles.

  “Morning,” I mumble against her skin, thrusting my aching dick against her.

  “God, what are you doing to me?” Gracyn asks the question, but she knows exactly what’s happening. She wiggles, ass grinding, hips swirling, driving me out of my fucking mind.

  I run my hand down her side, mapping and caressing every dip and curve until I slide my hand around the front of her panties, teasing the top band with my fingers. I pause, thinking I should probably stop and see where her head is, but typical Gracyn tries to take over, shoving my hand down over her mound and grinding against my palm.

  Her head seems to be in the same place as mine. But I’ll be fucked if we’re going to have another power struggle right now. We’ve been through this shit, settled it in Florida, and I’ve got her covered. She whimpers when I pull my hand away from where she was fully enjoying the friction and tries to roll so that she’s facing me.

  I hiss at the sting when her shoulder rubs across my pierced nip, and I feel it zing straight through to my cock. “God love you, Gracyn,” I groan. I bite down on her shoulder keeping her in place, trying not to blow my load way too fucking early.

  Her moan vibrates in the negligible space between us as I slide my hand back up her body, skimming over her stomach and giving her nipple a good, hard pinch as I pass over it to give her a small hint of what she just did to me. Her sharp gasp ends in a sigh as my palm settles against her throat. This girl puts up a fight at every turn, but as we slip back into what is our comfortable place, the push and pull, the roles we established in our few days at the beach, she gives in to me.

  And hands over all of her trust.

  “Gavin,” she sighs on a moan, pushing her throat deeper into my palm. “Please.”

  “What, babe? What do you want?”

  Her pulse thrums against my fingers, each desperate breath pushing her harder against my hand.

  She arches again, shoving that ass hard against me, lifting it up, opening herself to me.

  “You. I want you.”

  I shove my briefs down as Gracyn wiggles and shimmies, trying to get her panties gone. I want to just push them to the side and slide in, but goddamn it, I am fucking responsible.

  “You get rid of those, and I’ll be right back,” I growl against her neck.

  Letting go, I rummage through my bag, finding a strip of condoms. I kick my briefs to the floor as Gracyn peels away her shirt and panties. Dick properly wrapped, I roll her to her back, settle myself between her legs, and push. This is not a lazy morning fuck. This is eighteen months of looking for her, searching crowds, and finally—finally—finding her.

  “Holy shit, you feel like heaven,” I grunt as my dick is practically strangled by her slick heat.

  Time and distance, push and pull. None of that matters as we find our rhythm.

  Drag.

  Slide.

  Thrust for thrust, we pick up exactly where we left off. Shuddering and straining, I hold myself back until her body trembles, her heels digging into my ass, her gasps and moans filling the air between us.

  My hand finds its way back to her neck, squeezing, applying just the right amount of pressure.

  “Gavin … I’m … ung—God … I’m …” she rasps, the words barely audible, and she fucking lets go.

  I try. I try hard to hold out and keep my shit together, wanting to make sure to wring every last bit of her orgasm from her, but the sight of Gracyn completely giving over to ecstasy is too fucking much for me. And, without further ado, I blow.

  My mind. My load. My last shreds of reserve.

  I swear to God, I black out for a heartbeat, welcoming death if this is how it comes for me.

  I drag my hand from Gracyn’s delicate neck, trailing my fingers down, across her collarbone, and to the swell of her breasts, settling over the rhythmic beat of her heart. Her eyes glisten, pupils blown wide as she takes in the intensity of that fucking orgasm. Yeah, that was new.

  My lips skate across her jawline as I settle next to her. Tying a knot in the condom, I chuck it toward the trash. I pull her into me, rolling her until her back is pressed tightly to my front. Seeking that spot on the back of her neck, the one I dream about, I gently press a kiss there.

  “Good morning,” I mumble against her sweat-dampened skin and drift off until my alarm—maybe hers—rips us from this blissful cocoon.

  Tempted as I am to walk her into the office and piss a circle around her so that asshole knows to stay the fuck back, I won’t. I can’t. Nothing would piss her off more, and I have a meeting I’m already late for. I will respect Gracyn’s professionalism and not be a dick.

  “What time are you done today?” I stop her before she walks into the building, not wanting to let her go just yet.

  “I should be done around seven, I think. I don’t know if I can work much longer than that without my eyes crossing.”

  I’ll make your eyes cross. And roll back in your head as you scream my name.

  “You want me to come up and grab you from the office or wait down here?” I shift my weight, boxing her in against the cool gray marble, angling for another kiss.

  “No.” Her hand lands in the center of my chest, holding me back.

  “No? No to which part, G?”

  She pushes firmly, and I give, just a little, knowing full well that, if she really wanted, she could move me.

  And how fucking sexy is that?

  “I’ll meet you in the hotel bar or something. We can figure out what to do then.”

  “Why don’t you just meet me in bed, naked? Nothing to figure out. I know exactly what to do.”

  “No key, genius,” she says, pushing up on me again. She thinks she’s such a fucking smart-ass.

  “I put your name on the room. Just grab one from the front desk, and I’ll see you up there.” I take a kiss before pulling my beanie low on my head and walking away. I took the kiss because she doesn’t give an inch when her feathers are ruffled, and damn, are they ruffled.

  I grab a cab at the corner and book it across Midtown, busting through the doors of our label’s office only a half hour late.

  “Rand, man, what’s happening?”

  Our manager looks at the clock above the door and nails me with a glare that screams annoyance.

  “We have dates yet?” I ask, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge in the lobby on my way through to the conference room.

  Nate is standing at the window, his phone pressed to his ear, staring off into the distance. Ian is tapping a beat to whatever music is pounding through his earbuds, and Kane’s lying on his back, ankles crossed, in the center of the conference table. Beer in one hand, his balls in the other.

  The door swings shut behind Rand, and as miffed as he’s trying to act, he can’t contain the huge smile that stretches across his face.

  “Pack your bags, bitches. We have studio time scheduled with Slick, y’all, and six additional cities added to the tour.” His shoulders jump up and down as he exuberantly claps his hands. “I have your flights booked, a house rented in LA, and you still owe me a song.” He turns and nails me with a pointed look.

  Chapter 24

  Gracyn

  “Mr. Langston? May I speak with you for just a moment, please?” The words dance through the air ahead of me as I hurry down the hallway behind the company president.

  The way Brooks whips his head around as I pass his office is a bonus.

  “Of course, Miss George. What can I do for you?”

  “I was hoping to discuss an issue I ran into yesterday.”

  Brooks pops to his feet and rushes around his desk like his ass is on fire.

  “It’s something I’d like to speak with you about privately, sir.”

  Mr. Langston sweeps his arm out in front of him, toward his office. “Brooks, I’ll have you handle my calls for a bit while Gracyn and I have a chat,” he calls while breezing down the h
allway behind me.

  The sheer panic that crosses the younger Mr. Langston’s face as his father’s door closes him out makes me just the tiniest bit giddy. Brooks deserves to sweat a little after the shit he pulled yesterday.

  “Is everything going all right? I know the records were less than ideal, but is something seriously wrong?” the older gentleman asks, settling himself behind the massive dark desk he uses for show. The real work gets done at the round table in the far corner of his office, the one covered in neatly laid-out file folders, a legal pad, and laptop.

  His concern for me is heartwarming, and once again, I wonder how Brooks can possibly be related to this sweet man.

  “It’s fine, or … it will be. I believe the work might take longer than I initially thought, and I was wondering how you feel about me taking the remainder of the documents to my office at the week’s end. I should be through most of it. I just want to make sure that I’m doing a thorough job and don’t want to miss anything by being rushed.” I’m almost certain that I’ll be done well before the end of the week, but my request is perfectly reasonable, and I selfishly want time to spend with Gavin. And I have no doubt that Brooks is out there, shaking in his shoes, at just the thought of me telling his dad about last night.

  “Well, I guess that’d be acceptable. Is there anything that I can do to help you make the most of your time here this week? I’m sure that, between Brooks and me, we can make sure you’ve got what you need. The last thing I want is for you to be working through lunch and skipping dinner in order to get this done.” He reaches for his phone and says, “I’ll call Brooks in and let him know he’s to be at your disposal for the remainder of the week and to take you to dinner as well to keep up your strength.”

  “Oh, sir, please. That’s not at all necessary. I don’t want to impose, not in the least. In fact, it would be very helpful to have fewer interruptions during the time that I am here. I don’t mind long hours, but they are much more productive if they are distraction-free.”