by Lux, Vivian
She let out a frustrated little sigh that turned into a moan as my hand found her waist and pulled her closer. Her tank top slid up slightly, leaving a warm swath of skin bare at the small of her back. I brushed my fingers lightly along her spine, the way I knew she liked, the way I knew she craved, and she sagged into me more fully, parting her lips and circling my tongue with hers.
A full year's worth of longing for her bubbled up inside of me and suddenly I was a man possessed. With a growl, I swung her around, pressing her back against the wall. Snaking my hands into her hair, I grabbed the length and yanked her head to the side, exposing the curve of her neck. She let out a stifled moan as I kissed that sweet, rapid pulse, and then let my lips travel lower. I pressed against her hard letting her feel what she did to me, had been doing to me, had always done to me since the day I met her so long ago.
"We shouldn't…" I didn't let her get the rest of her words out. To hell with what we should and shouldn't do—I needed to do this. I needed to cup her breast in my hand, swiping my thumb over her nipple so that it puckered into a tight bead before I tugged her shirt to the side to take it into my lips. Her protests died away into a sharp moan.
"Make noise for me, Lily," I begged her. I needed to hear those soft sighs again, the ones that made me feel like the center of the world. "Let me know exactly what this feels like." I plunged my hand below the waistband of her jeans. "Ah, shit, I wish you knew what this felt like. You're so hot and wet for me, aren't you? Did you miss me as much as I missed you, Lil?"
"Shut up," she whispered, pleading. "Someone will hear you." She moaned as I slipped a finger inside of her.
I looked toward the staircase. There were voices downstairs, low and indistinct. "You don't want to get caught?" I was too lost to stop now. "Then you'll have to be quick, Bit. Come for me," I swirled my thumb over her clit, raking circles to draw gasps from those rosebud lips. "I want to feel you cum around my finger, right here."
She wrapped her arms tightly around my shoulders, pressing against me as hard as she could, her whole body undulating as I slipped another, and then another finger inside of her. "Shit!" she hissed, biting her lip and burying her face into my chest. I felt her tummy tighten, the muscles of her core fluttering like a butterfly. "Oh, God!"
I growled and buried my face in her neck. Her body heaved and those noises I craved hearing tore from her throat, savage little wildcat noises that nearly had me cumming along with her. "Perfect, yes, oh my God, you're perfect." I was babbling like an idiot, but I didn't give a fuck any more. I covered her mouth with mine, relishing the taste of her one last time before I pulled my hand away.
"Jaxson?" My mother's whiskey-soaked voice floated up the stairwell.
I ignored it. "Come to my show tonight," I told Lily. "I want you there in the audience."
Her eyes were shining as she stared at me for a moment. Then, finally, she nodded. I went downstairs to see what the fuck my mom wanted, feeling on top of the fucking world.
Chapter Nineteen
Liliana
There were too many people in this house. Every time a voice called from downstairs, I wanted to shrink into an even tighter ball. The shouts and sounds of scraping made me wonder what the heck they were building, but I was too terrified to go and check. I was afraid what had just happened would be written all over my face.
Jaxson's eyes, nearly black with desire. His fingers, his lips…
Any semblance of pride or self-control I could claim was blown away in a frenzy of lust.
The way my body moved, how it knew exactly what he'd do next, anticipated it like an addict jonesing for the next high.
That lily on his chest had broken me.
His voice in my ear, so confident, so cocky, telling me exactly what to do.
But I didn't need to stay broken. I rolled over in bed and pressed the heels of my hands to my eyes, squeezing them shut as the memory bore down on me like a freight train.
It was his first major television interview. I recorded it on the DVR, intending to watch and then rewatch it again and again. My Jaxson was poised to become a star in his own right.
The interviewer was a tall, crisp blonde with a curve to her lips that made everything she said seem like innuendo. I hated her instantly.
Jaxson sat on his chair like a prince on his throne. I paused the playback for moment to appreciate the simplicity of the white T-shirt and leather jacket combination I had chosen for him. They had pancaked his face in too much makeup, but somehow it didn’t detract from his rugged masculinity.
I hit the play button and leaned back, snuggling down into the couch. He would be home soon and I wanted to watch it all before he got here.
The interviewer's collagen-plumped lips twisted again. "What was it like? Growing up the son of Annie Blue?"
My heart skipped a beat in sympathy. Of all the questions she could open with, she chose that one? The one Jax hated the most?
But he smiled gamely and my heart swelled with pride. "You know, to me, she's just Mom, you know?" He showed the interviewer his dimple and I inwardly cheered at how well he handled the question.
"There's been a lot of buzz around you, even before you headed into the studio. People seem fascinated by Jaxson Blue. Why do you think that it?"
He smirked that cocky grin of his. "Because they think they want my life."
"Is your life that wonderful?"
"It has its moments."
"What are the moments that make it wonderful?"
I leaned forward, already blushing.
He leaned back in his chair. "You know, kicking back with friends, making music. The simple things, really."
Okay. That was vague, but well put.
"You mention friends. Is there anyone you're particularly close with?"
Jaxson ducked his head. "The guys in my band, for sure."
That was a lie. He barely knew them.
"Anyone else?"
The interviewer was fishing. That stupid twist to her lips, I bet she thought she looked sassy or something. I wished I could reach through the TV and slap her, but this interview had been taped this morning and the damage was already done. I paused the TV again and smiled to myself. Here it was. It was about to be common knowledge.
"Close like how?" Jaxson looked penetratingly at the interviewer and she crossed and re-crossed her legs.
"A special someone in your life?" She batted her eyelashes.
When I saw Jax lick his lips, I paused the TV again. That was his tell, it always had been. He was about to lie. What was the lie? I hit play.
The Jax on the screen flicked an invisible piece of dust off his jacket. "Nah," he shook his head. "No one important."
I stabbed the off button in horror.
Was I really that pathetic, that I could forget the public heartbreak, just like that? Was one look at him all it took to strip me of my dignity and leave me a breathless ball of need?
It had been a year since anyone had touched me with the same sort of skill. Jaxson knew my body better that I knew myself, the right mix of rough and tender, the way I just shattered when he was inside of me. The aftershocks of the orgasm he had given me still trailed up my spine, leaving me boneless and breathless, a combination of complete satisfaction and the insatiable desire for more. I wanted him again, there was no denying it. I was never going to stop wanting him, pride and dignity be damned. I wanted what he gave me, that tight ball of heat that collected in my chest before exploding outward in fireworks across my skin. I craved him like chocolate. No, something more dangerous. Heroin?
Yes. I was a Jax-junkie. I had wanted him this whole time I was hating him, and now that I had my taste, I wanted him even more.
And who says I can't have him?
The thought sent me sitting bolt upright in bed. Who said? There was no rule that said I didn't get to enjoy myself while I was here. In ten days, our parents would be married and I would go back home again and it would be like nothing had happened.
&
nbsp; I could have him, drink my fill, and then be done with him forever. Get him out of my system. On my terms. Once and for all.
A little fling, for old time's sake. A tiny bit of revenge for thinking he could cast me aside.
The small, rational part of me cried out in protest, that this was a terrible idea, but desire silenced it. I was a grown woman now, older and wiser after heartbreak. I deserved something casual and light with the hot guy who knew what my body needed. Meaningless sex, just like millions of other people enjoyed every day. That's all it needed to be.
It didn't have to mean anything.
It was fine. I wasn't doing anything wrong.
Everything would be fine.
Chapter Twenty
Jax
The green room smelled like stale cigarettes. Ghosts of all the bands who'd sat here, nervously killing time before the show started. Smoking was terrible for my voice, but when Toad shook his pack at me, I gratefully accepted a butt.
I wasn't nervous about playing, I told myself. I was nervous because of who would be watching tonight.
Liliana said she'd come, and so I knew she would. She had never let me down, and I couldn't imagine her doing it now. Not after that wild-eyed look she had given me when I asked her to come tonight.
I inhaled deeply, feeling the sharp sting of the smoke filling my lungs and hoping it would push out the memory of her coming apart around my fingers. If I started down that train of thought, I would never be able to focus onstage.
When she left me, I spiraled down pretty quickly, and Annie bundled me off to her high-priced therapist before I caused her a scandal. It was, predictably, a waste of time for all of us. Blah, blah, my mother was never an appropriate mother, bullshit, bullshit—but one thing I did learn was that I needed to make things up to all of the people I'd wronged if I ever had hope of feeling good again.
I went home that evening and I wrote an apology in the form of a poem. Then I set that poem to music. I locked myself in my hotel room for three full days, recording on a four-track. Then I went across the hall.
Greg Fingers and Bash were in the suite, which was totally normal. Thank God it was them, and not my mother, because if it had been her that answered my knock, I would have never had the nerve to do what I did next.
"Hey, can I play something for you guys?"
"Lay it on me," Greg drawled in his slightly slurred speech. He wasn't drunk, he just perpetually sounded that way after, in his words, "smoking something weird."
"You joinin' the family business?" Bash was twitching with his usual pent-up energy and it made me so nervous I didn't answer him. Instead I just pressed play.
And the song that would become “Cocky” was let loose onto the world.
It was a song for Lily, but I still didn't know what she thought of it.
Tonight, I would find out.
There was an echoing sound of footsteps in the concrete hallway below the stage. Toad and Casper looked up from their tuning. Banks licked his thumb and dog-eared the battered paperback he had on his lap, then stretched his fingers out one by one. Talon restlessly tapped his knees, drumming out a staccato beat.
The stage manager poked her harried looking face into the door. "Five more minutes, guys." She rushed away before we could even thank her.
"All right, guys," I said, standing up and stretching. This was our first club appearance, the first of many to come. I felt like I should say something momentous, but the only thing that came to me was, "Let's blow the roof off this fucker."
"Well said." Banks smirked.
I clapped him on the shoulder. "Let's go, Juilliard. Tonight's gonna get your elitist ass laid like you wouldn't believe."
"Fuck yeah!" Toad pogoed in place twice before bounding down the hall ahead of us.
"Slow down!" Casper called. "No one's here to see your ugly bassist ass!" He clapped me hard on the back. "You ready?" he asked me, suddenly serious.
I clenched my fists. Everyone was here tonight to see me. Yeah, sure, maybe they were curious about my mom, but they paid to hear me sing, and that's what I meant to do.
And Liliana was here to see it.
I nodded. "Too fucking ready. Let's go."
The house music died down and the lights dimmed. From the wings, I looked out to see the whole club washed in blue light, my signature color. Talon nodded and headed out to the drum kit, to wild applause. I grinned and gave Casper a small shove forward, and he, Toad, and Banks filed out to grab their instruments.
I hung back, waiting, listening to the crowd. "Jax! Jax! Jax!" Fuck, that was my name they were screaming. I'd seen this scene a million times before, waiting in the wings during my mother's shows, hearing the adulation of the crowd as they screamed for her, but tonight, those cheers belonged to me.
Talon counted the beats and the heavy bass of “Cocky” thudded through the speakers. It sounded so much different live, so much better. The crowd hesitated, hanging on like one great beast sucking in its breath.
Then I walked on stage and they exploded.
I felt the beat move through me and the words came fast and true. Like I had been born for this. And dammit, I was fucking born for this.
"You got it right… babe…" I held the note a little bit longer as the guys upped the tempo, letting the strobe lights flicker around us before we crashed together as one into the song that had made my name. The song I wrote in private—for the only girl I had ever loved—now belonged to everyone.
I lifted my head and looked for her, but the lights blinded me, and I had no idea where she could be. I could only hope that she was out there, watching me, listening as I sang directly to her.
Chapter Twenty-One
Liliana
Remember how I said I was always late?
I never expected to fall asleep. But my sudden burst of clarity seemed to be all that I needed to finally be able to close my eyes and sleep away the jet-lag that had dogged me since I landed here.
When I woke up, I was relaxed and refreshed. And really fucking late for Jax's show.
I called the cab while I threw on the closest approximation to a club outfit I owned—a soft jersey tee that I slung over a bright neon purple tank top and a pair of jeans with sparkles on the ass. My version of dressing up. I debated over whether I should put on heels or not, but the only pair I had brought with me from New York were the ones I planned on wearing to the wedding, and knowing my luck, I'd break them beforehand. A pair of ballet flats would suffice.
Besides, Jax liked that I was small. I grinned at the mirror when I imagined how he'd show his appreciation.
It doesn't have to mean anything.
When the cab let me off, I thought he had got the address wrong. Jax said “club,” so I was expecting something small and intimate. Someplace where I could sit down with a glass of wine and watch him sing.
This place was the exact opposite of that.
The music that blared whenever the doors opened to the street was so loud that I froze in place.
He was playing “Cocky.” Right now.
I hung back and traced my fingers along the crumbling stucco. Did it matter to me? Was I upset? There was something still there, a ball of hurt inside of my chest that was still tender and bruised. But I had moved past that, hadn't I?
It doesn't have to mean anything.
I would just wait here until the song was over and then I'd go inside. He would never be the wiser.
Thankfully, I couldn't hear the lyrics, so I was free to bounce on my toes to the infectious beat. I felt a small spike of pride as I watched two tall blondes rush up to the entrance, frantic over missing “our song.”
"God, he is just the hottest thing," one gushed as the bouncer glowered at her ID.
"Can you imagine being the girl he wrote it for?"
"She probably has no idea how lucky she is."
"Can you imagine how amazing he must be in bed?" They tittered together before they moved inside.
Yes, I could.
>
I stepped up to the bouncer, who was easily as wide as I was tall. "Liliana Nesbit?" I shouted. "I should be on the list?"
One eyebrow went up. "You're in the VIP section, miss," he rumbled, suddenly deferential. "Right this way."
I followed him into the dark, wild mass of the club. The overhanging balcony obscured the stage from view, but I did get a good look at the two blondes, desperately screaming Jax's name.
He led me through a maze of levels, until he suddenly emerged into a private lounge. One with a perfect view of the stage below.
"Holy shit," I breathed, but my voice was drowned out in the roar of applause as the drummer pounded out the intro to the next song.
It was like the world narrowed down to a pinpoint, only large enough for me to see him. Jax strode across the stage as smooth and dangerous as a wildcat before he crouched down low and began to sing.
I gripped the railing to keep from falling over the balcony. He was electric, a force of nature. He worked the crowd like an instrument, playing our emotions as skillfully as his guitar. We moved when he told us to move, we screamed when he told us to scream, and when it was all over and I was shouting his name along with everyone else, I was just as breathless and desperate as I was when he pinned me against the wall.
The last encore was still ringing in my ears as I tore back down the stairs and shoved my way to far wall. Claustrophobia clawed at my throat as I fought my way along the wall and toward the front of the club.
Jax was there, crouching on stage, clutching the outstretched hands that reached for him, wanting a piece of him, wanting everything he had to give and more. I shoved as hard as I could, worming my way through the small spaces no one else could fit, until I finally popped up right at the gate. "Jax!" I screamed.
He wheeled at the sound of my voice. I waved frantically. He nodded in the direction of security and I suddenly found myself hoisted over the barrier. "Jax!" I called again.
"Thank you and goodnight!" he boomed into the mic, then pointed toward the booth. The house lights popped on and I could finally see all of him.
