by Gray, June
Even though West and I were back together I kept my bedroom, if only to have a place to retreat to when I needed my space. Still, on nights when I opted to sleep alone, I’d sometimes break down and sneak into his bed anyway. I often wondered, on nights when I fell asleep in his arms, why I hadn’t forgiven him earlier and saved myself the heartache of the past few months. But we’d arrived at this point this way for a reason, and I had to believe that it was for the best.
Time sped up, as if the simple act of forgiving West had unspooled the reel of time and now it was rolling downhill, racing towards a destination too far away for my naked eye to see.
One Sunday afternoon we were lounging on the couch, my legs slung over his thighs as I drew in my sketchbook while West wrote in a black notebook and absently ran his fingers along my shins.
I peeked over my sketchbook at him, admiring his strong profile. He wore black-framed glasses and, coupled with his disheveled hair, he looked like a professor who’d just got done fucking his woman.
Which, I guess, he had.
“What are you writing?” I sat up and tried to look in his notebook but he shut it before I could see.
“Song lyrics,” he said. “But you can’t read it. Not yet.”
I considered wrestling him for it but decided it wouldn’t be fair. It would be like showing a garment that I’d only half-finished. “Does this mean you’re writing songs again?” I asked, realizing he hadn’t even so much as picked up his guitar since I moved in.
“I guess so.”
“For a second there, I thought I’d sucked the inspiration out of you.”
He grinned at my poor choice of words. “You didn’t suck out anything I didn’t want to give,” he said. “I’m ready to give again, if you are ready to take.”
I smacked him on the arm. “Do you have to be so crass?”
He threw his head back and laughed. “Ha! Says the woman who kept begging me to fuck her faster, harder.”
I felt that familiar tingle of desire, remembering the frenzied way we’d made love just an hour before. “If you’re not careful you’ll get even more scratches on your back.”
He unbuttoned my shirt—technically his shirt—and thumbed my already hardened nipples. “Anytime, Kat,” he said in a low growl, rolling my nipples between his fingers and sending a jolt of pleasure straight down to my clit. “I love it when you mark me.”
My head was swimming in desire as I leaned into his touch, but he suddenly turned away to put on his glasses and write in his notebook.
“What the hell?” I asked, forcing out a frustrated breath.
“Sorry, I had to write it down before I forgot,” he said sheepishly. “Now, where were we?”
“I was just about to take a cold shower,” I said, standing up as I buttoned up my shirt. I had my hand on the door handle when the first guitar note floated through the air and froze me on the spot.
“Soft hair, sharp nails,” he sang in that low, husky voice. “Eyes blue as the stormy sea…”
I turned to find him approaching me with a guitar across his bare torso, looking like the sexiest man alive. It was very possible that my loins exploded from this private serenade.
“Guarded, shielded. But she bared it all for me…”
Our eyes were locked as his fingers flew across the strings, creating melodies that somehow managed to dig inside my gut. He continued singing, the timbre of his voice raising goose bumps all over my skin and weakening my knees.
“The marks she made will never fade.”
When he sang the last word, the note hung in the air between us.
“It’s still unfinished,” he said. “The lyrics need some work.”
“It’s beautiful,” I said, finally getting my bearings. “It’s not Adrift, but it’s still good.”
He swung the guitar around to his back and came closer, setting a hand on my waist. “How did you know about that song?”
I ruffled his hair. “Why is your hair always so perfect?” I asked, trying to deflect the attention.
His gaze was shrewd and serious, letting me know he wasn’t about to let me off so easily. “How did you know about the song?” he repeated.
I sighed. “I looked you up on the internet one night, back in Alaska, and I found a video of you performing that song in a bar,” I said. “Someone recorded your performance and uploaded it. Whoever she was, she seemed very taken with you.”
“Sabrina,” he said.
“How do you know it was her?”
“I only performed that song once, and she happened to be there that night.”
I thought back to the woman at West’s birthday party, the redhead who hadn’t seemed at all happy when I said I was his girlfriend. “So Sabrina… she’s in love with you?”
Before he could reply, his cell phone vibrated on the coffee table, signaling a voicemail. “I’d better get that,” he said, looking glad we got distracted.
As he listened to the message, his eyes widened and his lips parted in surprise. After he shut off his phone, he fixed me with a bewildered stare. “That was a call from Lindie Records. They are offering me a recording contract.”
“What!” My mouth hung open and I stared at him like an idiot.
“Lindie Records is a small, independent recording company and will most likely only offer me a fraction of what a bigger company can afford. It might not even lead anywhere. Recording an album with Lindie won’t guarantee success.”
“Still!” I lunged forward and grabbed his face. “So it’s not exactly your dream, but we all have to start somewhere. They might have big plans for you.”
“I’ll find out on Monday.”
I headed to the kitchen, smacking his butt on the way, and reached for two bottles of Alaskan Amber in the fridge. I twisted off the caps and handed him a bottle. “A toast to you!”
He lifted his bottle and clinked mine, uncertainty still clouding his features.
“This is good news, right?” I asked, pressing my cold bottle to his chest to get a rise out of him. “Lighten up and enjoy the moment.”
He looked away, his eyebrows drawn together.
“Oh for fuck’s sake.” I pushed him until the back of his legs hit the couch, forcing him to sit down. I leaned over him, caging him in with my arms. “What the hell is wrong with you? Your dream is coming true and here you are, acting like it’s the worst thing in the world.”
His nearly colorless eyes held mine but he said nothing.
I poked a finger in his chest. “If you’re worried about not being talented enough, you can disabuse yourself of that idea. You just showed me a few minutes ago just how good you are, how your songs can reach people emotionally.”
“It’s not that.”
“Then what is it?”
“Do you believe in too much of a good thing?” he asked, his gaze flying over my face. “That eventually, your luck will run out?”
“Sometimes.” I pulled back, waiting for clarification.
He hooked his hands on my hips. “If a man can only have so much good in his life, what would happen if I try to shoehorn one more thing? What will I lose to make room for one more dream?”
“It won’t be me,” I said, shaking my head. “Maybe your hair will fall out or you’ll gain weight or something, but I’ll still be here.”
He grinned, finally showing signs of life. “I’d live my days a fat, bald man as long as you’re with me.”
“I’ll just put you on a diet and make you wear a wig,” I said, pinching his nose. “Problem solved.”
“Being a musician’s girlfriend is not going to be easy,” he said, playing with a button on my shirt. He looked up for my reaction. “It will be intrusive. And your faith in me will be tested.”
I traced a scar on his chest, ruffling the short dark hair around it. “I can handle it,” I said, feeling braver than I felt.
“Can you?” He searched my face, his fingers squeezing my hips. “You have to know, I won’t do anything to b
etray your confidence.”
I pressed a quick kiss to his lips to shut him up. “Less talking and more doing,” I said, rising and pulling him up. “Now get to finishing that song. You’ve got an album to record.”
16
WEST
I shielded my eyes from the sun and stared up at the nondescript grey building. I was almost late to the meeting with Lindie Records’ president but I stood there for another minute, contemplating my life and the direction in which it was headed.
This was definitely no Astral Records, and never was it more clear than when I went up to the fifth floor and entered suite 250 to find a small office made up of IKEA furniture.
“I’m here to see Mr. Lindie,” I told the receptionist.
“That’s Miss Lindie Kim, actually,” a female voice said behind me.
I turned to find a woman with black hair piled up into a messy bun on top of her head, her choppy bangs covering one of her brown eyes. She wore a loose green top and black pants that molded to her legs, which ended in leopard-print stilletto heels. She shook my hand, her wrist jingling with numerous gold bangles. “You must be Luke Harrington. It’s wonderful to meet you.”
She showed me into her small but colorful office, the walls of which were covered in band posters, framed photographs, and awards. “I suppose you’re wondering about this company,” she said after sitting behind her desk.
I nodded. “To be honest, I’d never heard of Lindie Records until Saturday.”
She smiled, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “We’re small and unknown right now, but not for long,” she said. “I started this label after getting tired of the many overprocessed acts out there. My mission is to find raw talent, people who can play instruments and sing and reach audiences on an emotional level.”
“How did you hear of me?” I asked.
“I have a friend at Astral Records,” she said with a mysterious glint to her eyes. “She alerts me when there’s a talent that’s been overlooked.” She folded her hands and leaned across the table. “I’m not going to beat around the bush, Luke. We want you on our label. I can’t give you much of an advance, but I do offer high royalty rates, a claim that not many labels can make.”
“What did you have in mind?”
“Make a record, do some viral marketing via the internet, then go on the road,” she said in a no-nonsense fashion that I already decided I liked.
“You’re already offering to send me on tour?”
She grinned. “We only need to re-record your demo, shoot a video for Adrift, then you are set to open for our biggest act, The Looters.”
My head reeled with the information as images of recording booths and real concerts flashed through my mind. This was really happening, and at a much faster rate than I’d ever hoped. “Hold on,” I said, trying to slow it down.
“I’m sorry, I know I come on a little strong,” Lindie said with a soft chuckle. “I’m inspired by you. My vision for your career is clear, and I can’t say that about many acts.”
I blew out a breath. “Why? How have I inspired you?”
She looked me dead in the eye, her expression one of determination. “Your songs are heartfelt and gritty. If even one person out there is affected by your songs as I was, then we’d have succeeded.” She leaned back and smiled, motioning to me with an open palm. “And then there’s the wow factor. You’re pretty much a complete package.”
“If I signed with you, when would we start?”
“As soon as possible, Luke. I want you on tour within the month.” She picked up a tablet and swiped the screen a few times. “Can you come in tomorrow to start recording?”
With my head filled with notions of stardom I came home that afternoon and took Kat by surprise by grabbing the back of her head and kissing her. I backed her up until we reached the big wooden desk then lifted her and set her atop it, squeezing into the space between her legs.
“Well hello to you too,” she said, gasping for air. She wrapped her legs around my backside and ushered me in. “I take it the meeting was good?”
I planted kisses along her jaw. “It went well.”
She grasped a handful of my hair and moaned when I kissed a particularly sensitive spot. “And?”
“We start recording tomorrow.”
“So fast,” she breathed, throwing her head back and giving me full access.
My fingers inched up her shirt, undoing her bra. “They want to release it as soon as possible.”
She reached into my pants, stroking me through my boxer briefs. “I want something else released as soon as possible.” Her nimble fingers made quick work of my zipper and in less than a minute my pants and underwear lay pooled around my ankles.
She lifted her hips as I pulled her jeans off her long legs; I paused to drop kisses along the insides of her thighs but stopped short of reaching her wetness.
“Don’t be a tease,” she said when I blew on her. She lifted her feet up onto my shoulders and leaned back onto her elbows, an expectant look on her face.
I grinned before my tongue touched the tip of her clit. She blew out an impatient huff before I dove in, my tongue piercing her cleft, flicking upward and out, straight up between her lips. I repeated the motion, enjoying the way her thighs trembled around me.
I knew she was close when she grabbed my hair, but I pulled away before she could crest without me.
“Fuck!” she hissed when I jerked her off the table and spun her around, bending her over.
Without preamble I sank into her heat, validated by the high-pitched groan she emitted. I crouched over and gripped her hands, holding them spread before her on the table, and thrust into her without reservation. “Keep your hands right there and hold on,” I rasped against her ear, sliding my hands down to her ass. “Because I’m about to grant your request.”
Over and over I drove into her, holding her hips for purchase. I smacked her ass a few times, eliciting a cross between a snarl and a moan from Kat. She turned her head but, instead of berating me, she said, “Fuck me like you mean it, West.”
“Oh, I mean it,” I muttered before reaching between her legs and massaging her clit.
She came immediately, crying out as I continued the assault. I bent over and gripped her around the chest, holding her to me as I thrust one last time. I pushed up as the orgasm rocked me, lifting Kat to her toes, taking her with me to new heights.
I couldn’t sleep that night, my brain whirling with ideas. With a soft kiss to Kat’s shoulder I crawled out of bed and went out to the living room, a stack of notebooks in my hands. With my demo CD playing in the background, I looked over my lyrics and tried to compile a list of songs that I wanted to record. My demo consisted of mostly new songs but, as I looked through the notebooks, I realized that there were several other older songs that would make for a stronger album.
I fell asleep on the couch and only woke up with Kat running her fingers through my hair.
“Hey,” she said with a wistful smile. “Time to get up.”
I took a minute to gaze at her sleep-rumpled face, her hair still askew, and counted my blessings. “If this doesn’t pan out, if nothing good ever happens in my life again, I’m still the luckiest man in the world.”
She grinned and flicked my nose. “Okay. Take that cheese and put it into your album,” she said, then pressed a peck to my mouth that quickly turned into a full-blown kiss. I pulled her on top of me and continued to kiss her, taking in everything she was giving me, her own way of letting me know that she appreciated me as much as I did her.
After long minutes, she pulled away, sitting up. “Go take a shower. You don’t want to be late on your first day of recording.”
“Okay Luke, let’s take a break,” Lindie announced over the loudspeaker.
I took off the headphones and exited the sound booth, pleased with how our first day of recording was progressing.
Lindie sat down at the couch, one leg crossed over the other, tapping out notes on her table
t. She patted the space beside her. “Let’s talk about the song list for the album.”
I sat beside her on the small couch, conscious of my thighs touching hers. “I was giving this a lot of thought last night.”
“Oh yeah?” she asked with a grin. “Let’s hear it.”
I listed the songs I wanted that was on the demo, then told her about the few that she hadn’t yet heard.
“Okay, let me hear them.” She turned to the sound engineer, Aaron, who sat by a wall of instruments. “Can you hand over a guitar please?”
“Thanks, man,” I said and strummed the guitar, adjusting the strings for the right pitch. Then I began to sing a song, one that I had written a few years ago about loving someone but the timing had never been right.
Lindie listened intently. Afterward she said, “That needs to be a duet.”
I set the guitar down and agreed. “I’d actually written it as such.”
“Did you also have a woman in mind to sing it with you?”
I blew out a breath. Ideally, Kat would fit the bill but, if her humming in the shower was any indication of her vocal talent, I’d say she couldn’t carry a tune. No, there was only one person that I knew could do it justice, the person who had inspired the song to begin with. “Yes, but—”
Lindie held up a hand. “Just get her in. We need this album done ASAP.”
“Sabrina?” Kat asked incredulously. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
“I need her.”
Kat threw her hands up, almost knocking over her drink. “Just what a girl wants to hear from her boyfriend, that he needs another woman.”
“It’s not like that and you know it.” I glanced around the restaurant and turned back to an irate Kat. “One song. I need her for one song.”
“You can’t find someone else to sing it with you?” Kat asked. “Out of everyone you know in this city, you don’t know of anyone else who can sing?”
“I know plenty,” I said, folding my arms across my chest. “But Sabrina’s voice is perfect for this particular song. I’d written it with her voice in mind.”
