by Cari Quinn
She wanted to fall. To fly…and burn.
“Mmm-hmm. I can smell you. You’re like burnt sugar, bubbling over the pan.” His mouth moved against her hair. “What do you have on under that dress?”
Her heart squeezed. He wasn’t in his right mind. She wanted him fully aware. And she wasn’t all that aware herself. One toke had been enough to scattershot her thoughts like balls across a pool table. She should wait.
Wait.
Wait.
“I can’t,” she whispered.
“Can’t what?”
“This.” She waved a hand between them. “You’ve given off so many mixed signals, and I probably have too. We’ve been dancing around this for too many years. I may be making a huge mistake but I don’t care anymore. We’re both here right now, and I’m not wasting one more chance.”
She drew her dress up over her head and let it fall.
* § *
Curves. So many curves. She was like a living G-clef made out of flesh and flawless diamond-crushed skin. The ruby red tips of her breasts peeked out from beneath the waves of her white-blonde hair. Thanks to the spill of light from the window, he could see that the same flush bloomed between her legs, beyond enticing. It would be so easy to move forward and take. To just drown himself in her until he couldn’t remember anymore why this was wrong.
“Jazz,” he breathed, shutting his eyes to block out the torch-light of her beauty in front of him. He couldn’t breathe through his want. Couldn’t think through the haze of the marijuana and his need. And his love.
He fucking loved her, and he’d fight not to do this with every fiber of his being. She deserved more than a strung-out bastard who’d turned to pot because he couldn’t get ahold of more coke. For fuck’s sake, even his dealer wouldn’t return his calls.
Now she was here, and he couldn’t get high enough not to feel each of the knives carving him up inside.
“Gray,” she said, equally soft. He didn’t open his eyes but her voice crept closer. “Look at me.”
“No.” The word burst from him on an exhale. “No.”
Her hand touched his bare chest and he jolted as if she’d set off a stick of dynamite. Her chuckle rubbed over his nerve endings, sandpaper and silk, and he struggled to hold back a shudder. Only the steel beam he’d shoved in his spine held him upright.
“Back when I used to get high, it’d lower my inhibitions,” she continued. “It made me excited. I know it’s supposed to relax you, but it had a different effect on me.”
He focused on each of her words on its own, so he couldn’t take them all together and feel their impact. He couldn’t let her do this. The man she was trying to seduce might’ve been worthy of her a year ago. He hadn’t believed it fully then either but he knew without doubt that he wasn’t now.
“As if you ever had inhibitions,” he muttered, unable to summon the strength to raise his voice. All his blood had rerouted to his cock. All his air was fueling his starving cells. He could only not inhale for so long. But if he did, he’d smell her again, watermelon and sugar, and he’d be finished.
“Oh, you’d be surprised. I’ve wanted you for years. And I haven’t done one damn thing to let you know.” She started circling him, her body brushing against his. Hip to thigh, thigh to ass. Her fingers trailed from his chest to his arm to his back, sensual feathers of sensation that made his balls clench so tight he feared any movement would send him over the edge. “But I will tonight.”
He gritted his teeth. “You can’t. You don’t know me anymore. You don’t understand what you’re getting into.”
That made her stop. Her fingers pressed into his lower back as she processed his words.
Please, make them be enough.
She completed her loop around him and hooked her fingers in the front of his jeans. He groaned at the slide of skin on skin. Her other hand closed around his fingers, still gripping the joint, and she pried it free. He heard her inhale before the wisps of her breath kissed his mouth. “So show me.”
To Jazz, he was just a recreational user. Never mind that he’d told her years ago that doing that shit would lead nowhere good. In her eyes, he didn’t owe thousands of dollars to people who would break his legs—or his hands—if he didn’t cough up the cash. He didn’t have such a fucking thirst for blow that he’d practically broken down during his voicemails to Cricket tonight, begging for enough to get through his time at the cabin. Then he’d do whatever she asked.
He could do anything, survive anything, but he couldn’t turn away from Jazz. She would sustain him where every other drug had failed.
Opening his eyes hurt. For an instant, the spill of light from his room haloed her head, glowed like dancing fire in her china blue eyes. He fisted his hand in her hair and watched it spill through his grip like liquid gold. With one tug, her head was back, those slightly glazed irises fixated on his. Waiting.
“I’m going to break you,” he murmured, both warning and plea.
“Maybe we’ll break each other.” Her tongue flicked over her lips, an invitation more potent than even the siren’s call of cut lines on a mirror, glistening and pure.
And he couldn’t say no anymore.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Then
The room was spinning. Lights and shapes blurred, becoming one psychedelic mass. Guitars screamed and drums crashed, pounding between her legs. Echoing in her head. Her feet couldn’t keep up. She moved faster, revolving through the thick, humid air. She wasn’t just dancing, she was the music. The bassline simmered in her blood, as intrinsic as a heartbeat. If she exhaled, the rhythm would change. Inhaled and it would skip.
Don’t look down. Don’t look up. Don’t stop.
She laughed when someone grabbed at her arms. No. She couldn’t take time to think. This particular section required her to keep moving to hold on to the beat. She couldn’t falter or the song would end too soon. Maybe she’d never get to play it again.
“Jazz. What the hell? What’s wrong with you?”
That voice. Rough and urgent. It didn’t belong here. She hadn’t reached the chorus. This wasn’t his part. That would come later, when she was prepared to share the melody with him.
Not yet.
“Baby, come here.” Gentle fingers caressing her cheek, brushing aside her hair. The familiar scent of sage and cedarwood from his aftershave drifted over her, as warm as a blanket. He tucked her against him and she let out a sob, so close to shattering in his arms that hiding in the thick cotton of his flannel shirt seemed like the only oasis of safety she had left.
“Gray,” she said, over and over.
“I’m here. I’ve got you.”
She shook her head, knowing it had to be a lie. No one had her. Trusting anyone led to her being alone. She wouldn’t be so stupid again.
“Are you here by yourself?” His knuckles slid under her chin, tipping it up. This close, she could taste the hops on his breath. He’d been drinking too, but he wasn’t like Toby. His hands weren’t grasping and groping at her clothes. She’d finally shoved him away and started to dance, and he’d laughed, wanting to see her show.
Everyone expected her to perform, as the pretty little doll who wasn’t supposed to cause a fuss or as the blue-haired freak who played through her pain. Either way, she had a script.
She’d always sucked at not blowing her lines.
“Jazz. Look at me.”
She struggled to focus on him. Why did Gray have four eyes? Four gorgeous gray eyes, but still, that was creepy as fuck.
“Jesus, baby, what are you on?” He drew her toward the nearest couch and pushed someone aside so he had room to sit. Then she was on his lap, and his thumb was on her lower lip, carefully stroking. “Tell me what you remember.”
She tipped her head toward his, accidentally banging their foreheads together. A giggle erupted at the flash of pain before she angled her nose lower, lining her lips up with his. He exhaled and for an instant, the fog in her brain cleared away. He’d
blown through the cobwebs just by enfolding her in his strong arms and offering her his air when she couldn’t figure out how to inhale on her own anymore.
“I remember you,” she murmured before everything went black.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Now
Gray lifted his hands to her face, spanning her cheeks with his fingers. She could’ve been made of glass, he took so much care in tilting her closer. He brushed his lips over her mouth, tasting smoke and toothpaste. A lick of his tongue against the seam and her lips fell open, her breath escaping on a moan. His hands trembled as he drove them into her hair, driving her backward into the hot tub. She let out a startled squeak.
“Sorry,” he mumbled, rubbing her back where she’d made contact with the frame.
Then they were kissing again, and he couldn’t focus on all the textures of her. Warm lips, slick tongue, rising and falling breasts. He cupped one in each hand, feathering his thumbs over the puckered tips, and lifted his thigh to force hers open. He hoped she was as ready for this as he was, because damn them both, he doubted he could wait.
He’d been waiting for eight years.
“It’s okay. I’m okay. Oh, that feels good.”
“It better because I can’t spare a hand right now.” He caught her laughter in his mouth and swallowed it down, desperate to get drunk on all the sounds she could make. It might take a lifetime to tease all of them out of her.
“I can.” Lightly, she dragged her nails down his stomach before undoing his zipper. He groaned as she curled around him, groaned again as she tightened her grip. “This time you’re not coming on my back,” she said fiercely, pulling his lower lip between her teeth while her hand shuttled up and down his length.
Some part of him was shocked his pretty, perfect, innocent Jazz could be saying such things. Another part reveled in the dirty light in her eyes. He palmed her cheek, angling her head back so he could lick a pathway along her jaw to her ear. Hoops and dangles crowded the lobe, jangling together as he sucked the pliant flesh into his mouth. “Where do you want me to come?”
“Anywhere.” She fumbled her small hand farther into his jeans and squeezed the base of his cock, making him hiss. “Everywhere.”
“Jesus.” Reluctantly, he let go of her breasts and bent to grab her dress. “Let’s go inside before Nick comes back and sees you.”
“He’s seen it all before.” He sent her a dark look over his shoulder and she flushed, clearly realizing what she’d just said. “Uh, I mean—so would this be a bad time to tell you I dropped your joint and it rolled away?”
He laughed and pulled her close again. “You’re lucky I love you.”
“I am. So lucky,” she said, glancing up at him as if he’d just presented her with a bucketful of stars.
“Don’t try to sweet talk me now. I’m supposed to be annoyed, remember?”
Her eyes twinkled up at him. “You can’t be. Just like I can’t be mad at you. It’s our curse.”
“Uh-huh.” He dragged the sill higher and patted her very fine ass. The door was right there, but he couldn’t deny he wanted a view of her from behind. “In you go.”
“I thought that was your line. I mean, in you go in me. Oh shit. I’m high.” She giggled and climbed in the window.
Gray smiled and shook his head. He couldn’t even be annoyed at himself right now for letting her have some of the joint because she seemed so loose and relaxed. How could he ever wish that away?
He’d no sooner climbed inside and tossed her dress on a chair than she threw her booted foot up on the bed and yanked down the tiny side zipper. A dozen foil packets tumbled out.
“Wow.” He cleared his throat. “Looks like you have plans for me.”
“Oh, I do.” She grabbed one between her teeth and used both hands to shovel the rest onto the floor. She unzipped her other boot and unearthed her cell phone, setting it on the nightstand, then toed off both boots and climbed up on the platform bed.
Something about her efficiency made him laugh in spite of the serious hard-on he was sporting. “Good thing I’ve been saving up.”
A shadow passed over her face, a brief cloud in the midst of all the sunshine. “Have you? Really?”
“Really. I haven’t been with anyone in months.” He gave her a sheepish grin. “It’s even been a while since I’ve been with myself.”
Instantly the sun sliced through the momentary darkness in her expression. She flashed him a dazzling smile. “Me either.” Invitingly, she spread her legs, revealing her swollen pink pussy. No hair to speak of, anywhere. “So. Where were we?”
“Christ almighty.” He didn’t smoke pot often enough to know what it normally did for sex, but with every passing second, his cock thickened more. He felt harder than the exposed beams overhead. Even walking to his bedroom door to lock it presented a frigging challenge, but he did it because he wouldn’t risk Nick interrupting them—again. “Warn a guy before you do that, would you?”
“No. Because I don’t want you to have control around me. I want you on the edge, like I am.”
“No worries there.”
He turned back and drank down the sight of her, all tumbling hair, hungry eyes and puffy lips. Without lowering his gaze, he shoved down his jeans and boxers. He stalked forward and leaned across the bed, banding his hand around her thigh to drag her closer. The simple movement made his head swim as if he’d downed a few six-packs. He had a light buzz going from the few pulls on the joint he’d managed before her appearance, but that wasn’t the cause of his dizziness. He could smell her now, sweeter than springtime, more alluring than the most seductive drug.
Smiling at him, she picked up the remote he’d tossed on the pillow earlier and aimed it at the small speakers on the dresser. “Ripcord” from their EP flowed out. He’d been trying to write earlier—on his own, since Nick had taken off hours ago and hadn’t returned—so he’d turned on Oblivion’s music in the hopes of luring out the muse. That hadn’t worked, so he’d turned to weed.
Now he would turn to Jazz.
He nipped her lower belly, causing her to drop the remote and lean up on her elbows. He learned her flesh from touch rather than sight, because he couldn’t bear to look away from her eyes. That lust-soaked blue dragged him on a path straight into the heart of her, her lashes fluttering while his tongue parted her swollen folds. The pink crystals on her hood piercing nearly made him beg. Seeing that delicate flesh pinched and ready for his kisses made him want to send up a few thousand prayers of gratitude.
Unable to wait a second more, he shoved her legs open wide. He held her gaze as he licked her from her clit to her entrance and back again, but he couldn’t maintain it when he pushed a finger inside and she trembled around him, her body yielding to his invasion. She moaned and flexed around him, inviting him inside her just as she’d done on the deck by licking her lips.
God. He wasn’t going to survive this. He wouldn’t survive without seeing her come, either.
He flicked her piercing, eliciting her high, thin cry, then focused on her clit. A rainbow of colors exploded in his mind. He swore he could hear her heartbeat, that wild, unsteady thud, and his own drummed in response, an endless beat that sped up at even the smallest movement. Razoring his teeth over the piercing and the plump bundle of nerves, he slid another finger inside her, pulling upward, coaxing that same melodic response from her throat, a delirious mixture of sigh and moan, more breath than actual sound.
In the background, his guitar solo dominated the song before her drums came crashing through, breaking apart the rhythm and making it something all new. Something all theirs.
Then a new sound, a new instrument to add complexity to the composition. Her sighing his name, over and over. She drew it out until it vibrated like the strings in his guitar. “Gray.”
He closed his eyes and savored, losing himself in the overwhelming pulse of their song, of her swollen, wet flesh around his pumping fingers, of her heart throbbing against his mouth. Tasting her p
leasure as he created it felt more like making music than he’d ever known before.
Her body rose up, her full breasts lifting, her dusky nipples pointing skyward. Red from his fingers and her desire. He licked up the evidence of it between her legs, desperate to take it all, to fulfill every want she had before she found the voice to ask. Offering her bliss in small, steady doses until she quivered, her breasts shimmying, her muscles growing taut.
She gripped him relentlessly, pushing back against him with every thrust of his fingers. Her hips pumped, her heels dragging up the comforter, her head thrashing over the pristine bedding. Those rustling noises joined the rest, becoming a cacophony of need that surged blood into his cock and tore a groan from his throat. He wanted to hear only her, to know exactly that instant that she lost herself, but he couldn’t stop the helpless convulsing of his hips.
“Fuck. Fuck. Jazz.” He tried to apologize but he couldn’t find the words within the unfolding spiral of warmth. She was everywhere. On his tongue, behind his eyes, in his hands. In his ears every time her drums cut through their songs to make them hers.
And then she was coming too, her hands driving forward to embed in his hair as she pulled him against her, her legs winding around him to bring him more fully into her clenching heat. His own release spun out, wringing him dry. He gripped her thigh and pressed his cheek to her belly, wondering if the floor was really trembling or if that was just him.
“Oh my God, the earth actually moved. That’s an actual thing. Holy fuck.” Her dazed laughter made him raise his head to give her a smile. At least he hoped it was a smile. His muscles felt like they’d gone numb.
“Guess so.” He hauled in a breath and eased back enough to look down at the mess he’d caused. Technically, she’d caused it.
Though he hadn’t used for all that long, he’d heard plenty of jokes about the side effects. Jere had regaled him with them the other night. Not being able to get hard, not being able to get off. But if tonight was any indication, Jazz could combat any substance.
He hadn’t come on his lap without being touched since…ever. He’d never come that fast before, even back in high school.
