Love on the Run (Pine Harbour Book 5)

by Zoe York

  For someone so calm, he sure stirred up a decent amount of chaos inside her.

  When her eyes found him again, he was striding back, and right on cue, something tugged hard deep in her belly.

  He handed her a new plastic cup, cool from the ice. She took a sip. “Perfect.”

  “Cheers.” He tipped his cup against hers, then quickly swallowed some of his Coke before rejoining her on the couch. “You doing okay?”

  “Yep.”

  “I hope this comes across as a compliment, but you seem like a totally different person than a few days ago.”

  She laughed. “Thank you. Yes, I’m feeling pretty good.”

  “Good.”

  “Are you going to check in every day to make sure I’m not freaking out inside?”

  “Yep.”

  She dropped her gaze to her drink and smiled to herself. “Good.”

  “But you’re tough. I think you were right. You don’t need me here.” He nudged her gently with his side, his thigh sliding against hers, and she wanted to lean into his warmth.

  “Maybe I like having someone around who knows that I’m secretly crazy.”

  “You’re hardly that. Secretly badass.”

  “Oooh, now you’re just sweet-talking me.”

  He chuckled under his breath. She glanced sideways at him at the same time as he twisted to look at her, his eyebrows pulling heavy over his eyes.

  “What?”

  “You really are secretly badass. You’re all southern charm on the outside, but you’re a fighter.”

  She blushed. Delicately, she hoped, but she was on her third drink. It was entirely possible that she should cut herself off before she said something foolish. She cleared her throat and tried to shift the subject a bit. “Maybe? I learned that from Hope. She’s…well, you know. She doesn’t take any shit. She doesn’t wallow. We met like…three weeks after I’d broken up with Track. And I was still stunned. Didn’t know how it would affect my career. Couldn’t see a future without him, even though I’d been the one to end it. I was afraid. I thought I was heartbroken. I was so innocent. But Hope is way more cynical than me. I’m the romantic. She’s the realist. And she said, quite rightly, that I was really mourning the loss of a dream, not the actual man. Because—well, obviously not actually the man. So she took one look at me and said, ‘let’s get you the fuck over him.’”

  Dean barked a laugh, and she joined him.

  “Right? Can you even imagine her saying that?”

  “Actually, yes. I just couldn’t imagine you repeating it.”

  She gave him a ladylike mini curtsey before continuing. “So we did all the things that women do after a break up. Ice cream. Late night wine chatter about how small his…hands are. Extra gym visits. Ritual burning of his belongings.”

  Dean was nodding along, amused at her rant, until the last one. He blinked at her. “That’s not a real thing.”

  “He’s never been able to find his favourite tour t-shirt for a reason.” She made a poof gesture with her hand, her fingers splaying wide. “Ashes on the wind.”

  “You really burned his shit? I’m pretty sure nobody has burned any of my belongings.”

  She had some thoughts as to why that might be, but they were best kept in her head. She just gave a noncommittal shrug in response.

  “What?”

  “Oh, no. Nothing.”

  He laughed. “Sure.”

  “You tell me, then. What?”

  “It’s just that I’m friends with most of my exes.”

  Ha. Likely story. She tried not to roll her eyes.

  “You don’t believe me?”

  Clearly she’d failed. She took another drink. “Sure.”

  “What?”

  “Well, if you’re still friends with them…maybe they were more friends with benefits than girlfriends. I mean, it’s hard to still be friends with someone that you loved once they stop loving you.”

  He hesitated long enough for her to realize she’d just made a big assumption.

  “They weren’t that serious?”

  He shrugged. “Not really.”

  She was hardly one to judge. Her only really serious relationship had been with someone that maybe she hadn’t wanted to spend a lot of time naked with. She won the prize for messed-up, that was for sure. “Ignore me, then.”

  “But you’re probably right. On the other hand, I’m not ashes on the wind anywhere, so there’s that.”

  “Good point. To not getting entangled in anything messy.” She held up her already empty glass. “Oops. Need another drink.”

  She pushed off the couch before he could offer to get it for her, or suggest she’d had enough.

  She suddenly wanted Dean to watch her walk across the room the way she’d just ate him up with her eyes. She’d changed out of her performance clothes, but put on a very similar outfit—a dark red silky blouse instead of her t-shirt, but another pair of her four-hundred-dollar jeans that made her ass look fantastic.

  The ass that Dean was staring at right now as she poured herself a drink, hip cocked to the side.

  He didn’t even hide it when she turned around, dragging his gaze lazily back up her body. Whew, boy. She needed to either do something about that or shut it down. Probably.

  It was getting to be that time of night. She stopped where Jackie was standing against the wall, nursing a Diet Coke. “You heading back to the bus soon?”

  Her friend shrugged. “Soon, maybe. You want a chaperone?”

  “Stop it.”

  “If you aren’t riding him like a bronco by the end of tour, I call dibs.”

  Liana’s mouth twitched, because there was no way her guitarist wanted Dean right now. “You want him? He’s all yours.”

  Jackie groaned. “You know.”

  “Just a guess.” She glanced around for Andrew, who was nowhere in sight. “He’s cute and serious. Exactly your type. And you’ve both been extra-professional. That was the giveaway.”

  “It’s just a fling.” Jackie cleared her throat. “He went back to the bus a few minutes ago.”

  “We’ll be a little while still, if you…”

  “Nope. We’re not doing this. This is not summer camp and I don’t need a cover. Wipe your mind of whatever you’re thinking. This is not a group project.”

  Liana laughed and threw her arms around her friend. “Okay.”

  “Now go tell that polite Canadian boy that Southern girls like oral.”

  “I think all girls like oral,” Liana muttered, her face turning red as she turned her back on Dean for a minute. Give the man another chance to ogle her ass while she pulled herself back together.

  “Who likes oral?” West asked, draping his arm around her neck.

  Where had he come from?

  She groaned. “Go away. We’re having girl talk and you’re making me uncomfortable.”

  He kissed her cheek. “I’m hurt. Normally I’m invited to all girl talks.”

  “Those are fake. We have them just to throw you off our scent.”

  “Wow. Stay up late enough and it all comes out.” He mock sniffed and patted her on the butt before sauntering off to get more beer.

  This time when she turned around, Dean was definitely not looking at her ass. He’d sprawled back on the couch and was staring at a nothing point somewhere just past her shoulder.

  Interesting.

  She threw herself back on the couch next to him, close enough to resume their private conversation, although the way he wasn’t quite looking at her, she feared that was over anyway.

  “Is that a thing, you and West?” he asked abruptly.

  “No.”

  “Just a musician thing, the touching?”

  “Are you jealous?” The question was out of her mouth before she could stop herself. Damn third drink.

  He gave her a slow, careful look. “No.”

  That annoyed her. Alcohol stripped away the protective layers that pretended she didn’t want to be special enough, to
be worthy of a possessive feeling or two, even from—maybe if only from—a hot stranger. She wrinkled her nose and took another sip of her Jack and Coke.

  “I wouldn’t use that word…” He said, trailing off. No, of course he wouldn’t, and she shouldn’t have said it in the first place. Way inappropriate. But there was this pulsing chemistry between them, and he wasn’t a liar, so if he was aware of it… His eyes told her all that and a little more, something dangerous and exciting, as he leaned in. “I didn’t like it, though.”

  “Okay.” Liana swallowed hard. “I told him to go away.”

  “I saw that. I didn’t like it for how I reacted, too. You can do whatever you want.”

  She almost snapped a bitter thanks for the all-clear, but she thought better of it. “You’re really good about that. Like…extra good.”

  “About what?”

  “You’re very careful not to judge me.”

  “I think you’re just more aware of it because you face it every day from all corners.”

  “You’re really looking to dodge this compliment, aren’t you?”

  “Basic human courtesy shouldn’t garner a compliment.”

  “It’s rare enough in my world that it does.”

  “That’s fucked up.”

  “Mmm.” But it was her reality.

  She turned her attention back to the room. Her tour manager, who was married, had cozied up with a fan.

  Not your problem, not your business. Get involved and he’ll brand you a busybody. God, no, she wasn’t going to say anything. But it was time to go. Infidelity was such a trigger for her.

  She downed the rest of her drink and stood, waving at Jackie, who nodded but didn’t leave her spot on the wall.

  Dean followed her out of the green room and she headed down the empty corridor. A security guard leaned against the wall next to the exit, reading something on his phone. Did she want to go back to the bus and go to bed?

  Not yet.

  She grabbed Dean’s hand and pulled him down a side hallway.

  Chapter Fourteen

  EITHER Liana had been to this arena before or she had an intuition for where to find a private room, but Dean couldn’t ask her because as soon as they were inside that private room, her mouth was on his and talking time was over.

  She tasted like sweetness and secret need, and he couldn’t resist either. She’d fisted the front of his shirt and hauled him down to her level for the first hungry volley, but when his back thumped against the wall, he spread his legs, equalling out their height difference.

  It was cute she thought she’d be in control for more than the first kiss.

  “I couldn’t help myself,” she whispered as he tried to hold her still. She turned her head and nipped at his palm. The scrape of her teeth against his skin was hardly a deterrent—it sent a heads-up alert to his balls.

  No heads-up. No sex. Just some kisses.

  But jeez, she tasted good. And while he wanted to haul her hard against him and take her mouth, her neck, strip her out of that blouse and make her scream with his tongue on her nipples…if she wanted to be the one to kiss him, he could deal with that. Maybe.

  “I know the feeling.”

  “Oh thank God. I wasn’t sure.” He didn’t miss the relief in her voice. He didn’t like that doubt. He wanted to know more about where it came from—whatever bullshit mindfuck bit of history he didn’t know about yet.

  He would, though. He’d find out every awful echo in her head and erase them for her.

  “You needed this to know how much I wanted you?” He dragged a ragged breath into his lungs. “Let there be no doubt on that score. I want you so much it hurts.”

  She pressed closer, running her hands over his body.

  “Take it. Take what you want.” He groaned as she pressed her mouth to his neck, then set her teeth gently into his jaw, shooting an electric current right down his spine.

  “I love the scrape of your stubble at the end of the night,” she whispered against his cheek as she rose onto her toes, rubbing her breasts against his chest. “It’s exactly as I imagined it.”

  “Tell me more about that.”

  “Uh uh. Secrets.” She was closer to his mouth again. The barest of kisses at the corner of his lips. A little laugh. “But you’re hot. And I’ve definitely been thinking about that. About you.”

  “Good.”

  “Very.” She sucked his lower lip into her mouth, then nipped again.

  Had she figured out how much he liked that? It was getting hard not to grind against her. His dick raged against his fly and he wanted her pressed against him there. Her hand, her leg, her belly…he didn’t care. Just some part of her sweetness rubbing against his cock before he started begging. “Kiss me,” he ground out.

  “Okay.”

  So simple. So sweet.

  So completely filthy. She slid her hands down his chest, over his abs which were flexing with a mind of their own as she tugged up his shirt. And she stroked him there, lazy and hot with her clever little hands as she pressed her mouth against his, open and wet.

  Stroke. Lick. Sigh. Liana kissed liked she sang, husky and low and sweet, and maybe he’d been wrong to think “Cravings” wasn’t about her innermost desires. Her kisses were pure sin.

  He liked it so damn much it hurt.

  She tweaked all of his buttons. Kind. Feisty. A little dirty. They could have so much fun if they weren’t trapped on a tour bus. Nashville. They’d have a few days in Nashville.

  They could wait until then.

  Five more days.

  “We should—”

  She cut him off with her tongue in his mouth and he gave up, losing himself in the heady rush of sliding together. He’d been clenching his hands at his sides to keep from taking over, but when she pulled his arms around her in invitation, he let himself go, following her lead.

  Her waist was warm and soft beneath her blouse, nipping in above the swell of her tight hips. Her body felt even better than it looked, and when he got his hands on her bottom and pulled her hard between his spread legs, he found she fit against his perfectly, too.

  Score one for sexy heels. And walls to lean against. Not to mention two bodies that seemed to know what to do like magnets.

  And still she kissed him with hints and teases, the softest, sexiest brushes of her tongue and lips. Her breath danced between them as she teased their top lips together, swirling heat and need around them as she rocked against him.

  Her shirt slid up a few inches and on his next rough inhale, their bellies rubbed against each other.

  Hot, warm, skin.

  Fuck.

  He groaned something incomprehensible as he spun them around and lifted her up, holding her hard against the wall as he plastered himself against her.

  Need shifted hard inside him, roaring a demand for more of her, all of her. His erection throbbed between her thighs and his thought processes had dropped to simple, primal grunts. Make her moan. Hear her moan. Make her come. See her come.

  He’d give her what she wanted, but he’d take something, too. Greedily steal her pleasure as his own, because there was a time and a place for him to get off and it wasn’t now or here.

  This was all about Liana. He could feel her shaking under his touch, and as he snaked his hands up her shirt, her breathy little gasps told him she was close. He found her breasts, full and heavy, and his brain scrambled. God, she felt good. His balls pulled tight, like he might actually—nope. He was a grown man. He could get her off without losing it.

  Probably.

  Her bra was made of that barely-there stretchy kind of fabric that meant he could feel every pebbly bump of her nipple right through it, but that wasn’t good enough. He wrenched it out of the way on both sides, freeing her tight little peaks to rub against the silky fabric of her blouse.

  He couldn’t figure out how to get that off in the semi-dark of the room, so he lowered his head and sucked one nipple right through the fabric. Then the other. At so
me point they’d slid down the wall and he’d put her down—because if he ground his cock against her once more, it would be over.

  And the only way this was ending was with her screaming her orgasm into his mouth, her hot little pussy clenching around his fingers.

  He’d have paid anything for a bed, but having her lean back against the wall as he yanked open her jeans and sucked on her tits, leaning over her like a man in prayer, worked too.

  Under her jeans she had a matching pair of barely-there micro fibre panties that posed zero barriers to him as he brushed over her curls and between her soaking wet folds.

  She cried out when he circled his fingertips back up to her clit with some of that slippery moisture. It didn’t take long to orient himself to the basic geography of her body. Even blind like this he knew she was beautiful. Sensitive. Sexy as hell.

  “Next time I do this with my tongue.”

  “I’m going to hold you to that,” she whispered.

  “That’s the idea. You’ll twist your fingers into my hair and take what you want.”

  “Ooh….” She bit her lip and he watched her face twist tighter as he stroked her. Back and forth. Back and forth. Circle and rub.

  It was gorgeous. But still not quite what he wanted.

  With his free hand, he shoved her jeans down a little lower and palmed her ass, tilting her body out from the wall even more.

  He shifted his hand and tentatively circled her opening. “Is this okay?”

  “God, yes.”

  One finger slid inside. His thumb found her clit.

  She clenched around him as he stroked out, then in and again, discovering the most secret part of her body. Another finger, and his thumb circled and rubbed. Closer, closer.

  A little whine broke past the weak barricade of her bitten lip and he covered her mouth with his. Give it to me, he said with his tongue. He wanted her noises and her climax, and he wanted them all to himself.

  When she burst, it was like those fireworks the night before. Bigger and brighter than he expected. She came with her entire body, gushing against his hand and it was beautiful, so he told her that, over and over again.

  He took his time buttoning her back up. He didn’t want to give up her soft, smooth skin, didn’t want to wash her scent off his hands, but this had been a stolen moment and it needed to come to an end.