One More Minute With You

by Sierra Hill

  She paused, peering up at him with her emerald eyes through long lashes, her insecurity evident. “But if you have plans, don’t worry about it. You probably like to work solo.”

  He hadn’t expected that question when she asked him what he had planned. The thought of spending the day with her, writing music and listening to her sing had his heart racing and his dick very interested.

  Kenzie was right about one thing, though. He did normally write solo. He found it was much easier to get inside himself, to find the music and lyrics when he was alone and focused. And although he’d written songs for his ex and held jam sessions with his musician buddies, the actual writing process was best done singularly.

  Writing music with Kenzie? That could get complicated.

  “Um – yeah, you’re right. I do usually write by myself. I’ve never actually had a writing partner.”

  She fidgeted in her chair while playing with the spoon in her coffee mug.

  “Sure, I get it. No biggie. Just thought I’d ask.” Her shoulders hunched in a defeated gesture.

  Remy pushed off the sink and rounded the counter, gently touching her bare shoulder. Kenzie’s head jerked up, maybe from the shock of the physical contact. Her eyes grew wide, and her lips parted.

  “Kenzie, I’d love to give it a try with you,” he stammered, reluctantly pulling his hand away from her soft skin that seemed to sear into his own. “With the writing, I mean. I think it’s a great idea. Although, I’ll admit, it might be really hard for me to give up any control over it – I can be pretty stubborn and inflexible at times. But if you’re willing to work through it with me, I say we give it a go.”

  Kenzie’s smile was pure pleasure and nearly knocked him to the ground. His heart seemed to skip a beat and then sped up like a race car at Indy, taking him from zero to sixty in a nanosecond.

  It was then that he realized he hadn’t experienced that feeling since…well, since he could remember. Not even with Chyna had he felt the same level of magnetic pull.

  Jumping off the bar stool, Kenzie swung her arms around Remy’s neck, giving him a hug. In that short amount of time, maybe less than three seconds that their bodies were mashed up against each other, Remy’s cock grew hard.

  He groaned from the feel of her warm breath against his neck, and her lush breasts pressing firmly into his chest, sending his imagination running wild with the possibilities of spending the day with her.

  In his fantasy, they spent the day wet, wild and naked. Reality would possibly be a letdown, but he wouldn’t let that stop him.

  “Yeah! I’m so glad to hear that. I have a few ideas I want to throw out and I know you’re a much better guitar player than I am, so maybe you can help me with some of the chords I’ve been messing around with. Can we get started right away?”

  Remy decided right then and there that nothing was more beautiful than Kenzie’s smile in that moment. Little did she know, he would do anything to see that smile every day, for as long as he could.

  Chapter Eight

  The morning and afternoon passed at a dizzying pace as Remy and Kenzie collaborated and argued over melodies, verses and choruses. It quickly became apparent where their strengths were, at least in Kenzie’s mind, and how to approach their sometimes very different musical writing styles.

  Remy’s effortless talent with the guitar, in building beautiful melodies and graceful chord progressions and riffs, were a compliment to her lyrics and vocal harmonies. She would hum a portion of a tune out loud and he would translate it into a tight riff, fleshing out the rhythm and structure of the sound that was pure gold.

  She’d learned a lot about music through her music theory and composition classes in college, but they were a far cry from Remy’s natural ability to mold and twist the notes and keys into a sheer work of art. Kenzie was in awe over his skillful mastery.

  “How’d you get to be so good?” she asked during a late afternoon break, her legs curled under her butt on the floor where she sat¸ her guitar lying next to her.

  Remy eyed her inquisitively as he took a drag from his beer bottle. His dark hair was ruffled from the constant sweep of his fingers, a little quirk she’d noticed during some of the frustrating moments in their song writing session. He was honest about one thing. He definitely didn’t like to give up control of his song writing.

  “I learned at a young age. My father taught me.”

  Kenzie considered his nonchalant and stony reply. He was normally very comfortable talking about his life, especially his mother. But his clipped tone made her curious.

  Wondering if she should push it, but eager to learn more about him, she continued. “Oh yeah? So your father is a musician, too?”

  “Uh-huh,” he deadpanned. “That he is.”

  “That’s cool. Does he still play?” She was getting frustrated with his short answers, even though she knew she was prying and would probably do the same thing if the tables were turned. Hypocrite.

  Picking his guitar up again, Remy began to mindlessly strum the instrument, jotting down a few keys and chords in his notebook. When it seemed as if he wasn’t ever going to answer, he turned to look at Kenzie, who was seated next to him on the couch.

  “Yeah, he still plays.” He stopped his strumming, guitar pick in his hand and reached for the beer bottle sitting on the end table. “My dad is Luc Martins.”

  Kenzie let the name wash over her, like a warm memory from a forgotten moment. It nagged at the back of her mind and then hit her like a Mack truck. Had she been standing, she surely would have fainted from shock.

  “You’re joking, right? Luc Martins, as in the Luc Martins, the lead guitarist and front man for Demolition Agent? The biggest arena rock band from the eighties next to Bon Jovi and Aerosmith? Holy crap! You’ve got to be shitting me.”

  Kenzie shook her head in bewilderment and disbelief. Luc Martins had been her first crush as a young girl. She’d been a fan since she was eight-years-old, and he’d been her teenage idol, even though he was the same age as her own father. Luc Martins had so much swagger when he played on stage and was one of the most gorgeous rockers ever. And also one of the most notorious playboys.

  She’d fallen head-over-heels in love with him at the age of twelve when her grandmother took her to see the band play live. While her other girl friends were kissing the posters of their favorite boy bands, she fawned after a long haired, tattooed, French-American rocker.

  If one believed the stories in the tabloids, Luc was not only dubbed rock band royalty, but also proclaimed a Lothario, with a track record for quickie marriages and divorces. Several, if she wasn’t mistaken.

  Taking a long look at Remy, she could now see the resemblance – the very distinct similarities in their facial features – nearly identical piercing blue eyes that looked like the warm depths of the Caribbean Ocean on a summer day, shaded by impossibly long, dark lashes; the same perfectly smooth olive-colored skin tone coupled with the dark stubble – that looked roguishly sexy.

  And then there was the full, lush lips that you couldn’t help but want to taste. And lest not one forget the warm, trademark smile that could make thousands of women and girls swoon and panties melt when that smile was directed at them – on stage, in photos or on video.

  Kenzie had no doubt that Remy would have no trouble following in the footsteps of his father if he was so inclined. He had what it took, musically speaking, and also the looks to boot.

  Cocking her head to the side, she waited for his answer.

  Remy anxiously picked at the label on his beer bottle. “No, I’m not joking. He is indeed my father. But don’t expect him to be dropping by for dinner anytime soon. I haven’t spoken to him in over two years,” he solemnly divulged. “He’s an epic asshole.”

  The raw pain in his words blanketed her with an enormous sadness. She could sense his loss and grief, making an assumptive guess that it was from the rock-and-roll lifestyle his father chose over him. But then again, she knew little to nothing about Rem
y’s family or his life, so she could be way off in her conclusion.

  Kenzie scooted closer to him until their legs were barely touching, reaching out her hand in a consoling touch to his knee. He gave a slight jerk, but allowed it to rest there while she spoke.

  “You don’t have to go into details, Remy. I can see that it’s a touchy subject, and you have every right to feel the way you do – from whatever has happened. You don’t have to talk about it, and I respect your privacy. I promise you, I won’t bring him up again.”

  Before she could remove her hand, Remy took it in his and brought it to his lips, placing a light kiss over her knuckles. She shivered at his sweet touch and the intimacy that passed between them.

  “Thank you, Kenz. That means a lot to me. You’d be surprised how many people treat me differently once they find out I’m his son. You’re a good friend.” He gave her a slow smile, leaning his torso toward Kenzie so his mouth was poised at her ear.

  His warm breath, laced with the hoppiness of the beer and a hint of caramel, came out in a short exhale against her neck. Her body tensed, as if waiting for the starter gun to go off.

  “I’m really glad you’re here,” he whispered, his fingertips grazing her cheek.

  Just that simple touch lit her up. She itched for him to touch her with his lips. To lower his mouth to her neck, to suck and nibble and send pulsing shivers of pleasure down her body. His proximity, his voice, his words, and even his scent, created a fire deep within her core that threatened to rage out of control unless he did something to douse the flames.

  Remy’s fingertips glided down her cheek, a feather light, soft caress. She closed her eyes, willing herself to bring her nerves and body under control. To steel herself against the onslaught of physical chaos that was warring within her, dying to let loose.

  When she opened her eyes once again, she stared into his baby blues, now laced with a dark ring of desire.

  “Kenzie…I know I promised you we’d just be friends and would keep this arrangement plutonic. I get the need for that. Honestly I do,” he whispered, his breathing rushed and a little ragged. “But it’s getting so hard to keep that promise. So. Fucking. Hard.”

  She took in a sharp inhale of breath as his hand gently made a slow and torturous path down her bare arm, brushing across her tender flesh. She wanted to whimper in response. Instead, she balled her hands into fists on her legs to keep herself from reaching out and touching him. But, oh Lord, how she wanted to touch him.

  In the short time she’d lived with Remy, it had become sheer torture seeing him every morning when he sauntered into the kitchen in his half-asleep state, his dark hair messy and rumpled from bed, his bare chest on display. To see the sliver of dark hair trailing down to his waistband, the obvious arousal protruding through his shorts.

  Although she tried to play it off and joke about it with him, it drove her crazy with lust. Each and every day she’d try to find new and covert methods of seeking physical contact with him – whether skimming the expanse of his back with her shoulder as she stepped around him in the small kitchen. Or brushing her fingertips with his when he refilled her coffee mug. Or the accidental grazes of his leg with hers under the kitchen bar counter.

  She’d only known Remy for six weeks but she already craved his touch. Longed for him with a desperation so deep it made her feel she was gasping for breath.

  She’d grown accustomed to waking in the middle of the night from a dream in the midst of a full-on-sleep orgasm – the climax so intense it had her heart rate skyrocketing from the pleasure. He had invaded her thoughts, both day and night, and even when he was so close, he was still untouchable. Unattainable.

  And that was all her doing. She had foolishly set the rules of their living arrangement and he was only playing by those stupid guidelines. And now it was making her delirious from wanting him so bad.

  Yet here they were, Remy hovering just at that boundary line – pressing her to break those carefully constructed rules. Gently pressuring her to cross the forbidden line between friendship and lust.

  Her body knew she wanted him, but her mind thrust up the damn Yield sign, cautioning her to avoid temptation. To step away and avoid this dangerous entanglement that could lead to utter heartbreak or possibly something worse.

  “I know, Remy…” she spoke, her voice not more than a tremor. “I want it too, but we – ”

  His mouth captured hers hard and fast, unleashing all the sexual frustration that had been pent-up over the last month. A small gasp escaped Kenzie’s mouth at the first contact of his lips, eagerly coaxing Remy on as he angled for deeper contact.

  His tongue slipped out, briefly swiping her bottom lip before it deftly entered her mouth and stroked against hers in a maddening dance.

  He tasted of barley and honey, his mouth wet and hot covering hers completely. A slow burn began at the base of her neck, flushing over her chest before moving down to her navel and lower still. Remy’s tongue encountered hers, playing and tangling, searching for a deeper possession.

  Remy placed his hand gently along her jawline, his fingers caressing her soft, sensitive skin as it tentatively made its way lower. Finding her collarbone, his fingers traced the sloping curve, stopping briefly at the hollow center at the base of her throat, moving in and out like a tide in a tide pool.

  The heat ignited her senses as Kenzie’s hands searched for purchase on his body, as her fingers curled tightly in his thick hair. His groan had her pulling him closer.

  He slowly released her mouth, moving instead to her neck, placing wet, soft kisses down the side. She moaned slightly, a sensual pull being driven down to her core as he latched on against her skin. She tilted her head to the side to grant him further access, as he continued suckling. As he ventured further to the base, his tongue darted out to lick the hollow of her throat at the same time she arched into him.

  Kenzie’s breath caught when his mouth returned to hers, his lips once again taking possession of hers. Her hands moved on their own accord to grip his shoulders, pulling him closer – searching for a means to satisfy her hunger.

  She yearned to run her hands across his naked chest, to move them down the length of his smooth torso. To cover his hardened flesh with hers.

  Remy dropped his hand to the top of her leg, his fingertips grazing the inside of her thigh, bare from the shorts she wore. The feel of his hand between her legs elicited a sexy whimper, as he continued the upward movement of his hand.

  She took in a breathy gasp of air when Remy found the silky juncture of her thighs, just south of her heated center. Unconsciously, Kenzie leaned back into the couch, opening her legs to allow for his deft fingers to find what they were searching for.

  His finger hooked under the hem of her shorts, tracing the edge of her panties. She knew he would find them damp and wet when he made his way to her center. Her heart hammered inside her chest and her body ached for him to touch her. To sink his fingers into her and bring her the pleasure she has been fantasizing about since she’d met him.

  Wanting him closer, she strapped her arms around his neck, pushing his mouth hard to hers, biting his lower lip in the process, trying to take control of their heated momentum. He let out a groan, his fingers cupping her apex, as she rocked her hips up to meet him. His fingers toyed with the lace, hesitantly circling the fabric, driving her into a frenzy.

  Breaking the kiss, Remy pulled back suddenly, his hand vacating her center. A sob escaped her, feeling bereft and cold. Her body was then flipped backwards as he linked a strong arm under her leg, laying her body flat on the couch, her knees bent up toward the ceiling.

  Her eyes widened in surprise as she stared intently into his, which were clouded with lust, the dark ring of his iris flaming with his desire. He kneeled between her legs, pressing his hands to the inside of her thighs, gently draping them open. And then his body met hers.

  The very touch of his body against hers sent her convulsing with pure electrifying pleasure. Even through t
he material of their clothes, the heat of their bodies mixed and mingled, a combustible reaction to the chemistry they shared.

  Kenzie was powerless to look away from his face, watching with fascination as his gaze leisurely drank in her prone length stretched out underneath him. He looked like a thirsty man in the desert, desperate for a drink of water. The heady weight of his eyes sent fire through her blood.

  When his eyes finally returned to her face, he licked his lips a scant moment before lifting a hand to her cheek. His fingers skimmed across her face, slowly making their descent to her collarbone. His eyes followed the path of his hand as it trailed further down to the spot between her breasts, which are heaving with the sheer anticipation of what he is about to do.

  Everything was in slow, slow motion. Her brain was in rapid fire, ready to scream “More!” “Right there!” “Now!” but he seemed oblivious to her frantic need. She breathed in the scent of him, so masculine and erotic, and it ratcheted up her intensity further.

  She encircled his waist with her legs in a desperate attempt to get him closer to where she wanted him. She wanted to be unleashed from his slow torment, so she could move and writhe underneath him, in desperate search for the relief that only his body could provide.

  She giggled internally at the fact that they were going at it like a couple of teenagers. She hadn’t been dry humped since she was sixteen-years-old, but in that moment, she didn’t care. This felt so perfect – so right – so hot. Digging her heels into his backside, she began to wriggle underneath him, creating the friction she desired.

  His erection pressed deep into her center, hitting her exactly where she needed him as she rocked against him. Remy’s mouth dropped to a spot on her neck that drove her wild and began to suck and bite her sensitive flesh before his hand returned to her breast.

  He grasped the weight in his hand, squeezing and kneading it gently before finding the hardened nipple through her shirt. His fingers flicked the peaked nub, sending her hips bucking up to meet his thrusts. It was exquisite torture, the pain and pleasure of his touch.