by Sierra Hill
Bitch. Cunt. Fucking cocksucker.
You seem to have mistaken me for your mother. Now…FUCK OFF!
Watch your mouth bitch or I’ll shut you up for good.
That one got to her. Her hand trembled as she read the threat typed neatly across her screen. Holy shit. Did this asshole actually mean what she thought he meant? This was insane. Why would anyone want to harm her? That’s when it hit here that she was making a few assumptions about the frightening exchange of words.
One – perhaps these texts were meant for someone else and she was an unintended recipient. Plausible. Numbers get mixed up all the time. People fat-finger their phones all the time when in a hurry – or angry. There you go. Mystery solved.
Two – if indeed the texts were meant for her, Kenzie automatically jumped to the conclusion that they were sent from a guy. They could have just as easily have been sent from a female. Either way, she racked her brain to identify any male or female that had it out for her and would hate her this much? She knew so few people in this town.
Three – maybe it was all just a joke. Just a prank by some kids in the neighborhood. She’d seen a group of boys hovering about near their apartment building the other day goofing around, smoking cigarettes and trickin’ out on their skateboards. Perhaps they’d gotten her number and thought it would be funny to fuck with her head. Yes, that’s it. Had to be.
None of the options really made sense. Very few people had her number. In fact, she’d changed it when she moved to Nashville and got a new phone. The only people that had her number were Donita, her manager at Hank’s, the motel manager where she’d lived briefly, and Remy. And she couldn’t think of any reason any of those four would send her these graphic texts.
Rounding the corner to the recording studio, she covertly sneaked a glance behind her as she opened the front door. No one seemed to be following her as far as she could tell. Yanking the door open and stepping through, she realized she was probably getting herself all worked up over nothing. Ridiculous, really. She’d been watching too many late-night horror movies. Taking a calming breath, she stepped into the entrance of the building and called out for Remy.
The interior lobby was brightly lit, with recessed lighting and wall sconces that backlit the brick walls and the various rock and roll memorabilia and gold records that decorated them. From what she remembered Remy saying, Make-It-or-Break-It Records was a small mom-and-pop shop that catered to up-and-coming local artists. Remy had worked there for some time and said he enjoyed the easy atmosphere of the musicians and management.
There were so many things that she’d wanted to ask him about his past, especially growing up with a rock star father. Is that why he liked the small, niche vibe of this place versus some of the larger studios in town? It was obvious he was reluctant to share much about his father with her and exhibited a deep resentment toward him. She wondered what could have transpired to cause such hostility.
Of course, inquiring about such things was bound to open herself up to the same type of curiosity from Remy. They had more in common than he knew. She hadn’t spoken to her father in months and that was exactly how she wanted to keep things. Their relationship had always been strained, especially after she went to live with her grandmother when she was thirteen.
It was her grandmother Delilah who had encouraged her dreams of becoming a musician. She’d given her the family heirloom, a handcrafted, beautifully designed guitar for her fifteenth birthday and taught her how to play, much to her father’s dismay. Kenzie knew her father loved her and held her up on a pedestal but didn’t want her going into the music business as a musician. He wanted her to get a degree in marketing so she could someday work side-by-side with him in the advertising firm he owned in Seattle. She’d never aspired to be a corporate slave, earning a living hawking products she didn’t believe in and working with people she didn’t trust.
And she’d definitely found out the hard way just how easily trust could be lost – with a fist to the jaw and a foot to the gut.
Kenzie startled and jumped backward as Remy rounded the corner, nearly barreling into her in the hallway where she stood. She’d obviously been lost in her thoughts and hadn’t heard him coming out of the recording booth. He grabbed hold of her shoulders to keep her upright.
“Whoa there. I didn’t mean to scare you.”
Righting her feet to gain her balance, she blinked up into the beautiful blue eyes staring down on her, etched with concern. Like a warm blue summer sky – perfect blue denim circles surrounded by brilliant white clouds of the whites of his eyes. She could get lost in those eyes.
He gave her a light shake. “Earth to Kenzie. You look a little pale – are you going to be sick?” He took her hand to lead her over to the lobby couch, shifting her down so that her butt hit the cushions. “You’re freaking me out, Kenz. Say something.”
He scanned her from head to toe, inspecting her for some sort of trauma. Kenzie shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts of her father, the text messages and the spine-tingling sensations that Remy’s hands were currently causing her as he gently rubbed her back in a soft circling motion.
“Y-E-S-S-S-S. I’m okay. S-s-sorry,” she stuttered, swallowing hard. “I just didn’t hear you coming.”
He chuckled, affectionately patting her hand. “I didn’t hear you come in either. I was in the sound booth, and it’s as quiet as a tomb in there when there’s no music playing.” He stood up then, grabbing her guitar case and hand in both of his. “Come on. Let’s get something to drink and head in. You sure you’re okay?”
She tentatively stepped forward, regaining her balance and shook her head. Dropping his hand, which felt both secure and too intimate all at once, she let him take the lead to guide her into the studio.
A solid, sound-proof glass door opened in front of her, Remy’s hand placed on the small of her back ushering in her in before him. Her body tingled at his touch and a flash of heat bloomed low in her belly, warming her in all the right places. She dared a glance back at him over her shoulder and caught him eyeing her legs.
She turned abruptly and gave him a devious smirk. “I guess I now know you’re a leg man.” She winked, catching him off guard, the look on his face one of amused satisfaction.
“Oh, I don’t know about that. But your legs and ass in this skirt are my fucking Kryptonite,” he shrugged, setting her guitar case down on the floor next to the couch. “I’m finding it hard to concentrate on anything lately when you wear these outfits.”
Before she could turn to respond, his arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her back so she was pressed tightly against him. His mouth came to her ear, his breath warm and soft. Her own breathing sped up a dozen notches as she felt his arousal pinned against her ass. One hand came down the length of her side as it lowered to the hem of the skirt, his fingers skimming the outside of her thigh, material bunching up slightly. She let out a strangled gasp – excitement and shock.
Her body reacted so wildly to Remy’s touch, so instantaneously and ravenously. Although his hand had stilled, she secretly dared it to move higher. To curve around to the front where he could tease between her legs. Like a wanton minx, she wiggled her butt playfully, trying to elicit forward movement from him.
He let out a growl.
“You’ll stop doing that if you know what’s good for you because it’s not just your legs in these skirts that drive me wild. Now that I know what you taste like…and what it feels like to be inside you…I want you all the time. Every minute of every day.” His mouth planted a kiss on her neck, his fingers digging into the flesh of her thigh. Then all at once he let go. She turned her head to look at him over her shoulder.
His face was guarded. “But you keep pulling away. I don’t get it.”
His voice held a tinge of angst, but the flood of lust and desire was still undeniable. She shuddered at the loss of his touch and a cold shiver swept up her body, missing the heat of his. Why had she been denying him? Denying her
self the amazing pleasure he could give her? Why was she making it so difficult when he made everything seem so easy? Isn’t that what she should want?
A toothy grin suddenly appeared and his hand darted out to swat at her butt, eliciting a high squeak from Kenzie who jumped in surprise.
“Enough of this. Come on, let’s get set up and warmed up so we can lay down some of these tracks. I’m so fucking stoked. I think we’re going to have a blast today.”
The smile he gave her was the one she’d come to expect from him. Beautiful, unguarded, bright as the sun and so full of unbridled enthusiasm that it made her heart do jumping jacks.
“Well, you got me here on that very pretense, so I guess that’s what we ought to do.” She tried to play it off, but part of her was let down that he didn’t move any further. It shouldn’t surprise her, though, considering the way she’d acted the last time they were together. But she still felt a sharp stab of loss when he let her go.
Remy’s eyes darkened momentarily as he looked back at her before he turned to walk through the open door to the recording room. Picking up her guitar case, she followed him in, taking in how well his black skinny jeans stretched tightly against his perfectly-shaped ass. She’d be lying to herself if she pretended she didn’t remember the feeling of her palms on his bare butt when he was on top and inside of her. Perfect for gripping and groping. And biting into the firm flesh.
She bit her lower lip and groaned inwardly. God, if she didn’t get her mind focused on what she was there to do, she sure as shit wouldn’t be able to spend the next several hours locked up in a dark, small and sound-proof room with Remy.
Lord help her, but she might wind up screaming her head off from all the sexual tension that was ready to burst out of her like a geyser or do something monumentally stupid…like tear off his clothes and jump his bones.
Chapter Fifteen
For all intents and purposes the recording session was a complete success. The way they worked together was unlike anything he’d ever experienced. Remy couldn’t get over how in sync they were with one another – both musically and physically. Every chord change or transition was like they were two sides of the mirror. No hesitations or indecisiveness in deference to their work style. If only it could be that fluid in their relationship.
It was so easy to bounce ideas off of Kenzie who would always find a way to one-up him with some genius riff or chorus. She challenged his skill, poked at his faults and made him laugh his ass off with her goofiness. And if that wasn’t enough, she gave him a raging hard-on with just a whiff of her sweet scent and physical proximity.
He was in awe of her talent and the energy she exuded throughout the evening. They bantered back and forth, with an easy comradery, telling each other dirty jokes, laughing at each other’s embarrassing stories and providing insightful glimpses of their favorite musicians. He especially enjoyed making fun of her musical taste as a teen and her boy band crushes.
“You’re kidding me, right? N’Sync and Justin Timberlake were your idols? And here I thought you had taste in music,” he chided, goading her into a response.
They were sitting on floor in the studio, guitars sitting next to them as they ate pizza that had just been delivered. She’d just popped a piece of pepperoni in her mouth when she stopped mid-bite and smirked. He loved that she wasn’t afraid to eat in front of him, where most girls he’d been with picked at their food or complained that it would go straight to their hips. Kenzie was comfortable in her body, and her hips were freaking phenomenal.
She playfully shoved his shoulder, pushing him backwards from his sitting position so that he landed on his back. Her touch was warm and flooded his body with a desire to lean her back and strip her naked, trailing kisses from the top of her nose down to her bare feet. It was sensory overload being holed up all day in the recording studio with her, surrounded by her soft floral scent and her achingly beautiful voice – remembering how perfect she felt wrapped around him.
But every time he wanted to make a move, he reminded himself that she obviously didn’t share the same feelings toward him. Her reluctance to pursue anything more, even though he caught hopeful glimpses of desire in her eyes, was as clear as crystal.
He’d caught her staring at him several times throughout the evening, a soft smile stretched across her face and her emerald green’s full of excitement and happiness and maybe something else…lust? Desire? Interest? Whatever it was, he knew Kenzie enjoyed being with him, and he didn’t want to ruin it by making a move that might back her into a corner. Although, the thought of taking her into the corner did amazing things to his already hard cock.
“Whatever,” she stuck her tongue out at him in defiance. “At least I wasn’t into Kenny Chesney and country music. Ugh, I can’t stand hearing songs about beer and loose women. And the twang…that’s so freaking annoying. Thank God you don’t sing about rodeos and tequila nowadays.” She finished her slice of pizza and reached for another, shaking her head in fake disgust over his admission of being a closet country music fan.
Remy let out a loud laugh as he picked up his guitar and began his best rendition of Chesney’s Tequila Loves Me, emphasizing the southern twang he’d perfected since living in Nashville. Kenzie rolled her eyes and made a gagging sound.
God, she was fucking adorable.
He smiled when he noticed a splotch of pizza sauce on the corner of her mouth. Before he even realized what he was doing, he leaned over and ran his finger over the smooth curve of her lips, gathering the evidence on his index finger. Her eyes widened, her mouth opening in an O, as Remy slid his finger between her wet lips. Without hesitation, she sucked the tip, her tongue darting out to taste, licking it clean. Remy cursed and immediately went rigid in his pants.
He wanted this girl so much it hurt. She was sinfully hot, talented as all hell and was as sweet as his grandmother’s cherry pie. There was nothing more he wanted to do than to make her his – not just for a night or a quick fuck – although hard and dirty against the wall wouldn’t be out of the question – as long as he got all of her. Remy wasn’t going to settle for anything less but pushing her right now with an ultimatum would only send her running again.
It would require an enormous amount of patience that Remy wasn’t all that sure he had, but he would wait for her to make the next move. He’d wait as long as he had to – for as long as it took – for her to realize she wanted him just as much as he wanted her.
She let go of his finger and his voice came out low and raspy. “You do know you’re in the country music capital of the world, right? It beats hip-hop, rap and dubstep music any day.”
“No disagreement there.”
Kenzie shifted in her cross-legged sitting position and began to play with the crumpled up napkin in her hands. She looked so uncertain, as if she were trying to figure out the mysteries of the world. He could care less about that; he only wanted her to come to the same conclusion as he had – that they would be so damn good together.
“Remy…” she started, her voice low and filled with trepidation. Her silky blonde hair fell in waves over her shoulders, the ends covering the tops of her breasts which were heaving with each breath she took. His eyes met hers, letting her know he was listening…and wanting.
“I, uh…well, I just want you to know how much I appreciate your taking a chance on me. Giving me this opportunity to record with you…and, well, live with you. You’ve been so good to me. I’m just not used to that level of kindness from anyone.”
That’s it. So much for patience. He couldn’t stand it any longer. The way she looked at him, her long lashes fluttering, her lips glossy and pink, her smooth, bare thighs exposed under the skirt that was precariously pushed up past her knees - just enough to make him wonder what she had on underneath it. It was all too much. He would die if he didn’t touch her. To respond with his own version of appreciation.
Remy wanted to touch her. To make her realize that all the doubt that she poured into her songs an
d her words of thanks were unnecessary. To let her know how much she really meant to him.
Fuck it.
Sliding the guitar off his lap and placing it next to him, he leaned over Kenzie’s seated position, his mouth just inches from hers. He could feel her slight intake and exhale of breath, the warm cinnamon-scent enveloping his senses. His lips found hers in a feather-light kiss.
“You deserve it, Kenzie,” he whispered, pulling back and brushing a lock of hair behind her ear. “I would do anything for you.”
Her hand came up to his chest, her fingers grabbing at his black T-shirt, pulling him toward her.
“And I’d let you.”
He smiled lasciviously and chuckled. “Anything for you…or to you?”
She licked her lips and then leaned in so her wet mouth was touching his ear, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Both.”
Then her teeth bit down and her lips encased his earlobe.
Oh shit.
His hands grabbed onto her shoulders and gently pushed her flat onto the floor. His patience be damned – there was no way he could take this slow. His knees nudged her thighs open so her skirt rose to her hips. Venturing a glance down at the material, Remy caught a glimpse of the scalloped edges of her hot pink lace panties, the dampness in the center already visible. He was a goner.
Remy’s fingers brushed the insides of her thighs, smoothing up one side and then the other, stopping short of the heat of her sex. She let out a strangled groan, raspy and deep with need.
He wanted her to tell him what she wanted. That she wanted all of him and everything he could give her.
“What do you want, Kenz? Tell me or I won’t give it to you.” He dropped his hand at the same time she lifted her hips to grind against his erection. He growled. He was harder than Chinese algebra and she was taunting him with her sexy moves. Making him desperate for her. She didn’t play fair.
“Remy.” She ran her hand down his chest, tugged at his T-shirt that came loose from his jeans, her fingers sliding underneath his waistband. Her hand took hold of his hard-as-steel dick, squeezing and releasing – rubbing her warm palm over his desperate cock. He sucked in a gulp of air and growled, his swollen dick begging for release. Her hand stroked his length, gliding up and down and making him perilously close to losing his ever-loving mind.
