Wicked Serenade: a Lost in Oblivion Collection

by Quinn, Cari

  “Okay. Whatever you say.”

  Jazz cleared her throat as an awkward silence descended. “Mol, would you go inside and grab us a table at that chicken place? We’ll be right in.”

  “All right.” Molly didn’t hesitate to scramble out of the car. She was probably eager to get away from Gray’s laundry list of rules.

  And they hadn’t even made it home yet.

  “Don’t say it,” he said the instant Molly went into the rest area. “I don’t want to hear about how you think I’m a jerk. I have every right to—”

  “It makes me so hot when you get all commanding.” She undid her seatbelt and slid across the seat to press her mouth against his neck. “I wish we were alone so I could cap off this trip the same way I did our trip to Molly’s,” she said, punctuating her words with a long lick up his throat.

  He groaned and grabbed her shoulders, edging her back. “What is this? What are you doing to me?”

  “Nothing yet.” His suspicion nearly made her giggle. She slid her arm under his and gripped his cock, giving it a long, slow rub. “But I wish I was. And I will for sure as soon as we’re home.” She turned her head and kissed his forearm above his thick gold watch. “Then when I’m done with you, I’ll need you to do the same. Trying to be quiet when you’re going down on me always makes me even more excited.”

  “Okay, hold it. I may be a man, and thereby easily controlled with the promise of oral sex—either giving or receiving—but I’m not completely insane. After the conversation we just had, you shouldn’t be propositioning me.”

  “Second trimester.” She nipped the underside of his arm. “Second trimester.”

  “So this is some kind of hormonal thing?” he asked, shifting closer.

  She hated to dim the hope in his eyes, but she was now his wife, so she was pretty sure she was legally obligated to.

  “Yes. My body is primed to respond to you as a good provider for the child I’m carrying. When I return to my non-hormonally driven state, I may smack you in the head for acting like an ass when my sister’s just trying to turn her life around. I’ll probably remind you that you too had some difficulties, but you had people who loved and supported you and that helped you get back on track. I might also say that I’ve wanted to get my sister back for the entire time I’ve known you, and having a chance with her again makes me so happy.” She licked the spot she’d just nibbled. “You know, maybe.”

  He slid his hand up into her hair and pulled her face close to his. Once they were nose to nose, he bit her lower lip. “You don’t play fair.”

  “Which part wasn’t fair? Offering you a thirty-minute blowjob and possibly some motorboating—” she chuckled as his eyes widened “—or the part where I said that you’d be making me really, really happy by letting my sister live with us?” She undid the top button of his shirt and caressed his collarbone. “Please specify so I don’t make the same mistake again. I’m a new wife and all, so I’m just learning how this all works.”

  “Evil.” Slowly, he dragged her lower lip through his teeth. “So frigging evil.”

  “Me?” She batted her lashes and laughed when he reached around to swat her ass.

  “You. You’re evil and crafty.” He dropped his forehead to hers. “And right.”

  “Hey, we’re all making sacrifices. I’m going baby shopping with your mother. Voluntarily.” She tried not to shudder. As much as she was hoping their upcoming bonding trip would begin to heal the rift between her and Gray’s parents, she realized it was unlikely that could be accomplished in one afternoon. Heck, it probably couldn’t be accomplished in a year of afternoons, but it was a start. “No handcuffs involved.”

  “The only handcuffs going on these wrists,” he lifted Jazz’s arm and kissed the base of her palm, “are fuzzy ones I may or may have bought while we were staying in our hotel room.”

  Now she was shivering for a whole new reason. Damn.

  She bit her lip and forced herself to focus on the matter at hand. “So you’ll give her a chance then?”

  “Yeah. I’ll give her a chance.” He kissed her softly. “For you, I’d do anything.”

  “Ditto.” She reached up to stroke his eyebrow ring. The silver somehow made his eyes seemed even more steely gray. “Thank you.”

  “You don’t have to thank me. It’s your home too. As will be our house when we get it. Which we have to do, soon.”

  “We’ll start looking this week. I’ll check some things out online.”

  He tucked her hair behind her ears, avoiding her eyes. “You’re going to have to get the ball rolling on your own. I’m sorry, honey, but I—”

  “You’re going to be busy with work because you spent Dylan’s college fund on bears and sex toys.” She nodded. “I know. It’s okay. And maybe we can do some collaborations on the songwriting end of things again like old times. See if maybe our songs are a hit like yours have been.”

  “I would love to.”

  “And I love you for taking such good care of us.”

  He grinned. “The sex toys benefitted me too. Bret, not so much.” He cupped her face in his hands, his grin fading. “I don’t understand it. Maybe I never will.”

  Her heart skipped in spite of her newfound confidence when it came to all things relationship-related. She covered his hands on her cheeks. “What don’t you understand?”

  “I love you so much and it just keeps growing. Every single day.”

  “Now who’s evil and crafty?” she asked shakily, pressing her cheek to his.

  “Not evil and crafty. Just honest. Marrying you is the best thing I ever did.”

  “Maybe, but the second best thing you ever did was follow me to Nick’s that night last year.”

  He groaned and sagged into his seat. “Are you serious? That night was a disaster.”

  “It was the first night in way too long that made me think you really wanted me. We bungled things afterward, but that night was the start of us. Without it, I don’t know if we’d be sitting here.”

  “I suppose you’re right.” He feathered his thumb over her wedding ring. “And here is a pretty damn fine place to be.”

  Destroyed

  Lost in Oblivion Book 5

  eBooks are not transferable.

  They cannot be sold, shared or given away as it is an infringement on the copyright of this work.

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  Destroyed

  © 2015 Cari Quinn & Taryn Elliott

  Rainbow Rage Publishing

  Cover by LateNite Designs

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  No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  First ebook edition: May 2015

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  One

  Ahh, fuck.

  Simon Kagan swung his foot out and tried to slap it on the floor. His goddamn foot didn't reach. The track lighting above him spun like the lights on the Pacific Park Ferris wheel.

  He shut his eyes against the nauseating view and forced himself to sit up. He scrubbed his hands over his face and found at least two days’ worth of beard.

  He'd shaved for the promo show in Manhattan. He hated to be a slave to his electric razor, but he couldn't pull off the scruffy look as easily as the rest of the guys in the band. It took at least a week to grow a respectable level of scruff. And by then he was itching to get it off his face anyway.

  He lifted the sheet.

  Buck naked.

  Huh.

  That wasn't exactly a surprise. He rarely slept in clothes, but the problem was...he didn't remember getting that way.

&n
bsp; The cotton in his mouth wasn't from vodka. He glanced around the room to find a half dozen bottles of champagne.

  Nothing ended well for him when wine was involved. Including the head-clanging addition of bubbly.

  That was why he stuck to vodka. He knew exactly how much to drink to keep a steady buzz and only tip over into drunk when it was safe.

  At least his ass was on superior sheets. He spread his fingers over the suede-soft comforter and crisp high thread count sheets. A far cry from the ones on his bed at the house they rented in the Hollywood Hills.

  The pillow on the other side of the bed was dented.

  He brought it up to his face and smelled smoke and the powdery scent of something cloyingly sweet.

  Simon wrinkled his nose and tossed the pillow down. He stood on wobbly legs and leaned on the paneled room divider. The wood crumpled into an accordion style window shield and his gut rolled again.

  New York City opened up in front of him. He flattened his palm against the cool glass and evened out. Lights and the effervescent bounce of pedestrians scurrying across the streets made this city just a bit different from Los Angeles. Not that he’d give up L.A. to save his life—fuck no—but this city pulled at him.

  Filled with people and yet the sense of isolation resonated.

  He understood that.

  Lived it every single day.

  And the roller coaster of a tour would be starting in five short weeks.

  Part of him itched for it. He was restless and boredom had settled inside his brain midway through the last album. Not during studio time, but the endless drag in between.

  Hurry up and wait.

  Sit.

  Sit.

  Sit.

  Sing, monkey, sing.

  He pushed overlong bangs out of his face and stepped away from the cacophony of street noise that bled through the window.

  Were the windows tinted?

  He frowned and pulled the dark wood panel across the huge window. Even more effective than blackout curtains.

  He’d have to remember that.

  The room went silent again. He padded to the mini bar and found the distinctive bottle of his favorite vodka—Crystal Head. Two other unopened boxes sat side by side on the shelf.

  Nice.

  He splashed the clear perfection into a tumbler and swished his mouth with it. The burn around his gums and down his throat was comfortingly familiar.

  The slap of water in the shower finally penetrated his subconscious. He wasn’t alone—again, not a surprise with the scent on the sheets. Plush carpeting turned to marble floors the closer he got to the bathroom.

  The clear glass stall of the shower gave him an unencumbered view of his guest. Long legs led up to an ass that was definitely a regular visitor to the gym. Bitable to be sure. Dark hair full of suds snaked down her back.

  He frowned as she turned to dunk her head.

  No.

  God, no.

  He wouldn’t.

  He didn’t.

  A long neck flowed into an elegant collarbone, but he started breathing again when his gaze drifted down to her breasts.

  Not hers.

  He’d never forget the surprising fullness of her breasts or the peach tips matched her lips—both on her mouth and the exquisite cleft between her thighs.

  It wasn’t her.

  Wasn’t Margo.

  But Christ, she could have been.

  He dragged his palm against his jawline and down his neck. “Fuck me sideways,” he muttered when his dick lengthened.

  It was always this way.

  The second Margo Reece had come back into his sphere he’d been messed up about her. One goddamn night should not crawl under his skin. Women before and way too many women after her—but he’d never been so stupid as to go for anyone that looked like her.

  Like Violin Girl.

  And now she was on the album. He simply couldn’t get away from her. From the sad tones of her strings layered into “Finally”, to the surprisingly shred-worthy addition to “Torn To Pieces”, she’d burrowed into his head again. They lived in his chest and his head like any of the Oblivion songs. They all crawled in and settled. Some deeper than others.

  Hers settled in with hooks. The more he pulled on them, the more they shredded muscle and scraped bone.

  He’d gone out of his way to avoid her in the studio and he’d managed it until they’d called her in for another pass at “Finally” and he’d been in the box.

  The sucker punch of seeing her.

  Like nothing had changed.

  Like he’d been back in that fucking vocal closet at Trident’s studio. The smell of her in the chair, on his lips, in the goddamn walls. That honeysuckle scent with her musky essence burning on his tongue.

  Time bled away as if it had never been.

  For fuck’s sake, she’d even worn one of her high-collared blouses and black skirts.

  He’d gotten drunk for a week straight.

  But at least he’d been smart enough to fuck blonds or redheads. Nothing and no one that could remind him of her. Of the way she clasped him to perfection and tasted like a dream wrapped in a nightmare.

  He’d drank her out of his system.

  Until he’d been told about the release party.

  And now he had a very pretty girl in his shower that didn’t deserve to be on the opposite end of his psychosis.

  Part of him wanted to follow the hard-on swiftly growing. Step into the stall and pour himself into her willing body.

  Snatches of their two nights of sex and champagne reminded him that she was very willing. Even if he couldn’t remember her name.

  She slicked back her hair and smiled.

  A perfectly nice smile.

  Just not hers.

  Not Margo’s.

  Being with second best when he was sober would never happen. He wasn’t that masochistic. No matter how hard his dick was.

  Before he could open his mouth, his phone bleated out a rooster’s cry. He winced. That would be Lila.

  She was usually his killjoy.

  He returned to the bedroom and swiped his phone alive. Instead of a call, her beautiful face and huge light eyes filled his screen.

  “Do you or do you not know how to use a telephone?”

  Simon sighed. “Yes, Lila. I do.”

  “Then tell me why it took you two days to answer?”

  He frowned and toggled out of FaceTime to the main screen of his phone. His eyebrows shot up. It really had been.

  Fuck.

  He switched back and slid his sheepish smile on. “Whoops.”

  “Don’t ‘whoops’ me, Kagan. We’ve been searching all over the city for you. The only reason I know where you are is that your credit card company contacted your account manager—namely me—to double check overactive spending.”

  It was a pretty swanky hotel. In New York City, in the middle of midtown if his view had anything to say about it.

  “Had to celebrate.”

  “Well, celebrate your way back to our hotel this morning. You have two radio shows to do this afternoon and the release party is tonight.”

  Simon’s gut twisted.

  She would be there.

  He glanced over his shoulder. At least this was one way to move the girl in the shower along.

  “Simon?”

  He nodded to Lila. “Got it, boss. I’ll be back soon.”

  “Now.”

  “Would you like me to pan down with the camera? I need to get ready.”

  “Nothing I haven’t seen before, Kagan. Not like you’re discerning where you show it off.”

  He smirked. “It’s show-off worthy.”

  “So you say.”

  He snorted. “All right, I’ll check out and make my way over there.”

  “Do you remember where we are?”

  He frowned. “Now that you mention it...”

  She rolled her eyes. “I’ll text the address.” And then she was gone.

  “
Simon?”

  The voice was higher than he was expecting. Almost child-like. He winced and turned around. No, nothing child-like about her.

  He loved women, loved their scents and sounds. But man, he hated a baby doll voice. “Hey, babe.”

  She sauntered in, an exaggerated swing in her hips. She wore the smallest towel possible, flashing half of her perfectly curved hip and a hint of breast.

  All enticing.

  Except one thing.

  Out of the shower, it was even more apparent.

  She had Margo’s look, minus the air of sophistication Violin Girl had.

  For fuck’s sake, she even had her bangs.

  She walked in front of him, her bold fingers sliding around his half hard cock. “I was hoping you’d wake up and come in the shower with me. We had fun in there last night.”

  He winced and couldn’t hold out against a groan as she stroked him masterfully. “Ah, babe. I wish I could.” He stepped back.

  It would be way too easy to boost her up and toss her on the bed with a laugh. Nothing different than any other night. A good time for her, one for him.

  Everyone went their separate ways with a few orgasms under their belts and a goodbye kiss at the door.

  Hopeful dark eyes went wary. “Oh, why?”

  “Work calls. That was just my manager on the phone. Time for me to turn into a pumpkin.”

  She giggled. “Midnight was a long time ago.” She dropped her towel and took advantage of his suddenly cemented feet. With far too much practiced ease, she twisted around the head of his cock playfully. He had a feeling that he’d lost most of the last two days with this beautiful woman.

  He was such a shit.

  But he didn’t want her to feel bad about what had probably been a fun Wednesday into Thursday combo. The first stirrings of memory hit him when she grinned at him with her crooked eye tooth. It was adorable. He always liked the inconsistencies of a beautiful woman. Why one woman could lure and another could repel.