by JB Salsbury
Since then, we’ve gone from tour buses to five-star penthouse hotels all over the US. The international leg of the tour isn’t for another couple months. I’ve had to be creative in where I teach—backstage at arenas, in our bus, hotel rooms, and oftentimes outdoors at a monument or museum while surrounded by plenty of security.
I’m currently bent over the table in our tour bus, somewhere between New York and Detroit, flipping through a stack of drawings from my elementary kids. Jesiah and I are lucky enough to have our own bus. Ryder and Chris share a bus, and Ethan and his family have their own.
The door to our bedroom clicks open, and Jesiah comes out wearing nothing but a pair of boxer briefs. I sneaked out of bed an hour ago, after he woke me up using his skillful hands and mouth. I was satisfied when I left him in that halfway stage between wake and sleep, but seeing him now stirs my blood once again and my hands itch to get all over him. Since he’s been sober and his life doesn’t revolve around his next drink, he’s been working out a lot. His shoulders are thick and rippled with muscle that bleeds down to his chest and abs. Yum. His tattooed arms flex as he runs his hands through his messed up hair and yawns.
“See something you like, Mrs. Langley?” he says with a smirk.
“I’m not Mrs. Langley yet.” I still blush every time he calls me that. “And yes, actually.” I make another slow pass of his body—especially his thick muscular thighs with tattoos that snake around to disappear beneath the fabric of his briefs. “I do.”
He grabs his crotch and groans. “Easy, boy. Coffee first. The last round put me in a fucking coma.” He pours himself a cup of coffee and drops into the seat next to me. When he leans in to kiss me, his gaze darts to the papers in front of me. “What the fuck is that?”
I follow his stare to the crayon on paper drawing of Frida Kahlo. “We’re studying influential artists.” I scoot the page closer to him. “That’s Frida Kahlo.”
He squints to study it. “Why does she have a tail?”
“That’s not a tail.” I study the image with him, tilting my head.
“And mouse ears.”
“What?” I snag the paper, turn it one way, then the other, and… “Oh.”
He sips his coffee, trying to hide his smirk. “That’s Mickey Mouse, genius.”
“Damn,” I mumble, remembering how my second grader, Grace, kept asking questions about Disney. “That makes sense.”
He chuckles, hooks me around the shoulders, and pulls me to him, kissing me sweetly on the head. “God, I fucking love you.”
I run a hand up his chest and kiss his jaw. “Jar. And double the money for using blasphemy and an f-bomb in the same sentence.”
He palms my hand on his chest, the rumble of his laughter vibrating our joined hands, and he thumbs my engagement ring. There really is no jar, but I do enjoy giving him a hard time. “Our realtor called.”
Another thing I love is that ever since we decided to be together, everything Jesiah owns he now calls “ours”.
“He got a buyer for the house.”
“That’s great.” I pop up and stare at his perfect profile. “But are you sure you want to sell it?”
He turns on the bench seat to angle his body toward mine. One arm runs along the back of the seat and his fingers toy with the baby hairs at my neck. “Of course. I don’t want to live in my house. I want to live in our house and I want you to pick it out.” He kisses my nose. “All my shit from before carries too many memories of a life without you in it. That life is dead to me.”
I catch my breath. One thing about Jesiah, he’s never at a loss for words that make me melt. “That’s really sweet.”
He runs his teeth along his lower lip while staring at mine. “How much time until we hit the venue?”
“No clue, but judging by the barren roads, I’d say we’ve got hours.”
“Come straddle me,” he growls.
I throw a leg over his hips and settle on his hardness with a sigh.
He runs his hands up the sides of my Jesse Lee concert T-shirt and palms my breasts. Nuzzling my neck, he whispers, “Perfect.”
“You sure you have the energy for this?” I roll my hips and watch his mouth part with heated breath. “You have four shows in a row before you get a night off.”
He peers up at me. “They’ll have to wheel me to the stage on a stretcher before I’d say no to getting inside my future bride.”
I run my hands through his messed-up hair, and he closes his eyes as I apply gentle pressure, rubbing deep circles into his scalp.
He drops his forehead to my chest. “Feels good.”
“Take me to bed and I’ll make you feel even better.”
He scoops me up with ease and carries me to our king-sized bed. He kicks the door shut and tosses me to the bed before crawling over me. “Let me love you.”
I bite my lip and nod.
His expression turns equal parts heated and vulnerable. “Thank you for loving me. I can’t wait to be your husband. I can’t wait to spend every day of my life showing you how much I fucking love you.”
I shimmy down my shorts and panties then kick them off. His breath hitches as I reach past the elastic of his briefs and grip his hard-on. Freeing him and feeling the heavy weight of his arousal in my hand, I’m too eager for foreplay. I widen my knees, and in one practiced slide forward, he sinks deeply and deliciously inside me.
I moan his name. “I love you.”
“Say it again,” he says against my lips.
“I love you, Jesiah.”
His eyes slam closed and his erection throbs inside me. “Never get tired of hearing that.”
He rips my shirt from me and presses his chest to mine, our racing pulses throbbing against the other, reaching for the other, communicating our commitment and devotion while he loves me fully and so completely.
Jesse
I’ve played thousands of shows no different than the one I’m playing tonight, yet I’m nervous as fuck. Backstage in my dressing room at Toronto’s Scotiabank Arena, my knee won’t stop jumping.
“Jes,” Dave says from the couch behind me. I watch from the reflection in the dressing mirror as he tucks his phone in his pocket, his grin saying a million good things. “Mark loved your new songs. I knew he would. He wants to start recording as soon as the tour is over.” He claps me on the shoulder, holding eye contact through the mirror.
“No can do. I’m getting married first.”
Dave makes that face that says he’s blowing me off. “Right, but you can do both—”
“I’m taking six months off. No recording, no talk of music. I might write some shit, but only because my woman inspires the fuck out of me.”
He nods. “Sure. All right, whatever you want.”
I grin at myself in the mirror. Took some time to prove myself, but I’m back to being able to call the shots in my own life and nothing is more important than that. “We’ll take a couple months to plan, then the wedding, and we’re going on a honeymoon for however long she wants to be gone. Once we’re back, I’ll need some time to settle in and then I’ll get back to work.”
“You’re the boss,” he says and his phone buzzes with an incoming text. He pulls it out and checks it. “They’re almost here.”
“Cool,” I mumble and catch the door on the far side of the room opening. I grin as Bethany steps into the dressing room. Her eyes meet mine, and she smiles as though she hasn’t seen me in months when it’s only been a couple hours. I hop out of my chair and cross to her. “Hey, how was class?”
“Great.” She throws her arms over my neck, and I hold her around her waist. “I love teaching those kids.”
She feels so good in my arms—her slim waist, round hips and ass. Even in a sweatshirt, leggings, and her hair piled up in a mess on her head, she’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Her dark eyes swallow me as she gazes at me with so much love and acceptance, it hurts my chest.
After pressing a kiss to my lips, she says, “You loo
k hot.”
“Funny, I was just thinking the same thing about you.”
“I’m so sure.” She blushes.
“I’m serious.”
“What time do you go on?”
“Why?” I nip her lips. “You got something in mind?”
The sound of her laugh sends chills of desire through my blood.
“You wish,” she says, her eyes light with humor.
“I do.” I press a kiss to her lips as the door opens and Ryder, Chris, and Ethan saunter inside.
“Get a room, guys,” Ryder says as he passes by to the couch.
“Bethany.” Chris comes up to us.
Bethany moves to releases me, but I hold her tighter, making her laugh and humor me by sinking into my chest.
“Tour’s almost over and Alex is doing fourth grade math. She’s going to be too smart to go back into third grade.” Chris smiles at my woman. “Please tell me you’ll consider homeschooling our kids once we get back to LA.”
“Sounds intriguing.”
I lean down to her ear. “We could turn the barn into a classroom.”
After looking at what felt like thousands of homes in the Los Angeles area, we found a great house in the Pasadena mountains—a remodeled farmhouse with plenty of space for kids, pets, family, whatever Bethany wants.
She looks at me, eyes wide. “Are you serious?”
I shrug. “If it’s what you want.”
“Jes…” She whispers.
“Stop looking so fucking surprised.” I kiss the tip of her nose and, fuck, even that does things to me. “I told you I’d do anything for you. You want to teach, I’ll buy you a fucking school. Just tell me and let me make it happen.”
“Bethany!”
I grin as her eyes pop wide, and this time I do let her go. She whirls toward the door as Elliot comes barreling through. The two crash into a fit of giggles and hugs.
“What are you doing here?” Bethany asks with tears in her eyes.
“Uncle Jesiah flew us out!” Elliot turns toward the door as Ben and Ashleigh walk in.
My heart pounds. I haven’t seen my brother since we played Phoenix and he came to the show. He looks the same mostly—maybe a little happier, a little more relaxed. I have to wonder if Ashleigh has anything to do with it.
“Benji.” I clap my brother on the back before pulling him in for a man-hug. “Thanks for coming.”
He grins. “Of course. I’d never pass up a chance to see you play, Jes.”
“Dude,” Ashleigh says, holding Bethany’s hand after a tear-filled hug, “how much sex do you think has gone down in this room?”
“Ash!” Bethany scolds and covers Elliot’s ears.
Ben clears his throat and covers his smile with his palm.
“Sex ain’t a bad word, genius.” I pull her by the hand and kiss her perfectly sweet lips.
“You did this?” Tears spring to her eyes as she gazes at me. “For me?”
“For both of us.” I turn as Ben shows Elliot around the room and watch Ashleigh laugh with Ryder and Ethan.
She bounces once, and that’s all the warning I get before she wraps herself around me, her ankles locked at my ass. “I fucking love you, Jesiah Langley.”
“I love you too.” I kiss her softly. “More than I’ll ever be able to show you in one lifetime. But I’ll die trying. You have me now. You’ve owned me from the start. There’s no playbook on how to love you, so I’ll keep playing by heart.”
Her lips part on a sigh. “I love that song.”
“You’re my muse. You inspire everything I write.”
“How did I get so lucky to be the one you give your heart to?”
My face gets hot and I struggle to hold her gaze. “That’s the problem. I gave it to anyone who asked, but no one ever owned it until you. Now it’s yours.”
“To love and to cherish.”
“’Til death do us part.”
Thank you for reading Playing by Heart.
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Other Books By JB Salsbury
The Fighting Series
Fighting for Flight
Fighting to Forgive
Fighting to Forget
Fighting the Fall
A Father’s Fight
Fighting for Forever
Fighting Fate
Fighting for Honor
The Final Fight
The Mercy Series
Ghostgirl
Saint
Stand Alone Novels
Split
Wrecked
About the Author
JB Salsbury is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author. She lives in Phoenix, Arizona with her husband, two sassy daughters, and her boxer dogs.
Her love of good storytelling led her to earn a degree in Media Communications. With her journalistic background, writing has always been at the forefront, and her love of romance propelled her career as an author.
She spends the majority of her day behind the computer where a world of battling alphas, budding romance, and impossible obstacles claws away at her subconscious and begs to be released to the page.
For more information on her books, or just to say hello, visit JB on her website, Facebook, Twitter, or Instagram.
http://www.jbsalsbury.com/