Almost Fate

by Kylie Gilmore

  She heard his jeans hit the floor, and then he was on her. “Brace yourself,” he growled in her ear.

  She got her forearms under her and raised her head, knowing it would be a wild ride. He positioned himself at her entrance and she waited for his hard thrust. Instead he brought his hand around and started strumming her gently. She moaned loudly. He was toying with her. She rocked back onto him, needing him inside her. He strummed a little faster, a little harder, making her breathless, and then finally pressed inside of her, filling her and easing the ache she’d had for so long. He took her hard and deep while she braced herself on her forearms, rocking with his thrusts, her body clenching around him. He sped up, his breath coming harsh near her ear as his hand played her in his complicated rhythm, alternating slow and fast, soft and hard. The sensations built inside her, making her crazed. She needed him to push her over that edge.

  “Griff,” she cried.

  “Give me more,” he growled, his fingers pressed against her, just holding her, as he pounded into her.

  It was too much. He’d pushed her too far and the sensations held her hostage on the knife edge of release. She shook with need, which was exactly what he’d been waiting for, what he knew was the point of no return for her. He pulled out, and she collapsed to the mattress with a groan because she knew what he’d do to her next. The man had six ways to Sunday to own her G-spot, but his preferred method made her crazed because she was trapped in his hold, unable to rock her hips to move things along.

  He rolled her over and moved to a kneeling position between her legs. Then he lifted her right ankle and rested it on his shoulder, pulled her left ankle to his other shoulder, and gave her a slow, sexy smile as he grabbed her by the hips, lifting them and pulling her onto him in one deep thrust, making the backs of her thighs rest against his chest. She whimpered and then he thrust hard, making her gasp as he went even deeper. The deep penetration and internal stroking made her crazed, caught in his hold, as he thrust over and over, pushing her higher and higher. Everything in her coiled and tightened, caught in an overwhelming surge of ever-deepening pleasure. And then his fingers gave her one firm stroke at the same time as he pushed deep, slamming her over the edge, the scream torn from her throat as her body racked with pleasure. He kept going, pumping inside of her as he exploded, the heat and rush taking her deeper and bringing more cries wrenched from her throat in the aftershocks.

  A long moment later, he set her ankles off his shoulders and pulled out. She curled up on her side with a soft moan, completely wrung out.

  He flopped down next to her. “I love making you scream.”

  She couldn’t speak. He spooned her from behind as he always did and settled the blanket over them.

  “New plan,” he said, his voice a rumble in her ear. “I’m going to make you scream every night until I own you heart and soul. Until you never have any doubt in your mind that you’re mine.”

  She shivered at that erotic promise, and his arms tightened around her possessively. He was going to wear her out, wear her down.

  “You’re mine,” he repeated in her ear. “And I’m yours. Nothing else matters.”

  She closed her eyes, too wiped out to argue with him, to explain that it wasn’t that simple. Griff, she well knew, had a bulldog persistence. She didn’t know if that was good or bad for them. She only knew she was in for it.

  Chapter Seven

  Griffin was nothing if not tenacious. He never would’ve made it as far as he had in the music industry without the persistence to knock down every door slammed in his face. He’d spent his twenties in dogged pursuit of a recording contract, until he finally hit the big time at thirty. So he figured if his words couldn’t knock down Christina’s worries over their future, he’d work on her body. She was never more agreeable than when he’d wrung everything out of her in bed. He’d woken her with an orgasm this morning and then went all alpha on her in the shower. No hardship for him. Her screaming orgasms got him off big time and, afterwards, she was open to him in a way she normally wouldn’t be with her naturally tough shell. Now she was wrapped in a towel, curled up on his lap, where he sat propped against the headboard.

  “You’re mine,” he said.

  “Mmm,” she said, resting her head against his chest.

  See? So agreeable. Why hadn’t he thought of wearing her down this way before?

  “I love you,” he said.

  She sighed. “Me too.”

  “I want you in my life forever,” he said, tilting her chin up to look at him.

  She gave him a goofy smile. “Okay.”

  He kissed her. “Okay.” Wow. He was shocked at how easy that was. If he’d known, he would’ve tried the screaming orgasm method sooner. He’d been extra tender with her the last couple of months because he’d been thinking of starting a family of his own for the first time in his life. He had to remember she still liked to shake things up. A surge of tenderness and love made him kiss her again. And again. And then he was showering her with kisses he was so happy. “So you trust me?”

  “I’m working on it,” she said gently.

  “I trust you.”

  “I’ve never cheated on anyone.”

  The remark stung. He’d never cheated on her. On his ex-wife, yes, but never her. He didn’t know what else he could do to prove he was different now. It was so frustrating. He set her off his lap and stood.

  “Don’t be mad,” she said. “I love you.”

  Somehow that wasn’t enough anymore.

  He yanked on his clothes and headed downstairs where he’d left his guitar. Some of his most painful moments turned into his biggest hits. He was glad, not because of the money, but because he knew his pain touched others and let them know they weren’t alone.

  He played, pouring himself into the music, and didn’t stop until he realized with a start that the living room was dark. It was past sundown. He’d been vaguely aware Christina went out, though he wasn’t sure if she’d come back yet. She could be super quiet during times like these out of respect for his process. He suddenly realized he was hungry and thirsty and exhausted.

  “Chris?”

  The light turned on and then dimmed. “Right here.” She handed him a glass of water, and he drank the whole thing. When he finished, he handed her back the glass and she set it in the kitchen sink before crossing back to him. He put his guitar back in its case and stood, opening his arms to her.

  She wrapped her arms around his waist. “That was pure soul. I liked it.”

  He closed his stinging eyes at the words that meant so much to him. She heard his soul and touched him with her tender acceptance of it.

  She pulled away and handed him his black leather jacket. “Time for the real world. We’re going to dinner. Laila asked us to stop by the diner tonight.”

  “She called?” He hadn’t heard the phone ring. Chris took care of all outside distractions for him when he was creating music.

  “Yeah, I took the call.” She pulled on her coat and got her purse. “I’ll drive. You just relax.”

  She laced her fingers with his and walked with him outside. She knew he was feeling strung out, as he always did after a draining day of pouring his heart and soul into the music. He got into the car. Christina started the car and immediately turned off the radio, giving him the quiet he needed. He leaned his head back against the headrest, closed his eyes, and drifted to sleep.

  He woke when Christina shook him by the shoulder. They were parked behind the diner. “You up for this?” she asked. “I could ask for a to-go meal.”

  “No. My sister wants to show me off.”

  “Maybe she just wants to see you,” she said, trying to soften the edges of his reality.

  “I don’t mind.” And he really didn’t. He loved the attention and he loved making people happy just by meeting him.

  “You were made for this,” she said, stroking his hair. “Made for them.”

  And she was made for him, he thought. But he kept that
to himself because he wasn’t up for another emotional round with her over their future. Instead he puffed out his chest. “Time for the magic.”

  “Woo-hoo!” she hollered, psyching him up.

  He smiled and shook his head before climbing out of the Hummer. Christina went ahead of him, held open the door and hollered, “Laila Colton, where you at? Your brother has arrived!”

  ~ ~ ~

  Laila turned to the door, elated. The diner wasn’t overly crowded tonight, it was only a Thursday, but even just a few tables of people to see Laila with her famous brother made her feel vindicated for all the years she’d been passed over as just part of the background.

  “Hi,” she said with a cheerful wave. “Sit wherever you like.” She had to work tonight, but she’d wanted to see him.

  Christina chose a booth in the back corner. Griffin said something to her and instead of sitting down like Laila thought he would, he crossed to her and gave her a hug and a kiss on the cheek. “How ya doing?”

  She loved his casual familiarity. It was almost worth all the pain she’d gone through with her hardly there dad to have a cool half brother. “I’m doing great now that you’re here.”

  “Sorry Chris took a swing at you. She’s crazy in the best possible way, but sometimes…well, you know how women get when they think someone’s in their territory.”

  “So you’re pretty serious?” She looked over at Christina, who was sitting there all petite and deceivingly sweet-looking as she studied the menu.

  “Yeah. I asked her to marry me, but she turned me down.”

  Her brows shot up in surprise. “She turned you down?”

  “Shh…yeah. The timing wasn’t right.”

  “Wow. Sorry about that.”

  “All good.” He smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “See you in a bit.” He headed to the back of the diner to join Christina.

  Laila went back to work, frequently peeking over at them. Christina had him settled with hot rolls within minutes of his dinner order. Griffin moved to sit on the other side of the table next to her, draped an arm over her shoulders, and kissed the top of her head. The love between the two of them was a tangible thing. For a moment, she had a pang of jealousy. She’d just barely gotten a chance to hang out with Griffin and now he was all wrapped up in his girlfriend. But then Griffin gestured for her to join them and, even though she was technically working, she decided to take her break and join them at their table.

  “You want to join us for dinner?” Christina asked.

  “I only have fifteen minutes,” she said.

  “Stop by our place tomorrow,” Christina said. “We’ll have dinner then. And bring your guitar.”

  Laila jolted. “Oh, I couldn’t bring my guitar. You’re used to hearing Griffin play. We’ll just listen to him.”

  Christina turned to Griffin. “Did she play for you?”

  Griffin smiled. “She sure did.”

  Christina narrowed her bright blue eyes. “Why do you play for him and not for me? Is it because I slapped you?” She leaned forward and offered her cheek. “Go ahead. Slap me back.”

  Laila flushed and looked to Griffin for help. Was she really supposed to slap his girlfriend? He grinned.

  “What, are you afraid I’ll kick your ass again?” Christina taunted.

  “You didn’t kick my ass!” Laila protested.

  “Slap me back, then.”

  “I’m not going to slap you. You’re my brother’s girlfriend.”

  Christina leaned in. “First I’m not close enough to Griff to qualify for a listen and now I’m too close. Which is it?”

  Laila tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “I just…I never play for other people. That was a special occasion. Because Griffin and I had just met and found out we were family.”

  “We just met too.” Christina jabbed a finger at her. “You owe me a listen. One song or I tell everyone in here you have a secret. Small-town peeps love that shit.”

  Laila flushed guiltily because she did have a secret. She still hadn’t told Griffin about their dad’s money. But Christina couldn’t possibly know that. She probably meant her secret music obsession. Either way, the last thing Laila needed was people pushing and prodding her about her secrets.

  “Griffin?” Laila asked.

  He raised his palms. “I’m not getting in the middle of this.”

  And then before she could protest, Christina grabbed Laila’s wrist and made her slap her cheek. Not hard, but still. She yanked her wrist back.

  Christina grinned. “Now we’re even. You play for me. One song. I sense you have soul.”

  Laila slowly blinked. No one ever looked beyond the package she presented to the world—purple streaks in her hair, funky clothes, and multiple piercings. Her voice came out small. “You think I have soul?”

  “I think you do,” Christina said in such an authoritative voice that Laila almost believed it.

  Griffin reached across the table and squeezed Laila’s hand. “I know you do.”

  And that was how Laila found herself the very next night, guitar in hand, trembling in a near panic as she stepped out of her car and headed for the front door of Griffin’s rented home. Her breath came out in a cold puff in the chilly winter night as she pressed the doorbell.

  Christina answered the door, took one look at her, and said, “Do you need to slap me again?”

  “No! Why would you say that?”

  “You look pale and, dare I say, frightened? No one ever died from playing guitar.”

  That irked Laila. Who did this woman think she was? Had she ever played music from the heart that left her exposed and vulnerable?

  “What do you know about music?” Laila snapped. “You ever compose an original melody or spend weeks working on the perfect lyrics?”

  Christina stepped back and gestured her inside. “You are definitely Griff’s family. You’ll find me an appreciative audience, so you can get that chip off your shoulder. It’s not doing you any favors.”

  Laila stepped inside and Christina made a big show of flicking an imaginary chip off her shoulder.

  Laila narrowed her eyes, still miffed. She set her guitar down next to a beige sofa in the living room. Christina gestured for her coat, so she took it off and handed it to her.

  “Hey, sis!” Griffin called. “Come over here and taste this sauce.”

  She crossed to the modern kitchen, where her brother was rather expertly stirring a marsala sauce around some lightly breaded chicken. “A man who cooks. Wow.”

  Griffin grinned. “Christina taught me. I find it relaxing.” He held the wooden spoon up for her to taste. She took a small taste.

  “Really good,” Laila said. “What can I do to help?”

  “You’re our guest, have a seat,” Christina said. “Would you like some wine?”

  “Sure.” Laila was not at all used to being served, but Christina gestured for her to sit down, so she did. A few moments later, Christina handed her a glass of red wine.

  “So tell me about you,” Christina said. “Anyone special in your life? Boyfriend?”

  “No one special,” she said, taking a long swallow of wine. She’d never met a guy who stuck around. Lately she’d been feeling like maybe it was her. Maybe she was driving them away. Or maybe she was just attracted to the wrong kind of guy. She was a real sucker for the messed-up bad boy. She always thought she could fix them. And it kinda made her feel good to be the one whose life didn’t seem so screwed up by comparison.

  “How long you been playing?” Christina asked. “Did your dad get you started young like Griff?”

  Laila nodded.

  “You must be amazing,” Christina said.

  “She is,” Griffin said.

  Laila took a long swallow of wine. “He’s just being nice.”

  Christina cocked her head, studying her. “I got news for ya. Griff doesn’t do anything just to be nice. Who’re your influences?”

  Laila took another sip of wine, feeli
ng like Christina was trying to trick her into admitting something.

  “Big Bird?” Christina asked.

  Laila nearly spewed her wine, trying not to laugh.

  “Cookie monster?” Christina asked with a smile.

  “Elmo!” Griffin chimed in.

  They grinned at each other and then at her. “My dad for one,” Laila finally said. “Johnny Cash, Oasis, Adele…” She trailed off. She could go on all night.

  “She’s a storyteller,” Christina told Griffin. She turned back to Laila. “It’s personal for you. Really personal. It takes courage to put your stuff out there. It’s like hey, world, here’s my heart, don’t stomp on it.”

  Laila was taken aback. “How do you know if you’ve never been a musician?”

  “I’ve lived with a musician for three years,” she said. “It’s his heart and soul, and sometimes it stings if it doesn’t get the best reception.”

  “But everyone loves his stuff!” Laila protested.

  “Not true,” Griffin said as he pulled some bread from the oven.

  “Not everyone,” Christina said, matter of factly. “You can’t please everyone. He’s been lucky to have a following. But critics can be harsh.”

  “Christina’s ‘meh’ can just about kill me,” Griffin said, miming a knife to the heart and nearly collapsing to the floor.

  Christina rolled her eyes. “Oh, the drama.” She turned to Griffin. “If ‘meh’ is the worst you hear, consider yourself lucky.”

  “‘That blows’ is another doozy,” Griffin said.

  Christina huffed. “You’re not helping. That’s only when you’re repeating yourself. And you know when you’re repeating yourself. You certainly don’t need me to tell you that.”

  Griffin inclined his head, conceding the point. “Dinner’s ready. Get over here, you troublemaker.”

  “Troublemaker!” Christina exclaimed with a wide grin. She gestured for Laila to follow her into the kitchen.

  “You are trouble,” Griffin growled before scooping Christina up in his arms and twirling her around. He winked at Laila over Christina’s shoulder. Laila felt another pang of jealousy for what they had. She wondered if she’d ever find someone who loved her the way these two loved each other.