“My daddy died when I was fifteen and I started working to help support myself and my mama.” Kit swallowed hard. “By sixteen she was...” Kit blinked rapidly, briefly focusing on a point just over my shoulder. She stopped, took a deep breath and continued with a voice that had a rough edge. “She was gone and I was on my own. So, I quit school, got my GED, and started working—waiting tables, cleaning houses, singing a little here and there, until Paul Bryant discovered me at an open mic night at the Bluebird Cafe.” She looked at me, her smile strained, but there. “I didn’t have a normal life or the typical American dream situation, but it worked out all right.”
“Is that what you want?” I clarified when she looked baffled. “Normal. The house in the suburbs, two kids, a minivan.”
“Yeah. Not today. Not tomorrow, either. I just want...” Kit paused, clearly revising her answer in her head. “Actually, I guess I just want somebody—my somebody. It’s been a long time since I’ve had anything other than the music.”
Oh shit. All kinds of alarm bells were going off in my head. Just like earlier when we’d discussed her writing a song about me, I’d stepped into a minefield. Any time a woman started talking about wanting a permanent relationship, it was 50/50 on how it would end.
“You don’t want that,” she said, reading my silence or my expression like a piece of sheet music. If I was a dick, I’d use this moment to my advantage. Cash in on her honesty and lie to make sure I got to fuck her again. I was many things, but I wasn’t that big of a dick.
“No. I don’t.”
“Ever?”
“No.” We stared at each other, the weight of my confession and her dreams threatening to bury this fling alive. I asked the next thing I wanted to know. “Who taught you to write music and play the guitar?”
At that question, Kit smiled and I felt the tension pooled in my gut ease off. Keeping this casual was proving harder than I’d thought it would be. I liked her. She was interesting and I wanted to know more about her. But I reminded myself about the ground rules: I wasn’t here to bring her down. I was here for the good stuff—for both of us. Keep it loose, Butler.
“My daddy gave me my first guitar. Jolene—the one you rescued from the fire. Both he and my grandfather played and I learned by watching them. Song writing... well, that just kinda came to me. Just like performing in front of people—once I did it, I was hooked.”
“So, you’d do it even if you didn’t have a big contract?”
She laughed, but the light didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I might get to find out the answer to that question.”
I didn’t like the worry that settled on her face and I remembered very clearly how upset she’d been just a few hours ago at the Bluebird. Her label was playing hard–ball. I reached out and tried to pull her close. Kit resisted, her body stiff and tense. “Lots of people would kill to get one chance in the music business. I’m getting two—so, no bitchin’ allowed.”
“No way. You paid your dues. You should get to call the shots.”
“And I blew it. As far as everyone is concerned, I’m back at square one.” She sighed. “As much as I’d love to push back and tell them to shove it, I’m not in the strongest position to make demands.”
“So what? You just...” I stalled out. I really had no idea what any of this meant. “What does that mean?”
“It means that I write the songs they want me to sing and I wear what they want me to wear and I go to work.” Her hands clenched into tight fists, so hard her knuckles were white. The tone in her voice was frustrated, angry, and it was clear to anyone that even though this might be the deal, she wasn’t happy about it. “It doesn’t matter that I’m not that girl anymore. I’m a product and the goal is to sell as much of me to as many people as possible.”
I scooted closer and enveloped her in my arms. When she didn’t resist the caress, I brushed a kiss across her temple. “It’ll be okay.”
She looked up at me with vulnerable eyes and it just about did me in.
Kit snuggled her face into my chest, and I lightly stroked my hand up and down the smooth planes of her back—the silence stretching companionably between us. She’s so small and taking on Liam Connor and his label.
This was dangerous territory. Kit was quickly becoming more than a fantasy and I was a sucker for people who needed me. The combination was going to get me in trouble unless I remembered why I was here.
I fixed and protected on instinct, a combination of my training and what my mom called my “white knight, Neanderthal DNA” and Kit was pushing all my buttons. Not good, but I knew it and that would keep me straight.
Kit stirred in my arms and I loosened my hold enough to lean forward and reach for the tub of ice cream. Her fingers stroked my back and I jumped a little, the featherweight glide across my skin causing me to shiver with pleasure.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you. I just wanted to...” her voice drifted off as she explored my ink. People often paused when they first saw the tattoo on my back, so I was used to her reaction.
A set of angel’s wings covered the broad expanse of my back, the detail on each feather making them come alive as the muscles moved under my skin. One wing was the typical angel’s wing—white with deeper shading of the lightest grey. The other was black, tipped with the darkest blood red.
“When did you get this?”
“Just after I joined the NFD.”
“I know what they are, but what do they mean?”
“It’s my light and dark. A reminder of the best and worst of me.”
“Why?” I felt her shrink back from me and I turned and caught her wrist. “I shouldn’t pry. I’m sorry.”
“No. Don’t apologize.” I was used to explaining them. Some people got it and others got the hell away from me. I thought I knew what Kit would do but I could be wrong—it had happened before. “I have both sides inside me—the good and the bad—and I don’t pretend to know which one is stronger. It depends on the day, on the moment. But I know there have been times when I hurt people... a person... and I can’t ever take it back.”
“So, this is your punishment?”
“No. A reminder. Both sides are equal and have their place, and I don’t pretend to try to be a good man all the time. I am who I am, but I do try not to deliberately hurt anyone.”
“It’s your code.”
I shrugged. It was as good a word as any. It had been called an excuse, a shield. “I call it real.”
“Do you have any?” I was entirely focused on her when I’d stripped her down earlier, so focused that I couldn’t remember if I’d seen any ink. I was torn between whether I wanted her to have one or not. Her skin was so smooth and perfect; I almost hated to think of her fucking it up with a design. But, on the other hand... ink on a woman in the right place was seventh layer of hell hot.
“On my back.”
I had to see it. I scooped her up and flipped her over onto her stomach. She protested with a mild “Hey!” but relaxed when she realized what I was doing.
My fingers traced the design, a heart surrounded by barbed–wire and a honeysuckle vine, and I recognized it as the logo for all her albums, T–shirts, and other merchandising. The heart was designed to look solid, but a little battered and bruised. I guessed, after hearing her earlier story about how tough life had been for her, that the design was more than just a kick–ass logo. It was Kit, once again exposing her heart and soul to the world.
“When did you get it?” I slid my fingers a little lower on her back, glancing over the sweet swell of her ass.
“I got that in Texas about two years ago. Jake...” she stumbled over the name of her famous ex–boyfriend, the crazy asshole who’d dumped her for his ex–wife co–star. “...well, he had a fit. Hated it. But, I designed it myself and I haven’t regretted it.” She glanced back at me, flipping her hair over her shoulder in a sensual move that shot heat right down to the erection that had waned but had never fully gone away.
“I
t’s beautiful.”
I leaned over and kissed the tattoo, letting my lips and tongue linger over her silky skin. Kit stretched out, humming in pleasure as my fingers roamed. That sound was addictive. I could make a career out of touching her just to hear her make that sound over and over again.
“It tastes good, too. In fact...” I glanced over to the gallon of melting ice cream and back up at Kit, “...I wonder if you taste good all over.”
Kit’s eyes grew wide as I flipped her back over, grabbed the ice cream, and drizzled the gooey dessert all over her breasts and stomach. She sucked in a breath at the cold and tried to scoot away, but I held her in place with my body and lowered my head to enjoy my dessert. I lapped up the ice cream, giving little bites here and there to heighten her pleasure. Circling her breast slowly, I laved her nipple with my tongue, knowing how much she loved it. Her tits were sensitive and I knew that if I reached down and stroked her slit, she’d be wet for me.
Having licked her clean, I lifted my head to gaze down at her. Damn, I thought I’d visualized every possible scenario with Kit as my ultimate fantasy girl, but I was wrong. Like this—stretched out and open to me—her eyes begging me to take her, to do whatever I wanted. Fucking heaven.
I couldn’t have imagined this fantasy. My imagination wasn’t that good.
“Max, are you just going to keep looking or are you going to do something?”
The question made me laugh and get rock hard at the same time. She was a unique mix of innocence and pure sex and the combination made me want to spend hours, days, even weeks exploring the limits of her sexuality.
Oh, I was going to do something alright.
“I’m going to make you come again with my mouth and my hands and then I’m going to slide my dick into you and make you come all over me.” Her eyes widened, a soft “oh” escaping as she reached for me, her body inviting me to take exactly what I wanted. “So, yeah... I’m gonna do something.”
Her eyes followed my movements as I parted her thighs and ran my hands over her soft skin. Shifting down so that my shoulders rested between her legs, I soaked in the sight of the thin line of hair covering her sex, the pink folds already wet with her arousal.
She writhed against me, moaning low in her throat. My dick twitched against my belly, urging me to just grab a condom and mount up. We’d both enjoy it; I could get her off that way but I wanted more. I reached beneath me and grabbed my cock at the base, willing it to settle down so I could do this right.
“Kit, what I want to do to you.”
Her eyes were glued to where my hand stroked my erection. “Anything. Just do it.”
“Get on your hands and knees. Ass up high.”
She complied so sweetly, lowering her head to the bed as she offered herself to me. I moved in behind her, covering her back with my body. My cock nestled perfectly between her cheeks, providing just enough heat and friction to keep me on the edge. Kit pressed back against me and I closed my eyes against the almost–too–good sparks of sensation that rippled up my spine.
I was no newbie, but Kit had the ability to bring me down fast.
I pushed her long, thick hair over her shoulder, pressing kisses along the delicate bones of her spine as I made my way down her back. I paused to linger over her tattoo, tracing the heart with my tongue as she moved under me with her restless need.
“Max, please.”
“I know, baby. I’m right there with you.” I moved lower, kissing the soft flesh of her ass and lower until I could see the core of her. I lowered myself to my stomach, stretching out on the bed, hissing with the contact as my dick rubbed along the soft sheets. This wasn’t going to last long.
I went down on her, my tongue swirling, lips suckling on the tender flesh as she clutched the sheets under her with a growl. I was dying to see her fall apart, to give me her pleasure so I worked her hard and fast—no slow build–up here. It was as if I’d never had her before, as if I hadn’t just come an hour ago. Nothing would satisfy until I was inside her.
“Max,” she cried out as she came hard, her body half–collapsing onto the bed, the sheets twisting even tighter in her hands.
I lingered as long as I could, drawing out the little shudders that continued to make her moan but I was lost, desperate, almost out of my fucking mind. I reached over to the pile of rubbers on the bed and opened the wrapper, sliding it on one–handed while I looped the other under her body and pressed up on her belly, urging her back on her hands and knees.
I pushed inside her slowly. She was still soft and wet for me and it was easy, the warm, tight clasp of her body almost taking my knees out from under me. I slid out and back in, watching my dick disappear inside her and overcome with the way she offered herself to me so sweetly.
“Fuck, Kit. I wish you could see this.” I ran my hands along the length of her back, speeding up my strokes as she began to push back against me. She cried out softly with each thrust and I loved that sound. It was erotic and full of surprise that anything could feel this good.
I leaned over her back, moving my hips faster as my own climax began to spark in my spine, my balls. Her hair had fallen forward, exposing her neck to me and I kissed her there, inhaling her scent. She groaned, her arms shaking where they held her up.
“Max, please.”
“What, baby?”
“Touch me, I need it,” she begged.
“You want me to touch your breasts?” I reached under and palmed her right breast, caressing the hard nipple, loving the way she shuddered under me. “I bet I could make you come this way. Is that what you want?”
One of her arms gave way and she fell forward and I went with her, my body driving deeper into her. The tight clutch of her body almost tipped me over but I wanted her to find her pleasure first. I needed to see it one more time.
Kit began to arch up against me, her movement continuing the deeper thrusts. She was close and I was beyond ready.
I left the sweet weight of her breast and drifted lower, searching for the place where we were joined. Kit was already there, her fingers wet with her lube as mine joined hers in the caress of her clit. Knowing she was touching herself flipped my switch and I was crying out, hips pounding into her as I rode out my orgasm and hers.
We collapsed fully onto the bed, chests heaving, sticky with sweat and ice cream.
“Oh, my God,” Kit laughed. “Three weeks of this will probably kill me.”
I laughed with her, settling into the curve of her body. Normally I was on my feet, pulling up my jeans and heading for the door but I couldn’t move. I didn’t want to move.
“We never talked about sleeping over,” I hedged, letting my tone carry the question.
Kit rolled over, her head resting on my chest as she tangled her legs with mine.
“If you leave right now, I’ll kill you.”
I guess that answered that question.
12
Kit
“I haven’t made out in a closet since high school,” Max said.
I squirmed in his arms as his soft laugh vibrated over the skin on my neck while he covered me with hot kisses. The storage closest in the back of the rehearsal space was dark, intimate, and just large enough for a party of two.
Rehearsal had been long, but productive. The band was clicking, my voice was strong, and the new material was blending seamlessly into the set list. The tour was selling out, too. I wasn’t playing the largest arenas—the label wasn’t taking a chance on my singing to empty seats—but the medium–sized venues were full. We were even talking about a couple of nights at Madison Square Garden if the numbers kept rising.
I’d been going over a new song, when I spied Bridget leading someone into the rehearsal space—Max. The sight of his tall, muscled frame encased in blue jeans and a red T–shirt made me mess up my lyrics as I struggled to resist jumping his bones in front of my band and the press covering the rehearsal. His mouth curved into a smile—he was laughing at me even though my screw up was entirely
his fault.
I barely remembered the introductions, the television interview with the two of us, or the tour of the rehearsal hall. In all honesty, I hadn’t been able to pay attention to anything but the way Max was devouring me with his eyes.
Bridget had cleared her throat and made some comment about getting back to work and for us to “go get that room, already”.
So, we did.
The first available room I could find was the storage closet. Which is how I ended up on a table, with my legs wrapped around Max and him nibbling on that spot on my neck that made me nuts.
“Funny, I figured you were an ‘under–the–bleachers’ guy.”
He tightened his arms around me and nipped at my earlobe, making me shiver. “Oh yeah, but that didn’t work in the winter.” I pressed a warm kiss to his collarbone, inhaling his masculine scent as he continued. “It was harder to get a girl to go into a storage closet with you. I worked on Susie Miller for three months and I never did close the deal. But when spring rolled around... well, she loved the bleachers.”
I looked up into his smiling face and laughed out loud. “You’re a dog.”
Max swooped in to reclaim my lips, murmuring “woof” just before he thrust his tongue into my mouth. I wrapped my arms around his neck and my legs around his waist. His body molded into mine perfectly and I shivered at the shot of pure pleasure that raced through me.
I eased off the kiss, stroking the silky strands of hair at the nape of his neck. “Well, I have no experience in closets or under bleachers, but this was the most convenient place for this.” Breathless, I leaned in and pressed my forehead against his. “I really needed this.”
Talk about an understatement.
Since having sex with Max two nights ago, my mind had constantly drifted back to the way he’d aroused me with his hands, mouth, and body. I’d drifted off to sleep in his arms after the orgasm-inducing gallon of ice cream, but woke up alone in my king-size bed.
My first thought had been, “I miss him” and it scared the shit out of me. I hit the floor and the shower and didn’t even think about hitting the snooze button.
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