by Cari Quinn
One night back in their old bed they’d fallen back into old patterns. It was comforting and lonely at the same time. She liked pressing her face into his neck. His scent usually dragged her into sleep as effectively as his heavy arm.
But not tonight.
The restlessness was cloying.
She wanted his skin. Wanted him closer. Wanted the power of him inside of her reminding her that what they had might be new again, but there was still part of the old them left. The part that moved in the dark as one.
She dragged her nails up his back, pleased when he stirred into her touch. When he rolled to face her and he drew her into the cocoon of his body. She licked a trail up from his Adam’s apple to his chin, sucked lightly at the raspy skin before going for his mouth.
This was familiar. He’d trimmed his beard down for the interview and his beautiful angular face had been revealed again. She kissed his upper lip, flicking her tongue over the fullness at the center before an echoing swipe over his lower.
He woke slowly. His lips parting for her, the tip of his tongue a flash of sensation along hers. His arms tightened at her back, his hand drifting up into her hair as he instinctively moved her head the way he wanted. The bite of his fingers at her nape as he twisted the hair before deepening the kiss.
His eyes finally opened. The glittering sheen of moonlight the only tell that he was awake. They didn’t talk. Words weren’t necessary here.
Tomorrow was out of their control, but this…them…they were always and forever. No matter what the next day brought. This coming together they could control.
He could control.
And she needed that.
She showed him that she needed that with a sharp nip at his tongue and her grip on his rapidly hardening cock. His kiss grew ardent and possessive. He brought his hand to her mouth and dragged his thumb across her lower lip before following it with his teeth and finally a deep kiss that thrust out all doubt about how much he wanted her.
He rolled his hips and shuttled himself between her fingers. He nipped at her bottom lip, scraped over her chin and coasted his way to her ear. “Tighter.”
She let out a shaky breath and gripped him, stroked him until she could twist around his head. The proof that he was on edge as much as she was dripped from him. She used it to glide back down and vise around his base before milking him again.
He pushed her shirt up and latched his mouth around her nipple and she surged up off the mattress. Her grip on him faltered as he slid lower. His teeth ticked down the edge of her ribs and he pressed open-mouthed kisses across her belly and down to her panties.
He slid his fingers under the elastic and peeled them over her hips and off, but instead of opening her legs, he closed them and tucked them over one shoulder as he pushed two fingers inside of her.
Tight.
So tight and full.
He curved his fingers and scraped along her inner walls until she was thrusting up off the bed to get him deeper. To feel more of him. Strong, thick fingers that knew her body, knew what was sensitive and what would drive her insane.
This.
Holding her still and she couldn’t do anything as he drove her mad.
And he knew it.
He watched her as her slick pussy sucked his fingers deeper, as he kept her immobilized, as he controlled every aspect of penetration and pleasure. She brought her hands up to her breasts, cupped at the heavy weight of them, tugged on her nipples.
But it wasn’t enough.
He was holding her on the edge. Felt it with each light brush his jutting cock against her ass. Just a little lower and she could get him inside her.
“Inside me. Please.”
She hadn’t realized she’d asked aloud.
Cursed herself for saying anything. When he knew she wanted it the most, was when he held off the longest.
He lowered her legs to the bed and urged her up onto her knees.
Oh, God yes.
He ushered her higher on the bed and upright until she could hold the headboard. He cupped her breasts roughly, his calloused tips abrading with each tug. “Is this what you need, Izzy mine? Tell me you do.”
“Yes.”
Make me yours.
Don’t hold back.
She shuddered as he slipped her hair over her shoulder so the ends tickled her breasts. He started at her shoulders. His lips soft on her thickened skin, his tongue rasped over the texture and she shuddered. That he’d want to touch her there always amazed her.
That it didn’t repulse him.
But it was always with simple acceptance.
Always with reverence.
And now with a fevered heat that made her clamp down on the wood and leather headboard. He alternated between soft and the strong as he moved down to the dip of her spine. He nipped at the fullness of her ass as it flared from her slim hips.
He licked down the cleft of her ass to where she was so very wet for him.
His indrawn breath and groan as he slipped his tongue inside of her sounded so loud in the room. Or was it her gasping breath?
She reached between her legs to find his chin and his wide mobile mouth working her, drinking her down like she was his last glass of wine or last whiskey. He hollowed her out with his tongue and licked around her fingers as she slipped inside and felt just how wet she was.
He pushed her fingers back to her clit, covered them with his own and made ruthless circles around it. Around and around, then dipping inside of her until his fingers and hers opened her wider, until she was whimpering for more.
The tease was killing her.
Finally he pulled her hand away and placed it back on the headboard. He crowded her, positioned her and slowly filled her until she had no choice but to lean back against his chest as he thrust inside of her.
With each successive thrust his hips snapped a little harder and her bones jarred.
Yes.
This is what she needed.
She covered his hands on the headboard, pushing her fingers between his until they were tightly laced there and where they were joined. No air between them. The heat of his chest scorched her back, the muscles of his thighs ground against the backs of hers.
She bent her head against the overwhelming power of him.
All of him was hers.
Sweat coated each of them and her bangs dripped with the effort, but she held on and met each brutally beautiful stroke. His groans were madness, her name a broken plea as he brought one of their linked hands down to where they were joined.
She felt the speed and slickness of each glide of his cock and when he curved their fingertips against her, she lit up like the sky.
His name scrambled in a sea of nonsense as he covered her, curled over her and drove her into the pillows and mattress. Until her body was his in every sense of the word. The slapping of their skin and the low, groaning cry that was her name so close to her neck and ear. He wrapped his arms around her and held onto her and she wasn’t sure he would ever let go.
Wasn’t sure she’d ever allow it.
He curved them onto their side, but didn’t withdraw from her. He tangled their legs and softly pulsed inside her as his hands gentled and curved around her waist and his breathing eased.
“I’m not sure if that was what was supposed to happen for dreamy in the middle of the night sex.”
“It should happen every time.” She smoothed her hands over his damp forearms. “Oh, every time.”
He laughed into her neck. “If I ask you if you’re all right, will you slug me?” She tightened her walls around his shaft and he hissed out a breath. “Have a little mercy.”
She pushed back on him and took him deeper. “There’s no mercy tonight.”
Thirty-Six
Logan stretched his arms over his head as he looked out on his back patio. The Music Life truck was backed up to his gate and the equipment was scattered all over the stone walkway. They’d taken over the atrium that butted up against his studi
o.
He’d rather have his instruments and recording deck on display instead of his living room. He didn’t use the atrium much except for when he was entertaining someone in the studio. It had its own full kitchen and bar and led out to the pool.
Kim Forrester’s eyes had bugged out and she’d ordered her assistant to start taking readings for the lighting immediately. It was only then that he’d figured out just how reclusive and private he’d become in the last few years.
He rarely did interviews and when he did, it was usually for the Summer Festival. He just didn’t have anything to say anymore. Twenty years in the business made for a broken bullshit meter. He wasn’t really all that great at listening to people kiss his ass.
But this was important.
And it would be a means to an end.
Kim was doing a walk around of the outside of his grounds, showing off the pool and land behind his house. His fingers itched to gather everyone up and push them back out the back gate, but he didn’t.
He sipped his coffee instead and listened to the bustling of female voices both inside and out. Skye and Ember had returned to get Izzy ready for the camera and set up for the concert later that afternoon.
Logan rolled his neck and took another fortifying sip of coffee. He was going to need a round in the make-up chair himself. Two hours of sleep were for stupid twenty-year-olds. Not a man staring at forty in a few short years. It showed—hard.
But it was worth it.
Fuck, she’d nearly killed him, but so worth it.
He turned at the sound of a cupboard.
“What are you smiling at?” Izzy asked as she poured a mug of coffee and dumped two teaspoons of sweetener in it.
“Just remembering why we’re both so tired.”
She cupped her hands around it and walked toward him. “Oh.” Her face flushed. “Worth it. Oh, so worth it.”
He drew her in front of him at the window. “Look at this madness. This is your fault.”
She leaned against him, smelling of soap, night jasmine, and dark roast coffee. “We’re just doing a segment, right? Not a friggin’ Barbara Walters show.”
“Fifteen minutes takes five hours.”
“No wonder you hate them.”
“That I do.”
“But I think it will help. Especially when I tease that there might be something else after the show tonight.”
He rested his chin on top of her head. “It’s still risky. I don’t—”
“Yes, I know. You don’t like it. I don’t like it either, but I’m tired of sharing you with a psycho bitch, so here we are.”
“Christ, I love you.”
“Good. Because you’re marrying me. Soon. Very soon.”
He pressed a kiss along her neck. “Yes, I am.” He wasn’t going to let another month go by, let alone a year. No matter what happened tonight. He stepped back. “You look really nice though.”
She looked down at her outfit. “Ember has a really good eye. I can do business casual and suits, no problem. But that’s not really rockstar fiancée chic.”
He grinned. “And that is?”
She shrugged. “I am wearing leather.”
“That you are.” The lightweight leather coat over breath-stealing jeans was enough to make him want to drag her back upstairs, but the leather boots capped it. The Journey shirt under the leather coat made him grin. It was an old concert T-shirt all tricked out with sparkly things on it. Everything about her said confident and sexy.
And she was his.
Damn, it was good to see her this way again.
“You’ve got your man in black thing going. So why not, right?”
“Well, you’re fucking gorgeous. You’re going to outshine me the whole interview.”
She snorted. “You keep telling yourself that, rockstar.”
He took her mug and his and set them down. “Ready to go be amazing?”
“No pressure.”
He held out his hand and dragged her close again. “Kim knows how to handle an interview. Just stay on your toes, she likes to throw in zingers.”
“Like any good reporter.”
He lowered his mouth to hers. “Yes, but don’t let her bait you.”
She lifted her lips to his, hovered so close, but didn’t connect. “I will try to be a good girl,” she said and took a step back.
“I’m not sure you know how to do that.”
Instead of answering, she threw a sassy smile over her shoulder and headed downstairs to the studio. He followed her with a sigh, grabbing his black vest off the kitchen chair to slip on as he went down the stairs.
It felt weird to be back in his interview and concert gear. There wasn’t much difference to it. Just an extra layer most of the time. The vest was too restrictive when he was stalking around on stage. Most of the time he wore a black T-shirt so he didn’t die under the damn lights.
He got downstairs and Zeke and Christian were sitting on the couch. The cameraman was setting up the tripod and Kim was asking warm-up questions. She was leaning so far into Zeke that Logan figured she’d be in his lap by the end of the interview.
He had a way with women. And no one could even hold it against him the next day, least of all the woman who woke up in his bed. He was so unapologetically charming. Logan had seen it a million times on the long tours they’d done together.
Sometimes the women lasted more than a night, sometimes they didn’t. Hell, sometimes Zeke married them, but somehow they never stuck around for the long haul. But none of them could ever hate him. It was his gift and his curse.
Logan waved at Kim Forrester and headed to the back and into the atrium that fed into the back of the house. A larger camera was set up there and a network of cords snaked across the floor. Two of the throne-like chairs from the studio were set up near the window.
Yeah, that wasn’t ostentatious or anything. Gifts from Emerson, of course. Because he loved to buy the ridiculous. And now Logan looked like he needed gilded chairs that should be a prop on Game of Thrones. Awesome.
Izzy rushed over to the chairs and sat down on one, threw her leg over the huge arm and steepled her fingers. He knew she’d done it for a laugh and to make him relax, but it had the opposite effect. She was frighteningly sexy and people around them took notice.
He heard the whir of the camera and knew that the photographer on site had gotten that shot.
Izzy sat up straight. “I just got that shot that people are going to put on Tumblr saying Logan King’s fiancée is weird. Then there will be memes. Not good.”
“You did it.”
“I’m an idiot.”
He walked over to her and caged her into the chair. “I just warned you.”
She tipped her head up to him. “So they’re probably taking pictures now, right?”
He frowned and started to step back. She was far too dangerous to his mental health when he forgot a roomful of photographers immediately after she’d done the same thing.
“No, this is perfect. They’ll put it on their Instagram or whatever and it’ll get put all over the net.”
“Good thing you aren’t a social media hound in real life. You’re too good at this.” He resumed his hulking over her. He heard the shutter and saw the flash in his peripheral view. Decided to make it look good and touched his lips to hers.
Her fingers twisted into his shirt and she yanked him down for a full-on kiss then it dissolved into a playful kiss full of laughter. So both would be available. He had a feeling the full-on sex was what would go like wildfire around Twitter and Facebook.
Christ, they were going to create a lot of damn trouble.
“Are you two starting without me?”
Logan stood and swiped his thumb over his bottom lip. He could taste the lipstick there. “Sorry, we got carried away.”
“No, no.” Kim came into the atrium with a huge smile. Her camera smile. Logan recognized it. A bright pink slash of lips that matched the filmy material that peeked from her dove
gray power suit. Her blond hair was in the messy toss of a style he saw on everyone. The just out of bed look that actually took two stylists.
He knew this because he’d seen Kim in action on more than one occasion. She still was miles better than most of the television celebrities he dealt with. And she gave him a relatively fair interview without too much embellishment on the final broadcast.
Logan moved to the side. “Kim Forrester, my fiancée, Isabella Grace.”
Kim’s face only showed a flash of surprise before she turned up the wattage. “I can’t wait to talk to you about how you managed to snag this guy off the most eligible bachelor list. Especially when so many have tried and failed. Even everyone’s favorite hotel heiress.”
Izzy’s smile never faltered. Even with the name drop, she kept her face open and friendly. Her dark hair was down and waved slightly around her face and down her back. Showing every flawless inch of her face and neck. Stunning in a way that Aimee Collen never would be.
“Well, if you want to get started, I’ll tell you all about the story. It’s a real doozy.”
“Let’s just get your makeup touched up. That lip-lock has left you a little smudged.”
“I usually don’t bother wearing lipstick.” Izzy’s cheeks heated and she looked down. “It never stays on long.”
Kim’s eyes sharpened. She snapped her fingers. “Frank, can you get Courtney?”
The large, shaggy haired man dipped his head and lifted a hand to his ear and relayed the message. A redhead came in with a bag over her shoulder. She messed with Izzy’s makeup and penciled in a dramatic line for her lips along with an even darker red than she’d been wearing.
Logan dropped into the chair beside Izzy and crossed his ankle over his knee.
Kim spoke quietly and quickly with her assistant then sat back. “All right. We’ll start with some easy questions to warm up and then we’ll talk about the fire.”
Logan reached over to take one of Izzy’s hands and laced their fingers together. She squeezed him back, trying to pull back, but he wasn’t having any of that. She was getting better about not hiding her hands, but she still did it instinctively far too often for his liking.