Power Couple: A Marriage of Convenience Romance (The Nashvegas Series Book 1)

by Laramie Briscoe

  This morning when I stir awake, I’m wrapped in a strong embrace and a warmth I’m not sure I’ve ever felt before in my twenty previous years on this earth. Prying my eyes open, I glance down at the arms surrounding me and smile. The visible tattoos will always be an identifier of someone who swept into my life so unexpectedly, but who has undoubtedly made it better in the short days we’ve known each other.

  I never believed what people said about just knowing when you meet someone. But when I woke up in that Vegas hotel room with him the next morning, I did know, and that’s why I didn’t push for a quickie divorce. Something took root in my stomach, telling me that this was supposed to happen. Everett James Thompson was the person I’ve been looking for my whole life.

  And so far he’s proven me right. He’s not wanted to get rid of me, he’s not made me feel young and inexperienced, he hasn’t made me feel as if my voice doesn’t matter. He listens, notices when something is off, and judging by the way he’s asked me about it while I’ve been here with him, he confronts what he perceives to be as issues head on. Not only that, but going by last night? He respects me, and I’ve had little true respect in my life. If I’m not careful, this man holding me will make it very hard to leave in less than twenty-four hours. Sliding over slightly, I grab my phone to check the time. It’s earlier than I’d like to be awake. A little after eight, but seeing as how my flight leaves at five tomorrow morning, I know I have to make the most of the time we have left together. He snuggles in closer, wrapping me tighter, digging his cheek into my shoulder. My heart seriously melts as I hear him whisper Bri. With the camera pointed at us, and making sure the flash is off, I take a picture of this moment, wanting it for the folder that’s quickly starting to fill up on my phone. Memories are what will get us through what we both have going on the next few months, and I hope to God they get me through the next seven days. That’s how long it will be before I can come home again.

  Home.

  A word to describe a place I’ve never really had before, that I so easily associate with this bed, this house, and this man.

  Putting my phone back on the bedside table, I scoot down farther into the covers. He moans as my ass touches his hard length. Last night when we came to bed, we didn’t bother getting re-dressed. Carefully, I turn over in his arms, my eyes inspecting the body in front of me. With my palms on his chest, I travel along the strong muscle there, covered by the colorful tattoos. And when I reach his hip bones, I make the decision to keep going. With one hand, I move it back up, thrusting my fingers through his hair. He seemed to love that. With the other hand, I grasp his morning wood, rubbing my palm along the tip, before fisting it, and working my way down, then back up again.

  “Fuck, Bri.” His voice is gravel, so deep that it sends goosebumps up and down my arms, as he situates himself on his back, pushing the covers off. One of his hands goes to where mine is in his hair, and tangles our fingers together. The other slides down my body, palming my ass, pulling me so close that I have to straddle his thigh. He continues pressing, so that I’m laying half on top of him as I jack him off, and his fingers are sinking into me from behind.

  “It wouldn’t take much.” He’s panting as he moves his lower body against mine. “Not much at all for me to slip it inside you, and I have a feeling you wouldn’t say no.” He tilts his head back against the pillow as he thrusts rougher into my hand.

  He’s right. The tip of his dick is pressing against my core each time he moves his hips. Just a little move to the left by him, a little pressure downward by me, and the two of us would know exactly how it felt back in Vegas.

  “But fuck, I’m gonna respect you, because you asked me to.” He’s panting now as the head of his cock hits my skin on every thrust. It’s an oh, oh, oh, that comes breathless out of his throat as he presses against me. He’s hot against my flesh, a little trail of moisture in the aftermath tells me how much he’s enjoying this, and the way he’s got me spread I’m grinding against his thigh, giving me just enough friction that I can feel my core beginning to tighten.

  Needing to touch his skin, I lean up, kissing his neck, lightly nipping on the skin before using my tongue to sooth it.

  “Yes,” he moans as I make a feast out of the neck I’m growing to like so much. It’s one of the most masculine things about him, it strains when he sings - I haven’t seen it in person yet, but I’ve watched plenty of videos on YouTube, and loosens when I curl my hand around it. “Move up, babe. My earlobes.” He’s resituating us, and as he does, his fingers push even deeper inside me. The moan that rips through my chest is loud. “My earlobes are super sensitive,” he continues.

  Listening to him tell me how to work his body is one of the sexiest things I’ve ever heard. And when I take his direction? Scooting up, taking one of his earlobes into my mouth, sucking it between my lips and scoring it with my teeth? His cock jumps and a guttural groan sends awareness down my body. So much so that my nipples tighten, rubbing stiffly against his chest.

  “Right fuckin’ there.” He speeds up his hand between my thighs, which in turn causes me to speed up my hand on him.

  When we come, it’s together in a chorus of thrusts, grunts, and me actually digging my teeth into his neck. He laughs softly as his heart pounds in his chest.

  “Imagine what’s gonna happen when I actually get it inside you.

  My answer is a moan as I roll off his body and collapse on my back. This man will be the death of me.

  EJ

  A few hours later, we’re walking down the hallway of the house Grey Skies is using to write our record. “This is our producer’s house, he’s got a studio in the basement, so we’ve been hanging out here more than anywhere else.”

  “I’m kinda nervous to meet everyone.” She holds my hand tightly as I push open the door that leads us downstairs. I can hear a bit of the uncertainty in her voice.

  “Don’t be nervous, things will be fine.” I knock on the door before opening it. “Not everyone is here tonight.”

  “What’s up everybody?” I ask as we walk in.

  “’Bout time you got here, fucker.”

  I manage to catch a stress ball that’s thrown at my head with my free hand. “This pleasant guy is my brother Rhett James, better known as RJ,” I introduce him, flipping him off.

  “Nice to meet you.” She waves shyly at my little brother.

  “Can’t believe you married this guy, too bad I wasn’t there to give him some competition.” He comes over to her, holding his hand out.

  I slap it away. “Don’t make me call Mom on you, asshole. Stop flirting with my wife.”

  “Jealous much?”

  “Stop arguing you two.” Our producer turns around from his soundboard. “I’m Chase, nice to meet you. Pay no attention to these two, they’re always getting into pissing matches.”

  She waves at him. “Nice to meet you, too.”

  “I’m a big fan actually.” He sits back in his chair. “When you two are comfortable enough with each other, give me first dibs on the duet.”

  “I bet Mom is positively vibrating that you’re following in her footsteps.” RJ has a seat, giving me a look.

  “Don’t start this, I told you what you need to do to get Montgomery back.”

  “Oh fuck,” Chase groans from where he sits. “Let’s not go through this.”

  “Low blow, asshole,” RJ grumbles.

  “Then stop being a jerk.”

  “Fine,” he sighs. “C’mon over here, Bri. Let’s get to know each other.”

  She glances at me, almost as if asking for permission. I sigh. “Go, but ignore half the shit he says.”

  “So.” RJ gets situated, putting his arm around her. “Have you learned yet what a shitty cook he is? Like can’t boil water. If you want a good meal, head over to my house, I can grill with the best.”

  “Come to think of it.” She shoots her gaze to me. “He hasn’t even mentioned cooking.”

  “Probably hasn’t left you alone lon
g enough to search the kitchen either, huh? There’s a reason. His dirty little secret is he has like maybe three things in his cabinets, only beer in his fridge, and popsicles in his freezer.”

  “Shut the fuck up!” I throw the stress ball back at him. “Nobody asked you.”

  Bri looks at me, her eyes twinkling. “He’s right, isn’t he?”

  “So right,” I admit. “It is my dirty little secret.”

  She gets up, coming over to wrap her arms around my neck, pulling me close to her. I don’t even think about what we look like to the other people in the room, all I know is that I love she’s comfortable enough with me to do this in front of others.

  “It’s okay, Everett. We all have them.”

  The way she speaks those words makes me want to find out every single one she has.

  Chapter Eleven

  EJ

  We’re lying on the couch, watching a TV show we picked out on Netflix. It’s one I’ve never seen before, but she’s seen parts of it. Some crime drama focusing on a SWAT team. It reminds me of what my cousins do in Alabama on the Moonshine Task Force. She says it’s good TV, I think it’s because she thinks the main character is hot, which she blurted out when he came on the screen.

  But that’s okay, I’m secure in my place with her. She’s wrapped up in me, her arm around my waist, her head on my chest, legs tangled with mine. Glancing at the clock, I see it’s close to midnight.

  “Do you want to try and get some sleep before we have to leave for the airport?” I ask, my voice quiet because I don’t want to ruin the mood we’ve created with one another the last few days.

  She burrows deeper into my embrace. “I don’t want to go.”

  Dropping a kiss on her forehead, I let the truth out too. “I don’t want you to go either. Thank God you’ve only got ten days left.”

  “I know, ten days, and then I get to come here, get situated, and go on tour with you. I’m kind of excited.” She grins, one that I’m going to have to put in my pocket and hold onto for the next ten days.

  “At least we’ll have a full week here to get you situated, and then head off for Europe. Brandon, one of our A&R guys called me last week, saying he’s secured two busses for Europe. One for the guys and one for us.”

  “Is that going to be okay? I mean aren’t you all writing?” Her dark eyes cloud with something like fear. “I don’t want them to hate me.”

  “Trust me, they won’t hate you. We are writing, but we don’t write all the time. We try to plan it, that way we have time to visit the sites too. Because we’re in Europe from June to the end of July, we have extra days. We’ve planned this summer to be somewhat light, and to allow us to visit place we’ve never been while we’re over there. We have already agreed on planning our writing time so that we didn’t procrastinate and do it all hours of the day and night. This won’t be as bad as you’re imagining,” I wonder if I should let her in on a little of the Thompson family drama. “Not to mention you won’t be the first chick we’ve brought on tour with us.”

  Her eyebrows raise. “Oh really?”

  “Not me!” I’m quick to defend myself. “Last tour RJ was dating someone. Our Mom and Dad’s best friend’s daughter, Montgomery. It ended really shitty. You wanna talk about some awkwardness. As far as I know those two haven’t spoken to one another since and we’ve been home for almost three months. They’d been together for two years.”

  “Wow, what happened with them?” I can’t help but ask the question. I’m nosey, and I can’t help it.

  “Nobody knows,” I sigh. “Neither one of them will talk about it, and they haven’t jointly attended a get-together since. Not even Mom can break him, and as far as I know Jared and Shell haven’t broken Montgomery either. These two are very tight-lipped about it, so I know it was bad. Fuck, RJ was in a bad place for a couple of weeks. For a full week after we got home, I couldn’t even find him. Then he threw himself into finding whatever girl he could get for the night. But now? Now he’s calmed down, and now I just think he’s fuckin’ depressed.”

  “That’s awful they won’t talk about it.” She runs her hand along the waistband of the sweatpants I’m wearing. But instead of it turning me on like it has so often the past few days, this is comforting. This is the hallmark of a relationship, and this is the shit I’m going to miss. I’m that guy, the one that loves monogamy and has been looking for it my whole adult life. I want what my parents have, and it’s being dangled right in front of me, but fuck if I can reach out and grab it right now.

  “He’s always been a little like that. For me, if I have something happen in my life where I need to talk about it. my dad is always there, or my mom, but I’m definitely my dad made over. We have the same temper, we look like mirror-images of each other, and we have the same need to have people in our lives. My mom, on the other hand, I love her dearly, but she’s anxious about everything, always looks for the flaw, ya know? She’s a fantastic mother, an amazing performer, and one of the best people I know, but she’s got her anxieties, and her dark corners. RJ got that from her. He’s an anxious motherfucker, and sometimes it’s really hard to calm him down. While I’m like my dad, totally confident in shit, he’s a lot like her.”

  “Probably goes back to being a woman in the industry,” she sighs, throwing her thigh over mine. “They’re always telling us to lose a few pounds, to get just a little bit longer extensions, to dress just a little more provocatively. If you don’t have a strong support system, you can crumble under the pressure.”

  I think about all the stories I’ve heard about my mom. “She did. She had an eating disorder that was pretty bad for a while, obviously before she met Dad and had us. Every once in a while someone will talk about it.” I close my arm tighter around Bri, hating that my mom went through any of this. “And when they do, she puts on what I like to call her fake smile, and tells people about how my dad helped her get over it. He always comes to her side, puts his arm around her, and gives her the strength she needs. I hate though, that almost thirty years removed, it still affects her.”

  Bri reaches up, tilting my chin down so that her lips can take mine in a chaste kiss. “It’s an addiction. It’s something you can control, and when you’re as popular as your mom, or a pop star whose almost like a puppet, you want shit you can control.”

  “Do you?” I level her with a stare. We’re heading into pretty serious territory here, but I need to know. Is this something I need to watch out for? Do I need to make sure she’s taken care of in this way?

  “No,” she laughs, shaking her head. “Before I became an entertainer, I was a dancer. That’s actually my first love – dancing. It wasn’t ballet or anything like that, it was hip hop. There you’re encouraged to be strong, to have a body, to work your curves. I’ve never had an eating disorder, anxiety, or anything like that. I love being on stage, I love entertaining, and I love eating too.” She snorts. “But I do keep a pretty packed workout schedule when I’m on tour. I have to, otherwise dancing and singing kills me. And I’m not a drug user. I tried some stuff once or twice, but I hated the way it made me feel.” She plays with the edge of my shirt. “Then one of my back-up dancers got roofied in a club, and even drinking lost some of its appeal. I don’t drink unless I pour it, and I don’t touch anything that anybody hands me.”

  “Good girl.” I curl my arms around her, suddenly terrified of when she’s not with me. Who the fuck keeps her safe?

  “I do,” she laughs and I realize I asked the question out loud. “I’ve been keeping myself safe for a long time.”

  “I kinda feel like that’s my job now.” I scoot down farther so that we’re eye level with each other.

  “You can gladly take it over when we’re together.” She noses my neck, kissing me softly. “I love the cologne you wear.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” I mumble as I take the hand that’s resting at my sweatpants and entwine our fingers together. “Can I tell you something I’ve never told anyone else?”


  Her lips stop kissing me, and she pulls back so that I can see her face. “You can tell me anything, Everett.”

  “First of all, I love the way you call me Everett. No one else does.” I have to kiss her then, have to feel her lips against mine. For a few moments I allow us to have this soft intensity before I pull away. “Second of all. I know Montgomery, I’ve known her my whole life. She’s an easy going girl, but she’s got some hard limits. Jared, her Dad, has dealt with some drug issues off and on his whole life. Twice, since she’s been born, he’s relapsed. One time he and Shell almost got divorced. That is the absolute one thing Montgomery won’t stand for. And I know my brother, he’s a lot like my mom. Addictions run in families – even if one addiction is an eating disorder – he did some questionable things a few month ago, but none of us really thought anything about it. Now I’m wondering if it was worse than we thought, and that’s why Montgomery left, and isn’t talking to him.” I sigh, letting my fears out. “And we’re about to take him back on tour, where it’s super easy to get anything you want.”

  “Have you talked to him about it?”

  “No, I don’t want to accuse him without proof.”

  “Then why don’t you talk to her?”

  This is so hard for me to explain. “Then I feel like I’m going behind his back. And he’s my brother, if he’s in trouble, I want him to come to me and tell me.”

  “But what if he thinks the same thing, but in a different way. What if he’s thinking why can’t people see I need help and nobody is asking? So many don’t want to admit they need it, and the other half don’t wanna get involved.”

  Those words hit me like a ton of bricks, and I have to swallow the fear I have for RJ, along with the disappointment I have in myself. “You’re right. I’ll talk to him in the next few days.”

  “Please let me know how it goes.” She kisses my shoulder through my shirt, but I can feel the heat of her lips imprinting on my skin through the fabric.