by Kacey Shea
“He’s asleep. For a few hours.” I step into the kitchen and release a deep sigh.
Leighton hands me a glass of wine and drops a kiss on my lips. “Good.”
I look past him to the candles on the table and the spread he laid out while I was putting our little monster to sleep. “What’s this?”
“I thought we should celebrate.”
“Having sex again?” I waggle my eyebrows then laugh when he scowls.
“No. Your first day back to work. And it has not been six weeks yet. One more day to go. I know, because I’ve been counting.”
I reach up on the tip of my toes and capture his lips in a kiss that goes from chaste to erotic in less than one minute. “Live dangerously,” I whisper into his mouth and then step back to take a long sip of wine.
His gaze is hungry as it travels unhurriedly down my body. With that one look, I come alive.
“Can we skip straight to dessert?” I say, setting the glass on the counter.
“I bought dessert,” he says absently and tugs me into his arms.
I laugh into his chest. “I mean sex. Can we skip to sex?”
“We can most definitely skip to that.” He backs us up, all the way to our bedroom without breaking our kiss. His fingers make quick work of our clothes, and as soon as I climb on the bed he’s right there with me. “I need to taste you,” he whispers into my ear.
“Yes.” I groan and melt into the soft, cool sheets. The man knows how to get me off. We’ve had a ton of practice. He usually takes his time, but tonight is different. We’re on a race against the baby monitor, and it’s been months. With his focused attention it doesn’t take long before my pulse is racing and my muscles are taut, but I don’t want to come without him.
“I need you, baby.” I tug him back to my mouth.
Leighton kisses me and I can taste myself on his lips. He runs his hands over my skin with a greediness that kicks my need for him into high gear. He only stops a moment to pull out the nightstand drawer, grab a condom, and suit up.
I reach for his length, stroking his hardness before placing him at my entrance.
“I’ll go slow,” he promises, and he does. Slow. Gentle. Sweet. Each thrust of his hips slides him further inside. The fullness is painful at first, but he strokes my clit and the sensation morphs into yearning.
“Faster,” I whisper into his ear.
He groans. “God, yes.”
“Fuck me. I want you to fuck me.” It’s all the invitation he needs. My fingers rake down his back, encouraging him to go deeper. Harder. Lust crackles between our bodies, a current powerful and all-consuming. I don’t even care about being quiet, and words fly from my lips as he gets me there. A burst of pleasure floods from my core and I tighten around his length as my body writhes with the intensity of my orgasm.
“Fuck, baby. I’m gonna come,” he says between hurried breaths, and then he groans into the crook of my neck as he pumps his hips once more. His body is strong and heavy above me, but he rolls us to the side, his cock still inside. His breath is ragged, his pulse racing. “God we’re good together.”
His admission brings a smile to my lips. I kiss him. “So good.”
“Like we were always meant to be.” He holds me close and I relish in the security of his arms. “Sometimes I wonder what I did to deserve this happiness.”
I lean back to meet his stare. There’s a heaviness that comes over his features each time he brings up our past. I’ve forgiven him. The band has, too. But it’s part of our story and journey to where we are now. “We belong together. We always have. Everything we’ve done, good and bad, has led us here.”
“You don’t ever wish we met differently?”
I shake my head. “No. Then we wouldn’t have Axl.”
“Yeah.” His smile grows at the mention of our son, and that alone melts my heart all over again. He is such a good dad.
“I like that we met young.” I kiss his lips. “This way we have our entire lives together.”
“Be right back.” He scoots off the bed and goes into the bathroom to take care of the condom. I stare as he walks back into the room, his lean body as desirable as ever. He slides on a pair of lounge pants, the elastic band hanging low on his hips, and levels me with a smile. “Stay there. Naked. I have something to give you.”
“Okay,” I murmur, still staring at his ass.
He glances over his shoulder and meets my gaze. “Are you thinking about a round two?”
I nod and bite my lip.
He chuckles, a low throaty sound that scatters desire throughout my body. “Good.” He struts down the hall, but before I wonder where he’s gone, the man returns with a wicked grin and a pink pastry box in hand.
My stomach rumbles loudly. I guess refueling first isn’t a bad idea. “What did you get?” I tilt my head with a grin but he shakes his head.
“It’s a surprise.” He climbs onto the bed, two spoons in one hand, and the box in the other. He sits at my right and hands me a spoon. “Shall we?”
“Yes, please.”
His eyes gleam with mischief and now I’m extra curious about what’s under that flap. He flips open the top and the scent of chocolate hits my nostrils, but it’s the lettering atop the cake that takes a moment to process.
Marry me?
“We’ve only known each other a year, and it’s been filled with our fair share of ups and downs. But I can’t imagine my life without you in it. I love you, baby. I love you so damn much. It’s totally selfish of me, but I can’t wait to call you my wife. Will you marry me?”
Tears leak from the corners of my eyes and I can’t speak, because if I do, the entire floodgates will open. Thanks so much post-pregnancy hormones. I nod my head like a maniac, climb into his lap, and kiss his lips.
“That’s a yes?”
“Yes.” I kiss him again. “Yes, yes, yes.”
His smile lights up our bedroom. “You make me so happy.”
“You do the same.”
He leans back, one arm around my waist, and with the other reaches inside the end table. He digs around for what I assume is a condom, because yeah, he’s already hard, but instead he pulls out a jewelry box. A ring box. My breath catches in my lungs all over again. He really planned this.
“If you don’t like it we can exchange it for something else.” He pops open the top and holds it out for my inspection.
Big. My first reaction. Beautiful. My next.
He slides the gold band onto my finger. The center stone catches the light and I hold it out for us both to see. A perfect fit. “I love it. I love you. I love us.”
“I love our family, too.” At the word family my heart bursts.
“Remember the first time we slept together? The afternoon on the bus,” I say.
“I’ll never forget it.”
I blow out a shaky breath, nerves perking up at the memory. “You asked me what I dreamed of, when I was a child, and I gave you some lame answer.”
“Not lame.” His brow furrows and he pulls me close. “Nothing about you is.”
I bite my lip and worry it between my teeth. I don’t know why I’m so nervous, other than I’ve kept this from him. “I lied then. I couldn’t tell you. I didn’t want to scare you away.”
He cradles my cheeks with his palms. “There’s nothing you can say now that would make me run.”
“It was a family.” It feels so good to say. And even better when he smiles. “That’s what I dreamed about. A family. Being a wife and a mother, and so much love. That’s all I ever wanted.”
“I’m going to give you all of that and more.” He captures my lips and our bodies come together again, this time less rushed. As if we have forever to make love. And really, with the promises we’ve made in this bed, we do.
I came into the world believing I’d always be a hindrance to those around me. From my grandparents, to finding my sister, that it was my fate. I never wanted to be a burden, but I just was.
Here in the
safety of Leighton’s arms, I realize that girl is gone. He’s given me the confidence and freedom to be bold. To be me. I no longer spend my days worrying or living in the shadows. The family I claim now—my sister, the band, and the one I’ve made with him—have fostered the person I was always meant to be. I’m worthy of love, I always was, and I will spend every day living this truth.
Are you ready for Austin’s story? REPLAY is the next and final story in this box set. Enjoy!
108
Austin
It’s just another Tuesday afternoon. Nothing out of the ordinary. I’m rocking out with my boys, creating something awesome while we practice for the big stage. Most of the time I don’t overthink it, but there are these fractions of seconds, when the music comes together just right and my breath catches at the sound, that it hits me . . . I’m living the dream. My dream. Playing rock ’n’ roll, the best motherfucking music in the world, and all for a pretty paycheck. I’m one lucky son of a bitch, and I don’t take any of this for granted.
Sweat beads at my temple, but I bounce on the balls of my feet, banging my head along with the rhythm as my fingers shred across the steel strings of my favorite guitar. The sound she makes is better than a woman reaching for her orgasm. Which is saying a lot because I fucking love that sound too.
My fingers chase the crest of the melody, keeping within the confines of the steady bass beat. One more wail across the threads, and then the crash of cymbals and roll of toms from our drummer perfects one of our most loved songs.
“Sick addition to the intro,” I say as soon as the room quiets. I tip my chin at Leighton’s practice set. “You bang those harder than a full-time hooker.”
“Thanks?” The newest addition to Three Ugly Guys squints up and meets my gaze.
“Dude, too far.” Sean chuckles and shakes his head as he plucks out a series of notes on his bass. We’ve been at this for a few hours, preparing before we head back out on the road in a few days.
“What?” I shrug. “It’s impressive. That’s all I’m saying.”
“Let’s go over “Broken Mirror” again.” Trent switches to his acoustic before stepping up to the microphone. He’s all business, probably so he can split early and spend time with his girlfriend. “I don’t like the way we transitioned to “Whiskey Saturday.” Too rough.”
“Aww, but I like it rough.” I pump my hips in a comic display of bravado as my bandmates gag and groan as if they’re disgusted by my comment. They won’t admit it, but they love it when I do shit like that. I see their smiles and barely contained laughter.
Rachel Kinsley, the new head of legal for Off Track Records and total fucking babe, pops her head into the practice studio. “Austin, I need to steal you a minute.”
I glance at the guys, their expressions as clueless as mine, and just like that I’m back in middle school being called to the office. It was a regular occurrence, so the memory comes with no guilt or shame, only curiosity. I lift my chin and set down my guitar. “A minute? Give me some credit . . . you’ll want at least an hour.”
“He’s joking,” Trent apologizes, but she’s already out the door. He catches my arm and bugs his eyes. “Dude, are you looking for a sexual harassment lawsuit?”
I mouth Sorry and make a goofy face because that’s what I do. I’m that guy. The one who says what everyone else is thinking but is too chicken to speak aloud. Then I take it a little too far but get away with it anyway because of my stunning smile. Or at least, that’s what I assume. If I weren’t so charming, I’d have gotten the shit kicked out of me a thousand times over.
Or gotten fired from the band.
In all honesty, it’s surprising I’ve lasted this long. That’s what she said. A grin settles on my lips. Even my thoughts can’t control themselves.
With long strides, I catch up to the sexy Miss Kinsley before she reaches her office at the end of the hall. Her pencil skirt and crisp white dress shirt do nothing to hide her banging bod. The way her hair is pulled back into a tight bun practically screams Don’t fuck with me. If I were a betting man, I’d venture to guess that’s not the only thing wound tight about Rachel Kinsley. As hard as I try to resist, I want to fuck her even more.
She waits for me to pass through her office door and then shuts it closed behind us. Her eyebrows rise expectantly as she walks around her desk.
Shoving my hands into the front pockets of my jeans, I’m sure to flex my arms because, well, all ladies love arm porn.
But she doesn’t even take notice. Nothing. It’s as if I’m not even here. Fuck. Am I losing my game? Nah, that can’t be it. I shake off the disappointment and apologize because I don’t need any problems, for me or the band. “I’m sorry about what I said back there. It was completely inappropriate of me.”
“Yes, it was. Please take a seat.” She gestures to the empty chair across her desk and then turns to pull open one of the long filing cabinet drawers that line the wall. I concentrate on not staring at her ass while she picks through the documents. It’s a good thing, because she doesn’t take longer than a minute to retrieve her file.
She drops it on the desk between us and sits back into her chair.
“What’s that?” I nod at the file folder.
“Care to take a guess?” She raises one eyebrow.
I shake my head because unless she had the foresight to file a harassment claim for my earlier comment or internal thoughts, I have no clue.
“Open it.” She leans back, crossing her arms across that ample chest, and waits.
Curiosity may have killed the cat, but this rock star is dying to know what earned me a one-on-one meeting with the sexiest lawyer to moonlight at Off Track Records. She’s probably the only perk that came with the recent re-org after being bought out by World Music Industries. I reach forward and open the flap to flip through the contents. It’s all legal jargon, most of which I don’t understand. But the name listed on top, that’s mine. What the—?
“Coy Wright is suing you,” she says.
“Our former drummer?”
“Well, one of them.”
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me! How?” My gaze scans the pages, but it’s as foreign to me as French.
“You”—she takes the document from my hands and flips through the pages until she finds a part to read from—“beat him to unconsciousness in his own home. Caused physical and psychological damage rendering him unable to work as a musician.” She drops the document onto her desk and meets my stare. “The short of it is, you made him unemployable and now he’s suing for damages.”
I shake my head because that is not at all how it went down. Anger surfaces with the memory. “He was living in our house, as a guest. He would’ve beat the shit out of Jess and anyone who tried to stop him had I not stepped in. How’s he going to prove any of this shit?”
“You hit him. Repeatedly. It’s in the police report.” She pulls a paper from the folder and lays it on the desk.
I can’t believe Coy. The bastard has brass balls to believe he can get away with this. “He’s just pissed ’cause no one will hire him. He’s an asshole who gets off on beating women. No one cares whether he’s a good drummer.”
“Was.” She lifts her eyebrows and shrugs. “He can’t play anymore.”
Annoyance bubbles in my gut. I glare and shove the papers back to her side of the desk. “This is fucking bullshit and you know it.”
“Don’t get your panties in a twist, Mr. Jones.” She meets my stare across the table, and there’s a flicker in her gaze that stirs my dick to attention. Her complete control over her emotions and take-charge attitude are attractive as hell. She licks her lips as if they’re dry, or maybe it’s because I can’t stop staring at them. “I’m only the messenger.”
“Oh, I’d say you’re more than that.”
“Now, now, Austin. Are you hitting on me again?” She leans forward on her desk. The dip of her blouse and mound of exposed cleavage are incredibly distracting. “As the head of our
legal department, I have to advise you that’s most unwise.”
“And as a woman?” The words tumble from my brain and escape my mouth. “As the beautiful, fucking gorgeous, and clever woman you are, how would you advise me?”
“Oh, Austin . . . they warned me about you.” She flashes a smile and lets loose a throaty chuckle. One that goes straight to my cock. “You’ve got quite the mouth on you.”
“You have no idea, but I’d be happy to demonstrate. Dinner?”
She laughs again but rolls her eyes. “I can’t go to dinner with you.”
“Then dessert? Text me. I’ll deliver.”
She doesn’t answer, not immediately, and the silence charges with excitement as I hold her gaze. It’s a bad idea. Sleeping with anyone at work is, but I’ve never been one for wise choices.
She swallows hard and shakes her head. “I’m sure you would.” She narrows her gaze and points at the door. “Go back to practice before you cause any more trouble. I’ll keep you abreast of the litigation. We’re fighting it, yes?”
“Oh, hell, yes,” I practically shout.
She glances at me from beneath her lashes and just as I expect her to get all flirty, her gaze turns completely professional. “In the meantime, try not to do anything stupid. Or at least, keep it behind closed doors.” She leans back into her chair, queen of her domain. So fucking sexy.
“Debauchery behind the door. Got it.” I wink.
“Austin.” She drags out my name with that serious lawyer face. The one that says we’re over and done with messing around.
“Yeah, yeah.” I wave her off and push up from my chair to leave. “I won’t be a problem. And Rachel?” I level her with a stare of my own.
“Yes.” She tilts her head to the side.
“Thank you. This guy really is a bastard.” I think back to all the shit that went down with Coy. It was only a few months ago, but I thought we’d moved on from him. Guess not. “I don’t want him to see one dime. Men who prey on women the way he does . . . they deserve to rot.”