Make You Mine (Nixon Brooks Book 1)

by Tess Keeler

  Successfully, I reached forward with my left hand to gauge the distance from us to the wall so I knew how much further I had until she was secured.

  As her back pushed into the brick, I felt her sigh before continuing our kiss. She was clinging to me, and the way it felt to have her grasping onto me was enough to light a blazing fire inside of me. I heard my sunglasses hit the floor, but I made no move to find them. That was the last thing on my mind.

  Our kissing intensified, my tongue meeting hers while her fingers tore at the buttons of my shirt. My shirt was being pushed off my arms and I held her in place with my hips as I shook the material off of my body and onto the floor. Her hands smoothed over my chest and ribs, a shaky sigh tumbling from her lips before they met mine again.

  My hands moved under her thighs again, pushing off the wall and heading towards the light blue curtain separating us from the bedroom.

  She helped push the curtain, our slight clumsiness making us share a sweet laugh before I made it to the bed. As carefully as possible, I laid her on the bed with a slight bounce and a smile covered her full lips as I gazed down at her.

  “I love you,” I breathed, hovering over her as I rested a knee between her legs. My hand moved up her hip, pushing my hand underneath the material of her dark blue tank top and tracing my fingers over the cup of her bra. Her teeth took back her bottom lip, and I could feel my eyelids hanging heavily over my eyes. She was so beautiful, all the time. It exhausted me how I couldn’t get enough of her, but I enjoyed every second of it.

  Reaching down, she took the liberty of pulling the material off of her torso and tossing it aside. My eyes took in the sight of her breasts in a black and pink floral bra, my hand moving over her chest to caress between them. I loved everything about her, and I had memorized every inch of her body, knowing all the ways to touch her to get her body ready for me.

  Lowering my face, I kissed over the soft skin of her chest and the curves not hidden by the smooth material of her wireless bra. My hands drifted from her knees to the warmth of her thighs, the strings of her denim tickling my fingers. With my lips still decorating her collarbone, I let my hands meet at the button of her shorts and loosened them with a quick flick of my fingers. Pulling them open, I was able to slip them off of her easily. The black cotton panties that greeted me made me suck in a staggered breath, and I took a second to look down and admire the simple set of lingerie she was wearing underneath her clothing. It accented her curves in the best way, and the building pressure between my hipbones only confirmed how turned on by her I was.

  Using my nose, I nuzzled into her skin gently as my right hand moved to unclasp the band of her bra. My left hand was pulling the right strap down and my lips kissed her shoulder as it fell.

  The band gave, loosening and falling open to allow me to remove it. I did, exposing her top half with a few movements.

  Then I was kissing her everywhere, my instincts kicking into overdrive as I painted her body with my lips. She made the most beautiful noises as I explored her skin, treating every inch with precision and care. I wanted to show her just how much I had missed her— how much I loved her— no matter if it was the first or second time we made love, or the hundredth. She was always worth every second it took to make her feel how in love with her I was.

  1

  Make You Mine

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Harper

  The clock on my phone read 7:45AM. Letting Nixon sleep in, I had time to check in on Mace and our plans to throw Nixon a birthday party worthy of him. Of course it involved me showing up the night before, but we were also trying to persuade Nix’s parents to let Bella ride with me. We had worked out Blake getting a reservation at an upscale Italian restaurant. The goal was to have Bella walk in first once he was ready to go. She was the huge surprise. Then me.

  Any luck? I sent him, watching Nixon out of the corner of my eye through the colorful sheer curtains as he stirred a little.

  I had already started brewing coffee for us. I didn’t want to throw off his entire schedule. He probably wanted to work out. While the last few cups dripped into the glass carafe, I heated up the stove top and a skillet. It only took a few minutes for everything to be ready. I cracked six eggs into the pan: four for him and two for me. I let them solidify in the pan while I poured our black coffee into generous sized cups. I used to hate coffee, but Nixon had turned me on to appreciating the earthy, sometimes spicy flavors of it. After a little seasoning and a nice flip, I turned the stovetop off and let it cook in the residual heat. Fluffy eggs were all I could make.

  I pulled the paper plates I had purchased from the cabinet and the organic salsa from the fridge. I separated the eggs the best I could and plated everything. As I put the forks on each one, I felt a pair of arms wrap around my waist. “Something smells good,” Nixon’s gravely tone breathed against my ear as he leaned into me. His voice was already uniquely sexy to me, but when he was sleepy… even better.

  I turned around in his arms and kissed the dimple in his chin. It was my favorite. My gaze wandered all over his soft expression, his smile already lighting up the room. My heart fluttered at how wonderful our moments were, fleeting or not. Waking up to him would always be my greatest treasure, the pleasure of a night of lovemaking glowing from our skin this very morning.

  “Good morning,” I whispered before placing a sweet kiss to his lips. “Are you hungry, babe?”

  “Mm..” he moaned softly, his eyes taking a second to open. It was like he was savoring our kiss. “I’m starved.”

  I offered him a growing smile before I suggested, “Carry the plates and I’ll follow you with coffee?”

  The tone of his voice came out chipper, his entire spirit light, “No problem.”

  We discussed our plans over breakfast. I was going to shower and get ready while he found the closest gym with a guest pass available for him. We decided to meet back up at the Airbnb. I planned on working while he showered and got ready, and then we would explore together. We had a good dynamic.

  Our first stop was the Country Music Hall of Fame. It would be a fun place for us to appreciate music and explore the city. I hoped we could get away with less than twenty selfies at each place. With our fingers intertwined and sunglasses covering our eyes, he pointed out Elvis’ 24-karat gold leaf piano. Apparently, he was a huge Elvis fan, so I documented as much as I could for both my blog and for him. From the museum, we checked out The Music City Walk of Fame. It was directly across the street, so we walked together and tried to lay low. I took pictures of Nixon among his favorite stars’, both of us taking turns being the tourists we were. In all, it was the most fun I had ever had in Nashville.

  It had been a long day of exploring, and we were both getting quieter as the night crept up on us. I didn’t want to lose our time together—it was already too soon. I jumped out of our car long enough to grab takeout on the way back to our Airbnb. We sat on the small couch hosting us for the night and turned the TV on to a random movie neither of us had heard of. I took a few bites of my food while watching him, my heart doing that stupid thing it did.

  “If you weren’t a musician, what would you do?” I asked.

  I believed I knew Nixon for who he was, but there were still so many things I didn’t know about him. Things I wanted to know about him.

  He looked at me as he chewed, not answering until he swallowed the food in his mouth. “I can’t imagine not being a musician,” he answered honestly. “Asher always tells me to go after modeling, but eh. I’d probably still be doing music, at least locally.”

  “You are very photogenic,” I said, one side of my lips lifting into a sly smile. “What did your parents want you to do?”

  “My older brother is a lawyer. I think they wanted me to do something ‘practical’, whatever that means.” There was a scoff, leading me to believe he had thought about it a lot. “Fuck that. I wanted to follow my dreams, even if it meant I had nothing.”

  “Yes, exactly.” I shoved
food into my mouth as I thought about what else I wanted to talk to him about. I tried not to talk with my mouth full. That wasn’t cute. “Was Asher ever jealous of your fame?”

  He pursed his lips in thought. “I think he was jealous that I got attention when I didn’t even want it.” Asher did seem like the type to always want attention—not that it was necessarily a bad thing. “And I think it’s hard for him to not be my only friend anymore.”

  “How does he feel about Mason, since you guys are so close?”

  “He’s not the biggest fan of Mason, truthfully. I mentioned Mason at lunch while I was home, and he wasn’t subtle with his distaste.” I frowned at him. I knew that must be hard for him. They were both his best friends. “But he doesn’t even know him. I think that’s my biggest frustration with it.”

  I nodded in agreement with Nixon’s words, my chest aching for him. A childhood friend’s bond was different, but to Asher, it probably felt like he was being replaced. If he believed that, he didn’t know Nixon at all. I leaned against him, nuzzling his shoulder with my face. I peeked up at him, giving him a soft smile. My heart throbbed when his gaze met mine, mirroring my smile.

  With my food sitting on the skirt of my sundress, I batted my eyelashes at him, feeling my heart rise into my throat. The nerves always came in waves, when I wasn’t sure how I was lucky enough to land a man as wonderful as Nixon. “Thanks for coming,” I whispered, swallowing down the lump. I hated admitting how much I missed him when we were apart. Oh, but I did miss him. The second he left my side, I was wishing we were together again. Pathetic.

  “I’m sorry I can’t stay longer,” he said, the sound unsettling. Our time was almost up.

  “Don’t be. These have been the best two days of my trip.”

  “Tour is over the third week of November. We only have a little less than two months before I have a lot more free time on my hands.” Two more months. That wasn’t too long.

  “Are you going to spend the holidays with your family?” I asked. Was Tulsa his home base when he wasn’t on the road?

  “Typically that’s what I do,” he said, his eyebrows lowering some. “How do you spend your holidays usually?” He snuck in a bite of food as I thought about my last few Christmases.

  “I went home last year,” I said, remembering the peace I found with just my parents. Blake hadn’t come home in a while—I don’t know where he was spending his holidays now. Maybe Nixon didn’t always take the time off. Could I invite him to come home with me? To meet my parents?

  “I’ve been talking to my family about you,” I started, building up the courage to ask him. Why was I so anxious about it?

  “Oh yeah?” He tensed a little, wetting his lips. If we were both nervous, then my feelings were justified. “How’s that going?”

  “So far, pretty good,” I admitted. “They’re really cool.” I ran a hand over his thigh, squeezing his jeans as I fought every instinct I had previous to him. To not let him into that side of my life. “Would you want to meet them?”

  “Yeah. I’d love to meet them,” he answered immediately. I moved my food to the table with my free hand and turned, squaring my body to face his.

  “Maybe on Thanksgiving or Christmas?” I asked before chewing on my lip.

  “Just tell me when, and I’ll be there.”

  We finally finished our mostly cold food before he broke out his guitar, strumming anything and everything once the TV was off. I climbed behind him on the couch, sitting on the backside against the wall. He didn’t stop what he was doing, just let me do what I was going to do. I was enjoying the sound of him playing around and practicing in the silence of our space when I pushed my thumbs into his shoulder blades and rubbed circles over the knots I found there.

  The music stopped and he stiffened in my grasp. “It’s okay, baby. Just relax,” I purred, pushing a little harder on the biggest ones. He groaned, his body folding over the guitar in his lap. “Does it hurt?” I asked, stopping my movements altogether.

  “In a good way,” he said before taking in a deep breath.

  The corners of my lips curled upward and I resumed rubbing those same spots until the knots were softer. I moved on to squeeze his neck before massaging his scalp. Eventually, he started playing again, less distracted by the sensations. I interrupted him again to remove his shirt, finding other knots toward his lower back. He would sometimes pause mid-strum to groan some more. I was trying not to focus on the heat growing between my thighs, but man it was hot. He was hot. When I couldn’t take the combination of his music and his sounds anymore, I swung my leg over his head and climbed down. I put my palms on his knees and looked him directly in the eyes. The tension between us was so thick—would it ever get easier to resist him? I’m not sure I wanted it to lessen.

  His hands were still as I pulled the guitar from his lap and set it down gently as far from us as possible. I was still sore from the night before, but it didn’t stop me from tugging on the button of his jeans and pulling them down to his mid-thighs, along with his boxer briefs. He was already so hard, and I whimpered as he bounced free. I wet my lips and contemplated worshiping him on my knees. It would feel so good to please him.

  Or I could do both.

  I lowered down to my knees and placed my arms on his still clothed legs. There was something sexy about not getting all of our clothing off, it had my heart slamming around in my chest. He anticipated my next move, his hands curling around the couch cushions on either side of him, my head dipping to lick a straight line from the base of his erection to the tip. I heard a sputtering noise pass through his lips and looked up to watch his head fall back. The warm cavern of my mouth encased him and I slid my full lips over his entirety, swallowing him down when he hit the back of my throat. I gagged around him once before I was able to happily take more of him—all of him.

  His fingers threaded through my hair and he moaned aloud, the sound spreading goosebumps all over my body. My throat vibrated as I attempted to moan back, only rattling him in the process. I bobbed my head over him slowly, enjoy the way he was unwinding so quickly. He tugged on the dark strands attached to my head and pushed down as I enjoyed him thoroughly. Every sound he produced was music to my ears.

  He slipped from my mouth with an echoing pop. I listened to his hiss as I frantically stood, the desire obvious in the painful throbbing of my center. I straddled his waist, one hand steadying my body as the other pulled my panties to the side. I was so wet, so accepting. He slid right in, and I was fucking gone. The collision of our lips was desperate and sloppy as I bounced on top of him, his hips lifting to direct his length into the deepest spot inside of me. I cried out his name and ground harder against him, coaxing him to cum inside of me. To claim me from the inside. He was mine and I was his.

  1

  Make You Mine

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Nixon

  “Thank you, goodnight!” My voice was hoarse from the show like it always was right after. I carried my acoustic off stage, the rush from the energy still pulsing through my body. I felt like I carried it like oxygen in my veins, and my band seemed to feel the same way.

  We moved into the dressing room, all laughing and talking about moments on the stage that stuck out to us. It was our way of decompressing, and sometimes, it took an hour or more to come down from the high of the show. These guys were like a second family to me, and I was glad to have had the same band throughout the years.

  Harper was driving, and I knew that. I tried to respect that time and would only text with her when she was stationary. She was headed back to Kansas City and only had a little while left when I took the stage. It was odd that I hadn’t heard from her yet.

  Hey babe, I hope you’re having a good trip. I’m missing you.

  The guys had stopped teasing me about Harper so much because they knew it was serious between us— especially after I ventured out to Nashville to see her. Plus, I think they were equally as tired of Blake’s bitchiness concerning my relat
ionship with Harper, so staying mum would keep Blake quiet too. A ding came from my pocket, my sound only on at night after the show when I was waiting to hear from her. I smiled before I even knew for certain it was her.

  I’m missing you, too. I actually just got home with dinner. How was the show?

  Before I could respond, I decided to get to the bus. We were heading to Austin, Texas when it was time for bus call, so why not just get comfortable now? I could talk to my girl privately before I passed out. Sounded like a good deal to me.

  Blake and Mason walked me to the bus, waiting patiently as I took selfies and signed things for the fans waiting outside. It was almost 1AM, so I was almost surprised to see anyone waiting. Mason never stayed out the entire time, but Blake always did. I was grateful that he was patient in some ways.

  “Are you excited about turning twenty on Sunday?” A petite brunette asked me as I made my way through the line.

  “Very excited,” I answered.

  A few ‘happy birthdays’ were blurted out at me, and I responded with a thank you and a smile.

  “Are you doing anything to celebrate?” Another fan asked me, and I hated that I wasn’t entirely sure who was talking to me at the moment. I looked in the general direction, all eyes on me.

  I nodded, “I have a show that night, so I get to spend it on stage.”

  They all began asking if we were doing anything prior to it since I had a day off beforehand. As far as I was concerned, I’d spend as much of it FaceTiming with Harper as humanly possible. Did that make me clingy?

  After finishing up and saying bye to the fans lingering, I made my way onto the bus. It was nice and quiet since Mason was already looking through his pictures to edit and post them. I patted his shoulder as I passed, getting a simple head lift in response.