Tunes

by KC Enders

  The building is an unimpressive brick structure in an area that is questionable at best. Almost as soon as my text is sent, a steel door opens, and Gavin pops out, all broad smile and tangled messy hair piled high on his head.

  “Come in quick. It’s fucking cold out here,” he says, pulling me through the door. He wraps his arms around me, squeezing me to the wide expanse of his chest. “I’m glad you’re here. You ready to meet the rest of the guys?” He presses a kiss to the top of my head and releases me, rubbing his hands on his thighs, looking around the small vestibule before meeting my gaze.

  “Oh my God, are you nervous? Is this a bad time? Maybe … I’ll just go. I can meet you later when you’re done with everything here.” I don’t want to intrude on their work.

  “Fuck yes, I’m nervous,” he mumbles.

  I take a step back toward the door before Gavin latches on to my hand.

  “You’ve heard a lot of shit about Kane, seen him in action, but I don’t ever know what’s going to come out of his mouth. Especially after today.” Gav shifts, pulling me toward him. He takes my messenger bag and leads me down a narrow hallway. “Just don’t judge me, okay? I mean, you will, but … I don’t know. This is us.” We pause outside a door, music and laughter drifting out. “Ready?”

  He nods, more to himself than to acknowledge my agreement, and sucks in a huge, bracing breath. Then, he opens the door to complete and utter poetic chaos. I look around a small room crowded with couches, people, and more instruments than is reasonable to even jam in there. Time stops, the noise recedes, and one by one, bodies still.

  Nate is on the far side of the room and smiles. Lifting his bass over his head, he calls out, “Hey, Gracyn. Good to see you.”

  My response is lost in the flurry of movement. I mean, I know it’s Kane. I’ve seen him from afar, but up close, like this, is an entirely different experience. Personality and confidence swirl around him in a heady cloud of pheromones.

  “This is she?” He slowly stalks around me, assessing.

  No one says a word. Gavin bites his lower lip and takes a step back.

  “Well, well, well, dahlin’, aren’t you just something special?” he drawls, thickening some kind of Southern accent. Sex and charm are weapons he wields like he’s got a black belt in them.

  There’s only one way to effectively deal with this kind of bravado. Slowly, I unbutton my coat and slide it down, letting it pool on the floor behind me. Button by button, I undo my suit jacket, dropping that as well. Standing in the midst of four beautiful men, in a black skirt, pale teal silk tank top, and my deep purple pumps, I take my turn in walking a circle around Kane, pausing behind him with a, “Hmm,” humming from my lips. Back in front of him, I step in, crowding him just a bit, and pull the pins from my hair, shaking the golden waves until they fall free around my shoulders. “I’ve heard all about you,” I tell him, winking at Gavin when Kane briefly looks down, shifting closer still.

  “Have you? Only good things I’m sure.” His liquid voice flows, pooling and swirling around us.

  “I have,” I purr, running a finger down his arm. “But, as far as those good things are concerned”—I step in close, pushing up on him—“I like my men with a little more … bulk. KnowwhatImean? I’d rather share my hair bands than my makeup.” I make sure to pop the P and tussle his perfectly coifed blue-black hair, stiff with product, before I make a production of licking my finger. I swipe it under his eye, adding, “Hold still, darling. You’ve got some eyeliner smudged right here.”

  And the guys bust out laughing, Kane put firmly in his place.

  As Nate passes to grab beer out of the small fridge in the corner, he smacks Kane on the shoulder and plants a kiss on my cheek, thanking me. “This is a first, you know. He’s never this quiet … and I mean, never.”

  The dark-haired drummer stands from his kit, bright green eyes sparkling as he approaches, hand outstretched. “It’s nice to finally meet you. Ian Scott.” His strong hands warmly grip mine, swirls of ink spilling down his arms, illustrating what has to be the story of his life. Roses and thorns twist wildly with musical notes and lyrics, creating a stunning display. “Glad you’re able to hang with us for a little this afternoon.” For a man who makes a lot of noise, slamming on drums, he’s decidedly quiet and gentle, treating me almost like a delicate flower.

  Gavin hands me a beer and scoops my coat and jacket up, setting them over the arm of a leather chair in the corner. “We need to finish running through a few things before we can head out. Is that all right with you? We can do whatever you want after. I have a late flight out, so we’ve got time to play with.”

  “Sounds good. Take your time,” I say, curling myself into the chair to watch.

  Gavin hands me a plastic tub and a spoon. “My sister’s tiramisu, if you’re hungry. You liked that the other night, yeah?”

  My eyes fall shut as I glide the spoonful of goodness between my lips and moan, “This is so good. Thank you.”

  Kane sighs and declares, “I’m not sure I can perform today. First, she knocks me on my ass, and then you give her the last of the good stuff from Sasha.” He pouts—like, legit pouts—at me, looking adorable. “I don’t feel loved—like, at all.”

  * * *

  GAVIN

  Can’t lie; I like having her here while we practice. I like the way she fits in with the guys. The way she handled Kane, it was epic. Perfect. And the way her eyes light up when we launch into “One,” the lyrics taking root in her as the music swells and comes together, speaks to my soul.

  God have mercy, I have my one last night. I have my chance to do this right, to see where this goes.

  After a couple of hours of work, bullshit, and fucking around with the band, we pack our gear up for Rand’s guy to take to the airport.

  I stalk over to Gracyn and crouch down in front of her. She scoots forward and places her palm on the side of my neck, her thumb sliding down my Adam’s apple, pressing into the notch of bone at the center of my clavicle.

  My cock twitches when she asks, “Are we ready to go?”

  Am I fucking ever.

  I stand, pulling her up with me, until we’re pressed together from knee to hip to chest, and I raise my eyebrow at her. There’s no way she’s not feeling just how fucking ready I am.

  For her.

  For this.

  For anything but saying good-bye.

  “Let’s get out of here,” I murmur, burrowing my face in her neck, kissing just below her ear.

  I don’t give a passing thought to who’s here until Kane starts moaning like he’s about to come—and sadly, I do know what that sounds like.

  Our jackets, my beanie, and her messenger bag all firmly in place, I grab Gracyn’s hand and tug her out of the studio. “See y’all in LA.”

  They’re all leaving for the airport from here, but I had Rand push my flight back to the last one of the day, so I can spend every last minute with Gracyn. If it were one of the guys, I’d totally call them saps or pussies and relentlessly ride them about it. But this is me. This is Gracyn, and I’m not ready to let her go yet.

  Our cab drops us off at the back of the Renaissance, and I almost feel bad for dragging her through the bowels of the building to the service elevator. Almost but not really.

  As soon as the doors slide shut behind us, I have her backed into the corner of the lift and kiss her fucking stupid. I can’t get enough of her. “I don’t want to leave.” My voice is low and gravelly. “Need more time. Tell me this isn’t the end, G. Tell me we’ll try to make this shit work. See where it goes.” The thought of this being the end makes my skin hurt.

  She sighs as I slide her skirt up until it’s bunched high on her thighs.

  She gasps as I ease her panties to the side, rubbing my finger along her wet pussy.

  She moans as I lower down to my knees in front of her and suck her clit between my lips.

  And the breathy, “Yes,” that escapes her lips as I plunge my tongue into her slick
heat is the only answer I want to hear. All the other yeses that spill from her lips as her muscles spasm are just fucking icing on the cake.

  Chapter 29

  Gracyn

  Boneless and satisfied beyond what I ever imagined possible, I lie in bed and watch Gavin walk out of the bathroom, freshly showered, a towel wrapped low around his hips.

  “So, how are we going to do this? I won’t really be able to get away from LA while we’re recording.”

  Water droplets slide in a languid trail down his shoulder and across the round of his pec, dripping off the balls on each end of the silver bar that elicited the grittiest groan when I tugged on it with my teeth while sliding down over his cock. I want to go back to that moment and forget the semantics of our separation.

  “Um, I might be able to get away for a long weekend, but with holidays coming, it might be too late for me to get any vacation time,” I say, as he follows the trail of clothing we shed in our haste.

  My body protesting, I slide off the bed and take a quick shower, relishing the stretch and pull of my muscles as I move. The hot water sluices over my shoulders and down my tender breasts. Images of the way he made my body hum dance through my mind as I run the soap over the sensitive skin.

  “You should pierce them.”

  I open my eyes to find Gavin’s gaze focused on my nipples, sore from his lavish attention to them.

  “Seriously. By the time I’m back from tour, they’ll be healed, and, Jesus, Gracyn … the way it feels. I never thought I’d thank Kane for one of his bullshit dares, but goddamn.” He bites his lip, eyes lazily caressing me as he leans against the bathroom counter, his towel replaced by jeans. The top button open, his tight V-cut abs are framed delectably.

  “I’ll think about it,” I tell him, turning off the water and grabbing a towel.

  I throw on some jeans and a sweater, boots, and my scarf, packing the rest of my stuff in my bag. “What time do you have to leave for the airport?”

  He’s really wormed his way into my heart this week, and I don’t want this to end. I don’t want him to go.

  “Soon, I guess. Really soon,” he amends, checking his watch. “I wanted to take you to dinner, drop you at Grand Central, and kiss you breathless under the constellations. But I really need to get going.”

  I pull my coat on, and out the door we go. “You have my number, right?” I ask, stepping into the elevator.

  I know he has my number. We’ve texted plenty this week, brief moments stolen through the day when we were separated by our jobs.

  “I do. Same as earlier. Same as yesterday.” He bumps his shoulder into mine and grins. “We’ll figure this out. I need a couple of days to get settled, get in the groove of things, and then we’ll look at when we can see each other next.”

  He’s right. I know he’s right. We’re in much different places now than we were the last time we had this conversation. We can figure this out.

  The doors of the elevator open, spilling us out into the chaos of the lobby. I start toward the front doors and am caught up short when Gavin latches on to my arm, pulling me to a halt.

  “Gracyn, say good-bye first. Don’t just bolt.” He leaves the again unsaid, but it hangs between us just the same, dark and ugly. “I have a car waiting for me in the back, babe. I can’t go through the lobby with you.”

  “Oh, right.” I didn’t think … didn’t expect it to be this hard.

  He erases the space between us with a few quick steps. And, dropping his bag to the floor, he takes my face between his hands and lowers his lips to mine. Kissing me softly, tenderly. Sadly.

  “We’ll figure this out, I promise. I have no intention of losing you.” He strokes the hollow of my cheek with his thumb, staring deep into the depths of my soul. “Message me when you’re home—in your place, not pulling into the train station or anything. I want to know you’re safe.”

  “I will.” I feel sick to my stomach, like deep in the pit of my gut.

  “Say hey to your friends for me. I can’t wait to meet them—Lis and …”

  “Kate. Lis and Kate. I will.” Maybe it’s indigestion; the pain is climbing, burning.

  “Right. And, G … miss me like crazy. Because I’ll be dying a little on the inside every minute we’re apart.”

  “I already do.” And, with a final kiss, my heart shatters as I watch him scoop up his bag and walk away.

  Even though I slept way later than normal, until almost eleven, I’m still awake well before Kate begins to stir. I sent Gavin a text just before crawling in between my sheets last night, missing the way his body wrapped around me as I curled around my pillow. The weight of his muscular leg wedged against my thighs, his hand holding tight to mine and his warm breath skating across the back of my neck. I got used to those things in mere days.

  Days.

  Once again, the measure of time we’ve actually spent together can be counted in days. Little more than a full week overall, but I have never felt this kind of connection with anyone. Never before Gavin. No one other than him.

  As the rich aroma of strong, dark coffee fills the apartment, Kate’s bleary-eyed face peeks around the doorjamb. “Hey,” she whispers, clutching her head. “Didn’t wake you when I got home, did I?” She looks like she drank a fish tank full of tequila and kind of smells like it, too.

  Wrinkling my nose, I pour us each a mug of coffee and add a splash of vanilla almond milk to mine, straight black for Kate. “Take this with you and go shower,” I say, thrusting the cream-colored mug in her direction. “You reek. Where the hell were you last night?”

  “God, thank you. I was out with the kindergarten team. Parent-teacher conferences might just be the death of me … if the tequila doesn’t kill me first.”

  “You shower … and maybe go back to bed for a while. I’ve got some errands to run and shit to take care of before we meet up later.” I look her over before continuing, “You think you’ll be up to it still?”

  She lowers the mug, having just drained the contents in one go. “I’ll be fine. I’m a true professional. Text me? Maybe we need to plan for greasy bar food though instead of anything remotely adultish. Carbs and cheese tend to work better at times like these, you know?”

  She shuffles off to the shower, not waiting for a response because, really, where else would we go for girl time other than McBride’s?

  Out of habit, I lean over the scarred wooden bar to pay the troll for a cold beer, but Finn just stands there. Stiff and proper, not at all the way he usually greets me. His gaze bounces to the end of the bar where his girlfriend, Addie, is meeting with a dark-haired gentleman in a slick suit.

  “Finn, you okay?”

  His glower is entirely out of character and more than a little disconcerting.

  “Bloody prick touches her one more fucking time … and I might lose control of myself.” He barely glances at me as he pulls a pint of my favorite beer for me. “It’s a fucking business meeting. He’s no reason to touch her. None.” Red creeps up from Finn’s collar, the bar rag in his left hand taking the brunt of his frustration.

  “Remember what happened last time you went all caveman on Addie when she was with a client? Wait … is that the same guy?” I crane my neck for a better look, not at all concerned with the obvious way we’re staring at the dude.

  “It is. Jesus, he couldn’t find another web designer? Thought I made things perfectly clear.”

  “Hey,” Lis says as she takes the seat next to me. “Trust her, Finn. She’s nothing but professional, and Aidan is right behind me. He plans on being with her for the rest of the meeting since he’s the one who recommended Addie. He’s got your back, sweetie.”

  The door opens, and a waft of nachos blows in, followed by Kate holding a Styrofoam container, and Aidan, who throws a quick nod to Finn before heading straight to Addie’s table. Nothing good is going to come from that hot mess of a situation, but at least Kate has food since there’s no way in hell Finn is taking his eyes off his girlfriend l
ong enough to make us anything to eat for a while.

  “Chill your tits, Finn. Addie’s got this covered,” Kate says. “She whipped your sorry ass into line. I wouldn’t worry about slick willy over there. He doesn’t stand a chance if he steps out of line. But, since I’m here, give me a beer, would ya?” She pops open the nachos and shoves an enormous bite in her mouth, moaning. A glob of sour cream balances precariously on her lower lip.

  Finn pulls a couple of pints, setting them down in front of Lis and Kate, never looking away from the perfectly purple-haired girl in the corner, her teal cat-eye glasses framing the glare she sends his way every few minutes.

  The girls murmur a, “Thank you,” and Lis turns toward me.

  “So, spill. Last time you were away and not posting pics of all the food you consumed was Destin. What was it this time?” Lis reaches across me to pull the nachos closer, so Kate’s not hoarding them.

  “Mmm … tell us about the Central Park singer,” Kate says around a mouthful of cheese and avocado. “Tell me you tapped that.”

  Evidently, they’ve been talking about me.

  “Yeah, so remember that day we talked in the park before I went into Langston’s for the day?”

  Lis nods and grabs another cheese-laden chip, popping it into her mouth.

  “It was him.” I hold my breath, waiting for a reaction from her that does not disappoint. She doesn’t let me down in the least, choking on her food. Aidan’s head whips away from Addie and her client. He’s halfway to standing when Lis waves him off, getting herself under control.

  “Him who?” asks Kate, oblivious to the FOMO funk I was in after returning from the last spring break trip I took in college. The fear was all totally stupid, the missing out, absolutely real.

  “The one. The one who grabbed her heart and the one who got away,” Lis supplies, staring me down. Looking all the way through me, assessing, she asks, “You talked to him? What happened?”