Tara turned her head to see what Aaron was up to outside her bedroom door, but the person doing her eyebrows snapped her head back face front. Tara gave up. “Where’s Sydney with my damn aspirin?”
Soon after, they shuffled her to the walk-in closet with her stylist.
“Here. Let’s make sure this still works,” Chantal said, handing Tara a bundle of fabric. Chantal was new to the team. She coaxed Tara into trying on a daring piece she handpicked for the singer. Tara slipped into the shiny, metallic material. “How does that feel?”
“Like I still don’t have on any clothes. Where did this come from?” Tara objected peevishly. She knew the audience for the show was a younger crowd, and most in attendance would dress daringly, but this ensemble was too much for her taste.
“Dah-ling, you wanted cutting edge, and I’m giving you exactly what you asked for,” Chantal said, trying to convince the singer that the garment was what she’d requested.
“Yeah, but I didn’t expect you to cut all my edge out. Look at this; I’m practically naked. This right here is a nipple. No one should see my nipples.” Tara peered into a mirror at her reflection to take a closer look. “Yes, that’s definitely my nipple.”
“And that is the point. Edgy remember? This is only part of the dress. We’ll conceal the nipples, don’t worry,” the woman persisted. “They’ll talk about this for years to come. Longer than JLo and that Versace number,” she said, using a pin to make another adjustment in the skimpy outfit.
“They’ll be talking about my damn nipples and not my award. Oww!” Tara yelled after being stuck. “Watch it!”
Frowning, Chantal backed away.
Tara took off the unfinished garment, slipped into a robe to leave the space, and tossed the dress onto the bed. She closed her eyes, intending to do some breathing exercises. Instead, she suddenly shouted, “Everybody out! Now!”
“But, Tara, we have so much more to do, and you only have a few more hours,” Justin reminded her.
Tara gave him the eye, making her message unmistakable. By now, her head was throbbing, and she more than ever needed a painkiller. The room quickly emptied, and Tara fell back onto her bed and squeezed her eyes shut. Her head hurt so, to where she wanted to cry.
“Miss Blue, you’re supposed to be happy. It’s not every day one receives such an honor.”
Tara wanted to smile at the sound of Quinton’s voice, but the stress was getting to her. But it wasn’t entirely from the high-pressure activity, instead of from knowing they scheduled her sisters to pay tribute to her at the show in a few hours. The three of them still had unsettled issues, and the eyes of the industry could very well have a front-row view of disaster. She recently became comfortable with Jordan being there, but now Mia was the unpredictable one. “Quinton?” she mumbled. “Am I hallucinating? I thought you were staying in L.A.”
“I called earlier and spoke to Aaron,” Quinton said, sitting beside her on the bed. “He made it sound like you were about to have a nervous breakdown.”
Tara opened her eyes and, for the first time that afternoon, smiled. “Seriously, what did he tell you?”
Quinton laughed. “Okay, so he didn’t exactly say ‘nervous breakdown.’ He just sounded bored with all the things going on in this room. I thought I’d be his hero and fly in to rescue him.”
“Bored?”
“That’s how my boy sounded,” Quinton replied, his gaze dropping to her near-bare body as the robe she wore fell open, revealing more than it covered. Her eyes were now fully open, and she was well aware of his scrutiny.
Blushing, Tara tightened the robe around her. “Quinton, you’ve seen me in my underwear before. Stop gawking.”
“Is that what you’re wearing tonight?” he asked, holding up the discarded dress. “Why didn’t you tell me? I would have never canceled our date.” He grinned mischievously. “Did you give up my seat to someone else?”
“Why? You thinking of coming with me?” she asked, smiling cagily.
“If you don’t mind the company.”
Tara sat up and hugged him.
“I should go check on Aaron. I have nothing to wear for tonight. I’m heading over to Gucci and taking him with me. We’ll be back in a few to get ready. You don’t mind if I change here, do you? I know how it turns into a zoo with everyone trying to get you out the door.”
“Of course not. Thank you for helping with Aaron.”
Quinton nodded and left.
* * *
Quinton glanced at the closed bedroom door and passed Aaron the television remote.
“Little man, I’m going to check on your . . . umm, I’m going to see what’s holding Tara up.” He had recovered from the near blunder without it being too obvious. Aaron barely responded, as all his attention was on the screen.
Quinton knocked lightly on the door which Sydney opened. She smiled and invited him in. “Hey Q,” she said, “it’s great you made it out because this is such a big night for Tara and knowing you’re here to support her means the world to her.”
“You know I couldn’t miss this opportunity to be here to support my girl.”
“You look great,” Sydney said, admiring Quinton’s designer suit sans sling. “Tara’s in the bathroom, making a few outfit adjustments. She’ll be out in just a sec.”
Quinton nodded. Tara soon emerged from the bathroom, with Chantal close behind.
Tara tugged fretfully at the very short front, frowning. “Hi, Quinton. You look nice,” she said. Chantal, Justin, and Sydney left the room, and Tara turned to him and asked, “What about the sling? Your cane?”
“I’ll be fine tonight.”
“Quinton.”
He shook his head. “All that’ll do is distract everyone away from you. I want them to see you and only you tonight.”
Her face softened under his gaze.
“Does this look okay to you?” Tara asked.
Quinton took his time looking up and down her body, starting at the small platinum lacy, backless corset and sheer material she had draped around her shoulders. The front of her skirt rode low on her waist revealing her midriff and ended high on her thighs, but the high-low style also had a full train that was bold and full. Tara’s tugging at the front hem amused him. How on earth did she keep parts of the daring garment in place, he wondered. And how soon could he get it off her filled the rest of his thoughts.
“Uhh, yeah, it does,” Quinton said, having recovered enough to find his voice. “A little too good.”
“I should’ve demanded a backup dress. There’s no way I can wear this on stage.”
“Why?”
“Quinton, you’re seeing more of me now than you did last night!”
He laughed and pulled her with him toward the mirror. “That’s a gross exaggeration. Look at yourself, Blue.” He stared with her at the reflection of them in the full-length mirror, but could only see the woman in his arms. “I’m one lucky motherfucker I tell you that. You’re beautiful, Tara.”
“You mean I look like one of those hoochies you keep up in your studio.”
Quinton moved to face her. “You know you’re beautiful, don’t you?”
She looked away, trying to conceal her blushing face. “We need to get going.”
“You really don’t believe me, do you? Blue, I’m for real. I need to know you get that. Whether standing here all done up or stripped down to nothing wearing my shirt with not a stitch of makeup on your face, you are everything a woman could be.”
She looked up at him, blinking her eyes innocently. “But…”
“But nothing. Look at you,” he said, moving out of her view of herself in the mirror. “The dress looks good, Blue. Everything looks great because it’s on you.”
He bent his head to steal a quick kiss, careful not to mess up her lipstick.
“But as much as I love seeing you in this thing, I can’t wait to get it off you tonight.”
Tara rolled her eyes and walked past him to peek into the living roo
m. “Where did Sydney go? I need help with my shoes,” Tara said, picking up a sparkling pair with freshly manicured nails. “These nails will make it impossible to fix the straps.”
Quinton left to check the suite, soon returning to report they’d all gone. “They’re probably outside waiting for us.”
Tara held out a shoe. “Quin, baby, can you please help me? I can’t mess up my nails.”
He looked down at her, sitting on the edge of the bed and looking frustrated. “You’ve got to be kidding, Blue,” he said. “Why can’t you do it? Let me go get one of your peeps.”
Tara took Quinton’s hand and yanked, nudging him to bend to help her. “Boy, no one’s thinking about you strapping my shoe.”
Quinton kneeled and took the first shoe, while Tara propped her freshly pedicured foot on his thigh.
He looked up at her with smoldering eyes and watched as her breath hitched when he ran his finger on the sole of it. Holding her soft foot in the palm of his hand turned a simple task into an arduous undertaking. The short, short skirt she was wearing made it even harder, and from his position, he peeked the barely there thong nestled between her thighs.
He traced the outline of her foot and along her ankle. He then moved up her calf until it led to the edge of her thighs.
“Quin. We have to get going.”
He glanced behind him at the closed door, standing to lock it. He then shot Sydney a quick text.
“What are you doing?” Tara asked.
Quinton pressed send and shoved the phone in his pocket. “Nothing.”
“You’re up to something.”
Quinton kneeled before her, moving to slip the skirt higher and gently parted her legs for him. “Hush.”
“I told you last night to stop shushing me.”
Quinton hooked his finger around the thin slip of her panties, and when his knuckle brushed against her soft, slick flesh, his eyes darkened. “And we know what happened after that.”
Quinton curled his finger, touching her, allowing him to feel how wet she was, and he held his finger there running the tip in circles around her nub. “Sydney is taking Aaron to grab a quick snack before we head out, and we’ll meet up in ten minutes.”
“How convenient.” Tara grinned down at him. He didn’t miss the achingly slow way she moved against his hand. Her coy interest was turning him on even more. “My shoe.”
“I have my fingers inside you, and you’re worried about a shoe. Damn baby, kill a brother’s ego. Guess I need to kick things up a notch,” he warned as rubbed her clit with his thumb, increasing the tempo. Her breath hitched again, and she helplessly spread herself wider when he plunged another finger deeper inside her. Tara’s staccato sigh followed with a low moan. She leaned back on her elbows, letting him greedily fuck her with his fingers and her head fell back. Quinton watched her, the rise and fall of her breasts with each sensual breath she took, as he slowed it down.
His long fingers slowed moving in and out at an excruciatingly slow pace pushing her to the edge.
“Q.”
“Yeah, baby,” he answered, slipping her panties down her bare legs and off to taste her without limitations. He lifted a leg, letting her rest her soft feet on his shoulders and kissed behind her knee. The train of her dress fanned out, revealing its midnight blue underside. He swept the weighted material aside to feast on her body without making a mess of the dress that will, without question, shut down the red carpet.
Tara’s skin glowed from the sun-dusted highlights sparkling under the bedroom light and the soft sheen of her excitement building. Quinton moved in closer, kissing a trail to where his hand worked to hold a place for his tongue to taste her. He became lost in her scent, the aromatic fragrance that always drove him insane, a hypnotic blend of vanilla, coconut and jasmine, distracting him from the limited time he’d stolen. Her fragrant scent was soft, sensual, alluring, and arousing as it blended with her signature essence growing with each stroke.
Quinton’s tongue reached the edge of her lower lips, and he slipped his fingers from within to sample what he wanted so badly.
“Don’t stop, Q.”
He pulled the fingers from his mouth before slipping them between her lips so she could taste what he’d been craving all day. As she wrapped her lips around them, Quinton ran a tongue to the place his hand just abandoned and licked his way inside.
Her body collapsed against the bed, and she reached for his head, pulling him in closer to her core. “Don’t fucking stop,” Tara ground out as she opened entirely for him, allowing Quinton to feast on the bounty before him.
Against his mouth, he felt her body buck, and he slipped his fingers back inside her. Licking and stroking, he feverishly worked until he brought her to a place where her body trembled beneath his hold. Tara released the most erotic note he ever heard before her body stilled, shaking ever so slightly while her walls contracted around the fingers he kept inside her.
She inhaled deeply and released a sound exhale. “I. Can’t. Move.”
Quinton eased back on his knees before sliding her legs back together. He pulled up to meet her on the bed, hovering above to kiss her neck.
“Feel better now?”
“Hell yeah. What time is it?” she asked, easing up into sitting.
Quinton glanced at his watch and slipped his hand in his pocket. “We’re still good.”
“My underwear?” Tara held out her hand as he watched her work to regain her composure. Quinton grabbed them off the floor beside him. He moved to help, but she shook her head. “You come near me again like that, and we both know we’ll be doing far more than what just happened.”
He watched her step into them to put them back on. His ringing phone worked to distract him from the peep show as she lifted her skirt to shimmy the fabric over her hips. Quinton stepped forward to grab hold of her waist to pull her against him, pressing his strong erection into her soft body, so he could kiss her one last time before glancing at the screen to take the call when it rang again.
After speaking briefly with the caller, he turned to Tara, saying, “That was my manager. It looks like I have to go to Japan.”
“Why are you fighting it, Quinton?” Tara asked. “It sounds like a great opportunity. At first, I thought you might be rushing things, but I think you need to get back in the studio as much as they need you right now.”
He was nodding in agreement as Tara inspected herself. But when she looked in the mirror, Quinton was standing behind her. He pulled out a small jewelry box from his pants pocket, and she turned around to face him.
Her steel-blue eyes wide open, she held her breath as he held out the box. Tara fingered the diamond pendant around her neck that sparkled in the light against her skin, another gift from Quinton, one he had given her last Christmas.
“Calm down. It ain’t that kind of box,” he teased.
She laughed. “I know you, Quinton. Wouldn’t expect it.”
“Just wanted to say that tonight marks the beginning of something exceptional for you,” he said. “Few artists make it to this point in their careers, and very few who have will see the future you are creating for yourself,” he continued, reaching to hold her hand, their fingers interconnecting. “I wanted to get you a little something special just to let you know how much I respect you as an artist and even more so as a friend. I wouldn’t be half of who I am today if it weren’t for you. Happy anniversary, Blue.”
Quinton handed it to her, but she shook her head. “I’m too nervous. You open it for me.”
He laughed and did as she requested. “Only you, Blue.”
Misty-eyed, Tara stepped back and gazed at the platinum band set with ten colorless diamonds around the entire ring; the centerpiece was a brilliant blue diamond. It was elegant. Stunning. “Quin, oh, my!” she said and hugged him. “I can’t take this, sweetheart. It’s too much.”
“No, it’s not enough for what you’ve done,” Quinton insisted. “You deserve it. Consider it a friendship ring.”
He flashed a nervous smile at her.
“It’s one hell of a friendship ring. It’s just so . . . lovely,” Tara exclaimed, looking at its brilliance. Tara hugged him once more and said, “Quinton, thank you so much!” and then rushed off to check her makeup.
“Blue, you look great. Stop worrying about what you have on. You should take that cloth thing off,” he said, pointing to the wrap. “I think I hear voices in the next room, although I told them to meet us outside,” he added, annoyed by the sounds.
“I’m sure it’s because we’re running late.”
“You know they don’t feed anyone during these things. I had to get something to eat now to tide me over for later.” Quinton winked. “You ready?”
“Sure, I just want to touch up my eyes,” she said, carefully blotting the tears from them. As Quinton left the room, he looked back at Tara and smiled.
* * *
Midway through the ceremony at the MGM Grand, the host announced Mia and Jordan’s names. Tara held her breath, and Quinton took her hand in his, stroking it with his thumb. “It’ll be okay,” he assured her, leaning close to whisper into her ear.
The applause was thunderous as the audience welcomed two-thirds of Pure back to the stage after their decade long absence. Their parents would’ve been proud if they could’ve witnessed the moment.
A hush eventually fell over the crowd when Jordan stepped forward to speak.
“I’m so nervous right now,” Jordan said quietly before clearing her throat. She fanned her face to keep herself from crying. “I didn’t know I’d feel this emotional, but wow. This is huge.”
Mia agreed alongside her. “Tonight, we celebrate the tenth anniversary of Tara Russell’s career.”
Mia added with a smile. “While growing up, Jordan and I used to call you many things.”
“And still do,” Jordan teased, winking toward Tara, “out of love, of course.”
The sisters laughed, and Tara swiped at the tears that were flowing down her face.
“But who knew that one day that bratty little girl who followed behind us all the time would grow up to be called the biggest name in the history of entertainment. Icon,” Mia continued before introducing a video montage, a tribute to Tara’s musical career that included accolades from friends and mentors in the industry who helped make her career possible.
I Can Love You Page 15