by Alyson Hale
Whether she knows it or not, Kyri Calloway now belongs to me forever. My entire life, I always scoffed at “love at first sight.” It seemed ridiculous to me. I didn’t even think humans were capable of monogamy. Now she’s changed everything. I’m not going to let her get away no matter how far she runs.
After I’ve paid the cabbie, I dart out of the cab, making a beeline for my trailer. As soon as I’m inside, I lock the door and pull the blinds closed so no one can accidentally stumble upon me.
I strip down to my boxers and settle into bed with my laptop. Once I’ve gone to Facebook in a browser, I search the name “Kyri Calloway” and only one result comes up, which makes my chest swell. I knew my girl was unique. She’s the only one out there with her name.
And fuck, is she beautiful in her profile picture.
I click on her name and scan through her photos, feeling painfully hard and in need of release. After a while with no provocative photos coming up, I go to her albums, feeling like a stalker but knowing she’ll forgive me once we’re married and she knows she’s mine.
This time, when “married” enters my mind, I don’t even think it’s odd. It’s a given.
Finally, I come across a Halloween picture from a couple years back where she’s dressed in a chef’s coat, hat, and little else. The coat barely covers her breasts, exposing plenty of the perfect cleavage that makes me crazy for her. Pulling my cock out of my boxers, I stroke vigorously, feeling a burn of tension as all the blood in my body rushes into it. The greedy bastard of a member swells, and need swirls in all my lower regions. Anticipation ripples through me, and my lower abdomen clenches. Sweat beads on the back of my neck.
I have to muffle my groans with my hand when my seed spills out of me, coating the length of my shaft. It’s the most I’ve ever cum—thick and white, the kind of sperm that would make triplets if I spilled it into her. The thought of filling her with my child intensifies the pleasure, and a carnal groan escapes me. Kyri Calloway will be the one to carry my child. She’ll be tethered to me forever. I’ll never let her out of my grasp.
My chest heaves with labored breath as I come down from my peak. If coming to her picture feels this good, I can only imagine what it will be like when I get her into my bed.
After I’ve cleaned up and put the laptop away, I settle under my covers—alone again, but knowing I won’t be for much longer. I let sleep take over after I come up with a plan for tomorrow morning.
***
“Is this the right place?” The cabbie glances over his shoulder at me with a ragged eyebrow raised in question. We just stopped in front of a decades-old single story home with a carport. Tall maple trees shade the house and neatly-kept rose bushes line the front walkway. It was dark last night when I escorted Kyri to her car, but I would recognize that trunk anywhere. It’s parked behind the car in the carport, which looks about the same age and quality.
“Yes, this is the place. Thank you.” I hand him a small wad of cash and step out of the cab. The sun is barely creeping over the horizon. I would have slept longer, but I woke up with a raging hard-on and an irresistible desire to hold my girl again. This time, I knew I wouldn’t be satisfied with pleasing myself to her picture. I want to feel her pressed against me and figure out what beautiful fragrance she puts on her hair to make it smell like a field of tulips. I need her presence like I would need water in the desert.
Trudging up the cracked cement driveway, I run my fingers through my hair, wishing I’d had the presence of mind to take a shower before I called a cab. I’m a bit rough around the edges this morning, but I’m hoping she won’t mind. If she’s the person I think she is, she’ll try to push me away at first, but then she’ll give in to me and grant me everything I crave. She shouldn’t be afraid of me. I would never do anything to hurt her. I’d hurt anyone who dared to hurt her though, without question.
My heart thunders in my chest as I step up to the front door and ring the doorbell. After a minute, the door opens, and an older version of Kyri with much shorter hair appears behind it in a bathrobe.
“Can I help you?” She squints at me, and then takes her glasses off the top of her head and slips them on. Her eyes widen with recognition. “Wh-wha…Jace…Hawthorne?”
“Hello, Ms. Calloway. It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m sorry for barging in on you at such an early hour unannounced—”
“How did you find our address?” Ms. Calloway’s eyebrows pull down to shadow the same eyes I love on her daughter. “Why are you here?”
“Last night, I spoke with your daughter but she drove away in a rush. I didn’t get to finish talking to her. I’d very much like to speak with her if she’s awake.”
“She’s not.” Her expression remains hard and studious, as if she’s examining me. “Even if she were awake, what makes you think she’d want to talk to you today if she didn’t yesterday?”
“I think she was scared off by who I am, but she doesn’t know me…not yet. If you’ll let me, I’d like to get to know her and show her I’m not going anywhere.”
Her arms continue to block the doorway, and her gaze narrows on me. “You’ve got a lot of nerve showing up here and expecting me to let you in.”
Inwardly, I think she has a lot of nerve rejecting me. Then I realize that would sound egotistical if I said it out loud. “I don’t expect anything, but I’d much appreciate the chance. If she doesn’t want to talk to me, you’ll never hear from me again.”
Ms. Calloway grunts and mutters something under her breath. Then she nods and steps aside to grant me passage.
“Have you eaten yet?” she asks as she walks away from me toward the back of the house.
“No, as a matter of fact, I haven’t.”
“Well, come on into the kitchen with me. We’ll get acquainted while I make you breakfast.”
“Thank you very much, madam.”
I follow her through a dated living room and into an even more dated kitchen. I’m not a judgmental person when it comes to material possessions, but seeing how little the Calloways have physically pains me. The door of their ice box looks like it’s about to fall off its hinges. The faux tile on the floor is stained from years of wear and tear. All around, I can see cabinet doors that are crooked as if someone unskilled in woodwork tried to fix a broken hinge themselves. It’s obvious they’ve been fending for themselves for years without a man in the house. If they’ll let me, I want to help with these things while I’m here. I’ve had more than a little experience in the home maintenance arena. Thanks to my father, I never have to call a repairman at home or on the road for anything.
“Sorry about the mess.” Ms. Calloway shoves her glasses up on the bridge of her nose as she scurries around me to fetch some pots and pans. “I wasn’t expecting any visitors, least of all…well, someone like you. You can take a seat at the table or wherever you like.”
I accept her offer to take a seat at the table. “Don’t apologize, Ms. Calloway. I should be the one apologizing for ambushing you like this.”
“Well…you did ambush me, but at least you’re polite about it.” She flashes me a strained smile as she prepares the food. “Now tell me, what did you mean by ‘not going anywhere’?”
While she makes us a lovely breakfast of omelets and country ham, I tell her a load of horseshit about how we’re scouting out venues for an American tour. She seems surprised that I would start here, but I explain Atlanta is one of the biggest cities in the South and a lot of our fans are here, which is the absolute truth.
“Well, you’ve explained why you’re staying in the states. Now can you explain how you came to meet my daughter?”
I pull my collar away from my neck, needing some cool air to blow down my shirt. The tension in this room combined with the heat from the stove is making it unbearable. “She was my waitress at The Blarney Stone. We talked a bit, and I stayed to make sure she got into her car safely.”
Ms. Calloway raises an eyebrow at me over her shoulder. “And you’re su
re there’s no other motive?”
I smirk. These women are equal in intelligence. There’s a chance I may be in slightly over my head.
“Well, if I’m being straightforward, Kyri is beautiful, intelligent, and full of spunk. She stands out to me more than any woman I’ve met while on tour. And now I can clearly see where she got it all from.”
Ms. Calloway fights a smile, intensifying the stern look in her eyes. “Well, thank you, son. Listen, you seem nice enough, but you need to know Kyri has had her heart broken more than once before. The men in her life have not been very trustworthy so far. I can’t have my daughter falling for a man who’s going to hurt her.”
“Then I guess you shouldn’t let her fall for any other man.”
A look passes between us, and I watch as Ms. Calloway’s apprehension about me wars against the charm I’ve worked so skillfully on her. This isn’t my first time meeting a girl’s parents. I’ve learned how to suck up to the mother and get on her good side. She bites back a smile as she turns back to the stove, then slides one perfectly cooked omelet onto a plate and starts on another.
As we wait for Kyri to come into the kitchen, we converse and learn more about each other. I find out her name is Ruth, and Kyri’s favorite candy as a child was Baby Ruth because it had her mother’s name on it. She asks me about the touring lifestyle, and I tell her everything that won’t make her afraid to let her daughter near me. After all, there’s no need for her to know how many different types of drugs we’ve tried or how many times my mates convinced me to do something moronic in a public place because we were drunk or high. Instead, I talk about the excitement of walking onto the stage and hearing the fans chant my name. That’s one of the many things that keeps me going on the road when everything else inside me wants to quit.
Once the enticing smell of Ms. Calloway’s breakfast filters through the house, I hear the click and creak of a door opening. My stomach does a flip. I feel like a schoolboy with a crush waiting for Kyri to walk into the room. The sound of her voice ringing out from the hallway is the most beautiful music I’ve ever heard.
“Omelets, huh? What’s the occasion, Mom?”
When she walks into the kitchen, I can’t take my eyes off of her. She’s in nothing but a silken, thin-strapped night dress which barely covers her underwear line. My knee shakes with anticipation, and I hide it under the table. Comically, she doesn’t even notice I’m sitting here in her morning haze.
“Oh, nothing…just a beautiful Sunday morning and a visitor.” Ms. Calloway grins and nods her head in my direction.
Kyri rubs her milky eyelids and turns her head. As soon as she opens her eyes and sees me, she freezes as if she’s lost all ability to move or function.
“Jace…” My name escapes as a breath. If we were alone, my desire for her would have overcome me right at that very second. “What-what…uh…” She rattles her head. “H-how did you find us?”
“It wasn’t hard. There’s only one Kyri Calloway on Facebook. By the way, did you know your address is public for anyone in the world to see? You should take it off of there now that I’ve found you. I don’t want any other men finding you here. They’re not all gentlemanly enough to ring at your door.”
Her skin all the way from her chest up to her cheeks blushes a beautiful rosy pink. “Dear God, that’s frightening. I mean…not that you’re here, but what you just said…”
“I understood.” I grin and wink at her from my place at the kitchen table, causing her pink to deepen into deep scarlet. Victory swells my chest. I brought that blush out of her, and I’m going to keep doing it every day from this moment forward.
Taking a step back, Kyri fidgets with the hem of her dress, trying to cover herself. “I’m gonna go change. Be right back.”
She whirls back around and races toward the back of the house. I feel a twinge of disappointment at losing the sight of her in that night dress, but since her mother is here, it would be highly inappropriate for me to tell her how much it pleases me. I’ll just have to buy her a truckload of nighties like that once she’s officially mine.
Chapter 9
Kyri
I nearly hit the floor when I saw Jace sitting there at my kitchen table. My plans to pretend last night didn’t happen went flying right out the window.
As I hurriedly change out of my nightgown and into a pair of jean shorts and a peach V-neck shirt, I have to admit I’m a little pissed. How could he show up here without even so much as announcing his arrival? He said he found me on Facebook. Couldn’t he have at least sent me a message to let me know I should have been wearing a little more clothing this morning when I came out into the kitchen?
The one and only Jace Hawthorne is inside my house sitting at my kitchen table. I really shouldn’t be complaining, and I wouldn’t be if I’d had enough time to prepare, but this feels like an ambush. And the fucker wasn’t even sorry! He was just sitting there staring at me with an impish grin on his face. Jerk. Some “gentleman” he is. A real gentleman would give a lady a chance to prepare.
Stopping at my full length mirror, I chuckle to myself. Here I am, ranting to myself over an undeniable confirmation that what happened last night really did happen. When I woke up, I couldn’t remember if it was a realistic dream or a highly unlikely reality. Well, here you go, Kyri. Courtesy of the universe and Facebook, here’s the proof you need, sitting on a silver platter in your shitty-ass kitchen.
Burning fire shoots up my neck again. Now he’s seen the shithole Mom and I call a house. How humiliating. He really couldn’t have gotten my phone number? My email address? Anything but my physical address?
I sigh heavily and make quick work of combing out my ratty bed hair and putting on my makeup. Since I’m in a rush, I go for a more conservative look—foundation, highlighter, blush, and mascara. My lips have a natural blush to them, so I leave them naked and ready.
Someone raps at my door.
“Come in!”
Jace opens the door and stops short. My heart almost jumps out of my chest. I was expecting Mom, not him again.
Fantastic. Now he’s seen my pig sty of a room, too. I hang my head, dropping my makeup on the bed beside me.
“You must think I’m such a slob,” I moan pathetically.
“Actually, I was just marveling at the fact that you look stunning no matter what you wear.”
I look at his reflection in the mirror. A smile transforms his handsome face. He comes up behind me and moves my mass of red hair out of the way, then trails light kisses up my neck to my ear. I release a shuddering sigh and lean part of my weight against him. Jace can easily turn my knees into Jell-O with the slightest touch, just like I always imagined he could.
“Hey,” he says as a belated greeting. His warm breath breezes across my skin, giving me goosebumps.
The word comes out as a giggle. “Hey.”
“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since last night,” he confesses, still brushing my goosebump-covered skin with his lips. His deep voice rumbling into my ear makes my nipples harden and every cell in my body race with fresh blood. “Why did you run away from me?”
Guilt clenches my heart like a hand making a fist. “I guess I just got scared.”
“Of what?”
A lump forms in my throat. I swallow, but it doesn’t go away.
“You.”
“Why are you afraid of me?”
“You could hurt me. I like you too much.”
Pressing another tender kiss to the sensitive skin of my neck, Jace whispers, “You have nothing to be afraid of, Kyri. I won’t hurt you.”
“Yes, you will.” My eyes sting with unformed tears.
Jace wraps his strong arms around me from behind. He catches my gaze in the mirror, and I look into his deadly serious amber eyes. They’re so gorgeous with the rays of the sun catching them and bringing out the lighter golden tones. He’s even more of a sexpot in the morning light.
“You made a promise to me last
night. Now I’m making a promise to you. I’m not going to hurt you. You have my word.”
A deep sigh escapes my hold. I want to believe him so badly, but I can’t. Men like him are a disaster waiting to happen for me. I can’t deal with any more abandonment in my life. When he inevitably leaves to tour the world again and forgets about me, it’s going to break me. As much as I’m dying to let him in, to let him get close, I have to protect my heart. Things can’t be this way between us. Not while he’s a rock star and I’m a simple Southern girl with the shittiest luck in the world.
“Jace, I can’t—”
“Breakfast is ready,” Mom sings from the kitchen, unaware of any sort of war going on between my head and my heart.
“We’ll talk more about this later,” Jace tells me, brushing one more kiss against the rim of my ear. He reaches for my hand. Threading my fingers through his, I let him lead me back into the kitchen.
Breakfast with Mom and Jace feels shockingly natural. The two of them had already established a bond before I even came in the room, and now that I’m here, it’s as if we’ve known him for years. He has some hilarious stories about being on tour. One in particular has Mom and me rolling in our seats.
“So there we were meeting the queen of England, and Eddie was just feeling worse and worse. The poor fool had his arse-cheeks clenched so hard we could see it through his jeans. He kept smiling, but it wasn’t a pleasant smile—more like a wince. I could see the sweat pouring off him. Well, Damien talked for so long that Eddie couldn’t hold it any longer and we heard a sort of…‘splurt’ sound. Then he ran off yelling something about the ‘bloody chicken.’ We’d had dinner at a questionable restaurant that morning and all of us were suspicious of his chicken, but he insisted on eating it anyway. Now he listens to us whenever we’re dubious about his food.”
Mom screams with laughter and I join her, starting to feel better about being caught in my nightgown this morning. Jace watches me laugh, grinning at me.
“Such lovely breakfast conversation,” I rebuke him.