Missing From Me (Sixth Street Bands Book 3)

by Jayne Frost

  Yeah, wishful thinking.

  Glancing over my shoulder when I realized Anna wasn’t following, I froze when I spotted her in front of the pictures lining the glass table in the alcove.

  Retracing my steps, I cringed when she dropped to her knees in front of the photo album on the bottom shelf.

  Brushing a hand over the leather cover with the picture of us encased in plastic, Anna looked up at me with questions in her eyes. “You had this?”

  I closed the distance between us as casually as possible. “Yeah. I found it when I was unpacking.”

  A faint smile touched Anna’s lips, but she didn’t call me on the lie. Instead, she pulled the album onto her lap and then carefully cracked open the cover. “I wondered where it went.” She looked up at me, smiling. “I’m glad you saved it. I don’t have copies of these.”

  I crouched at her side. “Do you want copies?”

  Anna went still, examining one of the photos from our prom. “If you don’t mind. I want to save them for—” She caught herself and then cleared her throat. “For old time’s sake. You can mail them to me or whatever.”

  Anna closed the cover, but before she could put the book back on the shelf, I scooped it up. “I haven’t seen these in a while. Let me drop this stuff off in my room, and we can take a look, yeah?”

  Nodding, she hauled to her feet, smoothing her hands over her wrinkled skirt.

  “Your house is gorgeous,” she said, peering up at me as we made our way down the long hallway.

  “You sound surprised.”

  Anna laughed, and the sound struck a chord deep inside, a place where there was no music. Just her.

  “You used an empty keg for a chair in our old apartment.”

  “True.” I pushed open the door to my bedroom. “But I can’t take all the credit for this place. I had a decorator.”

  I dropped the suitcase and my backpack on the small couch and then placed the photo album on the bed, hoping Anna would take the hint. I wanted her on that bed, branding my sheets with her peach scent and leaving strands of auburn hair on my pillowcase.

  Adjusting my semi hard dick, which showed no signs of cooperating, I dug around in the fridge behind the bar. “All I’ve got is Pale Ale up here. I’m sure there’s some Dr. Pepper downstairs if you—”

  Whatever I was about to say died on my lips when I turned and found Anna on the bed, the album in her lap. She wasn’t looking at the pictures, though.

  Easing behind her, I brushed the hair off her shoulder. “I saved the best view for last.”

  “You think the dam is the best view?” she asked quietly.

  Banding my arms around her waist, I stared out at the water. “It’s my favorite view.”

  Mansfield Dam towered in the distance, just inside the window frame. Anna’s parent’s cabin sat on the other side of that dam, tucked away in a small inlet. The best days of my life were spent there, with her. And when I’d proposed to Anna under the willow tree on her seventeenth birthday, I’d promised to build her a house with a view of the dam.

  And I did. She just didn’t know it.

  For over an hour we sat in silence, fingers entwined, my chest pressed against her back, watching the breeze blow across the water. My stomach tightened when the sun dipped below the tree line, the invisible clock in my head ticking louder and louder.

  “Stay with me tonight, Anna-baby.” I kissed her temple. “One night.”

  Her back straightened and she looked up at me with a heavy-lidded gaze. “Why?”

  Because I want to live inside you. Wake up with you in my arms. Watch you drink coffee and eat pancakes. And then do it all over again.

  Blowing out a breath, I went for honesty. “Because I miss you.”

  Anna scooted away from me, and I squeezed my eyes shut, biting back a string of curses when she hauled to her feet. I’d pushed her too far, asking for something she couldn’t give.

  But then I heard the snick of her zipper.

  Eyes locked on mine in the fading light, Anna wiggled out of her skirt. “One night. And then I can’t see you again, Sean.”

  It was a hollow victory. Like eating cake without the frosting. But damned if I wouldn’t take it.

  I tried for that carefree smile I could usually conjure on command. But I only succeeded in a small curve of my lips. “Okay, baby.”

  Anna slid under the covers while I toed off my boots. She was still wearing the baggy T-shirt I’d loaned her this morning at the hotel.

  Was it only this morning?

  It felt like time was moving too slow and too fast. Probably because I was cataloging every second.

  Easing on top of her, I pressed a kiss to her lips, drowning in her sweet scent. Her fingers dug into my wrist when my hand slipped under her T-shirt, and I pulled away, sobered by the thick clouds gathering in her emerald eyes.

  “What is it?” She snagged her lip between her teeth but said nothing. Resigned, I rested my forehead against hers. “Anna, we don’t have to do this.”

  I wanted her so fucking bad, I could barely say the words without choking on them.

  “It’s not that,” she finally said, her voice quavering. “Four years is a long time. We don’t know each other anymore. Not like this.”

  I blinked, astounded. “You don’t know me?” I slid my hand to her knee, fingering the one-inch scar that she got from the fall she took when we were hiking in the hill country at sixteen. “You sure about that?”

  Maybe it was true for her. But I’d never moved on. Everything about Anna was fresh in my mind. Her scent. Her smile. The way she looked at me when she tipped over the edge, it was all there.

  Anna blinked, her plump lip firmly entrenched between her teeth once again.

  Holding her gaze, I rose to my knees and then stripped off her T-shirt. My lips found hers for a quick kiss as I worked the tiny clasp on her bra, nestled in the valley between her perfect breasts.

  Peeling away the lace, I said, “Let me see if I can change your mind.”

  Anna’s back bowed when I sucked her nipple into my mouth, and she jerked, gasping, as I scored my teeth across the stiff peak. I’d forgotten more than anyone else would ever know about Anna’s body. Including the fact that she liked a little pain with her pleasure. Not a lot. Just enough to feel.

  Groaning, she fisted my hair. Hard. And I smiled then because Anna knew what I liked too.

  I just had to remind her.

  Abandoning her needy breasts, I worked my way south, lingering at her navel piercing, which, thank fuck was still there. I gently tugged the barbell with my teeth while I slid her panties over her hips.

  “You like that, don’t you?”

  Anna writhed against me while I teased her with my tongue and my teeth, blazing a trail down her belly and past her hips. I settled between her thighs, hiking one leg over my shoulder.

  Home. I was almost home.

  As I moved lower, peppering kisses over her smooth skin, my lips grazed a thick scar above her mound, and I froze.

  Anna went stone still as I ran a finger along the jagged ridge.

  Resting my forehead on her stomach, I swallowed the lump of regret. Any fantasies I’d entertained about this being anything more than what it was, a final gasp, a goodbye, a period at the end of the sentence that was us, evaporated into the chasm between our past and our present.

  Because there was no future. Not now.

  “So,” I curved my hands around her hips, my thumbs tracing small circles over what wasn’t mine. “Did you have a boy or a girl?”

  Chapter Twelve

  Anna

  And this is why I should’ve never gone to the hotel with Sean. Never let him buy me a drink. Never spent the night in his bed.

  There were too many landmines, things he didn’t know, and he’d just tripped over one of them.

  Stumbling out of the rubble, I tried to sit up, but Sean’s hands were unyielding, and the look in his eyes brooked no argument. It said, “you’re going to t
ell me,” and gazing into the blue depths, identical to my daughter’s, I realized that I would. I’d answer any question Sean had. And if he asked the right one, everything would come crashing down.

  “I have a little girl,” I replied, making a vain attempt to keep my voice steady, my features schooled, and my hands from shaking.

  Ask me her name.

  I forced the notion from my mind. Sean had a place reserved in my head, and the bond we’d shared was almost eerie at times. He used to finish my sentences, know what I thought before I thought it.

  Not now, though.

  Sean’s eyes dimmed, the light bleeding from the azure pools as if someone pulled a plug. He loosened his grip, and I wriggled free.

  He sat up, swung his legs over the side of the bed, and stared out the window. It was nearly dark outside now, a faint moon rising in the sky.

  Ask me her name.

  But he didn’t.

  Lips turned downward and brows slashed in an angry line, Sean stared vacantly at the water while I studied his reflection in the glass.

  I guess fucking a woman with a kid was a turn-off. And on some level, I knew that.

  Why would Sean choose me, with my less than firm tits and faded stretch marks, when there was a bevy of women out there with perfect bodies, just waiting for him?

  I’d embraced the changes in my body over the last four years. I was young, and I’d bounced back. But my hips were a little wider, my breasts a little fuller, and no amount of exercise would get rid of the stubborn little bulge above my scar.

  I guess that’s what happens when a doctor rips you open and takes out a small human.

  As I sat pondering my shortcomings, I continued to watch Sean, and when he buried his head in his hands, gripping his hair and looking down at his feet, I knew it was time to leave.

  I found my panties in the sheets and then slowly got out of bed. I’d just slipped the lace over my thighs when Sean’s fingers circled my wrist.

  Startled, I looked up.

  “Where are you going?”

  His voice was like sandpaper, scraping the inside of my ears.

  “I just thought . . .”

  I didn’t know what I thought. Or what I felt. The only thing I wanted was to spare us both the embarrassment of this conversation.

  Sean was looking at me now, his gaze crawling over me from tip to toe. Checking for imperfections, I assumed. He’d always regarded me with lust, a huge boost to my ego, even when I was young and I wasn’t sure what that look was all about.

  I saw it last night and today, but now his eyes were shuttered. Not cold exactly, but inscrutable.

  “You don’t have to leave, Anna.”

  Of course, he would say that.

  I tugged free of his hold, smiling through tears I refused to let fall. “I only live a few miles from here. It’s no big deal.”

  When I made to brush past him, he grabbed me and then shoved his hands into my hair. He stared down at me, cradling my face in his palms. “You promised me one night.” His lips found mine. Firm. Demanding. “One night.”

  We tumbled onto the bed, a tangle of limbs, our mouths searching for one another.

  Sean’s hand dipped into my panties, long fingers parting my folds, slick with arousal, because, yeah, he did that to me. Always.

  And then his fingers were inside, and I gasped. “Oh . . . God . . .”

  Maybe it was that rhythm Sean was always talking about, but he could play my body like no other. Not that I had a lot of experience. Two men, total. But Sean knew all the secret spots, coaxing the pleasure from inside me until I was a raw bundle of need.

  His thumb glided over my swollen nub while he pumped his fingers in just the right way, and I squeezed my eyes shut.

  “Look at me, Anna. Stay with me.”

  I’d heard those words from him a million times when forever was an option. Now it was all about a moment, this moment, and nothing else.

  “I’m here . . .” I managed to say before Sean sealed his mouth over mine, his tongue exploring, pushing me to the edge.

  And when I shattered he swallowed every moan.

  I was still somewhere else, floating above, when his teeth grazed my nipple.

  “Don’t stop.” I fisted his hair, still grinding against his hand. “Please . . .”

  He worked his way down, found my belly button ring and gave it a single pull. And then his mouth was an inch from my most sensitive spot, his warm breath tickling my clit.

  My back arched the second Sean’s tongue swirled over my tiny bud. His arm circled my thigh, fingers digging into my flesh with the right amount of pressure.

  “Fuck,” he murmured. “You taste so good. So fucking sweet.”

  His words sent me over the edge, riding the wave of another release, and my vision went dark.

  I was a shuddering mess, on the verge of tears when Sean finally pulled away. He pressed me into the mattress, his body covering mine as he kissed me, long and slow.

  “Believe me now?” he asked, brushing the hair off my sweaty brow.

  “Huh?”

  “I know you, Anna-baby. All of you.”

  Burying my face in his neck, the thrum of his pulse against my lips was almost enough to let the truth spill out.

  Before I could speak, Sean was on his knees, ripping the condom wrapper with his teeth. Desire darkened his irises, the silver threads burning bright.

  With his arms coiled around my thighs, he pushed in slowly.

  Arching to meet his thrusts, I pressed my head into the pillow.

  “Eyes, Anna,” he grunted. “Show me your eyes.”

  I did as he asked, holding his gaze as he moved with purpose, his jaw torqued tight, a deep crevice between his brows.

  “Sean . . . I can’t.”

  He eased on top of me, his forearms braced on either side of my face, our noses less than an inch apart. And then he kissed me.

  “Fuck . . . fuck . . . fuck, Anna,” he bit out, his mouth sliding from mine. “I’m not . . . I’m not going to last.”

  He reached between us, then stroked my clit, teasing yet another orgasm out of my limp body. But this time he followed me over the edge, meeting the end of me as he came. When he pushed to his palms and looked down at me, his brows drew together, worry chasing away any residual lust in his gaze.

  “What is it, baby?” His thumb skated over my cheek, spreading the moisture I didn’t realize was there. “Don’t cry. Shit.”

  He kissed away the tears while I tried to melt into the pillows, embarrassed and overwhelmed. It wasn’t him, I told myself. But that was a lie as well. It was always him.

  “I’m fine,” I croaked.

  He rolled off me and then disposed of the condom before joining me under the covers.

  “Come here,” he said, entwining our fingers so he could pull me close. “Tell me what happened.”

  You happened. This happened.

  “Nothing. I’m just a little emotional. It’s been a hard week.”

  He nodded, and though I knew I’d probably regret it, I snuggled into his arms and let the steady beat of his heart lull me to another place and another time. When I was happy.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Sean

  I stroked Anna’s hair until her breathing slowed.

  Even now, I could feel the hot, salty tears on my thumbs. The evidence of her regret.

  The problem was, I couldn’t find it in me to feel sorry for what we’d done.

  Alive; that’s what I felt.

  My phone buzzed, and reaching for it out of habit, I skimmed Logan’s text.

  Party tonight at Maggie Mae’s. You in?

  He was either the dumbest fucker on the planet or he was fishing. But my answer was the same.

  No. I’m good.

  When I stretched to set the phone on the nightstand, Anna rolled onto her side.

  “I love licorice,” she mumbled.

  Tucking in behind her, I molded my chest to her back, spooning. How lon
g had it been since I spooned?

  Almost four years.

  “Me too, baby.”

  She hummed. “And Willow.”

  Smiling, I pressed a kiss to her shoulder somewhere on the branches of her tattoo.

  As my eyes grew heavy, my subconscious surrendered to the beat in my head, the familiar tune I’d vanquished to the archives the day I’d left Austin.

  The song of Anna.

  Whether she invaded my dreams or I occupied hers, I wasn’t sure. But when I drifted off, Anna was with me, beneath our willow tree, with lips that tasted like candy.

  Cursing, I scooped the broken egg from the skillet, my fourth, and then looked around in a panic. The mangled, empty carton lay on the counter amid the debris of mixing bowls, utensils, and other ingredients.

  “Lola!”

  My housekeeper strolled in, a basket of clean laundry under her arm. She didn’t answer, preferring to snicker at my distress.

  Swinging my gaze to hers, I glared. “Do we have any more eggs?”

  Unfazed by my glower, she set the basket on the table. Plucking a clean T-shirt from the pile, she tossed it to me, staring pointedly at the scratches on my chest. And the bite marks on my neck. My just-fucked hair.

  In my defense, I didn’t know about the scratches or bite marks until I saw my reflection in the mirror this morning when I came downstairs.

  The night was a blur of peaceful sleep, vivid dreams, tangled limbs, and sweet lips that tasted like licorice.

  Arching a brow, Lola meandered to the refrigerator. “You got a girl up there, or a lion?”

  I pulled the T-shirt over my head while she poked around in the Sub Zero, producing a dozen eggs from a compartment I’d never seen.

  “I thought you told me that you didn’t bring your floozies back here, Mr. Sean.” Lola sighed her discontent, laying the fresh carton of eggs next to the stove. “You’re free to live your life any way you see fit, but I’m not going to be cleaning up their messes. I told you when you hired me, I used to work for someone in the movie business. Brought a different gal around every day.” Clucking, she shook her head. “Those girls started ordering me around. And, lordy, they were slobs.”