A Lush Betrayal

by Selena Laurence

  “So, wait.” My voice sounds hard to my own ears. “You can’t be a father to me—not like that’s some big news flash—but you want to be what, like, my emergency contact or something?”

  I shoot a look at Mel and see her watching me with concern. My head is throbbing. I’m not sure how much longer I can keep this farce up, no matter how much I’ve always wished I could know my dad.

  “I don’t know what I thought,” he answers softly and stands up. “I don’t want to upset you, Joss. I just wanted to tell you I’m here and say I’m sorry. For all of it. I know it doesn’t change anything, but I am. If I had to do it over again, I’d do it different. A lot different.”

  I take a deep breath, trying to see past my own pain to assess what it is this guy wants, what he hopes for out of our little session here. I decide to try a different tack.

  “So you’ve lived in Denver all these years?” I look down at my fingers and twist a ring I’m wearing. It helps my self-control if I don’t look at him.

  He slowly sits back down, watching me warily. “Yeah. Just a few miles from your grandma’s old place.”

  “Still working construction?”

  “Yep. I’m a foreman now. Don’t run the big cranes anymore, but I have to keep the guys in line.”

  I laugh softly. “Sounds pretty much like my job.”

  He smiles and I see him relax a touch.

  “So you married or anything?”

  “Nah. After your mom, I decided I wasn’t cut out for that. If I couldn’t make it work with the love of my life, I wasn’t going to make it work with anyone.”

  I look at Mel, whose mouth is hanging open the way mine would like to. “Love of your life?” I ask slowly.

  He nods sadly. “Oh, son, it wasn’t because I didn’t love your mom. I loved her more than anything. I just couldn’t be what she needed me to be. I can hold down a job, but I’m a selfish bastard. I’m moody and unreliable and inconsiderate. Your mom deserved more than that.”

  “Sounds to me like you didn’t try too hard.” My voice is bitter.

  “You might be right. I guess I wanted to be alone or I wouldn’t have ended up like I have. But I don’t want that for you. I mean, I know you don’t have any more family, so I want to be there for you if you’ll let me. You don’t need to be alone. You don’t need to be like me.”

  The fact that this man who hasn’t seen me since I was five years old has, in one small moment, nailed the single biggest fear I have in my life, the thing that has haunted me relentlessly for the last year and a half, hits me dead center with a pain that is sharp and sudden.

  “How would you know anything about me or my life?” I spit out at him.

  “I don’t, Joss. I just worried when I heard your mom was gone. It’s always been my worry, that you’d end up like me.”

  I lose the carefully honed control. “Well, you can rest assured I haven’t. I’m a fucking rock star, Joe. I’m never alone.”

  He looks at me with pity in his eyes and I think I might dissolve into a thousand pieces right here and now.

  “Mel, can you escort Mr. Jamison out?” I demand as I stand from the sofa and turn away from him.

  “Of course,” comes her soft voice. “Mr. Jamison?”

  “Sure. I’m so sorry, Joss. But I’m happy for you. Your career. And I know I have no right to be, but I’m real proud of you anyway.”

  I stand and face the makeup counter, leaning on it, looking down at the scarred surface of the laminate, and I don’t answer.

  I hear Mel usher him out. She comes back a few minutes later, shutting the door behind her. I haven’t moved.

  “Hey.” She puts her arms around my waist. It makes my heart triple beat and my breath hitch. “Are you okay?”

  I turn in her embrace, putting my forearms on her shoulders, and running my fingers through her hair. That one simple act drains the anger right out of me, like liquid through a strainer.

  “It’s the one thing I’m scared of in my life, Mel.”

  She looks at me and waits.

  “That I’ll always be alone. Some days I’m so lonely I don’t know how to keep going. It doesn’t matter how many people are around me, they’re just people. They don’t see me. Not the real me. When Walsh went to rehab, I felt like my very last connection in this life had left me. All these people, they see Joss the rock star or Joss the teen rebel, Joss the checkbook or Joss the lady-killer. Until I met you. You see me, Mel.”

  I stop and catch my breath, focusing on the beautiful strands of silken hair that filter through my fingers.

  “That’s why you can’t walk away from this, from us. Please don’t leave me alone again. Not when I’ve finally found you.”

  A little cry comes from Mel’s throat as I lower my head and capture her plump lips with mine. Her body melts into me and I pull her closer, wrapping my arms around her waist as I press her fully against me from knees to lips. My poor heart is hammering, the sudden shift from post-show adrenaline to emotional chaos and now hardcore desire taking its toll. I know at some point tonight I will come crashing to earth and it won’t be pretty, but right this minute, all I can think or see or feel is Mel.

  I move my mouth to her cheek then her jaw and on down her neck, brushing my lips across her silken skin as she lets out a small sigh.

  “Tell me you feel this too, Mel,” I whisper against the soft shell of her ear.

  She moans. “God, I’ve tried so hard not to.”

  I chuckle. “How’s that working for you?”

  She digs her fingers into my hair and pushes up on her tiptoes so she can look me directly in the eyes. “It just makes me want you harder,” she gasps before she devours my mouth.

  I moan at her onslaught and lift her up as I spin and place her on the counter. Her legs fall apart immediately and I press her core against my hard-on as I hear her gasp in response. I rock against her, desperate for some way to soothe the ache that’s been there since the moment I first laid eyes on her in Studio B. Her hands wander down to the hem of my t-shirt and then I feel her delicate, soft fingers on my skin. I can’t help but smile even as I explore her mouth, touching each of her perfect little white teeth one at a time with my tongue.

  My hands are splayed on her ribcage, and I move my thumbs to stroke her nipples through her top. They peak immediately, and she wraps her legs around my hips, pushing her core against me harder. I try to remember if there’s ever been a time I’ve been this turned on this fast with any other woman. I can’t recall. All I can do is feel. Feel the warmth of her under my hands, her softness against my fingers, the absolute, intensely painful burn in my chest. It’s like nothing else I’ve ever known, and I realize that if she won’t give me this chance I may very well be lost forever.

  I pull away. She’s flushed and breathing hard. Her hair is tousled, and she’s the fucking sexiest thing I have ever seen.

  “Mel?” I growl.

  “Yeah?”

  “I can’t pretend anymore. I need you like I need my next breath of air. I’ve never felt anything like this. I swear to all that’s holy you are not my next three-week girlfriend. Do you believe me?”

  She nods, her breath coming in little pants.

  “Good. Now, I’m going to go lock that door and then I’m going to take your clothes off and lay you on that sofa and rock your fucking world. Any problems with that?”

  She shakes her head, and I stride to the door, opening it and leaning outside where Ethan stands guard. “No visitors, no disruptions,” I tell him sharply.

  “Yes, sir, Mr. Jamison,” he answers, his lips twitching. I roll my eyes and slam the door shut, slide the bolt closed, and turn to look at the woman I’m going to make mine.

  Mel

  I’M SITTING on a makeup counter in a dressing room of some auditorium in Denver, Colorado. I’m hot, bothered, and horny as hell. Stalking across the room toward me like some sort of big panther is Joss Jamison, and I forget to breathe for a moment.

  He rea
ches me, but instead of getting back to the hot and heavy, he gently takes my hand, pulling me off the counter and leading us to the sofa. Once there, he sits down, leaving me standing in front of him. He lays his head against my stomach, his hands loose on my hips, doing nothing more than breathing for a minute. It gives me a chance to catch my own breath and contemplate what I’m about to do.

  I remember everything Tammy’s told me. I remember the angry way he went after Mike that first morning of the tour. My gut churns at the thought of him with the Barbie blonde before we left Portland. But in spite of all that, I want him more than I’ve ever wanted anything or anyone in my life. I realize all the other times I’ve been into guys were meaningless—trivial, fleeting infatuations as easily resolved as a crush on a pair of shoes. Buy the damn things and you get over them quickly.

  But this, here with Joss, is no fleeting fascination. This is grittier, darker, more intense than anything I’ve experienced. It terrifies me and thrills me in equal measures. And though I know I may regret it every bit as much as I regret my affair with Professor Marin, I won’t stop now. It’s already too late, and really, I think it was too late that day in Studio B when I took those photos of him in all his dark rock god anguish.

  I’ve always been the youngest in my world, the one everyone alternately babied then ignored. Sheltered, yet left to my own devices. No one has ever needed me. Yet, here is this gorgeous, talented, famous, wealthy man, and he does. More than his band mates, more than his best friend, more than the father who abandoned him, Joss Jamison needs me. I can’t turn away from it. I can’t turn away from him.

  I feel his hands move around my waist as he lifts my top and plants sweet, soft kisses on my skin. I weave my fingers through his hair, his glorious hair. I can’t help but think of the thousands, if not millions, of women who would kill to be in my position right now. And while it isn’t Joss the rock star I’m about to have sex with, but Joss the man, I smile a little at the idea that the rock star is all mine for the moment too.

  His hands stroke the skin along my back and up under my shoulder blades. Then he lifts his head and looks up at me, his gold lashes catching the dim light in the room. “Are you sure?” he asks, his voice low and rough.

  I place my hands on either side of his face, feeling the stubble that’s grown in since this morning. “I’d think you’d be pressing every advantage right now, not asking me to second-guess it,” I joke.

  He pulls me down on his lap and leans back into the sofa. I snuggle into his embrace, relishing the beachy scent of his aftershave and the way he caresses my arm as we get comfortable, his thumb rubbing little patterns along my wrist then up to my elbow and down again.

  “I know I’m ahead of you on this, Mel. I don’t want to push you into something you’re not ready for. I just want you to give us a chance. If you’re not ready for this part, I can wait. I’ll wait as long as you want.”

  I cuddle a little closer, putting my head in that perfect crook between his neck and shoulder then placing a small kiss on the smooth skin there. He exhales like the weight of a thousand pounds has been lifted from his soul.

  “With some men I might not want to at this point, but with you, I don’t know. Somehow it seems right. It feels like, whatever we are, this is an important part of it. I feel connected to you, Joss. I don’t know why or how. It is fast, and it scares me, but it’s like it’s inevitable.”

  “Well, inevitable isn’t quite the enthusiastic response I might hope for, but I’ll take it,” he answers before he lifts me up and lays me on the sofa, pressing his body alongside mine.

  I smile as he starts to undo the zipper that runs up the front of my top. Excruciatingly slowly, he pulls that zipper down, and with each new inch of skin that’s bared, he drops a kiss on me. Straight down the center, inch by inch, until he reaches the waistband of my jeans, where he finishes opening the zipper and then spreads the fabric away from me.

  “I think I’ve died and gone to Heaven,” he rasps out.

  I gasp as he leans over me, devouring my mouth while his hands begin exploring my breasts, kneading and stroking them through my satin bra. With more skill than I want to contemplate, he quickly twists the front clasp and releases the girls from their prison before he pulls back and simply stares down at me for a moment. “My God,” he whispers. “You’re absolutely perfect.”

  I feel my cheeks heat and shake my head. “Please don’t say that. You’ll only end up disappointed.”

  He puts his hand alongside my face, his thumb rubbing lightly on my lower lip. “Never, Mel. Never. Even your imperfections are perfect to me. That’s what I mean. You are perfect to me. For me. With me. You’re meant to be mine.”

  His words render me speechless. My heart is jumping in my chest, and I feel something achy and tingly spread from my center to my arms and legs, my hands and feet. I wonder if this is how Tammy feels with Walsh. This wave of pain and pleasure and utter panic because the idea that this would ever end is almost more than I can fathom. I feel my eyes burn and I know I’m seconds from breaking down. My heart is overloaded, its circuits not designed for this much strain.

  He looks down at me, and his eyes are so serious it’s like he can see everything that’s flashing through my mind. It’s as though he senses me on a level, in a place that words can’t find. “Sshh, sweet Mel,” he coos. “Just breathe. We’re going to be okay. You’ll get used to it. The feeling. I promise. We both will. Just breathe.”

  I swallow and nod my head. Then he’s kissing me again, and I’m kissing him, and we’re taking our clothes off, and I want him so terribly I don’t think I can take it another minute. When his mouth reaches my core, I moan. His hands press into my thighs as I grind against his mouth. His tongue slides up the crease of my center and then enters me, and I’m seconds from losing all rational thought.

  He strokes and nips and licks, and when I know I’ll explode from it, he slides two fingers inside me and sucks on my clit. My whole world spirals out from that one tiny spot, and my entire body thrums in wave after wave of excruciating pleasure. When I regain consciousness—because I really think I wasn’t coherent for a few moments—Joss is putting on a condom and kneeling above me with a predatory look on his face that could be frightening if I didn’t feel confident he’d never hurt me.

  “I hope you’re ready for this, sweet Mel,” he says, his voice harsh in the silent room.

  “I want to make you feel what I just felt,” I tell him as I grasp his thickness in my hand.

  “Mmm,” he rumbles as his whole body jerks. I smile because I can’t help it.

  I sit up and push him back so he’s sitting on the sofa. “I want you, Joss Jamison,” I croon as I continue to hold his cock and crawl into his lap. He groans and throws his head back as he arches into me.

  His hands are roaming over my body randomly, the sensations causing me to be even more aggressive in my ministrations to his hard-on. Finally, I put him where I can slide along his erection with my slick center. I slide along him once, twice, and before I know it, I’m coming again, and he’s lifting me by my hips before he impales me with a growl.

  I finish contracting around him now that he’s inside of me. He pushes me down on him hard. “Don’t play games with me right now, Mel. My patience is fresh out.”

  I swallow as he starts to pump in and out of me, lifting me slightly off of him each time, then thrusting up and slamming me down at the same moment. Our breathing takes on the rhythm of our lovemaking and echoes through the otherwise silent room. Suddenly, Joss slams into me even harder and then stops, jerking in my arms as he cries out, his teeth biting down on my shoulder hard enough to leave a mark. As the last of his pulses shudder out of him, I press against him one last time and fly apart, the words, “Oh, Joss. God, Joss.” splintering the darkness around us.

  MY HEAD is on Joss’s chest and he’s idly running his fingers through my hair as he sings to me in a low voice.

  “If I could only watch one view, it woul
d be your face

  If I could only touch one place, it would be your skin

  If I could only feel one force, it would be your love

  If I could only breathe one thing, it would be your air.”

  I sigh. “That’s such a beautiful song.”

  “It’s about you,” he answers softly.

  I lean up and turn to see his face. “What? You wrote that song long before we ever met,” I say, somewhat disgusted that he thinks I’m so dumb I’d fall for that line.

  He chuckles as he presses my head back down on his shoulder. “Every love song I’ve ever written is about you, Mel. I just didn’t know it at the time. Some part of me anticipated you, was waiting for you, dreaming of you. The same part that brings me the songs. I know it sounds crazy, but you have to believe me. Now that I have you, I know who all those words were about. Every one of them.”

  I lie in silence for a minute. “Oh, Joss,” I finally whisper. “What have we done?”

  The only answer I get is his heavy, even breathing as he finally succumbs to sleep.

  Joss

  SOMETHING SHARP and pointy jabs me in the chest, and I hear a huge ruckus nearby. I open my eyes, disoriented for a breath. Then I see Mel scrambling to sit up and grabbing for her clothes. My attention is captured by the sight of her red hair in a tangled curtain over her eyes as she struggles to get her feet into her panties. Then I see her bare breasts bouncing with the efforts and lose all focus. I reach out to touch her and her head snaps around to look at me. She’s obviously upset, but her look softens when she takes in my expression.

  “What’s wrong?” I say, feeling the muscles of my face tense into a scowl even as I stroke the underside of one of her breasts.

  “Tammy’s outside in the hall,” she breathes as she stands up and bends over to get her bra.