“See you around!” I yell back, and then faceplate, shaking my head.
“Thanks for having my back,” I say to Jax.
“That guy’s a real piece of work,” Andrew adds. “You really used to date him?”
I nod. “Regrettably.”
There’s an awkward pause as we soak in the fact that Jax almost pulverized a celebrity.
A part of me wanted it too. I’m not going to lie.
“Let’s head back to my place,” Andrew says, breaking the silence. “I’ll set you two up in the guest room.”
Fifteen minutes later, we pull up to Andrew’s apartment, located just off the center of the city.
Inside, the place isn’t luxurious, but it’s got enough space to spread out. The front living area has a couch, TV, and dining room table, and it connects to the kitchen. Our room has a king-sized bed and a sliding door leading to a balcony.
“It’s absolutely perfect!” I smile at him. “Thank you so much.”
He nods, not quite smiling. “Glad you like it.”
The walls feature an interesting array of photographs. Half are rural landscapes, and the other half are portraits of people—in prison.
One catches my eye, and I move in closer to it.
“Holy shit,” I say, running my hand over the frame. “Is that . . .”
“Yes, that’s Jax,” Andrew cuts me off. “I took that picture of him a few weeks after he got to my cell. Had to smuggle the camera in, but it was worth it.”
I can’t help but drop my jaw looking at the picture. Jax looks surprisingly young, skinnier, with maybe thirty pounds less muscle—and fewer tattoos.
I glance over at the real Jax, my heart fluttering. “Wow. I mean, you were good looking then. You’ve changed, though.”
Jax shrugs. “Prison tends to do that to a man.”
“If you two need anything, just holler. My room is down the hall. I’m going to crash soon. Your key is on the desk.”
“We won’t be staying long,” Jax interjects. “We’ll find another place.”
Andrew waves a hand. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’ll love to have some company.” With a half smile, he glances at Jax, then at me.
“Good night.”
We unpack the few things we have, and I place the guitar on the portable stand I bought. Jax showers first, and I strip down to my bra and panties. I’m ready to join Jax in the shower when the door swings open.
“Oh my God, I’m sorry,” Andrew says, immediately putting a hand over his eyes. “Just wanted to bring you some extra towels. Wasn’t sure if you’d packed those.”
“We didn’t,” I drawl softly.
Even though he’s covering his eyes, I can tell Andrew’s cheeks are as red as a tomato. “I am so sorry,” he says again. “Good night.”
“Wait,” I call out, grabbing a towel and wrapping it around me.
“Yes?” he asks.
“Thanks again for letting us stay here,” I say. “And these photos are really amazing. Do you still take them? I’m just curious.”
With his hand still acting as a visor, he starts to talk. “Well, uh—”
“You can take your hand down. It’s okay. We’re roommates. It’ll probably happen sooner or later.”
“Okay,” he says, though hesitant. “Yeah, I do still take photos, actually.”
“What kind do you like better, landscapes or people?”
“People, definitely.”
I take a step toward him. “Can I ask you something else? If you don’t want to answer, it’s okay.”
He nods, his eyes unusually intense. “Go ahead.”
“You said Jax saved your life. What did you mean?”
He looks toward the bathroom, where Jax is still in the shower. “It’s embarrassing.”
“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”
His eyes darken, and he closes them for a moment. I’m not sure why, but my stomach tightens as I anticipate his response.
“When Jax moved in as my cellmate, I was in a bad way. So bad that I wasn’t planning on going on much longer.”
I feel my heart split in half. I open my mouth to speak, but nothing comes out.
“Sometimes, you go to dark places when you’re all alone. And my cellmate before Jax was a lunatic. I was a day or two away from . . . you know . . . when he got there.”
My breaths get heavy. “How’d he do it?” I mutter, my voice almost a whisper. “How’d he save you?”
Andrew shrugs. “No specific way, really. Just smiled. Cracked a joke. And told me I was lucky to have the greatest cellmate of all time. Asked me some questions about my life and made me realize that I did have something to look forward to once I got out—my restaurant gig. That’s when I started photographing too. He was my first photo.”
My heart swells, and I glance toward the shower, running my tongue over my lips.
“Well, the photos are good. Really good.”
“Thanks.”
There’s an awkward pause, and I decide to fill it, well, awkwardly. “Don’t worry,” I blurt out. “We won’t be too loud.”
As soon as I say it, I realize it has a sexual connotation, even though I didn’t mean it that way at all.
“I mean—I won’t play guitar too loud. At night.”
Andrew laughs. “You can play all you want. I’m a sound sleeper.”
“Okay. And . . . you can be as loud as you want too.”
Another awkward pause. Don’t fill it, don’t fill it . . .
“Like if you have girls over. That’s fine.”
I’m expecting at least an awkward laugh, but instead his face tenses, and he looks distinctly uncomfortable. “I don’t have girls over,” he says matter-of-factly.
“Oh. Well, guys are cool too.”
He shakes his head. “Not my thing.”
I touch my hand to his elbow. “Well, good talk.”
He flashes the same half smile he’d given us before. “Good talk. Good night,” he says, and then glances at the desk. “Towels. I won’t barge in on you again. Promise.”
“Just knock next time,” I say sweetly.
Andrew leaves, and I bring the towels into the bathroom.
I unwrap the towel from my body and slip off my bra and panties.
“Hey, honey.” I grin, opening up the shower curtain. Jax tongues his cheek, and I take a moment to savor his naked glory. The man is seriously an Adonis. “Mind if I join you?”
A grin spreads slowly across his face. “I suppose there’s a little space to fit you in. It’s a little slippery, though.”
“You don’t say.”
20
Jax
If you’d told me a month ago that I’d be face-to-face with the most beautiful voice in Blackwell, I would have told you you’re crazy.
I was in a hell of a rut that night. She gave me an hour of her voice, and I could have died a happy man if someone had killed me right then.
As I glare at Harmony’s cute little face poking around the shower curtain, though, warmth surges through my body from the inside out.
“I’ll take your staring as a yes.” She smiles and steps into the shower. “It’s green if we shower at the same time, you know. Saves water.”
I bite my lip. “So glad to know we can save the environment together, Vanderbilt.”
She rolls her eyes. “Is that really my nickname now? I didn’t even graduate from there.”
“But you could have. Because you’re a fucking genius.”
“I’m not,” she says, pushing her hair behind her ear.
Our eyes catch, and I can’t stop staring at her.
I swallow hard as the warm water rolls over my skin, and I feel the blood pumping all through my body. “Jesus,” she breathes. “You look like a shampoo cover model right now.”
“And you look dry. Let’s switch places.”
We hold each other’s gaze as she moves into the water, and I take the spot away from the shower stream.
“That photo Andrew took of you,” she says. “You looked so different. Almost innocent.”
“And I’m not innocent anymore?”
She grins slyly. “Were you ever?”
I shrug. “There were a few years in middle school when I was a good kid.”
She laughs, and even her chuckle is melodic.
From behind, I put my hands on her hips. “Let me help you with that,” I joke. “I’m kind of an expert with this loofah.”
Biting her lip, she half turns her head toward me. “Oh? Since you showered for ten minutes before me you’re an expert now?”
“Exactly,” I say, and rub soap into the loofah until it foams. “See? That’s professional foam right there.”
Reaching a hand behind her, she grazes my thigh. “Yes,” she moans. “Very professional.”
Almost tentatively, I rub the loofah down her chest and stomach. The warm water streams onto us. She backs up into me, and her ass presses against my cock.
An unexpected grunt escapes me, and blood rushes to my cock at the feel of her soft, tender flesh. I swallow hard and kiss her shoulder.
“Oh God, Jax. Yes. Yes,” she whispers.
Arching her back, she grinds her ass against my cock again and again, driving me absolutely insane with desire.
“What are you trying to do to me?” I grunt.
Turning around, she runs a hand from my chest down my abdomen.
“Is it okay that I’m touching you, Jax?” she whispers through the noise of the shower. “Because I really want to touch you again. I know you weren’t okay with it—”
“I was okay with it. With you,” I grunt. She tilts her head back into the shower stream, rinsing the soap from her body.
I tip her chin up toward me, bringing her head out of the water.
“I want more with you,” I growl.
“Really?”
“Harm,” I moan. Gripping her hip, I press her into the tile wall and kiss her neck ravenously. Finally, I bring my face back level with hers. “I’ve wanted you since the moment I saw you.”
“Me too,” she murmurs, her innocent eyes looking up at me. “Can you believe we’re here? Naked in the shower together? Are we crazy?”
“Yes,” I growl, and cover her lips with mine. Our tongues do battle, and she tastes both fresh and hot with desire. I pull back and run my hand through her hair.
For the first time I notice a few freckles below her left eye. Running my hand down her side, my arousal reaches epic proportions.
I tip her chin up so her eyes meet mine. “For years I’ve had a problem with people touching me. And now all I want to do, all night, is touch you.”
“I want that too,” she whispers.
I kiss her one more time and then turn off the water.
“Let’s go to bed,” I whisper into her ear.
She nods. “Let’s.”
I lead her into the bedroom, and she jumps onto the covers, then turns around.
I grab a condom from my bag, lost in the sight of her beauty.
“Well, someone looks ready,” she says, glancing at my erection, sticking straight out like a telephone pole on its side.
I smirk. “Should I—”
“I’m ready, Jax. God, I’m so ready.”
I swallow and roll the condom on.
She laughs. “Do you even know how gifted you are?”
“Gifted? What do you mean?”
She licks her lips. “I mean. . . . ohh.”
As I kneel between her legs, rubbing my thick tip against her clit, her voice gets hazy.
“Oh God, Jax. I was saying . . . oh God. I can’t think when you do that to me.”
Smiling, I press my tip into her, barely penetrating.
“Oh my,” she says, gripping my hips with her hands. “Are you going to be able to . . .”
I move forward and smother her chest in kisses while I half thrust into her.
Heat rips through my body, pleasure spilling through my limbs.
Closing her eyes, she grasps the back of my neck.
“Fuck me, Jax. I want to feel you.”
Chills roll through me as our eyes meet. “All the way,” she adds.
I tease her a few more times with shallow thrusts.
“Are you still teasing me?” she asks, almost politely.
I smirk. “Yeah. You’ll know when I’m not. Because you’ll sing.”
“Sing? I don’t really know what you—”
With one hard thrust, I grip Harmony’s hips and press all the way inside her.
“Dear God,” she moans.
She hits a special high note.
I smile.
“See?” I say, holding inside her for a moment. So lightheaded I can barely think, I say the first thing that enters my head. “Told you I’d make you sing.”
“Stop talking and fuck me,” she whispers.
“Your wish is my command. Mr. Genie at your service.”
Before she can reply, I thrust again and we find our rhythm.
Harmony fucks like she sings: soft yet hard. Understated but powerful.
The woman is a paradox, and she undoes me as I rock my hips into her.
The bed creaks and I lose control, driving my cock deep inside her again and again, listening to her cries and screams. She begs me not to stop, and I oblige her.
“Jax,” she whispers as I fill her. “You’re amazing and . . . just don’t stop. Never. Never stop.”
“Never,” I growl.
“Harder,” she says as she grabs my ear.
Harmony turns me into a feral animal, and the world falls apart and gets put back together. She’s all I can focus on. Harm’s my world.
Flipping our bodies around so I’m on the bottom, she rides me, rocking up and down on my hard length.
I thumb her clit and watch her eyes roll back in her head. I hear the faintest whisper of “I’m coming” as her body trembles.
Her moan pushes me over the edge, and I grab a fistful of her brown hair as I come.
My world crashes to a halt. I grip her hard and she purrs as I shoot into the condom.
When we’re done, we collapse in a sweaty heap, but my eyes bulge.
Removing the condom and tying it off, I run my hand through her hair. “So, one more time?” I ask.
“At least,” she whispers. “At least.”
21
Jax
We don’t get much sleep that night, so to speak.
I mean, we’re in bed. But we’re not “sleepy.”
You get the picture.
So I’m surprised when I wake up and see the balcony door half-open in the morning, guitar strums coming from outside.
Taking a deep breath, I listen to the notes of the guitar strings. Harmony sings a few tentative notes as she plays. She sings so softly that I can’t quite make out the words.
Rubbing my cheek against the pillow, I enjoy the fact that she doesn’t know I’m listening, and that I’m sort of a voyeur for her music.
A surprisingly chilly morning breeze finds its way inside—chilly for summer in Tennessee, at least.
I swallow and take a deep breath.
Last night was the first night I can remember when I didn’t have the night terror that has been a nightly occurrence since I left jail.
My chest aches as I think about what could happen if I don’t wake up in time. What if I don’t recognize Harmony when I’m in the grip of one of the scary hallucinations? What if . . . ?
Stepping out of bed, I push the balcony door open.
The balcony is tiny, with barely enough space for Harmony, her new guitar, and me. Her eyes are closed, her auburn hair falling to her shoulders and the golden morning sunlight brightening her skin. After a few moments, she sees me and stops playing.
“Morning, sugar,” she drawls, still holding the blue guitar
in her lap.
She stretches her neck so I can kiss her.
“Morning to you. Don’t mind me. I didn’t mean to interrupt your playing.”
“Oh, it’s nothing.”
“Didn’t sound like ‘nothing,’” I retort.
“Okay, fine. Well, it’s just a little something. I wrote out some silly words the other day and now I put a melody to them.”
“Can I hear this ‘little something’?”
She looks away. “I’m not used to playing my unpracticed stuff in front of people.”
“I’ll go easy on you. I promise.”
Taking a deep breath, she sings for me. The melody is somehow both melancholy and upbeat.
I can’t put my finger on what’s so powerful—the words or the melody. I decide it’s both—and the fact that it’s Harmony singing.
Her voice is perfect. It’s not Adele—but her style is what sets her apart and sends a message straight to my soul.
“Damn,” I mouth when she’s done, almost forgetting to applaud. “Did you just write that?”
She nods. “The other day.”
“It’s incredible. It feels like you’re singing right to my soul. As if the song is about you and me,” I add.
Her face reddens, and she pushes her hair behind her ear. She locks eyes with me.
“Probably because it is.”
My skin tingles at the realization that this song could have anything to do with me.
She stands and sets her guitar on the seat.
“Why the shock?” she prods, poking me in the side.
I smirk. “No shock.”
“Oh really? I thought I could read that in your face.”
I run my hand down the small of her back.
“I’ve got an idea. How about I put a special expression on your face that I’m sure of?” I say.
She brings her hand down my bare stomach. “What expression do you mean?” she asks playfully.
Cupping her jaw, I guide her toward the balcony railing and kiss her.
“Already need a refresher course after last night?” I wiggle my eyebrows, sliding my hand over her hips.
“Yeah,” she swallows. “I totally forgot. Guess you’re going to have to remind me of the face I make . . .”
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