“Good.” Jax smiles, taking my foot and drawing it onto his lap. I scooch forward so I can comfortably rest my ankle on his leg.
His strong hand presses into the flesh of my foot, sending a wave of surprisingly intense pleasure up my body.
“Wow. Keep doing that,” I say.
“I love hearing you say that.”
Running my tongue along my lips, I smile. “I love hearing me say that too.”
I check my phone for the time, because I don’t want to get called up on stage right now, because I don’t want this foot massage to end. It’s a little weird and unorthodox for Jax to be giving me a stealth foot massage under the table, but then again, like we’ve established: when has anything about us been normal?
Finally, my slot rolls around. Feeling relaxed as ever, I stroll up to the front with my guitar, plug it in, and smile as I turn to face the crowd, lights in my face.
“Hi, y’all,” I say. “I’m Harmony Lane, and I’m going to play a little song I’ve been working on. It’s called ‘Shoulda Found You a Long Time Ago.’ Hope y’all like it.”
Inhaling deeply, I grin and grip the guitar. Over the past few weeks I’ve gotten a lot better at feeling loose on stage, even in front of large numbers of people.
Adrenaline swirls inside me, but it’s the good kind. The kind that helps me sing my heart out.
People in the crowd quiet down a little, and I search for Jax’s face at the back table where I was sitting.
I can’t find him, but I play.
It’s a rhythmic number, and to my surprise the crowd gets into the tune, clapping with the beat during the last verse.
When I finish, my heart pounds from the surprisingly raucous applause, including hoots and hollers, from the audience.
I feel a little lightheaded on my way back to my seat. A college-aged girl stops me on my way back to my seat.
“Holy crap, that was the best song I’ve heard all night. Do you have an album out? Something I can buy?”
I shake my head. “Not yet. Soon, I hope.”
“Is that an original song?” she asks.
“One hundred percent,” I say, beaming.
“Holy shit,” she mutters, averting her eyes. Timidly, she brings them back up. “All right, I have to ask. I recorded that whole thing on my phone. I really want to post it to YouTube to show a couple of friends? Is that okay?”
I nod. “Of course! Can you send me the clip too? I want to know how it sounded and felt from your perspective.”
We exchange emails, and I feel lightheaded as the next act starts and I make my way back to my table.
Just then, a voice makes my insides quiver. “Wow, little Harmony. You really played your little guts out there.”
Glancing over my shoulder, I see Roddy staring at me with his evil eyes.
“What do you want from me, Roddy? Why are you even here?”
He smirks. “Just wanted to see what you’ve been working on lately. Now that you’re back in town.”
I can feel my adrenaline spiking.
And this time, it’s not in a good way.
It’s in the “I want to rip this man’s head off” kind of way.
“I don’t want to talk to you,” I say. “Why are you even here? Isn’t this beyond you? A teensy little open mic where mere mortals who haven’t even had a top-forty hit workshop our new stuff?”
He tries to put his hand on my shoulder, and I swipe it off.
Roddy frowns. “I’m working on my new album. Solo stuff this time. And I love coming here for inspiration. You never know when you’ll have that insight that helps you come up with your next big hit.”
I grind my teeth. “You said ‘inspiration,’ but I think what you meant was ‘imitation.’ Don’t you dare steal any of these hardworking people’s songs.”
“Steal? See, I don’t look at it like that. Once I trademark it, it’s mine. If you haven’t trademarked something, well, that’s your problem, and you can talk to my legal team.”
I mumble something to myself, unintelligible so he doesn’t hear.
“Excuse me? You always did have a mumbling problem.”
Tonguing my cheek, I smirk. “I said, my new boyfriend screws better than you. And I wish I found him a long time ago.”
My stomach churns as I let the words out. I’m not the type of girl to be petty and make an ex jealous. But Roddy is asking for it.
And the face he makes is one hundred and ten percent worth the remark.
He scoffs. “Yeah, whatever. You were never . . .”
Moving to the side, Roddy collides with Jax, and flinches.
“Hey, man, I’m not trying to start anything!” Roddy says, putting his hands up.
Jax scrunches up his face. “Why are you so skittish, buddy?”
“Oh. You don’t wanna fight me. I thought . . . never mind.”
Jax and I make eye contact. Doing my best to hypnotize him and draw him in, I think I’m successful.
Because Jax takes two steps toward me, puts his hands possessively on my hips, and kisses the hell out of me.
“Disgusting,” I hear Roddy mutter. “Since when are you into PDA?”
Ignoring him, I pull back. “You ready to head to Yazzies?” I ask Jax.
“Hell yeah,” he says, and then he turns to Roddy.
“Oh, hey man, I think you’ve got something on your shirt. Right here.”
Leaning into Roddy, he puts a finger on his chest pocket.
“Oh?” Roddy looks down, and Jax brings his finger up to his face.
Roddy growls, grabbing Jax’s wrist and pushing it away. “Fuck you.” He turns to me. “And fuck you too.”
We head out, and I see Jax wink at Roddy. “Have a good night,” he says with a smirk.
I hear Roddy clear his throat. “Yeah, right. Really good song you wrote there, Harmony. Really good.”
I stop in my tracks.
“I’ve got to trademark that song ASAP,” I say to Jax.
“No shit,” he says, taking my hand as we exit.
I’m hot and flustered when we get to Yazzies. The heat is in part because of the temperature outside, but it’s also because the agent is going to be there.
Yazzies is a more music-centric venue. At most bars, people mostly just chat while you’re playing, but when you’re here, the stage is slightly raised, there are lights on you, and people come specifically for the music.
Especially on a night like tonight, when there’s an original-songs contest.
Needing to loosen up, I call for our server to bring me another drink.
Jax is still ranting about how good the last song was.
My pulse races. He has to know it’s about him.
“Are you going to play it again?” he asks.
“Yeah, definitely. I’ve worked on some others, but they’re still raw. That’s my best one.”
“It’s an amazing song. Cheers to whatever inspired you to write it.”
He winks, and I roll my eyes.
Looking around the crowd, I wonder who the agent could be. Dozens of people have gathered at the various booths and bar tables. I wouldn’t say hello to her, but it does make me curious.
We watch a few gals and guys play, and they’re all incredibly talented. As my time slot approaches, I start to wonder if I’m in over my head.
“You’re going to crush it,” Jax says. “Just play the fuck out of it. Pretend you’re at LaRisa’s.”
I look at Jax, and for the first time, I notice he’s got the slightest scar across part of his eyebrow. How on earth had I not seen this before?
Leaning in, I run my hand over it. “Where’d you get this?”
He shrugs. “Just a fight.”
“Oh.”
Running his hand through my hair, he asks me, “Where’d you get this?”
Confused, I ask, “Get what?”
“Super gorgeous hair that’s made for pulling.”
I laugh heartily. “Really, it’s just made for pul
ling?”
“Stupid joke, I know. First thing that popped into my head,” he says.
The way the light flickers on Jax in the pseudo-darkness of the club, he looks extra defined tonight. What a truly handsome man.
My chest expands, and my heart throbs as I realize something.
Jax thinks he’s the lucky one. But he’s not. I’m the lucky one.
How many guys are secure enough—or in love enough—to unselfishly follow their partner to shows all the time?
Roddy sure wasn’t.
Maybe I was traumatized by him.
Maybe I was so used to a man who was only in a relationship for his own gratification that when a man like Jax appears—a giver—I have a hard time believing it’s actually true.
My stomach churns, and I scoot my chair closer to him, putting my hand on his leg.
Lifting my mouth up to his ear, I whisper, “I can’t wait for after the show tonight.”
He shoots me a look with half-hooded eyes, but he understands when I draw my hand up his leg and graze his hardening length.
“We always have a good time, Vanderbilt,” he says, cradling my neck and kissing me. “But tonight’s definitely special.”
“I feel like I’ve known you for a really long time too,” I add. Emotion pours out of me. I don’t know if it’s the magic of the night, the way Jax’s face lights up, or something else. “And I hope we know each other for a while.”
“Me too,” Jax says, and then he presses his hot mouth to mine.
I can hear the other act ending, the crowd applauding as the musician fades out. “Oh, I must be up. Sould be right now.”
“Crush it,” Jax says, rubbing my shoulder. “Just like LaRisa’s.”
I smile, gripping my guitar. The host comes out and says a few words on the mic.
My foot bounces as I wait for him to call my name.
“That was Dorothy Dixon playing some bluegrass blues,” the host says.
“And now, we’ve got our next musician, who I’m sure you all have heard of.”
I gulp. That’s not an introduction I’ve gotten before.
The host continues. “In fact, he wasn’t planning on being here tonight, but he swung by and told me he’d just written a new song and wanted to play for y’all. Ladies and gentlemen, it’s my pleasure to introduce Roddy Stillmaker!”
My blood runs cold, and my heart damn near skips a beat.
And not in the way I like it to skip a beat.
I grip Jax’s forearm, hard.
Roddy approaches the mic with a giant grin on his face. “Hi, everyone. I’m Roddy Stillmaker. And this is a new song I just wrote. It’s called, ‘Shoulda Found You a Long Time Ago.’”
My heart palpitates like a bass drum.
No.
This isn’t possible.
My breathing accelerates, and I start to sweat even though the A/C is cranked all the way up.
“This isn’t happening,” I mutter into Jax’s shoulder as Roddy kicks off the song with almost the exact same intro I used.
He gets into the song, and it’s mine.
My song.
How fucking dare he?
My blood boils, but my limbs go slack, making me weak. Time feels like it slows down. I turn to Jax. “I have to go to the bathroom,” I say. “I think I’m gonna be sick.”
24
Jax
My pulse races as I watch this Roddy motherfucker perform her song.
It’s hard to explain the feeling running through me. I know Harmony said he was an asshole, but part of me wondered if she hadn’t painted an extra-evil picture of the guy just because he’s her ex.
But seeing her reaction clinches it, and anger rises inside me.
Stealing a glance behind me at the stage, at Roddy’s smug look, I put a hand on Harmony’s back, comforting her. She’s doubled over at the table.
“You’re so pale. Can I take you to the bathroom?”
“I feel . . . weak,” she says. “Let me stay here a minute.”
I grind my teeth, feeling my adrenaline skyrocket.
“That motherfucker,” I growl, and with every breath, I feel my rage rising. “You know what? Fuck this. I’m going to take things into my own hands.”
Spinning around, I squint at the man.
I’m not sure he’s what I would call a man, though, with his pathetic attempt at a smirk.
We’ll see what he looks like when he’s in actual danger from someone who can make him pay.
Physically.
“Jax, where are you going?” Harmony manages, her tone shaky as I take my first step toward the stage.
I turn back to her. “I’m going to mess up that face of his. Blackwell style.”
She holds out her arm. “No, Jax—please. Don’t do that.”
I clench my fists, torn between the two of them. Harmony’s magnetism pulls me back toward her.
But I can’t help the urge, the voice in my head urging me to dish out some old-fashioned justice to a pansy-ass celebrity who built a career off cheating and lying.
“Sorry, Harm,” I say. “I need to do this for you.”
Turning away from her, I walk briskly toward the stage. Roddy’s eyes widen, and I see him shaking with fear as he realizes what’s about to go down.
“Jax, please, don’t do anything to him!” I hear Harm’s voice behind me, but this isn’t her choice.
The bottom line is that no one walks all over my friends.
When I’m ten feet from the stage, the entire crowd’s eyes are on me while Roddy cowers, backing away.
But then I feel Harm’s light touch on my forearm.
Glancing to my right, I take in her expression. Her eyes are glossed over, and there’s a pleading look in her eyes.
“Jax, don’t,” she whispers. “Please.”
Clenching my jaw, I point at Roddy and let him cower for a few more moments.
“Buddy,” I bellow. “The fuck is your problem?”
His laugh is a witch’s cackle, and it figures that he only feels emboldened to speak with Harmony pushing me—literally pushing me—away from him.
“What are you going to do, call a lawyer? Because I’m sure a guy like you has an amazing lawyer. Fucking scumbag.”
I jump toward him, and he flinches.
“That’s what I thought.”
Turning around, I take Harmony’s hand. We walk back to our table for her guitar and leave before things get ugly.
“Are you feeling better?” I ask Harm once we’re back at the apartment.
She nods, sitting on the sofa and sipping her beer.
“When you ran up there—I had this flash of adrenaline. It was, like, chemical. But still, fuck him. Fuck Roddy.”
I wrap my arm around her. “Thank you for not letting me beat the shit out of him. Sorry about that.”
She sighs. “That was a little scary, seeing you like that. I’m not going to lie.”
Taking a swig of my beer, I lock my gaze with hers.
“But that motherfucker stole your song—again. You can’t just let that go. We can’t just let that go!”
She sighs deeply.
“Yes. We can.”
I furrow my brow. “No. We won’t.”
“Jax.” She frowns, running her hand through my hair. “I love you, but you don’t know a damn thing about copyright law. He’s the bigger name. He’s a bully. I’m just some unknown girl with no track record. Roddy has industry connections. We’d never win against him.”
My heart races, and I heat up as I rehash her words. “What on earth did you just say?”
“I said, ‘We’d never win.’ We’d have to—”
“No. Before that.”
She looks up. “Not sure what you mean? Oh.” She swallows. “You mean, the ‘I love you.’ That just kind of came out.”
“Do you?”
“Love you?” She clears her throat. “Jax, I don’t want to put any pressure on you . . . And it’s been so quick. You don’
t have to say anything. Shit, that was weird.”
I run my hand along her jawline. “It wasn’t weird.”
Her eyes follow my hand as it traces a line from her neck to her breasts.
“Oh, God, Jax.”
She unbuckles my jeans, and her hand slides down the front of my pants. I rip her skirt and panties off, and I rub her clit while she grips the base of my cock.
We kiss passionately, prisoners of our desire for each other.
“Goddamn, I need you right now, Harm.”
“Then stop teasing me and fuck me,” she whispers back in my ear.
I scatter kisses down her neck. I’m sitting right next to her, and my cock stands straight up. It’s Harmony’s whisky-cherry scent. It’s her good-girl front and her bad-girl behind. I’m so damn aroused that my cock is as hard as a steel rod.
Her lips hang open and her eyelids quiver. I run my finger over her slick clit and I can feel how consumed with desire she is.
I bite my lip, smirking as we make eye contact.
Nodding toward my erection, I say, “Do you know how to ride one of these?”
She smiles, shakes her head, and punches me playfully on the shoulder. “Fuck you, seriously. That’s the corniest thing anyone has ever said to me.”
I raise an eyebrow. “I can teach you if you don’t know.”
I hear her start to utter another complaint, but it’s stifled by a moan.
Silently, she climbs on top of me and eases down onto my hard length. She clenches around me.
My skin burns hot and my world condenses to just the two of us. I run my hands over her hips, her back, and I thread my fingers through her hair as she moans and comes for the first time.
Desire explodes through me as she rides me, leaning back and letting me hold her hips.
Goddamn, I love this woman.
The words shoot through my mind like a plane flying over a city. Fleeting—but I know them to be so damn true.
Concentration eludes me, though, and all I can focus on is her feminine smell. Her tasty lips as I kiss them. The softness of her breasts under my fingers.
She comes again and I bite into the flesh of her neck.
“I’m fucking coming, Harm.”
Biker with Benefits Page 14