by Anthology
During the process of the tattoo Casey had changed it. Made the lines thinner in spots, thicker in others. It was a damn blueprint of his body. Finely rendered filigree rode the length of his spine. It reminded him of pen and ink drawings of intricate patterns done for a coat of arms.
On the whole it looked like layers of metal work coming out of his flesh.
“It’s fucking phenomenal.”
“Thanks, man.”
“Are you sure you want to do this for free? This is a thousand dollar tattoo.”
“I’d probably charge more like fifteen hundred, but who’s counting?”
Deacon laughed. It would hurt his ready cash, but he’d pay it.
Gladly.
Casey came up behind him with a bottle with some sort of green solution in it. “Nah. I’ll be taking pictures of this bad boy, though, and you’re definitely going to be an episode of ‘Wilde Side Studios.’ Oh, and I’ll need pictures after it’s healed.”
“You got it.”
“And my aftercare instructions are important, so listen up.”
“Shit. I’ll need someone to help.”
Casey glanced over to the couch. “Better wake up the babes. Jazz will be handy to do it when your girl isn’t around.”
His girl. Deacon couldn’t stop the grin spreading across his face at the idea of Harper being his. She’d probably try and deny it like she did earlier, but it was definitely a true statement.
Deacon walked over and crouched beside Harper. He tucked her hair behind her ear and traced the back of his knuckles along her cheek. “Wake up, sleepyhead.”
She drew in a deep breath but settled right back into the oversized sweatshirt pillow. He slid his hand into the back of her hair, letting all the silky softness slide around his fingers and tangle around his wrist.
What he wouldn’t do to grip that a little tighter and draw her into him for a kiss. But the camera was rolling and he didn’t want to push himself on her yet.
It had been a long and confusing day. They’d gone from platonic to tongue tied in a single day. And as much as he’d wanted to kiss her stupid the first time he’d laid eyes on her, he didn’t want to test his luck on camera.
A guy had his pride.
“Harper, wake up.” She moaned and tried to turn over, but he held her in place. “Wakey, wakey.”
“Not that I don’t love the mushy Deacon voice, but shut up, dude.”
Deacon looked over at Jazz. She still had her eyes closed, even though she was obviously awake. “Tat’s done, Purple Pixie.”
“Finally,” Harper murmured. “But that doesn’t mean you need to stop the little neck massage thing,” she said on a low moan.
Christ, the woman was going to kill him before the night was over. “The artist has instructions for aftercare. I thought you might like to hear them, since I intend on bugging the hell out of you to help me out.”
“Is that right?” Harper opened one eye. “And what makes you think I’ll do that?”
“You can’t wait to get your hands on me?”
Jazz snickered. “I’m sorry,” she waved, “just ignore me. Please do go on.”
Deacon rolled his eyes. “I’m enlisting your help too, midget.”
Jazz’s eyes popped open. “I get to manhandle the mansterpiece?”
“Down girl,” Harper muttered.
“Oh, I know it’s your mansterpiece, but I gotta admit to wanting to get a feel.”
Harper rolled onto her elbows. “You haven’t?”
Jazz mirrored her. “Nah. Twitter and the internet seems to think that the band passes me around like a party favor, but I have standards.” She grinned brightly, her purple contacts glowing in the low light. “Most of the time.”
“I didn’t…I wouldn’t—”
Jazz waved her off. “I’m just sayin’. So you know, you can feel safe about stuff. Deacon’s a sweetheart, but he’s more brother than lover material for me.”
“Thanks, I think,” Deacon said and stood.
Harper pushed herself to a sitting position. “It’s none of my business.”
Jazz nodded to the cameras. “Tell that to the world, girlfriend.”
Harper winced and pushed her hair out of her face. “Let’s just get this done.”
Crap. It was asking too much to think that she’d have time to actually do the aftercare for him. “You don’t have to do it. I’m sure Jazz would be okay with—”
“No, I got it,” Harper interrupted.
“Okay, but maybe I should learn just in case.” Jazz sat up as well, her voice full of laughter. “Only because I love you unconditionally.” She stood and drilled her finger into his ribs.
“Good to know,” Deacon said and kissed her forehead.
Casey’s sister was back. Her eyes were clear and focused as she snapped on black medical gloves. “Didn’t think I’d miss this part, did you?”
Deacon folded his arms across his chest. Being manhandled was part of the package lately. More and more fans were coming up to them in airports and after the shows for autographs and pictures, but he’d never felt more objectified in his life than tonight. He’d been directed to strip in front of people, he’d been stared at for hours both by fans and the invasive eye of a camera, oh and he’d be on television in the next few months.
Right now all he wanted to do was to get out of there. To take Harper and find a quiet spot and let her play nurse. He fisted his hands under his biceps. Was that too much to ask?
Harper slid her palm over his forearm and gently turned him. “Oh, wow.”
He could feel her eyes on him. He stood up taller, straightened his shoulders and spine. He shut his eyes when the tips of her fingers ghosted down the very edge of his back.
“Don’t touch.” Kate said firmly.
“I didn’t—” Harper started to protest, but took a step back.
“He’s a huge open wound. It’s a pretty wound but still very raw, and right now he’s very prone to infection. So I’m going to teach you both what to do for the next few weeks.”
Deacon knew the song, the lyrics, and the choreography to this particular song.
“I’ll wash you up and we’ll coat you with a fine layer of triple antibiotic. Normally I’d cover you in gauze, but this piece is big and very intricate. So we’ll wrap him in saran wrap to protect the piece. But you can’t leave it on too long. The tattoo needs to breathe, but it’s the best way to get you out of here and back to…well, wherever you’re going.”
“Okay,” he said when it seemed that she was waiting for him to respond.
Harper listened with rapt attention to her instructions, asking way too many questions, but he’d be the one benefiting so he kept his mouth shut. Ten minutes later they were making their goodbyes. By the time they piled into Harper’s car, all of them were exhausted. If he’d been smarter, he would have thought about the fact that now he had no choice but to heal up. Getting Harper under him wasn’t happening tonight.
CHAPTER TEN
August 19, 10:00 AM - This Was Your Idea
Harper climbed the stairs of the bus with dread in her gut. The last time she’d been on a musician’s bus there had been a lot of liquor, a questionable level of memory, and her panties had ended up nailed to the overhead wall at the front of the bus’s living area.
Jazz, sitting in a lotus position, helped dispel the memory a bit though. She was in super short yoga shorts and a tiny one-strap sports bra thing in a searing day-glow pink that only Jazz would be able to pull off. The outfit showed just how lean and perfect her body was.
Harper sucked in her gut and straightened her shoulders. She really needed to get back to yoga. Like tomorrow.
“Hey.”
Jazz opened one eye. She shut her eye again and grinned, raised her arms in a long stretch, and suddenly leaped up to crash into her with an exuberant hug that sent them both sprawling onto one of the bench-style couches that lined the bus. “Can’t stay away, Chef Girl?”
“
I’m here between meals to do my Tattoo Boy duty.” Harper winced. Yeah, that didn’t come out right.
“You just want to get your hands on all that hot man-flesh.”
Harper pressed her lips together and hoped her face wasn’t flaming quite as hot as it felt. “Can’t say that’s a downside to this particular chore.”
“Hell yeah.” Jazz laughed and caught her hand to drag her to the back of the bus. “Don’t mind the snoring and the mess. I make the guys keep the front of the bus clean, but the back?” She sighed hugely. “Not so much.”
The back wall had bunks stacked three high. All of them with the curtains closed. The second bunk up had a female foot sticking out with scarlet painted toes.
Harper frowned. “Which one is Deacon?”
“Bottom.”
Relief flooded her followed directly by anger. Why should she care if a woman was in there with Deacon? She didn’t have any claims on him. In fact, they’d done little more than kiss.
Right. That seismic orgasm you had yesterday was nothing.
She clenched her fist. Nope, she wasn’t going there.
“Hey.” Jazz touched her arm. “Deacon isn’t like Simon. Heck, Simon isn’t as bad as everyone thinks he is, to be honest.”
Harper huffed out a breath. She was being stupid. She pulled back the curtain a few inches and whatever breath she’d been holding whooshed out. Deacon was sprawled on his stomach, his head half tucked under his pillow, and his hands curled up around his head. That part was adorable.
It was the long, muscular line of his back that gave her pause. She’d cleaned him up last night and re-bandaged him with gauze and another thin layer of ointment. But she’d been so conscious of his discomfort and the raised skin that she’d rushed through the job, her one goal to get it over with so he could rest.
And still that had been enough to keep her dreams heavy with ideas fit more for a porn princess than a chef. A cold shower had been in order both last night and this morning. The man’s body was beyond sculpted.
Here and now, with a few hours away from him, she should be more even. She was exhausted and cranky, and yet all she wanted to do was climb into that bunk and curl around him.
She had an hour break.
Good grief. No, she was there to take care of his back and then get back to work. No naps, no cuddling, and certainly no porn princess thoughts about that impressively muscled body getting between her thighs.
She groaned.
“I know. You should see when he does yoga with me some mornings. He’s very flexible.”
“You are not helping, Jazz.”
She shrugged. “The big guy is hot.”
Harper slid her gaze away from Deacon’s back that gently rose and fell in sleep and zeroed in on Jazz.
“Don’t give me the eyebrow. I can enjoy the visuals without pouncing on the guy.”
“Sorry.”
Jazz grinned. “Jealous is good. He needs a girl that isn’t just looking to bounce and run.”
That was all she intended to do, dammit. She wasn’t in this for a relationship. She wanted Deacon. It’s not like she could deny that at this point. Just being in the same room with him had her palms tingling with the need to touch him. That didn’t mean she had to act on it though. She’d been attracted to men before and kept her panties on.
Okay, so none had been as tempting as Deacon, but she wasn’t a slave to her damn hormones even if it had been over three months since she’d had a man in her bed. And even then it had been about as exciting as white rice and butter.
Deacon was Indian food with an appetizer, and an extra helping of dessert.
With five weeks left in the tour that would be just about perfect. They’d gorge themselves on sex and fun and then they’d go their separate ways. It was perfect.
“We’re just having fun,” Harper said quietly.
“Deacon needs fun. A lot. Just don’t hurt him okay? He’s big and capable and one of the most even-tempered people you’ll ever meet. You know, the definition of a Boy Scout.”
“With a merit badge in hot.”
Jazz laughed. “There is that. But he’s the kind of guy you stay with.”
“I’m not looking for forever.”
“What girl isn’t looking for forever?”
Harper pulled Jazz back into the main living area. “I don’t want you thinking you can matchmake this into hearts and flowers here. I like Deacon. And I’m not going to deny that naked time is definitely on the table, but I’m just starting my career. It’s only a fling.”
Jazz sighed. “You guys don’t act like it’s just a fling.”
“We met a week ago,” she said incredulously.
“Sometimes that’s all it takes.”
“And sometimes reality sucks. I’m on probation with this tour. If things work out, I’ll be assigned to another tour when this is over. With another band.”
“It might be our band,” Jazz insisted.
“You guys are going right out on tour again?”
“Maybe,” she said and folded her arms.
Harper rubbed Jazz’s arm. “I know how these things work. I’ve been touring with musicians all my life. You’re going to go record an album and start over. Next time you’ll probably co-headline at the very least.”
“You think so?”
The innocence in her gaze and the hope shining in her light blue eyes made Harper sigh. In years she was probably just about the same age as Jazz, but there was nothing but naiveté and sweetness under all the bravado.
She’d been like that once.
“I know so. I can see all the signs. You guys are on the cusp of something awesome. I can tell.” And that wasn’t a lie. She’d watched them practice, even watched them play. Oblivion was just getting started. They all were hungry for it.
And falling in love wasn’t in the plan. For them, it would more likely be separate planes and stiff goodbyes.
Jazz sniffed and dabbed at her eyes. “You tell anyone I was getting sniffly about this and I’ll break your foot.”
Harper twisted an imaginary key in front of her lips and tossed it over her shoulder.
“Now go away so I can wake him up.”
Jazz hugged her before sprinting back to the bunk area and grabbing a towel. “I’m going to steal the shower before someone else wakes up.”
Harper took a deep breath, knelt beside Deacon’s bunk, and slid the curtain back. Sometime in the night he’d pulled the bandage off. The dense black of the tattoo was highlighted with a few spots in the filigree shaded in a brilliant purple that leapt off his tanned skin.
From the tops of his shoulders to the curve of his lower spine, the design was now a piece of him. Right now the pieces looked a little worse for the wear with dried blood and the sticky residue of tape.
What he needed was a shower.
And she had to help him.
Hardship of all hardships.
She slid her hand down his bicep to his forearm. “Wake up, Tattoo Boy. I’ve come to do my duty.”
The rumble of a groan made her grin. His skin was all warm with sleep and she had the strongest urge to roll into the bunk with him. Considering her history with tour busses, that was a damn miracle. But then again Deacon tempted her more than dark chocolate chips.
“Deacon,” she said softly.
He grunted what she could only guess was a no.
“I’ve only got an—” She squeaked as his arm shot out and dragged her under him and snapped the curtain shut in the space of a second. He tucked her under him, sliding his knee between her thighs before burying his face into the hollow of her neck.
Warm didn’t even cover it. The man could heat the entire bus. The pungent ointment filled the space, but under the medicine was the beachy scent of Deacon.
“You smell like cinnamon and bananas,” he said into her neck. The rumble of his voice teased her ear and goose bumps rose everywhere. She sighed out a groan when his lips coasted down her neck and under the co
llar of her polo shirt. His huge hand spanned the width of her belly as his thumb made small circles where her shirt had ridden up.
“Deacon,” she said helplessly.
The tip of his tongue traced her collar bone while his hand slowly pushed up her shirt. She was sweaty and sticky and had powdered sugar all over her. Not the way she wanted to get naked with a man for the first time.
But he kept making her forget about simple things like wearing pretty clothes and lingerie. She couldn’t honestly remember the last time anyone made her feel this alive. And when his fingertips brushed the underside of her bikini top, she arched for him.
He nosed under her shirt and nuzzled the center of the triangle of her halter top until her nipple stood so taut she pushed the damn thing into his mouth. He sucked through the thin material, his teeth grazing the tip again and again. “I knew you’d be sweet, but I didn’t think you’d actually taste like sugar.”
Embarrassed, she groaned and tried to wiggle free. Instead of letting her go he tugged the cup aside and sucked on her naked nipple and she forgot to be ashamed. Who the hell cared if she was covered in flour and sugar when he had a mouth like that?
She slid her fingers into his hair and bit back a groan. When he found her other breast, he plucked the tip between his thumb and forefinger. She didn’t know which sensation was going to kill her first.
He moved his mouth to just behind her ear. “I think it’s becoming my single obsession to make you come. Think I can do it without touching anything else but these perfect breasts?”
When he alternated between tugging and whispering around the very tip of her nipple with the pad of his thumb, she actually wondered if it was possible. She’d never been overly sensitive when it came to her breasts, but as usual, when it came to Deacon nothing fell under normal parameters.
He flipped her shirt and halter top up and suddenly took her in his mouth. He went from one to the other until she was so dizzy with wanting him that she was one big exposed nerve.
She rolled her hips instinctively, but he pinned her down with his thigh across her hips. He laced the fingers of his left hand with her right and brought them up above her head. “No cheating.”