by Anthology
Deacon nodded, watching her as she stacked ham, Swiss and a tiny dab of mayo on the inside cover of the roll.
“Well, I worked with my mom for Jesse Tanner’s world tour.”
He frowned. “The name sounds vaguely familiar.”
“It should. Though he’s probably not exactly the music you listen to. And he’s not as big as he used to be.” Jesse had held the teen dream status for a lot of years, but his spoiled rich kid antics were wearing thin on the world. Add in a less than stellar last album, and his star was heading for a crash.
“Not that douchebag Disney kid.”
“Former, but yeah.”
“You and him?”
She popped a bowl with butter into the microwave. When the microwave dinged, she took the bowl out and added Dijon mustard, some onion powder, Worcestershire sauce, brown sugar and poppy seeds into the bowl and mixed it together.
“I was young and brash, and Jesse was fascinated with the fact that I crawled all over the lighting rigs like a monkey.”
“You did?” He grinned.
She nodded and drizzled the glaze over the tops of the sliders. She ripped off a length of foil, covered the baking sheet, and slid it into the oven, turning the timer to seven minutes.
How was she supposed to tell him about Jesse? She’d blocked him out of her life for a long time. On impulse, she rounded the island and stood before Deacon. “I didn’t hop right onto the love train with Jesse. I’d seen too many spoiled assholes over the years.”
He played with her fingers, looking down at them instead of at her.
“He made me feel special, made me think I was the only girl that understood him.” He’d played her so completely.
“He said all the right things,” Deacon said softly.
“What I didn’t know was that he’d been making bets with his friends. His crew of friends that always seemed so immature. I couldn’t figure out why Jesse kept them around.”
“You know I’m not like that, don’t you?”
“I do.” She looked him straight in the eyes. “You’re nothing like Jesse. I loved the idea of him. The thing is, I loved him with an innocence that I never really recovered after that night. He didn’t even let me have one day.” She tipped her head back. The memory of the hidden panel on the bus that had so many other pairs of panties on display. Her pale blue lace ones had looked so sad next to the black lace and red satin, the dark purple and hot pink—all of them so loud and sexual next to hers.
Deacon slid his hand along the back of her neck, dragging her between his legs. He whispered her name, as he brushed his nose along hers, and his unique scent slipped under the memories, pushing them into the past where they belonged.
The oven dinged. She swallowed and tried to detangle herself from him, but he held on.
“I can’t say that I know how that feels, but I can tell you that he was a tiny-minded asshole that should have his nuts carved up with that paring knife you wield like a ninja.”
Her lips twitched and the smile wanted out so bad. “Can’t say I haven’t thought about it a time or two.”
“But that’s not love. That’s disappointment and betrayal.”
“That’s what happens in this lifestyle, Deacon. Women are a commodity, a vice, and a temptation.”
“I don’t work like that.”
“You say that now.” She stepped back, and this time he let her. She pulled the foil off the sliders, and the buttery sweet smell made her mouth water. Food, she understood. This love crap was going to be the death of her.
She closed the oven again, resetting the timer. She curled her fingers around the handle of the oven and stared at her bare toes.
“Have I ever given you a reason not to trust me?”
“No.” She turned around. “But then again, we’re in that happy-go-lucky phase where we can’t think about anything except getting naked.” She filled her arms with the supplies and stalked across the space to the pantry. “What happens when I’m in New York working a tour, and you’re still on this coast?” She looked over her shoulder. “What happens when we don’t see each other for months at a time?”
He followed her, spinning her around. She clutched the bottle of Worcestershire sauce to her chest and stared up at him. “Then I use my goddamn hand, or we have phone sex or Skype in a dark room. FaceTime on our phones. It doesn’t matter. This is it for me.”
“How can you know that?”
He took the bottle from her, set it on a shelf behind her, and pulled her forward. “I know it like I know how to put a song together. It’s instinct.”
“Yeah well, lemmings have the instinct to leap off a cliff. Doesn’t make it right.”
He dragged her into him with a laugh. “God, you make me nuts.”
“Feeling’s mutual,” she mumbled into his pecs.
“It’s not all or nothing, Harper. Just because I love you doesn’t mean I have all the answers. It just means, I don’t want you to walk away after the last show.”
She linked her arms around his back, pushing her hands under his t-shirt to get to his skin.
He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Besides, I won’t give you a choice but to fall for me.”
She peered up at him. “You think so?”
He lowered his mouth to hers. The kiss was sweet as it was brain-erasing. The man knew how to win an argument.
The oven dinged again and she slipped free of him. “All right, how about we table this forever crap and stuff our faces instead?”
“I never said forever, but I’m glad the word is in your mind, Lawless.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
September 13, 6:00 AM - Los Angeles
Deacon rolled closer to Harper, curling his arm around her waist. She nuzzled into his neck. In sleep, his girl was very cuddly. They moved together in the narrow bunk like they’d been doing it for years.
But tonight, he’d actually get to put her in his bed at the penthouse. To spread out with her. To let her ride astride him instead of worrying about smashing his or her head into the overhead.
Absolute privacy.
He couldn’t wait.
They were actually home. Well, a little outside of home, but worth the drive in to actually see their place. To get off this fucking bus.
They were going to meet with Jackson and see about their contract at the penthouse. And with one night between the last two shows, he was looking forward to all of it.
The five and a half weeks had gone by in a blink. They’d exceeded the expectations of Trident, and he had every confidence that they’d be offered a contract. They’d paid their dues for years, and it was high time something good happened for them.
Harper’s phone chirped. The familiar soaring seagull cries and crash of ocean was their morning wake up call. She turned into him, brushing her cheek against his chest with a moan.
“It can’t be time.”
“You can always go on my morning run with me.”
She snorted. “I’d rather clean pots after Mitchell’s chili.”
“Wow.”
Hooking a thigh over his hips, she maneuvered him over until she was splayed across him. Damn, she had strong thighs. He slid his hand up the smooth, tanned skin, feeling the flex of muscle.
He could wake to that every damn morning of his life.
She leaned over him, her sunny blonde hair curtaining around them as she brushed her lips over his jaw, nipping his chin then swiping over his lower lip with the tip of her tongue.
He could feel the smile before he lost himself inside of it. The kiss was light and sweet and filled with an easiness he’d never thought he would find. Not here, not now when things were still so uncertain with his future.
He knew what he wanted. Knew that this woman was everything he’d ever needed. He banded his arms around her back, drawing her into a deeper kiss. Instead, she pulled away with a teasing flick of tongue and nip of teeth.
She waggled her eyebrows and nuzzled his neck, mov
ing down to his collar bone. Her silky hair slid down his skin in her wake. She shimmied down his chest to his abs and he couldn’t stop the groan.
“Lawless,” he hissed.
She tugged at his boxers, freeing his morning hard on with an exaggerated purr. He laughed until she hummed around the tip of his cock and took as much of him as she could.
His hand hovered over her head. Part of him wanted to push her hair out of the way so he could see her lush mouth around him, and part of him wanted to grip the strands and guide himself deeper into her mouth.
Warring with the need to take, he dropped his hand to the mattress and twisted his fingers into the sheets instead. His hips flexed up and he swallowed a strangled groan as she took him deeper.
“Har—fuck.”
She made that distracting purr of a hum around him again and gripped the base of his cock. He slapped the mattress and finally couldn’t stop himself. He buried his fingers into her hair, and her hum intensified into a groan. The slick heat and wetness of her mouth and steady grip left spots behind his eyelids as he arched for her.
He heard her gasp, and he tried to untangle his fingers. She slapped her hand over his and took him even deeper. Need took over, and the white-hot burn of release soared down his spine.
He fucked her mouth, staring down at her as she took every stroke. Finally, she flipped her hair back with her hand, and their gaze locked before his vision swam. Her lashes were starred with tears and her mouth was swollen, but he couldn’t stop himself.
Pumping him with one hand, she tore the orgasm out of him. Blackness crawled into his periphery, but he never broke the intense gaze between them. Her throat worked and his cock jerked as he emptied himself.
Twin tears slid down from the corners of her eyes and into her hair. Finally, she drew him out of her mouth and took a greedy gulp of air. He dragged her up and into the hollow of his throat.
“I…” At a loss, he simply held her. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”
She kissed his neck and snickered. “No. It’s just a physical response to a mouth full of Deacon.”
“Jesus, Lawless.”
She giggled. “Ever my careful guy.” She propped herself on his chest. “I like when you get all aggressive.”
He frowned at her. “I didn’t mean to be so rough.” He’d been enjoying the nice glide of morning sex, or in this case a morning oratory. But then it had gone south. Fast.
Harper rolled her eyes and took his hand, dragging it down to her sleep shorts. She was drenched.
Immediately, he curled into her slick slit. “Fuck.”
“I liked it,” she said against his neck. Her low groan was punctuated by another blast of ocean waves and a louder shriek of gulls. “Man.” Her groan was definitely more whine than pleasure this time. “I gotta go.”
He slid two fingers inside of her and traced the tip of his thumb around her clit. “Now?”
“I’m going to be late.” Her hips lifted to give him greater access. The buzz of her distressed groan gave way to a sigh when he drew his fingers out and slid them back in hard. His name was a choked groan that tumbled into a laugh. “Oh, heck. Just hurry.”
“That’s my girl.”
“You’ve got two minutes to make me cum my brains out, mister.”
“Challenge accepted.”
* * *
He was home. For a lot of years, that had been a word he’d never uttered. But California, Los Angeles specifically, had become home. Sometimes dirty and dingy, sometimes too bright to look at, and yet always a part of his soul.
The mountain air kissed his sweat-streaked arms and back. It was just a touch too cool to have his shirt off, but he’d wanted the sun on his back. He was on his second circuit of stairs. Full of energy to spare, he’d done the stairs of the Greek Theater and bookended it with a two mile run.
He’d been to a dozen shows at The Greek, had dreamed of playing there one day, but he hadn’t actually believed it would happen. At least not this fast. Slowing his run to a walk and a stretch, he looked down at the stage he’d spend nearly an hour on tonight.
Roadies were finishing the stage. All that was left was hoisting the specialty lighting rig that Rebel Rage used in their set. He knew Harper’s brother would be climbing around as his sister had done.
It was hard to believe she’d ever been a part of the rough and ready staff that put the Summer Rage tour together and tore it down every other night. She was so at home in front of the stove and cutting board that it was odd to imagine her covered in anything other than the scents of her cooking.
An echoing clink of metal against metal drew his attention. They were opening the doors already. He’d gotten a late workout in thanks to a pile of radio interviews and one frightening Cisco video chat with fans in Brazil.
They were…exuberant.
He didn’t even know they had fans outside of the US. Thanks to Jazz, they’d done a live acoustic set for a bunch of fans at a club in Venezuela. Evidently they’d have to add a southern trek to their next tour if the crowd was anything to go by.
Deacon jogged along the east edge of the seats to get backstage before someone recognized him. He picked up his pace when a swarm of women in concert wear chic—aka the T&A brigade—noticed him.
There were times where he wished he wasn’t so damn tall. They could spot him damn near everywhere. The only thing he wanted right now was to enjoy the day and kick ass at the show tonight. He couldn’t seem to get his mind wrapped around playing Demon right now.
Deacon with his girl, Harper…that’s what mattered right now.
He wanted that normalcy and to show her how it could be off the road. He couldn’t wait to get her in his space and spend a few hours with her and only her.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
September 13, 8:48 PM - Snake in the Garden
Harper pushed her cleanup cart out of the way and did a final survey on the table. All their favorites were there. Deacon’s dehydrated strawberries sat in a fat white bowl beside plates of watermelon. A crock pot of brown sugar and garlic chicken, a tray of sliders, and the ever beloved turkey sandwiches were stacked and ready to eat.
This would be the last night she ran the kitchen for the tour. The sendoff party on the last show would be a combined affair that was geared to show off the money and the prestige of the music label. Tonight was just for her guys.
The band that she’d grown to care about despite everything she’d done to keep them at arm’s length. A high pitched squeal and slap of flip flops made her smile. Harper turned to see Jazz bounce her way into the room and head right for the table.
The little dynamo had to burn a thousand calories a night. Her red-and-purple-streaked hair was dripping, her studded purple bra and matching boy shorts glittered in the fluorescent lights accenting her pale skin. An equally naked Simon followed her, clad in only a pair of jeans and a wicked smile.
Gray came next with barely a wrinkle in his ever-present white button down shirt with his leather vest and black cargos. The only proof he’d been on stage were his damp temples and exhausted eyes.
Nick followed him with an oddly bright smile lighting his face. His blond hair stuck up everywhere, and his white Henley clung to his leanly muscled chest. His jeans hung low, showing off a hint of hip bones and a dark blond trail above his buckle.
Finally, Deacon came in, full of wide smiles and dripping with sweat. And seriously intent eyes.
“No.” Harper slid behind the table.
“C’mon, Lawless, gimme some sugar.” Deacon headed for her and trapped her behind the table, dragging her in for a full body hug.
“Ugh, you’re a sweaty mess.” She struggled half-heartedly. He was completely soaked to the skin. He buried his face into her neck, his low chuckle driving her crazy. It was ridiculous how sexy he was when he came off stage, but the big lug didn’t need to know just how much that turned her on. “Out!”
He squeezed her ass affectionately, then joined the rest of the
band at the front of the table. They were a diverse group, but one thing matched on all four of them. Excitement, exhaustion, and relief. End of the tour relief.
The end of her time with Deacon was barreling down on her faster than she wanted to own up to.
Jazz slapped her hands together and rubbed, dragging Harper back away from the doom and gloom. “Oh, man. You know just how to make the night even more awesome, Chef Girl.”
Harper smiled. “It’s the last night I can spoil you guys. Tomorrow is big wig night.”
“Great. That means sissy finger food,” Nick grumbled.
Harper couldn’t stifle a grin. “Probably.”
“Fucking Los Angeles.” Simon picked up one of the sliders. “The one thing I didn’t miss was the fact that no one eats here,” he said around bites.
“We didn’t eat either,” Jazz chimed in.
“That was because we were poor. Now, we definitely are not.” Nick stuffed a turkey sandwich into his mouth. He kept looking toward the door.
Deacon socked Nick in the arm. “Do you actually have someone coming backstage? I thought you were strictly pre-game, son.”
Harper rolled her eyes and refilled the half empty trays from her cart.
Nick shoved him back. “Fuck off. I do have a surprise, though.”
Jazz looked between Nick and Deacon. “What kind of surprise?”
Nick’s face shuttered, and his gaze slid away from her. “Just an old friend.”
Deacon frowned. “What kind of old friend?”
Jazz shrugged, looked around, noticing Gray already sat on one of the battered couches that lined the wall. She quickly piled food onto two plates and followed him over. Harper frowned as Gray picked at a wedge of watermelon, but didn’t really eat any of it.
“About fucking time,” Nick said, a huge smile lighting his face. He jammed his plate onto the smaller table that held their post-show beverages.
Harper followed his gaze to see another man at the door.