Best Friends Forever_A Marriage Pact Romance

by Jess Bentley

  “You know Rosa, as many times as I’ve been to New York, I’ve never gotten to do any of the touristy things. I kind of think I’d like to.”

  I look over to Ian, who hasn’t let go of my hand for more than a couple minutes since he first took it, and he smiles back at me.

  “Ever been to the top of the Empire State Building?”

  I shake my head.

  “Times Square?”

  “Only for Good Morning America.”

  Ian chuckles and shakes his head, exasperated. “Okay, then I know what we’re doing with the rest of our day.” Then, under his breath as we’re leaving Rosa gaping and sputtering her protests, he adds, “And I know where you can get the best eel rolls in town.”

  “Wow,” I say, leaning against the glass with my palms. “I never realized how big this place is.”

  Ian chuckles. “They don’t call it the Medium or Small Apple.”

  I send him an annoyed look, but he knows I don’t mean it and just laughs. We’re at the top of the Empire State Building, his arm around my waist, his hand on my hip holding me tight against him. Only a few people have recognized us—well, the ones that recognize me mostly have no idea who he is and vice versa—but we stopped and took selfies and signed some stuff without it getting in our way. And now that we’re up here, it feels like we’re all alone in the world.

  Which is silly, because we’re not even alone up here, but I don’t care because I have Ian and he doesn’t hate me and nothing could be better.

  “You know we can go outside,” he says, motioning to the deck beyond, caged in by crisscrossing metal rods.

  “Should we?” I ask, hugging myself as I watch the wind whip some girl’s hat up and over the cage, floating down to the busy streets below.

  “Don’t worry, I won’t let you fall,” he teases.

  I give him that unamused look again. “I’m pretty sure accidentally falling over the twelve-foot-high safety fence would be an act of God, so you probably shouldn’t intervene.”

  He just squeezes me closer to him, kissing the top of my head. “I don’t care who wants to pull you away from me, they can fuck right off.”

  I wince and look up, ducking, and he frowns.

  “What?”

  “Just waiting for lightning to strike you down,” I joke. “I guess we’re safe for now.”

  “Come on, you dork,” he says, pulling me toward the door. “You need to see the view from out there.”

  I’m still hesitant, but I let him pull me with him, hugging myself tighter as the cool wind hits me.

  He walks us right up to the safety fence and I’m hit with an intense wave of vertigo as the world far below swims before me. It’s crazy. From up here, the other buildings look like they belong to a Lego set. And it’s hard to believe the tiny specks down there are actually the famous New York yellow cabs. But with Ian by my side, I’m not scared of being way up here. I do think I’m probably good with only visiting once though. It’s not natural to be this high up.

  “You know, I heard once that if you throw a penny from up here, when it hits the ground it’s going faster than a bullet,” I say, crouching to peer through the binoculars at the Hudson River sparkling in the distance.

  “Really? We should try it,” Ian says, rummaging through his pockets.

  “No! Are you crazy? Someone could get hurt.”

  “I’m pretty sure if it were true, they wouldn’t let anyone bring loose change up here.”

  I just frown at him.

  “Anyway, you’re in luck. Can’t tell you the last time I had loose change on me.”

  I roll my eyes. “Of course. Because you’re a big-shot rockstar.”

  He laughs. “I just meant because I’ve got a debit card like everyone else?”

  “Right,” I say, feeling a little bad for teasing him, but I know he doesn’t take any of it to heart. That’s the best thing about me and Ian. Everything is just so natural. We don’t really have to explain ourselves to each other. We just have fun together and it’s the most fun I’ve ever had with anyone.

  “Okay, I’ve seen it now,” I say, backing toward the door.

  Ian smirks. “What? Don’t like heights?”

  “No, I’m fine with heights on a normal scale. This is just… beyond.”

  “All right, all right, I won’t tease you about it,” he says, sneaking a kiss that makes my knees weak. I’ll admit, it’s hard to be annoyed with him when he’s so damn charming.

  Once we’re back on the blessed ground—noisy and smelly as it might be—I feel more relaxed and Ian turns to me.

  “Okay, Miss Tourist, where to next?”

  “Food?” I ask, hearing my stomach rumble even over the roar of traffic.

  “I know the perfect pizza place.”

  He’s not wrong; the pizza is amazing, but it’s nothing compared to the company. And when it’s time to head back to the hotel, we end up in the same room and I get that eel roll he promised me.

  Chapter 15

  Ian

  We’re getting ready to head out to the venue for the first night of our tour and I’m not nearly as nervous as I expected I would be. That probably has something to do with Chelsea being here. With how good things are between us right now. She’s putting on mascara, doing vocal warmups in front of the mirror, and it’s such a simple thing, but it’s the best. I don’t even think she realizes I’m watching her. But being like this, both of us in my hotel room gearing up for a show, comfortable with each other and in our own skin, it’s amazing. It’s better than anything I thought I could ever have. It’s natural and domestic and easy. Nothing in my life has ever really been easy, but being with Chelsea is. There’s no drama or fighting. Just us being ourselves and enjoying each other.

  “I don’t know why you’re putting on makeup when you know they’re going to re-do it backstage,” I say, leaning against the door frame.

  She shrugs. “Never know who’s going to be taking pictures between here and there.”

  She goes back to her warmups, but her voice cracks and I grin at her in the mirror.

  “What?” she asks, her eyes snapping to meet my reflection, looking annoyed in that adorable way she does. It’s so hard to take her seriously when she’s so freaking cute.

  “Your voice is sounding a little scratchy there, Chelsea. I wonder why that could be,” I say, waggling my eyebrows at her. Her face flushes faintly, but then she rolls her eyes. “Something with your throat?”

  “Don’t say things like that in front of other people, okay? I’ve got a reputation to maintain.”

  I laugh. “Honey, I’m pretty sure announcing we’re together has tarnished that reputation beyond repair. Do you want a lozenge?”

  She makes a face, her nose crinkling. “No thanks. Those things always taste terrible. I’ll deal with the scratchiness.”

  “Mine aren’t. I promise,” I say, rifling through my suitcase. “Here, wild cherry. None of that chamomile, lemon, eucalyptus bullshit.”

  She looks at it suspiciously, but finally pops it in her mouth, rolling it around thoughtfully. “Okay, that’s pretty good,” she says.

  “Told you,” I say triumphantly. She just rolls her eyes at me again and I kiss the top of her head and wander back to the other room of the suite to wait for her.

  She comes back out pouting. “Can I have another lozenge?”

  “Sure.” I head back to my suitcase and show her where I keep them. “Help yourself whenever.”

  She takes one from the box and unwraps it, crumpling the wrapper and tossing it in the trashcan across the room as she pops the lozenge in her mouth. Then she looks at me uncertainly before taking another lozenge out of the box and surreptitiously stuffing it in her pocket like she’s being sneaky. I laugh and lean down to kiss her, her lips sweet and cherry-flavored.

  “What’s mine is yours, I mean it.”

  She grins and kisses me, but my kiss was sweet and innocent. Hers is anything but. She’s breathless and panting b
y the time I finally manage to pull away from her, my jeans already unbuttoned by her nimble fingers.

  “Later,” I promise. “Right now, we have a show to get to.”

  “You’re no fun,” she pouts, slipping her hand under my fly, making me suck in a breath.

  I grab her wrist to still her hand. “I’m plenty of fun, sweetheart, and you already know that, but right now we have an audience of adoring fans getting ready for us.”

  She sighs and pulls her hand back, letting me fix my pants. “Fine.”

  “Whatever happened to that sweet and innocent Chelsea Garten I met before? I’m pretty sure she wouldn’t be sticking her hands down my pants while we should already be in a cab.”

  She gives me a mischievous look that sends my blood surging to my cock. “Whoever told you I was sweet and innocent didn’t know me at all.”

  “Clearly,” I mutter as she heads toward the door, the sway of her hips pure temptation incarnate.

  When we get to the venue, Rosa’s already in a state, pacing around looking annoyed.

  “I hope this doesn’t become a habit, Chelsea, showing up late. It’s very unprofessional.”

  “Sorry, that was my fault, Rosa. Won’t happen again,” I say, jumping to her defense. Chelsea shoots me a look, and Rosa looks at me like I’m something unpleasant under her shoe, but when she turns back to Chelsea, she’s much nicer to her.

  “Well, hurry in to hair and makeup; we don’t have time to waste.” Rosa marches off somewhere backstage, with another mission in mind, and Chelsea whirls on me.

  “Why’d you do that?”

  “Do what?” I don’t know why she seems so mad all of the sudden, but I can see the fire in her eyes.

  “You took the blame for me. I was the reason we were late.”

  “So?” I shrug. “She already hates me. No reason for her to be pissed at both of us.”

  Chelsea’s mouth falls into a thin, firm line. “Well, don’t do it again. I can fight my own battles, Ian.” And then she’s heading off back to the dressing rooms and I’m left feeling like I just got scolded for something I didn’t even know what was wrong. But I know that women have their own weird interactions with each other and things have been tense between Chelsea and her manager for a while. I wouldn’t like it if she decided to step in with Merrill, so now I feel guilty.

  But when we meet in the wings, she’s all smiles. She’s wearing this sparkly black dress that hugs her perfectly and her hair is done in loose messy curls. She looks way more rock and roll than country and I dig it. But then I remember I’m in trouble.

  “Chelsea, I’m sorry about—”

  “No, don’t. I’m just getting annoyed with Rosa and I need to deal with that on my own. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

  “I shouldn’t have presumed. I—”

  “Shh,” she says, pressing a kiss to my lips. “We’ve got a show to put on. It’s fine, I promise.”

  And there’s no more time to argue because we’re being announced on stage. At the last minute, I think to wipe the lipstick off my lips and jog out on stage after her to the cheering audience.

  After that, nothing goes wrong. The cues are perfect, our voices are working together better live than they did even on the album, and by the time we go into our closing number, I know this is the best damn show either of us has ever put on.

  And Chelsea’s feeling it too. Before going into the last song, she’s already eying me like she’s ready to finish what we started back at the hotel. That song, with those words and the memories of us writing it together, only make that longing more intense.

  When the final chord plays, I don’t even think about it. I sweep Chelsea into my arms and kiss her with everything I’ve got. The crowd roars behind us, going absolutely nuts, but I don’t even really notice them. All I notice is Chelsea in my arms, Chelsea’s soft lips parting for me, her tongue teasing me, her hands sliding up my chest to clutch at my shoulders.

  I can still hear the crowd around us, but suddenly they’re much quieter and I look and see the curtain’s come down.

  “Well, I guess that’s one way to end a show,” I say with a big grin.

  Chelsea’s flushed and breathless and she doesn’t say anything, she just grabs my hand and drags me backstage—and I do mean drags, I can barely keep my feet under me—to her dressing room. And the moment we’re in there, we’re kissing again, hands roaming over each other, her dress pushed up around her hips while she works at my zipper frantically. It’s like there’s a bomb to defuse in my pants and it’s going to detonate if she can’t get them undone in the next ten seconds.

  In all honesty, that’s not far from the truth. There is going to be an explosion of some kind if she gets her way, that’s for sure.

  I’m on my knees in front of her with my tongue on her clit, her fingers clawing at my scalp as she squirms and moans against me, when there’s a knock on the door.

  “Shit, Rosa,” she hisses, shoving her dress back down to cover herself. I stand up fast too, zipping my fly and grabbing a nearby towel to wipe her juices from my face.

  She takes one look over to me to make sure I’m presentable and I nod.

  “Come in!” she says, flopping on the couch, looking casual like we weren’t about to just be fucking in her dressing room.

  The door opens, but it’s not Rosa. It’s Kandy, with her big smile and notebook in hand.

  “Hey guys! Great show. Mind if I ask you some questions about opening night?”

  I can tell that Chelsea is hesitant, but I know if we just get this over with, we can get back to doing what we were doing. If we refuse, Kandy’s just going to go to Merrill and then it’s going to be this whole big thing and I really just want to get back to having my tongue buried in Chelsea’s pussy, so I’ll deal with the reporter.

  “Yeah, of course, come on in,” I say, sitting on the arm of the couch. Kandy beams at me and flounces in to sit right next to me, between me and Chelsea. Chelsea’s glaring into the back of her head, but I send her a pleading look over Kandy’s shoulder. Just a few questions and this will all be over with. My silent communication must have worked, because Chelsea’s glare fades and she slumps back into the couch looking merely annoyed.

  “So Ian, what’s it like being on tour again? Did you miss the suites and jets and tour buses?” Kandy asks, her back fully turned to Chelsea.

  “That’s never really been the fun part of touring for me. I like getting out on the street, meeting the fans, connecting with real people. That’s been great so far. I love putting on a good show for my fans.”

  “That’s what makes you such a legend,” Kandy says, leaning in closer to me, batting her eyes. I don’t know what game she’s playing. Chelsea’s right there and she knows about us. So she must just be trying to irritate her.

  “I wouldn’t go that far,” I laugh. “I just feel really fortunate that so many people like what I do and have stuck with me through the hard times. I feel very blessed to be able to do what I love for a living.”

  Kandy grins, scribbling notes down.

  “But they’re definitely not all here for me. Chelsea’s got a huge following that have been really supportive of our collaboration. It’s been great finding all these new fans.”

  Kandy turns around on the couch, her back now to me as she faces Chelsea. “I’m sure you’re enjoying the fame boost from being hitched to the superstar over here, huh?”

  I frown, my brow furrowing. For one, Chelsea’s probably a bigger name than I am. For two, that’s not even a question she can really answer.

  “Uh… Yeah, Ian’s fans have really opened their arms to me. There’s normally some animosity between country and rock fans, but everyone’s been amazing and the response has been fabulous.”

  “And what do you say to the rumors that you’re just with Ian to edge up your good-girl image some?” Kandy probes, her voice so sweet it’s turning bitter. It’s crazy to suggest that Chelsea’s using me for her image when this whole thing
started so I could use her for my image. Not that Kandy ever found it fit to ask me about that.

  But I remember Chelsea getting angry earlier, telling me not to fight her battles for her, so I don’t say anything even though I want to.

  “I’d say those rumors are completely ridiculous. There are a million other ways for me to edge up my image if that’s what I was trying to achieve.”

  “I see,” Kandy says, clearly not sounding convinced as she hastily scribbles in her notebook.

  “So why did you come back on tour after so long? And are you worried about it hurting your family more?”

  “Excuse me?” Chelsea squeaks, her eyes wide, anger flushing her cheeks.

  “You do know, speculation is that your brother overdosed after you brought him on tour with you and that your entire family blames you for his death. Surely they’re not happy about you being on the road again in this world, inviting that lifestyle back in…” Kandy trails off, but I hear the implication. I’m “that lifestyle.” I’m almost positive.

  Chelsea looks positively shell-shocked though. Her mouth is hanging agape, her eyes wide and unblinking like she just saw a catastrophe she can’t quite make sense of. But I’ve had enough. Maybe she’ll be mad at me later for doing something, but I can’t sit here and do nothing.

  “All right, that’s enough. I think you’ve got enough for this interview, Kandy. Maybe we’ll have time for more questions when you’re in a better mood.”

  Kandy whips around to face me, her eyes blazing bright, but her smile plastered on.

  “I’m sorry, was that too much? It’s the job, you know. Fans want all the juicy details.”

  I’m standing and I cross the room to open the door, gesturing the way out for her. “And we’re happy to provide those details when we see fit, but you don’t need to be so nasty about it. And Chelsea’s fame doesn’t deny her the right to some privacy. So thank you for coming to talk with us, but you’re done for tonight.”