“It was a perfect night,” she agreed, and some of the stressful weights banding his chest released. “I need to stop letting other people ruin it for me.”
“No one can ruin it. It’s ours, honey. And hopefully it will be pulled for good from the sites. But whether it is or isn’t, the hype is going to die down.”
Her breaths evened out and her voice seemed calmer. “It was perfect, wasn’t it?”
“Damn straight.” His curse was a reverent vow, and then he dropped his voice even though he was alone. “Want to watch it with me?”
The seconds ticked like a click track. One. Two. Three. Four. A few more. And then…
“Uh huh. Okay.”
They each did a search and hit play.
“You’re beautiful.”
“So are you.”
Deciding not to take offense at being dubbed beautiful, because together, they truly were, he swiped the screen, zooming in some. “He was right, you know. This tops Tom and Pam’s.” Or any other leaked or planted sex clip on the internet.
He waited, ready if she disagreed to bait her into a smile by pretending to take it personally. After all, he could measure up—he’d been just as blessed with rockstar-cock.
Her agreeable “Mmh hmm” against his ear was breathy—either fatigued or intrigued.
“Scar?”
“Hmm?”
“Wanna come visit?” He’d told her he didn’t want her to see him in this place, but suddenly another couple of months without her seemed an eternity.
Chapter 8
The heels of my snakeskin pumps made a quiet plunk with each step on the slate floor. My eyes were partially hidden behind shades that had conformed to the indoor lighting. I kept my gaze down on the colorful pattern swirling the tiles. Blues, browns, golds. The décor was very Aztec with rug hangings, scattered woven blankets, and large clay vases dotting corners, and either side of a massive stone fireplace in the great room.
Feeling eyes on me, I lifted my chin and curved a practiced smile. This was my fourth visit. Shady Oasis was no stranger to celebrities in the form of patients or their families, but still an atmosphere buzzed around my entrance. After a quick sweep of the room, I headed to an unoccupied section, nodding as I passed at the few I’d chatted with before. Smoothing the back of my dress, I lowered into one of the two rocking chairs and waited.
I had already sent a text before stepping from the cab, and I turned my screen on to see if any had come through during my walk in.
Just pulled up
sent 1:00 PM
Gage
Brt
1:00 PM
“Excuse me. You’re Scarlette Conterra.” The young woman was beautiful. When she raised her hand to tuck a wavy strand of hair behind her ear, the patient band on her wrist slipped a couple of inches down her forearm.
“I am.” I nodded, and flexed an inquiring smile.
Anyone in here who knew music, knew who I was.
Social media recluses who hadn’t seen headlines like A Dead Ringer For Her Dad, Rock and Roll Lovechild Inherits Billions, or more embarrassingly from the sex tape scandal Blended Family Affairs. Siblings or Lovers? still knew who I was. Girlfriend of the resident rock star, whatever his name was.
“I’m Andrea. I just wanted to say hi. It’s great to meet you. Gage never stops talking about you.”
“Gage talks to you about me?” With fame, I had remained grounded, solid. But I had been overexposed to distinctive personalities and mimicked some of these personas at will. Right now, I arched a brow and put on my best snooty air. I couldn’t help it. The girl was gorgeous. And thinking of Gage talking to her—shining his ‘engaging’ smile on her—did ugly things.
“To everyone, actually. All good things. Don’t worry.” A nervous giggle expelled with Andrea’s next breath. “Anyway. Have a good visit.” The last part was accompanied by a blush, and she hurried away.
It was nuts. I had actually thought ahead enough to imagine Gage going about his musician life while I was putting in long hours at the university. Playing in his cover band. Or joining another band. Having friends over to swim while I wasn’t home. And yes, in the last few months, his house had felt like home. But I had never dreamed I had to worry about what he would be doing in rehab.
“Scar Dar’!” His husky voice vibrated my ear, and his breath sent a heated shiver through my limbs. He’d come up behind me, and I leaned back, enjoying his hard body. I jumped when he bit my ear, and when my head turned away in self-defense, he claimed my lips as smoothly as if he had executed the plan that way. Restraint manifested in a clench of his fingers to my arms when he respectively forced space between our lips.
Rules. I’d only skimmed them, but I was sure they included no macking like horny teens in the common room during visiting hours.
“How’s my dog?”
I pulled a semblance of the face I’d shown Andréa. “Rascal’s fine. And so am I. Thanks for asking.”
“I’m fine too.” He saw my arched brow and raised me one. “Thanks for asking.”
A giggle bubbled to the surface, and suddenly I was laughing and he right along with me.
Hooking a finger into the silver cuff bracelet, he tugged until I was a breath away again. Instead of kissing me, he said, “Let’s go for a walk.”
We held hands as we took a trail around the pool area and began down the slope toward the lake in the far distance. Looking at our entwined fingers, I couldn’t help but see the symbolism of stark reality—the change from when I’d shown up at his door. My bracelet was silver, adorned with designer engravings, while his was vinyl, decorated with his patient ID and specifics.
When we’d walked for more than ten minutes, I slowed. Looking at my feet, he stopped me and held his hand out. “Give ’em.”
“My shoes? No. It’s okay. I didn’t know, or I would have worn something else. But they’re fine.” The last times we’d stayed close, either around the pool or in the recreation room.
“Scar, just step out of ’em.” He tugged on my ankle. “This bike trail is paved almost all the way down.” I kicked them off, and he straightened with them in one hand, and reclaimed my hand with his other.
He seemed to be headed toward a large stable and gave my wrist an impatient tug when I dallied too long at a fence exclaiming over paint horses. The paved trail had ended, but the sand was soft and dry beneath my soles.
We kept up a nonstop chatter, but when we entered the huge empty barn, I quieted while taking it in. The horse stalls were empty. He led me beyond them and turned a corner. The sandy floor became a rough stone floor and he paused before a door, whipping a key from his pocket. After a furtive look around, he unlocked the door, pulled me through it, before closing and relocking it behind us. His sneaky manner alerted me. This had been no casual walk around the grounds. Natural lighting filtered through a window at the end of the hall, enough for me to tip my face to his in silent surprise and see his return smirk.
We passed what looked like a few offices, and at the window, he turned to a stairwell. I followed him up and found we were in a large loft. A huge opening was on the outside wall, and through it, was a magnificent view of the grounds and lake. An open half wall across from it overlooked the inside of the barn. Across on the far side of the barn, I saw an identical open window. A cross draft flowed through—obviously part of the architectural planning.
I turned back to the outside view, and when he nudged me closer to the outside wall, away from view of anyone entering the barn, I considered the key and realized his clandestine motives even before he nuzzled his face in my neck.
“This is why I asked you to wear a dress…” He spoke against my skin. “Damn, you smell good.” I shivered when his tongue swabbed the crook at my shoulder. “Taste good, too…”
Holy shit, it had been so long. My panties were already warm and wet. “How did you pull this off?” I put it out of my mind that conjugal visits were absolutely not allowed. I knew because Gage had
asked the first day he’d come to check the place out and do paperwork!
“Money makes friends in high places.” He swiveled me to face him and hungrily claimed my lips. “Damn, I’ve been dreaming of this kiss—a real kiss.”
“Friends in high places?” I spoke around his tongue. “Like the stable?”
“Like one of the grooms,” he concurred. “Now shut it, and kiss me!”
Our tongues clashed, and he sucked the breath from my lungs. After kissing thoroughly, he slowed things enough to tickle and tease with his rock star kisses. By now, I was a pro with these techniques and pressed closer when I had him groaning. My senses were so enamored with the taste of him that I barely registered his fingers beneath my dress until he jerked my panties down.
“Unbutton this…” With a trail of his finger, he indicated the front of the dress.
“You do it,” I retorted, unwilling to remove my hands, which were tunneled beneath his tee exploring the sinewy muscles he’d developed during his stay.
“I would, but I need a taste. Fuck, it’s been so long.” He knelt as he spoke, and his head disappeared beneath the loose skirt of the dress.
My knees almost buckled with the first swipe of his tongue and a cry ripped through my throat.
“Scar,” he spoke from the tent of fabric. “You gotta stay quiet.”
So matter of fact was his tone, as if he was shushing me in a movie theater. A hysterical giggle was the next threat to the silence—for about one second. Doing a damn good job of holding back a moan, I took another look at our surroundings, realizing although we couldn’t be seen in the corner we’d adjourned to, we could very easily be heard should someone come into the barn. “I won’t be able to… You can’t…”
“Just for a minute.” And done with wasting time talking, he turned his attention back to me.
I managed to swallow the next scream and concentrated on the feel of the wall digging into my shoulder blades. He held one leg, lifting it and parting me to him more, and when I whimpered, he sank his teeth into my thigh in warning. The pain only increased the pleasure. Trying to make my mind work enough to think of another distraction, I tipped my head back, staring into the rafters.
“I’m gonna come…” I whispered the warning.
“Don’t… Not yet…”
The vibration of his voice intimately against me was almost my undoing. More thoughts. Like, shit, I had only done the most basic of manicuring down there with summer being over, him being gone, and classes consuming my time. Embarrassing. Right. You’d think. But somehow, I didn’t care. All I cared about from second to second was what his tongue and lips were doing next. Each time I made a sound, he paused to bite the inside of my leg, enough once to bring a sting of tears to my eyes. Why in heaven was the pain with the pleasure so erotic? My fingers twisted in his hair, which had grown so long, and I gave it a yank with each painful nip.
“You unbuttoned yet?”
“No… oh…”
“Tell me when you are…”
“And you’ll stop?” I was already ripping the first button from its slit. He didn’t stop the delicious swirls of his wicked tongue to answer. Two more buttons free. Not that I wanted him to stop, but I’d already heard sounds just outside and was biting the inside of my lip to remain quiet. Last button, and I called it as I was undoing it. “Done!”
He tongue-lashed me one last time before relaxing his hold on my leg, and I almost collapsed in a haze of ecstasy. His hair was sticking out in all directions. He dipped his hands into my bra and lifted the girls out, lavishing them with enough attention to have me throbbing almost as heatedly as if he were still between my legs.
A vibration of a moan filled my throat, and I fumbled with the fly of his jeans as a diversion. Hooking my fingers into the waistband, I used the momentum of sliding down the wall to peel them down, and then overly excited to have him huge and hard before me, shoved the denim all the way to the floor.
“Scar, I’m barely holding on… Not a good idea—” His protest melted into a string of euphoric curses when my lips fit around him.
With him now at my mercy, I fully intended to pay him back for each tortuous minute he’d subjected me to. That was the plan. But Gage was a man. His physical strength outmatched mine. And it was just as erotic when he silently called the shots by yanking me up after I’d barely had a taste, pivoting me to face the wall, copping a quick grab of my breasts before locking his hands to my waist, kicking my feet apart, and growling sex talk into my ear while slamming into me.
Chapter 9
They said nothing for the longest time. He wondered if she also was too wrung out to speak. Or if taking her like an animal instead of worshiping every inch of the gorgeous body he’d been deprived of for months had traumatized her into silence.
“You okay?” Finally, he managed two words and cradled her closer in his lap.
“Um hmm.” She barely stirred against his chest.
Tipping his head back to rest in the corner, he closed his eyes while brushing his fingers up and down the smooth silkiness of her toned calves.
“Are they going to write you up or something if we miss the welcome meeting?”
“Write me up?” He grinned at her juvenile suggestion, wishing they could sit like this until… Until they didn’t want to. “Nah.” She relaxed onto him, and until then he hadn’t realized she had stiffened while waiting for his answer. “Just detention.” She slapped at him, and he let her, but caught her wrist when she began to button up. “Leave it, so I can play a little longer…” Using his knuckles, he skimmed the velvet softness swelling from her bra. “Speaking of school…”
“Were we?”
“You probably didn’t, but I definitely had detention a time or two.” His thumb dipped beneath the lace.
“No!” Her whispered comeback was suitably appalled.
Her antics had him grinning like a fool. Everything right now had him smiling. He was firmly entrenched in his happy place. “How are classes?”
“Great. I’m liking them a lot. One professor seems like she’s going to be impossible, but the rest are cool.”
The conversation took off and he soaked up the sound of her voice and relished hushing her laugh with his lips to hers when it got too loud.
“What’s new with your music? Still finding time?”
Nodding proudly, she reached behind him, and he raised his brows when her finger splayed on the back pocket area of his jeans. “My phone, nympho,” she clarified what she was after. And he remembered he had pocketed it when he’d noticed her carrying it without her purse. After thumbing through the icons, she passed it to him.
“Don’t tell me. ‘Gage and Scarlette Wallbanging in a Barn’ has been already uploaded by some spying pervy fuck with their camera always ready.”
He loved watching her brows shoot up when he rattled her cage of decency and decorum. Somehow, Henni Smythe had raised a lady. Despite all she had seen during her upbringing, Scar could be shocked. But that didn’t mean she was a prude. She always laughed at his audacity or told him off, and this time was no different.
“I love how you think you’re so funny.”
“Tell me I’m not.”
“You’re not.”
“I love how you think I believe everything you say.”
“Tell me you don’t.”
They’d reached an impasse, and they both fell quiet.
He had just joked about the sex video for the first time. It had a life of just over a month before the attorneys had managed to get it pulled. Copies continued to crop up, and now it was a task of someone his publicist had hired to routinely scan the internet for it.
Coming out of the past, he spent a moment taking in her mussed hair, swollen lips, disheveled clothing, and eyes alight from their teasing exchange.
With an anticipatory smile of whatever he was about to see, he hit play on the video and hastily bumped the volume down. Onscreen, Scar was on the studio couch with Claudine in her la
p. Holding the speaker directly to one of his ears, he nodded his encouragement at what he was hearing. She was advancing on the guitar fast. Obviously, she’d inherited every last artistic gene from her father. When it ended, he replayed, but the second time around, he admired her fingers as they danced on the strings.
She was waiting expectantly, and he voiced his praise aloud. “No way. No way you’re going to school and still finding the time it takes to get that good that fast.” She rolled her eyes, matching his playful tone, but her face lit up, and he always felt lucky when he was the one to put the sparkle in her eyes. Something onscreen caught his eye, and his fingers clamped the phone when another look confirmed what he was seeing. “Son of a bitch. No fucking wonder!”
When she raised her face, no doubt alerted by the flip side of his tone, he looked away, hating the innocent confusion in her gaze. Because, if she truly didn’t know what piqued him about the video, then she didn’t share his same depth of feeling in this relationship.
“No wonder what?”
Easy to see why you’re playing like a rock star. “We need to get back.” He shoved the phone back into her hand.
She rolled to her knees, and with a hand on each of his shoulders, tried to use her weight to keep him from standing. “What’s wrong?”
He blew out an enraged breath and dropped a concentrated glare to her face. “That’s Colt’s studio.”
“So?”
He honest to God hated her right now. So? No. He wished he hated her. It would be easier than loving her. Easier than the stabbing shards of hurt and jealousy.
Hung Out: A Needles and Pins Rock Romance Page 5