by Cari Quinn
He didn’t answer, just kissed me hard. Maybe a little too hard.
I gripped his shoulder. “Ian.”
He touched his forehead to mine. “Sorry. I just get so wound up around you. Like I can’t settle.”
I laid a gentle kiss over his eyes, then his cheeks, and finally, his mouth. “Let me show you how to be gentle. I’m not going anywhere.” My heart thundered in my chest. We didn’t speak of the future. I’d made sure of it. But right then, I wanted to make sure he knew I was there for him.
I didn’t think many people were.
He set me down on my bed and we didn’t speak as I pushed his shirt up and over his head. I set him back enough that we could kneel facing one another. I dragged my mouth over his jawline and along the cords of his neck, and down the center to his Adam’s apple. He swallowed hard when I flicked my tongue over the freshly shorn skin.
I followed the whorl of a tiny line of hair he’d missed and then finally to the cross he perpetually wore. I grasped it between my teeth and looked up at him. “We don’t have time for me to properly seduce you, but maybe just enough time for one thing.”
“Nothing about you makes me think of the word proper.”
I grinned as I moved back enough to continue my line of kisses along the tight muscles of his chest. Definitely a little leaner than that first day I saw him. No one else would probably notice, but all the studies I’d done of his body made me a little more in tune with him.
Nerves.
Stress.
Wanting to prove himself.
It showed in the whip-lean muscles knit over bone. I gentled my touch over the bloom of cherry blossoms along his ribs and down the arrow of hair under his belly button.
“Ah, Magic. What are you doing to me?”
I arched my back to lower myself onto my forearm for balance. “If it’s not obvious, I’m not doing a very good job.”
He tipped his head back as I flipped open his button. I reached into the denim. It still had the roughness of new clothes. Not all the way Ian in style, but I knew the stylists and people at Ripper were molding him into their image of a rockstar.
But I wasn’t really worried about his jeans right now. I peeled them open enough to free the long, slightly curved length of him. He tensed as I stroked him firmly in the way I knew he liked. I wanted to show him gentleness, but first, I needed him with me.
Whatever was going on in his head when he’d walked into my studio needed to be exorcised. It was just him and me right now. Soon enough, we’d have people all around us, a studio of designers, his band, fans vying for his attention—being alone would be a trick.
For now, he could take a moment and just be mine.
I wanted to give him a little peace.
He fisted his hands at his sides, his gaze hot on me, his nostrils flaring. Lust crackled off him like a force field. We knew how to do this. The room practically vibrated when we got together.
I lifted his shaft to run my tongue along the underside. I followed the tight vein to the flared head and flicked along the crown of him. He shivered as he leaned back a little to give me room to take him. I wasn’t exactly a novice when it came to blow jobs, but then again, I’d never thought of them as anything other than a necessary evil.
If you wanted a guy to go down on you, you did the same. Quid pro quo and all that, but here it seemed like more. The first night we’d been together, he’d been generous with his time and his attention. He seemed to get off on giving me pleasure. I hadn’t really understood that until just now.
Watching his green eyes go hooded as I took him deep into my mouth let loose a terrifying emotion. I’d said no attachments. I didn’t want anything to derail me from my goals. They seemed almost insignificant right now. Connections created art, and holding him apart from me just because I didn’t want to face how I felt blocked me from so many things.
I relaxed my jaw and throat as I took him deeper.
He groaned and went stone still. His head was thrown back and he was granite under my touch. That wouldn’t do. I pulled away and firmed my hold on the base of his cock. “Ian. Look at me.”
His eyes were a little wild as he looked down at me. He was practically bowed away from me, his thighs shaking with tension. But not the kind that said he was going to come. No, it was as if he was trying to deny himself my touch.
I took him into my mouth again and raked my nails down the trail of hair just above his cock. He dragged in a deep breath then covered my hand, lacing our fingers. He slowly thrusted in and out of my mouth. I forced myself to relax and take as much of him as I could.
He blew out a shaky breath with each thrust until we were in a gentle, liquid rhythm. He went a little deeper each time, and I drifted into a hazy headspace of his taste on my tongue, his heat filling every sense, and then dying for him to do it again.
As the tempo slowly ramped up, I tucked my knees closer to me to change the angle. I knew he was close. The flex of his shaft echoed the sharp groan that strangled its way out of him. My name was a guttural moan and he gripped my hair.
I sucked him deeper into my mouth and accepted all of him. His salty flavor was a sharp tang, but I didn’t let him go. I took all of it and stroked him empty. He sagged against me, his chest heaving as if he’d run for miles. He tangled his fingers in my hair as he dragged me up against him.
I curled my arms around his neck and held him tight as his breathing slowly came back down to normal. He played with the ends of my hair, but there didn’t seem to be any words for what that had been. I pulled away from him gently and cupped his face. I brushed my thumbs over the sharp blades of his cheekbones. “I suppose we have to go be adults.”
He nodded. “Zoe, I—”
I pressed a finger over his mouth. “We’ve got all weekend. This was just the beginning.”
He nipped the pad of my finger. “I’m not sure I’m going to survive.”
I laughed and hopped off my bed. “Grab my bags and I’ll go wash up really quick.”
He grabbed my arm and hauled me back against him. He kissed me hard and deep. All the parts of me I’d ignored flared to life. The ache between my thighs, the way my skin felt too tight, the heaviness in my breasts. I’d only focused on him, even if my body had other plans.
But we didn’t have time for that. And for once, I was going to be the one left high and dry. Fitting. I wiggled away from him and fixed my twisted skirt. “My bags are by the door. I’ll be right back.”
He collapsed on my bed. “How is it that you can just pop up and bound away after we do anything having to do with sex?”
I laughed. “It energizes me.”
His jeans were still down around his thighs and his miracle cock was half hard against his belly. “I feel like you literally sucked the life out of me.”
“Get moving, Kagan!” I jogged over to my bathroom and nearly swallowed my tongue when I caught my reflection. My mouth was well abused and my cheeks were flushed. I definitely looked like I’d just gotten fucked. I hoped Ian’s driver didn’t notice.
I quickly brushed my teeth and found him in almost the same position when I came back out. Only this time he was on his stomach, his face smushed into my pillow. I smacked his ass. “Get up. I’m not going to have your barracuda yelling at me when we’re late.”
“Your fault. You killed me,” he mumbled.
I grabbed my tote bag and camera bag. “Up, up, up!”
He groaned and rolled over, jerking up his jeans. Pity we had to go, since I didn’t mind him lying in my bed naked. In fact, my fingers itched to draw him. Impulsively, I reached for my sketch pad and pencils and dumped them in my bag.
He caught me by the waist and whirled me around. “More drawing? Can’t you take the weekend off?”
“Nope. I’m on assignment, remember?”
He sighed. “Don’t remind me.”
“Come on, this could be fun. I’ve never gotten to see you from the crowd perspective.” I grinned up at him. “Just
that side-stage thing when you were a complete asshole.”
“I was not. I was being flirty.”
“Is that what you call it?”
“Well, you did try to steal my thunder.” He laced his fingers behind my back.
“Yeah.” I kissed his chin. “And you stole Matilda.” I narrowed my eyes. “I still need her back.”
“Nope. Mine.”
“Thief.”
“Guilty.” He reached for my hand and pulled me toward the door. “Just the one bag, then?”
“All I need.”
“Tell that to my mother. She needed three for an overnight stay.”
“Did she?”
He glanced down, his smile fading. “Yeah, she was a bit high-maintenance.”
“Was?”
He shrugged. “Ready? We have one stop before we head out for the show.”
Subject closed; at least for now, I’d allow it.
“Would that be one of the reasons I’ve got my camera gear?”
“Possibly.”
I gave him a baleful stare.
“I have a fitting with that designer bloke, Roman. They want me to get some new clothes for the show.”
“Oh. Well, there’s nothing bad there.”
“You’re not the one who has to be a human pin-cushion.”
“That’s very true. Can’t say I mind watching, though.”
His eyebrow winged up. “Is that right?”
I grinned at him. “It’s for the art, of course.”
He tugged me closer. “Is that what you’re going with?” When I just smiled, he threaded his fingers into my hair. “So, about the whole Monterey thing…”
I tucked my fingers into the belt loops of his jeans. “Yeah. What about it?”
“Did I mention it was a tour bus we’d be on?”
I gripped his shirt. “No. No, you did not.”
He smiled wide. “Surprise.”
Twenty-Two
When Frank dropped us off at Ripper Records, I wasn’t quite prepared for their version of a tour bus. In my mind, I’d been imagining a sleek silver bullet with lots of chrome and shine. What I got was…an RV’s second cousin, twice removed.
The belly of the bus was open, with instrument cases stacked in like a musical Tetris game. A lanky guy with more beard than face was tucking in the last of the pieces on the curb.
Ian was frowning at the cases as he set down his weekender, mine, and the costume bag from Roman.
“What?”
“That’s a new drum kit. Never had purple sequins all over the kick drum case before.” He tugged on his bottom lip. “At least that I remember.”
Mr. Beard had a cigarette bobbing from his lips as he took our bags. “Some new talent on the bus, Mr. Kagan.”
My eyebrow winged up. Mr. Kagan? I glanced up at Ian. His frown deepened as he raked his fingers through his hair. Uh-oh, that was never good.
“Oh, there you are.” A decidedly sexy female voice came from the bus.
Ian’s head swiveled. “Who are you?”
A girl with black spiky hair hopped off the bus with a wide grin. Her eyes were made up in that beauty YouTuber style that always made me feel like I’d gotten an extra dash of cranky artist instead of any female ability for fashion. Most of the time, I didn’t care. I was usually too covered in paint and ink to want to do up my eyes with some crazy eyeliner wing thing. However, this girl made me rethink a lot of damn things.
She stalked over to us with her arm out. “I’m Perry, your new drummer.”
“Really?”
She tipped her head to the side. “Didn’t get the memo, huh?”
“Not so much.”
I pinched Ian’s arm and he gave me a surly frown. I was used to his flirty gaze with a bit of charm and wooing. Evidently, there was a bit of cranky artist in my guy too. I stared him down and he shook the girl’s hand. “Ian.”
“Yeah, that’s what the marquee says.” Perry winked. “Sabrina was here earlier, but she had to jet.”
“I just bet she did.” His voice was deadpan.
I stuck my hand out. “Zoe Manning. Interim tour photographer and plus one.”
Ian glanced down at me, his dimple reappearing. Evidently, he liked the plus one comment. Girlfriend felt weird on my tongue, but I didn’t really know what else to label myself as. Not that I needed labels. Personally, I hated them, but he was starting to relax so I’d go with it for now.
“Sabrina said she sent you a text.”
Ian dug into his pocket. I tugged down his hand to see. Again, that dimple came out, but he let me see the text.
Be nice. New band, new start. We’ll discuss after the shows.
I let his hand go. “Your manager is something else.”
“Tell me about it.” He quickly tapped a text to her and tucked his phone back into his pocket. “Pleased to meet you, Perry. I guess we have some introductions to make.” Ian slid his hand down to join with mine.
He was much more relaxed. I wasn’t quite sure why. The text must have meant a little more to him than it did to me.
“Are you a studio musician? Or hired gun, or just haven’t found the right band?”
“That’s a question for the drive.” Perry threw a smile over her shoulder as she climbed the stairs. She gave their driver a huge smile. “Almost ready to go, Benny?”
Evidently, Mr. Beard was a Benny. Seemed to fit him well enough. “Ten minutes, Miss Perry.”
“It’s just Perry.”
“Whatever you say, Miss Perry.”
Ian nodded at the driver and tugged me up the stairs behind him.
A blond with legs up to her damn ears was sitting in some cross-legged pose that only bendy sorts could sit in. Like the hot yoga people who were all over J Town. She was sitting across from a guy sprawled on the ancient bench seat, denim-clad legs kicked out in that relaxed way men seemed to be born with.
The bus was very clean, just obviously from another era. The seventies plaid on the seats masked some of the wear, but it was cramped and smelled like it had been attacked with a steam cleaner to get old cigarette and body smells out of the carpet and upholstery.
Ian tucked his free hand in his pocket and his grip tightened on my hand. “Hey. Um, thanks for coming out to help. I’m Ian.” He cleared his throat, then gave me an extra squeeze before letting my hand free to shake hands with the sandy-haired guy in the Led Zeppelin shirt and ancient jeans. Battered combat boots with a million miles on them were half-laced with argyle socks peeking from the twisted tongues.
“Hey, man. Grant Harrison, your new guitarist.”
The blond unfolded herself and stood. I resisted the urge to climb onto Ian’s back and mark him. She was unbelievably gorgeous. Yoga Barbie with just enough rockstar edge to make my hackles rise.
A girl who would actually suit him. Not like me, a crazy artist who got so wrapped up in her own head she forgot to eat, text, and come up for air for days at a time.
“Ariana Larkin, but my friends call me Lark.” She shook Ian’s hand then mine. “I’m your bassist.”
“Zoe. Your tour photographer for the weekend.”
Ian draped his arm around my shoulders. “And my…what did you call it? Plus one?”
Lark grinned. “You guys are so cute. This is going to be fun. I have a good vibe.”
“Oh, here we go.” Grant got up and moved to the big chair at the back of the bus where a television was set up with game consoles.
Lark waved him off. “Ignore him. We’ve played in a few bands together over the years.”
“And studios.” Grant pulled huge over-ear headphones on and turned on some game with zombies.
Ian tugged on his bottom lip. “We haven’t rehearsed or anything. Do you guys know the songs?”
Lark nodded and dragged Perry down next to her. “Yeah, we’ve been learning them for the last three days. Grant is one of those creepy guys who can bake a song into his brain after playing it twice. I sort of hate him.”
/> “Well, I guess we’re having a bit of an adventure then.” Ian dragged me closer. “This should be fun.”
I wasn’t sure I believed him, but he did seem a little lighter. More like the teasing Ian I was used to. Maybe a new start was just what he needed.
“Rolling out in five,” Benny hollered from the front.
“Buckle up, Magic. Welcome to your first tour bus.”
I patted my camera bag. “Mind if I take some shots of you guys?”
Lark sat up straighter. “I gotta fix my face first.”
“Why?” I unzipped my bag. “You’re gorgeous.”
“Aww, thank you. But I just finished a workout. I look like a hag.”
If she was a hag, what the hell did I look like? I’d been in a car half the morning with Ian for his stop at Roman’s, crawling around taking pictures there, not to mention up most of the night working.
At least we’d managed a moment or two of…recreation on the way to Roman’s place.
Ian sat down on the bench seat across from the girls. “Care to tell me that story then, Perry?”
“Oh, right. Well, I used to be in a band. The Alternates.” She shrugged and wrinkled her nose. “I didn’t pick the name. I came in late after they used me in the studio. Band broke up because the two leads were too busy banging or fighting to actually write songs. One too many fights and not enough making up.”
“Sounds like a lot of drama.” Ian crossed his arms.
“Too much. I prefer to just play and get on with it, you know?”
Ian made a noncommittal grunt.
“Anyway. Sabrina gave me a shout and here I am.”
“And we did some studio work for a Christmas album up in New York.” Larkin dragged over her huge purse and tucked it between the two of them. “So, when Sabrina was looking for a bass player, she hooked a girl up.” She pulled out a stick of gum. “Want?”
Perry took one and peeked into Lark’s purse. “What do you have in here?”
“I could literally make a getaway with this thing.” Lark dug out a huge pouch. “Now this is where the magic is.”
The two girls chattered about makeup and I took a few candids. The girls were naturals at mugging for the camera. Grant gave me a big ol’ peace sign and went back to murdering zombies. Ian watched me with hooded eyes. I tried to ignore him as I moved around the cabin of the bus.