Wild Harts: Rockstar Shifters Box Set

by Lily Cahill

  Past the coffee shop, the hair salon, and the tiny bookstore, a pretty park hugged both sides of a swift river. This was where Tiff brought a lot of her high school clients for their senior photos. Tonight, though, it wasn’t quite as quiet as Tiff was expecting. Down a winding path, she saw a trio of musicians playing in a band shell, concertgoers lounging on picnic blankets to listen. Tiff paused on the sidewalk.

  “We could go back to my studio,” she said, a bit shyly.

  A muscle worked in Jax’s jaw, and he glanced between the way Tiff was pointing and the park. After a moment, he said, “That can wait.”

  He tugged Tiff down the path toward the outdoor concert. Soft music—acoustic guitar, a fiddle, drums—swirled around them the closer they got.

  “You said something earlier that’s stayed with me,” Jax said as they walked. “You think I’ve gotten what I want out of you.”

  Jax stopped and turned Tiff toward him. Her heart, which had been fluttering in her chest at the sweet way they held hands, now thumped harder. What if her instincts were wrong? What if this was the part where he let her down gently? She wasn’t ready for that. Tiff dropped her chin and stared at her feet.

  Jax lifted her chin and stared deeply into her eyes, then he cupped the sides of her face in his hands. “You’ve got to realize, I’ll never tire of you. Never.”

  His words seared through Tiff and left her feeling warm all over. This was fantasy, pure fantasy. But oh God, she was going to revel in it. Tiff pushed up onto her toes and grabbed Jax around his neck. They closed the distance between each other like desperate divers kicking toward the surface. In that moment, Jax Hart was all the air Tiff needed.

  Jax wrapped his arms around Tiff and pulled her close, their lips crashing together. Tiff lost herself in the kiss, in the feel of Jax’s mouth on hers, his tongue exploring, his hands desperate against her back.

  Tiff pulled back, but only a fraction of an inch. She breathed heavily, trying to force air into her wrung-out lungs. “Are you sure you don’t want to go back to my place?”

  Jax groaned. “Jesus, I do. I really do.” He took a deep, shuddering breath then stood up tall. “But more than that, I want to talk to you. I want to know every last thing about you, Tiff Anderson.”

  He hitched his head toward the concert and led them to a park bench at the side where they could watch the band, an up-and-coming indie band in town for the Firely Festival called Leaf on the Wind. Tiff sighed with contentment. With the stars winking overhead and the band for a soundtrack, Jax and Tiff talked quietly, their hands entwined.

  “Tell me about your tattoo,” Tiff asked. She traced the stark, black lines peeking out from where Jax had pushed up his sleeves.

  “It’s my remembrance of Montana,” Jax said, brushing his fingers against Tiff’s.

  “Remembrance?”

  “The childhood I had …,” Jax started. He looked up, his eyes distant. “I can’t ever go back, not without facing the memories of my father. So this is my way of remembering my home. The mountains, the wide open skies, the sunsets.”

  Tiff closed her eyes and pictured it. She’d wanted to leave New Scandia nearly all her life, but it would always be her home. She felt for Jax, that he didn’t have that.

  “I believe you’ll be able to return someday. Maybe when you do, you’ll realize the terrible memories are just that. If I’ve learned one thing with my mom’s death, it’s that you can’t hold onto anger or it’ll eat you whole.”

  Jax’s voice rumbled through Tiff. “I think I could go back someday … if I had you with me.”

  Tiff didn’t know how to respond to that, so she didn’t. She watched the band play, lulled by their beautiful songs, almost like lullabies. After a while, Jax spoke up again.

  “If you could pick one spot on the map to go right now, where would it be?”

  Tiff thought about it for a second. “Maine,” she said with a decisive nod. “I’ve never been to an ocean. I’d love to spend days in the Maine woods with the smell of sea salt in the air.”

  “I’ve never been either,” Jax said. “Maybe after the tour—”

  But he never got to finish. A concertgoer stumbled into them.

  “Whoa, sorry,” the guy slurred. Then Tiff watched as his bleary eyes cleared, went wide, then blinked rapidly. “Dude. You’re Jax Hart!”

  Jax lifted a hand sheepishly. “Hey, man. Always good to meet a fan.”

  “No, but you’re Jax Hart!” The guy was getting louder, and more and more heads were turning in the crowd. “I love you, man. Are you going to play with these guys?”

  Tiff shifted uncomfortably on the bench as she watched the drunk fan get increasingly exuberant. He sang a few bars of their hit song, “Forbidden Territory,” then turned and pointed at Jax like he was an animal on display.

  Jax ducked his chin, but it was too late. People were craning to see him, and his name was floating on the crowd. Up on stage, a roadie whispered something in the lead singer’s ear.

  “Oh, shit. Jax Hart is here?” The lead singer searched the crowd, then smiled wide when he spotted them. “It’s such an honor, man. We’re huge fans of Wild Harts.”

  Jax shared a look with Tiff. “I didn’t want this to happen,” he mumbled. “I just wanted to spend time with you.”

  Tiff smiled encouragingly. “I’ll still be here. Go be a rockstar.”

  With a sigh, he rose and waved at the crowd. Up on stage, the lead singer—who looked barely out of his teens—cleared his throat. “You want to come play a song with us? I mean, if it’s not a big deal.”

  Jax darted a look back to Tiff again, question in his eyes. She beamed at him and nodded, then gave his ass a little nudge when he didn’t move. He jogged through the jubilant crowd, all eyes on him. Or, lots of eyes. There were quite a few on Tiff too. Her cheeks burned red, but she didn’t drop her chin.

  Jax slipped a guitar strap over his head and strummed a few chords. He looked so at home on stage, so confident. Tiff squirmed with sudden pleasure that this man wanted to be with her. If only for a few days.

  Jax shared a few words with the band, then approached the mic. “Hi,” he said. The crowd cheered. Jax grinned and rubbed a hand through his hair. “So, I just want to say … I’ve fallen in love with your town the last couple days.” His eyes roamed the crowd then locked on Tiff. “So this song, it makes me think of the wonderful few days I’ve been able to spend here, and one person in particular.”

  Heads snapped Tiff’s way, whispers swirling through the crowd, but Tiff only had eyes for Jax. He played a few notes on the guitar, then the band joined in. It took a moment, but then Tiff recognized the song, “Wicked Game,” by Chris Isaak.

  Tiff watched in awe as Jax played the song just for her. It was like they were the only two people in the universe, the way Jax looked at Tiff. Why her? Of all the women that threw themselves at Jax, why had he chosen her? Tiff didn’t know, but in that moment, she didn’t care.

  She only cared that her body grew warm when she looked at this man, that her heart beat madly at his voice, that his talent took her breath away. She only cared that right now, under a sky bright with infinite stars, this one star focused on her.

  Tiff’s throat went tight, and her skin prickled. She was falling for him. She was absolutely falling for Jax Hart. It scared her as much as it thrilled her.

  Chapter Eleven

  Jax

  JAX KNOCKED ON TIFF’S DOOR the next night and shifted back and forth on his feet. He both wanted to meet her father and was appalled at the prospect. The man was a sheriff’s deputy. And Jax …. On paper, Jax was the very last person a father wanted his daughter to date.

  It was Tyler who answered. He scowled, but he opened the door wide. “It’s you again.”

  Jax quirked a smile. “I could say the same for you.”

  Tyler laughed and padded back into the house toward the kitchen. Jax followed him, pausing to look at pictures lining the hall. Looking at baby pictures of his mate,
Jax felt an overwhelming urge to make babies of his own. He hoped they’d look just like their mother—dark hair, bright brown eyes, bronzed skin that hinted at Native American heritage. He hoped they’d be strong and capable and artistic like their mother too.

  “You coming?”

  Jax hurried down the hall. Tyler was lounging against the very countertop where Jax had hoisted Tiff up and licked chocolate off her thighs. Jax shook the image from his brain and nodded at Tyler, then at the bulldog sitting at his feet.

  “Cool dog,” he said.

  “Mal’s an asshole, but he’s a great judge of character.” Tyler stared at Jax. “He once peed on Tiff’s prom date.”

  Jax squatted and called Mal over, then scratched the dog between his ears. Mal didn’t pee on Jax, but he did try to leap into his arms for more attention. “I seem to have passed the test,” Jax said to Tyler.

  Someone laughed behind him. “Did Tyler tell you about the Prom Incident?”

  Jax stood up quickly and spun. Tiff was framed in the hallway, a vision out of his dreams. Her hair was in a loose braid and hanging over one shoulder, and she was wearing funky gold earrings that looked like spikes. She was in head-to-toe black, like always, but there was nothing self-conscious about this outfit. Her jeans hugged her strong legs, and Jax nearly groaned at the thought of what her generous ass must look like. Tiff strutted closer in her towering black booties and pecked Jax’s cheek in a kiss. Jax slunk his arm around her back—it was bare. Her skin was warm and soft, and when he peeked over her shoulder he noticed that her slouchy silk top might have been high-cut in the front, but it swooped low in the back and buttoned down. He couldn’t wait to slowly unbutton her. He wanted to see her come undone for him.

  Jax squeezed Tiff’s side. “Ready to go? We’re nearly late, and I’m supposed to be hosting this thing.”

  Tyler crossed his arms over his chest, playing the protective brother. “Should I ask what time you’ll be home?”

  Tiff grinned and—out of sight of her brother—grabbed Jax’s ass and squeezed. “Should I remind you I’m twenty-four? Don’t worry, Ty. I’ll be home to make you breakfast in the morning.” She paused and blinked innocently. “Maybe.”

  If Jax had anything to do with it, she’d definitely be missing breakfast.

  Tyler was still at the door waving them off when Jax leaned in close to Tiff and whispered in her ear. “I have a bet to make with you.”

  Tiff pulled an amused smile. “Yeah?”

  “I bet I can make you come by the time we get to the party.”

  Tiff laughed, but there was something warm in her tone. Her eyes were open with arousal. “We’re only ten minutes from the boathouse!”

  “You said your time was valuable,” Jax said with a wicked grin. “So let’s make those ten minutes count.”

  “I’d love to see you try,” Tiff purred. “And if you lose?”

  Jax held the SUV door open for Tiff, then jogged around to the driver’s side. He stared at her as he started the SUV. “Oh, I won’t lose.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Tiff

  TIFF COULDN’T BELIEVE WHAT WAS happening. That’d been a sentiment she’d experienced a lot over these last couple days with Jax. But this … this was beyond.

  Her core pulsed with arousal, her body practically sparking with electricity. Jax hadn’t even touched her skin, but already she felt close to coming. His sure fingers rubbed against her pussy through her pants, his eyes flicking to hers every few moments. He’d brushed his large hand over her thigh before they’d even pulled out of her driveway, and now just a few minutes down the road, his touch was working her into a near-frenzy.

  “Oh my God, Jax. I can’t believe you’re doing this.” Tiff let her head fall back against the seat and moaned with pleasure.

  Every motion, every second ratcheted up her arousal, higher and higher until Tiff nearly felt dizzy with it. Not just his hand against her, but everything. This night, this place, this person—it all combined to make Tiff delirious with desire and fizzy with excitement.

  Tiff rolled her neck to look at Jax. His eyes were on the road, but his face from broken wide with a smile. He flicked his gaze to her.

  “Pull your pants down.”

  “What?” Tiff squeaked. That seemed dangerous.

  “You want to feel my fingers in you, deep in you. I know you do. Pull them down.” He grinned. “Just a bit.”

  Tiff fumbled with the button of her jeans, then shimmied her hips to drag them down her thighs—just enough so she could give Jax more access. He used his hand to spread her thighs, then tugged her panties to one side. He looked at her one more time, then plunged two fingers into her. The angle of his hand made his palm rub against her clit with every pump of his fingers. Tiff squirmed against the delicious sensations rocketing through her and bucked against his amazing ministrations.

  A long moan escaped Tiff, and she grabbed at the sides of the seat, anything to keep her grounded. She didn’t want to miss a single second of this. She wanted to memorize every moment as his fingers pumped in and out of her.

  “Fuck me, Jax,” Tiff pleaded. They could pull off to the side of the road, and she could ride him right there in the driver’s seat. God, she wanted it so bad.

  Jax growled out a low laugh. “Oh, don’t worry, Tiff. I have plenty of ideas for that later. Now is just about you, about this.”

  Tiff shifted in her seat to better face Jax and yanked her jeans down farther so she could spread her legs wide. She needed to feel him deeper, harder. Tiff grasped at Jax’s forearm and held on tight. She could feel his large muscles bunching and smoothing as he plunged his fingers in and out, in and out. His palm dragged against her clit, and Tiff arched against him, rubbing herself hard against his skin.

  His fingers went deep, flicked against the clenched walls of her pussy. Tiff threw her head back and keened, her breath ragged, her heart racing. Her desire flew up, up, up until it exploded into a thousand tiny shooting stars, each one a multitude of sensations. Shivers raced across her fevered skin and she felt her body pulse tightly around Jax’s fingers still deep inside of her.

  Then, with a big, sighing breath, she floated back down to earth, her body limp and sated.

  Jax pulled his hand away from her wonderfully aching core just as the SUV began to slow. The smile he shone on Tiff was as bright as the noon sun.

  “We’re here.”

  Tiff bit at the inside of her cheek to keep from grinning like crazy. She was certain every single person lined up to get into this party could clearly see her recent orgasm written across her features—it was evident in her blown out pupils and bright cheeks, in the way her skin glowed and in her satisfied smile.

  As they approached the old stone boathouse, Jax explained that the festival coordinator had done all the work, but it was still Jax’s name on the banner: Firefly Fire Night, an end-of-fest bash hosted by the Hart brothers. There was a line snaking down the path toward the boathouse beside Lake Scandia, and Tiff automatically went to find her place at the back of the line. But Jax put a hand at the small of Tiff’s back and led her past the crowds. She could feel people staring, whispering as they passed. Tiff dropped her chin, but then Jax tugged her closer, leaned in, and kissed her fleetingly at the nape of her neck. The kiss thrilled Tiff, made her lift her chin high and not drop her eyes.

  Yeah, that’s right, Tiff exuded. I’m here with Jax Hart. Go ahead and stare.

  Tiff slipped her arm through Jax’s and reached up to plant a kiss on his cheek. Jax looked down at her with bright eyes.

  “You look so fucking sexy tonight, Tiff.”

  “It’s my secret beauty regimen.”

  Jax chuckled. “And that is?”

  “Have a hot guy give you an earth-shattering orgasm on the way to every big event.” Tiff giggled, even as she saw a few heads turn their way. Jeez, she was nearly knocked over by how confident she was feeling right now.

  Jax nodded thoughtfully. “Sounds legit. They
should write that up in the next Glamour.”

  Tiff giggled again and craned her neck to try and make out how many people were here. The entrance to the boathouse was still yards away.

  “This is nuts,” Tiff said, leaning close to be heard over the crowd. She looked up and down the line waiting to get into the boathouse, her eyes wide. Open-flame torches lined the path and flared hot around the old stone boathouse. Music from a DJ pumped out the windows, the deep bass thumping through Tiff’s bones.

  “Wait till we get inside,” Jax said, his hand still at Tiff’s back. She shivered a bit as he slipped his expert fingers up her spine and curled his hand around the back of her neck, then leaned close to whisper in her ear. “You’ll do a fire shot with me, right?”

  Tiff grinned. “I’m up for anything tonight. I’ve got to take advantage of these perks”—she waved her hand around the party scene, where they were bypassing the line for a VIP entrance—“while I can. It’s all over when you leave tomorrow.”

  Tiff tried to keep her voice light, but a heavy stone seemed to fall into her stomach at the thought of never seeing Jax again. She snuck a glance at him. His jaw was tight, and he didn’t speak. As much fun as they’d had, Jax’s silence was all the evidence she needed to accept that what she’d said was true.

  After a moment, Jax turned to Tiff, his eyebrows pulled together. He opened his mouth, but it was drowned out by a shriek.

  “Tiff Anderson?”

  Tiff groaned and turned to see Ashley Stevenson staring at her, wide-eyed and slack-jawed. Ashley sharply elbowed her husband, Ronald. “Ronnie, you remember Tiff! And here she is … here!”

  Tiff fought the urge to roll her eyes. “Yup. Here I am.”

  Ashley let her heavily mascara’d eyes travel up and down Tiff, then flick over to Jax. Apparently seeing it, Jax stood closer to Tiff and wrapped an arm around her waist. Tiff leaned into his touch gratefully.