Shouldn't Want You (Cataclysm Book 2)

by Jerica MacMillan

  Even though whatever this is has only just started—not even started, really—I don’t want it to ever end.

  Us, here, together like this—it’s everything clicking into place.

  Just like it did when we found Aaron after our first keyboard player bailed. Just like it did when I held Eli the first time.

  It’s happening again. And all I can do is smile back.

  Today is the best day I’ve had in a long time. We go to a nearby park and Ava and I take turns pushing Eli on the swing, catching him at the end of the slides, and climbing all around the equipment with him. Then we play a game of chase in the grass that ends with all of us grass stained, laughing, and breathless. Eli loves every minute of it, and I’d be lying if I can’t say the same. Watching Ava’s face light up with laughter, the way she interacts with Eli, how sweet and patient she is with him, the way she lets me brush against her when we take turns helping Eli on the jungle gym. Exchanging looks over his head as we walk to and from the park, each of us holding one of his hands and picking him up to swing him every so often just to make him giggle.

  Playing chase is the highlight, though. Both because Eli loves it so much, but also because I get to catch Ava a few times with Eli’s encouragement. “Ava’s turn!” he shouts, and we both chase her. Of course, since my legs are longer, I catch her more often, wrapping my hands around her waist, remembering the feel of her skin under my palms last night.

  When I catch her, she turns in my arms and looks up at me, her chest rising and falling as she catches her breath, her eyes locked with mine. My hands flex on her hips, and it takes all my willpower not to kiss her right then and there.

  With a wordless scream of joy, Eli catches up to us and launches himself at me, breaking the moment.

  I catch him, swing him up in my arms, and he squeals again. Ava laughs, and I look at her over the top of his head, happier than I can ever remember, that feeling of rightness settling over me again as she reaches out a hand to smooth Eli’s curls, happy and relaxed.

  I have plans for her tonight … plans that involve my mouth and her skin.

  But first I have to get through another concert.

  It’s late, almost midnight, our second show in Seattle is over, and I know she’s in my room waiting for me again.

  At least this time I won’t have to worry about groupies trying to crash our party. Even if someone tries that trick again, Ava knows where we stand now.

  The entire band rides up the back elevator together with Kendra and Blaire and our security escort. The dark-suited men hold the doors for us to get off, and we all splinter away to our own doors. I hold up a fist and Aaron bumps it as he passes me when I stop at my room. “See ya, man. Good show,” he says, then continues to his own room.

  Last night I’d come back before everyone else. Tonight none of us stayed as late, the majority of our PR duties fulfilled yesterday. We still had post-show meet and greets with fans, but not as many. There’s still one more concert, and I think Blaire allowed for more of those on the last night, so we’ll get back late again, and have to get up early the next morning to pack up and head to the next venue. But for now, we’re all ready to chill out and relax. I know I am.

  The lights are low when I enter my suite, only a couple of lamps illuminating the oversized space. Ava pops up from the couch, standing and facing me over the back of it, dressed in the leggings and oversized top I left her in when I went to my show. She calls them her comfy clothes, and she wears them at night when she’s putting Eli to bed. Or after he’s in bed and she’s ready to just hang out and read or watch TV. They didn’t come to the concert tonight since they went last night. But I want her to be able to watch an entire show at some point. She’s touring with us. I know she’s here to watch Eli, but surely we can arrange for her to have one night off while I’m performing to be able to get the full concert experience. She told me yesterday that she’s never been to one before. She still hasn’t. Not really. And I want her to get to watch from the audience, the entire show, and have security escort her backstage at the end. Watching a shortened version backstage while wrangling a two-year-old isn’t good enough.

  I want her to have everything she could possibly want.

  She shifts, fidgeting with the hem of her shirt, and I can’t help smiling. “Nervous?”

  Her brows come together. “I wasn’t. But then you came in and stared at me for a while, and your face turned more and more frowny the longer you stared, so now I am.”

  I chuckle, stepping around the couch and slipping a hand behind her waist, giving her a second to tell me to stop before I pull her close, almost sighing with the pleasure of getting my hands on her again. “Frowny?”

  She nods, her body pliant in my arms. “Yes. Frowny. You’re very frowny. That’s one of the first things I noticed about you.”

  “Really?” I can’t keep the surprise out of my voice. I’ve never thought I frowned all that much. But maybe she’s right. Blaire always calls me a moody bastard.

  “Yeah. You did nothing but frown at me the first week I worked for you.”

  I push her hair back from her face—she has it loose now, soft and free, and I find that I like it. A lot. “And now?”

  “You still get frowny.” Her voice catches as I trace my fingers down her jaw after pushing her hair behind her ear. “But you smile more since we left Massachusetts.”

  “Hmm. Why do you think that is?”

  My fingers stray down her neck to her collarbone, and her eyes flutter closed. “Um. You don’t get along with your parents that well?”

  I still, considering that. “That’s not quite accurate. We get along well enough. But my mom is very opinionated about what’s best for Eli. And her opinion doesn’t always match mine, so sometimes we clash.”

  Her eyes open, catching mine. “She doesn’t think you should bring him on tour?”

  I hold my breath for a second. “She doesn’t like that he’s touring with me. She wants me to spend more time with him, but she doesn’t like me dragging him all over the country, as she put it, with some stranger taking care of him.”

  She stiffens in my arms, and I smooth my hand down her back. “For what it’s worth, she said that before we knew you existed. She liked you right away.”

  “And now? Is she more okay with Eli coming with you?”

  I let a low sound rumble in my chest. “Yes. At least she hasn’t complained to me since we left. But I’d rather not talk about my mother.”

  Her eyes dart back and forth between mine. “What would you like to talk about?”

  My eyes drop to her mouth. “If you’ll let me kiss you now.”

  Her lips part, and I glance at her eyes before lowering my lips to hers, melding our mouths. Sliding my tongue along the seam of her lips, she opens farther, inviting me inside.

  I can’t hold back the groan at tasting her again. Her arms slide around my neck, and she presses herself against me, all her earlier nerves falling away. My arm tightens around her back, my free hand going to her ass, tilting her hips as she rubs against me. God, she feels so good. After last night and spending the day with her, if we do this too long, I might actually come in my pants. It really has been way too long since I’ve been with a woman.

  She tears her lips from mine, panting, her head resting on my shoulder, still rubbing herself against me. “Do we have to keep standing?” she whispers into my neck.

  With a low chuckle, I dip my head to kiss the delicate slope of her shoulder where her shirt is pulling away. No fabric impedes my view. Not even the thin strap of her bra, which makes my lungs seize in my chest.

  “Ava?” I pitch my voice no louder than hers.

  “Hmm?” she answers, a little muzzy as I move us closer to the couch.

  “Are you wearing a bra?”

  Her eyes snap to mine, her gaze a little sharper but still dark with desire. “No.”

  I let out another soft groan, sitting down, but keeping my hands on her hips so that she
’ll stay standing. I want to see her. Watch the way her breasts move as she shifts in my hold, her puckered nipples poking at the worn fabric of her shirt. Almost of their own volition, my hands slide up her torso, capturing the soft mounds and brushing my thumbs across the tips.

  She lets out an encouraging sound and presses herself into my hands.

  It’s tempting to grab the neck of her shirt in both hands and just rip the damn thing down the front, that’s how bad I want to get to her skin, suck those tight little nipples into my mouth.

  But I manage to control myself, instead dropping my hands to the hem and lifting. She raises her arms, and I stand again to get the shirt all the way off, leaving her bare to the waist in front of me for the second time in two days.

  Tonight, unless she stops me, I intend to see all of her.

  “Your turn,” she murmurs, her hands pushing the open button-down shirt I wore for tonight’s concert off my shoulders. I hate that I have to stop touching her to help take my clothes off. But I want them off right fucking now too.

  I yank the sleeves down my arms, the fabric sticking, still damp from sweating through a concert, and drop the shirt behind me. Her hands beat me to the white T-shirt underneath, pushing it up my chest. I reach behind my neck and rip the fabric up and over my head.

  She takes a half step back, her eyes wide as I let the shirt fall from my hand. But I’m not about to let her put distance between us now. With my hands on her hips, I pull her close again and take her mouth, loving the way her skin feels against mine.

  I didn’t know I was missing anything before, but now that I’ve found it, I don’t want to let it get away.

  This time I guide her to sitting on the couch first, then press her back with my mouth still on hers so she’s lying down. I catch one leg behind the knee and pull it up and to the side, making room for me to fit between her thighs.

  With her leg hitched over my hip, I brace myself above her and feast on her breasts, laving her nipples with my tongue before sucking them into my mouth one by one until she’s writhing and panting and rubbing herself against me so much I can’t take it anymore.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Ava

  “I need to be inside you,” Danny says, his voice a whisper, harsh and rough.

  I swallow, meeting his eyes. His hands are already inching inside the waistband of my leggings. Lifting my hips, I let him strip them off me, so that I’m lying completely naked on the couch of his suite in a fancy hotel in Seattle.

  How is this my life?

  As soon as my leggings are off, he stands and toes off his shoes while undoing his belt and pants, shoving them down his hips until he’s as naked as I am, his erection jutting out in front of the lightly furred but otherwise unmarked skin of his abdomen.

  Oh lordy, I want that inside me so bad.

  He pauses, looking me over from toe to head, bending for a sweet, chaste kiss while he brushes my hair back away from my face. “Is this okay? I was going to go slow, but …” He makes a sound in his throat, expressing some combination of lust, frustration, and despair, and his eyes travel down to my lips again before moving lower to my chest.

  I reach up to cup his cheek, bringing his eyes back to mine. “Yes. I want this too.”

  His face lightens. “Thank Christ.”

  I can’t help my rueful chuckle. “I’m not sure Christ has much to do with it.”

  He gives me a weird look and straightens up. “Be right back. Condom.”

  Watching him walk away is glorious, the way the muscles of his ass bunch and flex, his legs, the straight columns of muscle up and down his back. I turn on my side, just enjoying the view as he strides to his room, trying to focus on that, on how good he makes me feel, and not the slight prick of my conscience that still rears up at inconvenient moments.

  I was supposed to save myself for marriage. That’s what I was taught.

  I’ve already not done that, though Grayson did tell me that he loved me and that he wanted to marry me. I thought he’d leave his wife for me. All the rationalizations sound so stupid to me now. In truth, they sounded stupid to me at the time in the clear light of day. But every time I would raise any doubts to him, he’d reassure me that what we felt was beautiful and good, how could it be anything else?

  He never loved me, though. Never intended to leave his wife.

  I thought, naive little fool that I was, he would be thrilled when I accidentally got pregnant. That we would finally be able to be together for real. That he would choose me, choose our child.

  Instead he told me to take care of it, that he would give me whatever I needed to pay for an abortion, that his wife was pregnant and he didn’t need a bastard child running around on top of that.

  I was devastated. Stunned. Destroyed.

  And then I lost the baby.

  I squeeze my eyes shut, willing the rush of old feelings to stop, trying to force the itchy prickling of impending tears away.

  “What’s wrong? Second thoughts?”

  Danny’s voice snaps me back to the present, and I open my eyes, plastering on a smile for him. As I look him over, his warm eyes filled with concern, his soft lips, the swirling ink running down his arms and chest, my smile becomes more real. Because whatever life I thought I had before, whatever life I thought I wanted, all that’s behind me. This is what’s on offer here and now.

  And I’m going to take it. I’m going to live my life how I want, distancing myself from the horror and hypocrisy of my past.

  I won’t be fooled into falling for someone who could never love me. Not again. If all we have is a few weeks or months of fun and sex, then that’s what we’ll have. And I’ll save my money and have a safety net for when this all inevitably ends.

  Sitting up, I reach for Danny. “No. No second thoughts. I want this. I want you.” My bold words make me feel powerful for the first time in ages.

  Danny’s eyes darken, and he looks me over before pushing me gently onto my back and kneeling on the floor in front of the couch, placing a square foil packet on the coffee table behind him. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispers as he skims his hands over my body. He tweaks my nipples, filling his hands with my breasts, squeezing and molding them, bending to suck on the peaks again, moving down, caressing my sides, my hips, my belly, my thighs. Spreading my legs, he moves his hands up my inner thighs, his gaze intent as he thumbs me open. After staring at me long enough that I start to feel self-conscious, he rubs his fingers over me, up and down my cleft before sinking one inside me.

  My breath leaves me in a whoosh. No one has touched me there like this in so long. No one but me. My eyes fall closed so I can focus on the sensation. It’s heaven.

  His thumb brushes over my clit as his finger pumps in and out slowly, achingly slowly. Then he withdraws, and I open my mouth to protest, but before I can, two fingers slide into me.

  “You’re so tight, so wet. So perfect.”

  I open my eyes to find him watching my face. He leans forward and kisses me, giving me a few leisurely pumps before taking his hand away. I whimper against his lips, which makes them curl in a smile.

  “Patience,” he chides. “I have something better.”

  Sitting back on his heels, he gets out the condom and rolls it on, once again hitching my leg around his hip as he settles between my thighs, this time with no clothing to keep us apart. He stays on his knees, rubbing himself over me, making me moan and squirm against him.

  “Please.” It’s the only word I can get out.

  But that’s all it takes. He lines himself up and presses his hips forward, bracing himself over me on his hands, slowly working his way inside me.

  I let my legs fall open, one foot landing on the floor, pulling myself against him with my leg hooked over his hip, wanting to feel him all the way inside me. The stretch of him filling me is satisfying but nowhere near enough all at the same time.

  His lips find mine as he moves in me, still slow, rocking against me, and I move my hips in t
ime with his. Lips, tongues, hands, sliding, caressing, stirring my desire.

  I don’t know who starts moving faster. I can’t tell where I end and he begins.

  He kisses down my neck, nipping at my shoulder. Rocking gives way to pumping, harder, faster, and all I can do is cling to him as he drives me closer and closer to my impending orgasm until the tight spiral of pleasure centered in my core splits apart, splintering through my bloodstream as sparks of white-hot bliss.

  He groans into my shoulder as I shudder around him, driving into me even faster, losing all rhythm and finesse, pressing our bodies together and trembling with his own orgasm.

  I lie beneath him, enjoying the brief illusion of belonging and protection offered by his body limp on top of mine. My arms are still wrapped around him, and I force myself not to squeeze him tight. It’s been so long since anyone just held me, that being this close to Danny last night and today is messing with my head, reminding me what it feels like to be loved and cared for.

  I’m not stupid, though. Or at least not as stupid. I know that’s not going to happen. That’s not what we’re about.

  So when his muscles bunch under my hands, I let my arms slip free so he can withdraw, leaving to clean up.

  Once he’s out of the room, I prop myself up, taking stock. My muscles are pleasantly lax, protesting the idea of supporting my weight when I consider standing up and gathering my clothes. Really, I’d like to just pull a blanket over me and snuggle into the couch. Maybe fall asleep watching TV again.

  But now that we’ve had sex, I’m not sure what to expect. Sigh. I should probably get dressed.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Danny

  I stand in the doorway of my bedroom, watching Ava lying on the couch, on her side, propped up on one elbow, her hair loose and falling over her shoulder. Once took the worst of the edge off, but my still half-hard dick seems to be trying to stir to life again at the sight of her.