Baby Did a Bad Bad Thing (Hautboy Series Book 3)

by Anne Berkeley

“Big event, huh?” I observed. Every bodyguard beside Evan was in attendance.

  “Don’t tell her anything,” Jake warned. “She doesn’t know.”

  “Of course not,” Carter scoffed. “She wouldn’t be so calm if she did.”

  “Why’re you even here?” What were any of them doing here? Jake’s performance was private, a piano solo.

  “Sweetheart, I wouldn’t miss this for the world.” Stretching out, Carter draped his arm along the back of the seat. “So what am I supposed to call you now, Violet?”

  “My name.”

  “I like Violet better.”

  “I like Shane better.” Carter looked at me with disgust, while Shane turned in his seat, obviously insulted. “You’re quiet,” I explained to Shane. Shane was known publicly as the scourge of the band. Having met him in person, I knew differently. He was a good guy.

  “Thanks. I think.” Befuddled, he faced forward.

  Carter dropped his arm over my shoulders, pulling me into a headlock. “That wasn’t very nice, Violet.” Digging his knuckles into my scalp, he began sawing them back and forth.

  Curling away from him, I reached between his legs and grabbed his package, just tight enough that he understood I meant business. “Lay the fuck off!”

  “No reason to get physical!” Letting my head go, Carter raised his arms in the air. All but the driver had turned around, watching us. Snickers sounded across the cab of the truck.

  “You touched me first.”

  “But you touched my junk,” Carter complained. Looking at Jake, he nodded arrogantly. “She touched my junk, bro.”

  “Funny you call it that,” I voiced. “Considering the definition of junk is otherwise useless odds and ends.”

  “Fuck you!” Grabbing my head again, he tucked me back under his arm and began rasping my scalp again. This time, I tweaked his nipple, seeing that he was guarding his junk with his elbow. Yelping in pain, he let me go again.

  “Here,” said Jake, grasping my arm. He tugged me across the seat and dropped down between Carter and me.

  “I can handle him.” He was nothing compared to Peter’s corn chip armpits.

  “I’m not worried about you.”

  In response to Jake’s gibe, Carter flipped him the bird.

  The rest of the drive was uneventful. Less than a half hour later, we pulled into the SeaTac Airport. A small jet was parked off to the side. Derek rolled to a stop a few short yards away and shut the engine off.

  “We’re getting in that?” I asked, sitting forward in my seat. Holy crap. A private jet. Hautboy’s private jet. Tate flew Coop to Vegas on that jet for a shotgun wedding.

  My face blanched. Jake wouldn’t, would he?

  “Afraid of flying?” Marshall asked. Sliding out of the passenger seat, he opened the rear door. Matthew, Taylor and Shane slid out. When they were out of the way, I took Marshall’s hand and stepped onto the tarmac.

  “No.” As the pilot lowered the stairs, Jake took my hand and began leading me toward the plane. My hand felt suddenly small in his, as if he was a wolf leading a lamb to slaughter.

  Following Jake, I climbed the beige, leather stairs to the jet and stepped inside. It wasn’t overly huge, just enough to hold the band, their bodyguards and a few extra. The cockpit was to the right, and to the left, another door. The bedroom. My mouth went dry.

  “You ok?” Jake asked, looking down at me.

  “Yeah,” I said hoarsely. “Fine.”

  “We’re running late.” The pilot clapped Jake on the shoulder. “You should take your seats. We’ll be departing as soon as everyone’s buckled in.”

  Taking a seat in the last row, I fumbled with the buckle. My palms were sweating. Jake reached over and fastened it for me, then tightened the belt until it was snug around my waist.

  “Thank you.”

  “You sure you’re all right?”

  “Yeah.” I managed a weak smile.

  The others filed on the plane, picking seats toward the front, and leaving us some privacy. Were they leaving us privacy? Why were they leaving us privacy? Where the fuck was Jake taking me? My mind began running rampant with visions of white dresses and shoes. He even booked an appointment with a stylist. He had everything I’d need. I felt short of breath.

  My heart raced with the roar of the engine, speeding as we barreled down the runway. As the wheels lifted off the asphalt, I took deep breaths, gulping air as if I couldn’t get enough. My lungs felt constricted, cut off of oxygen. My ears began to ring. The corners of my vision began to blur. For the second time in my life, I passed out cold. Everything turned to black.

  “Paisley?” The pressure of someone’s touch left my wrist. Then, fingers were at my jacket, loosening the collar from around my neck. “Give you a little air. See if that helps.”

  “What’s wrong with her?” Jake inquired.

  “Just what you said; she passed out.”

  “Why?”

  Matthew, yes, Matthew, snorted. I recognized his voice now. Taylor’s brother. “I’m not a doctor, Jake. I was trained in basic emergency response. I’d say she’s afraid of flying. She hyperventilated and fainted.”

  “She travels,” Jake objected. “I think she would’ve mentioned that she doesn’t like flying.”

  "Has she taken anything?"

  "She doesn't do drugs, Matt. She's as clean as they come."

  “Could she be pregnant?”

  “I’m not pregnant,” I mumbled, finding my voice. “Definitely not pregnant.”

  “There, you see?” Matthew said brightly. “She’s fine.”

  “I’m fine. Too much excitement this early in the morning. I was up late last night, studying for my bachelors.” Sure my head was clear enough to sit up, I started to rise.

  Matthew placed his hand on my shoulder, restraining me from doing so. “Do yourself a favor and relax for five minutes. I don’t need you falling and hitting your head while we’re forty thousand feet in the air. I can do stitches in a pinch, but they’re not pretty.”

  “How bad can you mess up with steristrips?”

  Not too far away, someone chuckled. Carter replied with a sharp retort. “Dude, that was not funny! He glued his fucking finger to my forehead!”

  “It was a little funny,” Shane disagreed. Their voices faded as they left the cabin, debating the amount of humor involved in the gluing of steristrips. Matthew pulled the door closed behind him as he followed them out.

  “What happened?” Jake asked, sitting beside me. He rested his hand on my knee, as if anything else was life endangering.

  “Can’t you just tell me where you’re taking me?”

  “Is that what this is about?”

  “Please tell me you’re not taking me to Vegas.”

  “Vegas? What would make you think Vegas?”

  “Because you have shoes and a dress and a stylist. And Carter's comments about being calm and not missing this for the world. The plane ride. And your gram…Jesus…she said you got a piece of jewelry from her.” I massaged my temples, trying to dispel the thought.

  “Is the notion that unappealing?”

  “Jake!”

  “It’s not Vegas, Shaw. I’m not taking you to Vegas.”

  “Ok. Ok. I forgive you. Whatever it is you have planned, I forgive you, so don't do anything over the top. Please.”

  “You're really freaked out over this.”

  Lifting my head, I glared with exasperation. “You think?”

  “The ring was for Mattie, Shaw. Her boyfriend wants to propose.”

  “Oh. Thank God.” Sighing, I dropped my head onto the mattress and hugged one of the million throw pillows to my chest.

  “I'm starting to get a little affronted here. You don't have to sound so relieved.”

  “Sorry.”

  Attentively, he toyed with a lock of hair at my temple. “So do you really forgive me?”

  “Jake, my feelings are very volatile right now. One minute I want to kiss you, and the next I’
d like to kick you in the balls.”

  “I prefer the former over the latter.”

  “I wouldn’t actually kick you in the balls. I’m just expressing my anger.”

  “Now that you’ve clarified that, can we focus on the former?” Unable to help myself, a smile stretched across my face. Jake took this as an approval and climbed onto the bed, crawling his way toward me. From between us, he grabbed the pillow and tossed it to the floor.

  “Jake, I’m not sleeping with you on this plane.” I knew that look in his eye. It was pure hunger. A simple kiss wouldn’t suffice.

  “It’s only a two-hour flight. Not enough time to do any sleeping.” Lowering his head, he reached for my lips. I pressed my hands to his chest, pushing him away.

  “Everyone is just outside that door.” I turned my head, dodging his advances.

  “They’re grown men. They know what we’re doing.”

  “Is that supposed to be comforting?”

  “Yes.” Dropping his head again, he closed his eyes, going in for a kiss. I pushed against his chest again, holding him off.

  “How does that make me look if I’m in here having sex with you, with them only feet away?”

  “Like you’re in love with me.” He had me there. Damn if I didn’t. Observantly, the laughter faded from his eyes. “Say it, Shaw, and I’ll settle for a kiss.”

  “You have that backwards, don’t you? Aren’t you supposed to use that to get me into bed?” I retorted. My attempt to brush off his appeal was weak at best. “If you love me, you’d sleep with me?”

  “It would be if my goal was to get in your pants, Shaw, but my priorities just shifted. What I want is infinitely more important.”

  “This isn’t a game, Jake.”

  “I’m not laughing.” Lowering his head, he brushed his lips against mine, taking my mouth in a slow kiss. I didn’t push him away this time, letting him seduce me into complacency. His hand slipped between my thighs, working his fingers along the seam of my pants.

  Moaning into his mouth, I arched my hips, chasing his touch. He responded in kind, groaning lowly and pressing his fingers harder against me. Slowly, they circled and stroked, finding the sweet spot through my jeans. As talented as he was, I was beginning to resent wearing them. They were an unwanted barrier between me and the pleasure he offered.

  Breaking the kiss, Jake’s gaze flitted over my features and rested on my eyes. “Your turn.”

  “I think I’ll take the sex,” I said, lifting my head and reaching for his lips. Jake’s breathed puffed against my face as he laughed, retreating from my advances.

  “Not until you say it.”

  “That wasn’t the rule.”

  “This isn’t a game,” he reminded me. Touché.

  “This is stupid.”

  “It’s not.”

  “It is. It’s going to sound awkward and anticlimactic because you’re expecting it. If you want it to sound natural, I have to be in the moment.”

  “What—during sex?” he inquired. “That doesn’t count.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because it’s sex. It makes you say stupid things.”

  “I’ve never told anyone I loved them during sex. That’s not what I meant anyhow. In the moment…like…there has to be some supporting or passionate emotion involved like anger, adoration, or reflection.”

  “Try me.”

  “I love you, Jake.”

  “Works for me.” Giving a ‘meh’ shrug, he dropped his head and kissed me. Laughing, he ran his tongue across my lower lip and pulled it between his teeth. “That…” He pressed a small kiss at the corner of my mouth. “Was pretty anticlimactic. I think we need to try again. This time, I’ll offer a little technical support. Feel free throw it out there at any time.”

  Rising to his knees, he began shucking my pants down over my hips. I lifted my ass, helping him out. One by one, he pulled them over my feet. Instead of throwing them to the floor, he lifted them to his nose and drew in a deep breath, his eyes drifting closed.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I missed that fucking smell.” Smiling crookedly, he tossed them to the floor, and unzipped his own pants, freeing himself.

  “That’s kinda gross.”

  “Shaw, there’s no better smell in the world. After that little affair at the doctor’s office the other day…” Wrapping his hand around his cock, he stroked it, running his fingers over the head, down to the base and back again. His other hand, he lifted to his nose and drew a deep breath. “Jesus Christ, I could still smell you on my fingers. It was just what I needed.”

  “You did not.”

  “What else was I supposed to do? You left me pent up.”

  “We were in an exam room! I could’ve gotten fired!”

  “Melvin wouldn’t do that. We’re acquaintances. Besides, the last fundraiser I did raised the money to buy half the equipment in that place.”

  “So you excused yourself to the bathroom and jacked off.”

  “You’re not the only one who dreams.” Dropping his hand from his face, he focused on the real article. “It’s either take care of business or deal with a vicious fuckin’ case of blue balls.”

  “You dream of me?”

  Smiling crookedly, he bent until his nose skimmed the inside of my thighs. “Only once a night.” My smile was obliterated as his tongue stroked my clit. Heat pooled in my belly and the apples of my cheeks. My head fell back. A low moan rose up my throat, urging him on. As if that wasn’t enough indication, my hands threaded into his hair and pulled him toward me.

  Taking cue, Jake buried his face against me. With his hand, he found my entrance and pushed two fingers into me. I gasped in pleasure and rocked my hips against him. Licks of heat razed what remained of the wall between us, turning my hesitancy into ash and dust.

  “Come for me, Shaw,” Jake demanded, curling his fingers in a come hither motion. Meeting and holding my stare, he flicked his tongue against me, stoking the fire.

  Closing my eyes, I gave myself over to my sensations. The glide of his tongue against my flesh. The stroke of his fingers inside me. The heat of his breath. The scent of arousal. The sound of Jake’s low moans, and the wet flick of his tongue. My own panting gasps of air.

  My orgasm came like an inferno, intense and searing. I could barely bite back the cry that wanted to escape, lest the others hear us. Letting go of Jake’s hair, I grasped the sheets, riding out the tremors of my peak.

  As Jake released me from the fetters of my orgasm, my toes slowly uncurled and my muscles gradually relaxed into cognizance. He rose up between my thighs and settled between them. The weight of him was enticing. I wrapped my legs around his waist and pulled him toward me, while reaching up and taking his mouth in a lascivious kiss.

  “Pants. Off. Now,” I demanded, barely breaking this kiss. Impatiently, I reached down and began tugging at the waist, peeling them down over his hips. My hand ran over something small but bulky. Jake quickly pushed my hands away and took over, removing his jeans.

  “No reason to rush, Shaw. It’s going to be quick enough as it is. I can practically feel it coming up my cock.”

  “Was that paraphernalia in your pocket?” It wouldn't surprise me. He always came prepared, it seemed.

  “Doesn’t matter. We’re not using it.” Kicking his jeans down over his feet, Jake centered his attention on me. Staring absorbedly, he guided his cock along my entrance and pushed in. Immediately closing his eyes, he drew a deep breath. I could see his lips moving as he counted backwards, trying to salvage a thread of control.

  “Ten, twenty, Forty-five,” I chimed in. “Sixty-nine.”

  “Not funny.” Still, his lips pulled up at the corners.

  “Are you going to tell me where you’re taking me yet?”

  “Somewhere warm.”

  “I didn’t ask where you were. I asked where you were taking me.”

  “I’m going to take you in the ass in two seconds.” His tone was disapproving.
My counteractive questions didn’t help. In earnest, he began pumping his hips. “Holy fuck, Shaw.”

  Expletives began to pour from his lips, regardless of the men in the next room.

  I held onto his shoulders, luxuriating in the flex of his muscles. He felt divine, bringing completion to my orgasm with his firm thrusts. I angled my hips, taking all of him.

  “Oh God! Jesus! Ungh!” With one last thrust, Jake froze, all but the pulsing of his cock, and the quiver rolling down his spine. A moment later, he was dead weight on top of me. “My dreams don’t do you justice, Shaw.”

  “Then your dream me is egregiously lacking. I really didn’t do anything.” Laughing silently, I ran my fingers through his curls, coiled one large lock around my finger. “Except maybe moan a little.”

  “I love those fucking moans.”

  “Such a romantic.”

  Lifting his head, Jake stared through hooded eyes. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten, Shaw. You still haven’t said it.”

  Threading my fingers into his hair, I guided his lips back to mine. “I love you, Jake.”

  Chapter 23

  “It isn’t my natural color,” I argued. Stealing a glance in the mirror, I knew Carter was right. My hair was lifeless and drab.

  “Your hair color is boring. It’s like…” Carter paused, searching for the right word. “A brown paper bag.”

  “A brown paper bag,” I repeated, aghast. I hadn’t thought it was that bad. Looking toward Jake, I searched for a sign of confirmation or denial.

  “I love you, Shaw. I don’t give a fuck what color your hair is.”

  “Of course he’s going to say that,” Carter pressed. “He has to. He’s in love.” Tucking his hand under the neck of his shirt, he patted his chest in a mock beat. “Everything’s fucking hearts and roses now.”

  “Do you know how much time and money it took to get my hair back to its natural color?”

  “You paid money for that?”

  “Fuck you, Carter.”

  Sitting forward in his chair, Carter looked me square in the eye. “I’m being your friend here since Jake-off can’t bring himself to tell you. This hair color doesn’t work for you, or anyone for that matter. You might as well wear a brown paper bag on your head. At least we could color on it, give it a little character.”