by Taryn Quinn
AJ, our rhythm guitarist, leaned over the back of the couch and knocked Coop in the head mid-lyric. “Hey, asshole. I thought you were running out for food.”
Coop ignored him and went back to scribbling.
AJ sighed dramatically and turned around, flinging himself over the back of the sofa so that he landed between us with his head dangling toward the floor. “But I’m starving.”
“You have a damn car, and I said take five not twenty-five.” Shaking my head, I finally gave into curiosity and tugged out my phone to check who had messaged me.
Cooper and AJ’s bickering faded away, as did the sound of Jake tuning his bass across the room. The hum of the amps, the too harsh lighting, the vague headache brewing at the base of my skull all vanished.
Maggie.
My throat tightened and I gripped my cell as I fought not to immediately reply. I wasn’t this guy. Even women who hated me after a hookup said I had swagger. With Maggie, I had none. Just her words on my screen were enough to make my head light and my heartbeat roar in my ears.
As for my dick, I wasn’t going there. Suffice it to say there was more than one reason I hunched over my lap.
I couldn’t not answer her. Not twice. Not when every part of me was already hard and aching.
Fingers tense, I typed out a response.
What does a do-over consist of? Exactly.
There. Make it about sex. That kept it in the realm that seemed logical. The one I still understood.
I half expected her not to answer. A good girl probably wouldn’t. It wasn’t as if I’d left much wiggle room as to the direction of my thoughts. She’d read between the lines and know I was suggesting another hookup.
She didn’t need to know it already felt like so much more.
The next buzz vibrated under my thumb, still cupping the screen.
Whatever you can handle, Wolf.
Goddamn. I went as rigid as a damn pike, just like that. Though my buddies were all around me, I was ready to go just from some words on a screen from a woman who was on the other side of the country.
I can’t get away right now. Can you?
Get away like what? You mean come to LA?
I’d officially lost my frigging mind. So what else could I do other than to continue playing the hand I’d dealt her?
Yeah. Come to LA.
My classes start on Monday & I’m working til Friday afternoon.
So redeye Fri night. I’ll send you a ticket.
She didn’t respond for long enough that I was sure she was going to say no. She might’ve been the one who’d contacted me, but I was the one who sounded desperate.
I was, more than I’d ever expected.
Okay. I’ll come to you.
“Hey, Kell, man, are we ever getting back to this rehearsal or are we just going to hold our dicks while you play with your phone?” Jake called, making me glance up from my screen and squint at him as if he were a stranger.
He might as well have been. Maggie was my reality right now. Everything else had just been marking time until I could see her again. Even if I hadn’t admitted it to myself.
Christ, I was so fucked.
I held up two fingers to Jake and sent back a quick reply.
Send me your email addy and watch for the ticket tonight. Two days, roundtrip?
Two days where I could do every dark, dirty thing in my head to her and then let her sleep long enough so I could do them all over again.
Yes. Two days, roundtrip. But I’ll have people out looking for me if I’m not back on time, so don’t get any ideas.
I laughed out loud, well aware that my bandmates were staring. I didn’t give a shit.
You’re not ready to hear all the ideas I have, Red.
But she would be hearing them. Soon.
12
Maggie
“Have I told you that I think this is crazy?”
I leaned my head against the window of the Uber bringing me to the address Kellan had given me in the Hollywood Hills.
Holy crap. I still couldn’t believe I was doing this. Correction—I had done this. I was here, on the opposite side of the country, staring out the window at palm trees blowing in the breeze instead of leafless branches laden with snow.
First plane ride, first layover at O’Hare, first tropical drink in an airport lounge.
First time I’d ever traveled to meet a man for sex, never mind sex on what might as well have been the other side of the world. Definitely the first time I’d lied to my parents about my whereabouts.
Technically I didn’t have to. I was a grown woman. Almost twenty-three, financially stable—ish—and in college. I paid rent, though below the going rate, and I was normally a responsible person.
Just not lately. Maybe I was overdue for a major flake-out. If so, I was going to make this weekend count.
After checking my hair in my compact once more, I sighed. “Yeah, Ken, I think you’ve weighed in a few times on the subject.”
She was my alibi for this weekend. It wasn’t as if I could tell my father where I was going. Well, I could have. But did I really want a lecture about going away for a cross-country booty call? Not so much.
It wasn’t as if I had many illusions about this weekend. Kellan hadn’t asked me how I was or if my car was okay or anything. We’d barely spoken at all. He’d asked if I would come to him, so we could fuck. And I had.
I was okay with that right now. So much.
“Just saying. If you don’t call me tomorrow morning, I’ll think he killed you and chopped up your body.”
“See, this is why you’re my best friend. You’re as sick and twisted as I am.”
“Not hardly. I watch Dateline. I’ve seen this story before. Younger woman gets swept away by charming older—”
“He’s barely older than us, Ken. It’s not like he’s some geezer.”
“Is he older than you? Yes. Therefore, older man. Who did not ask you anything except to visit for sex. If that’s not skeevy to you, then I can’t help you. Clearly Derek the Dickless did more of a trip on your head than I even realized.”
“It’s not like that. Exactly.”
“Right. That’s why when you got his text you turned every shade of red and wouldn’t even let me read it for like fifteen minutes. This is after shutting me out for two weeks. You never do that.”
The hurt in Kendra’s voice made me tuck away my compact and stop toying with my hair. “It wasn’t because of you. It’s because of me.”
“Are you going to break up with me next? That sounds like standard relationship-ending BS.”
I laughed. “Nah, you’re stuck with me. Cradle to the grave, baby.”
“Just don’t make that grave happen any sooner than it should. I have a shovel, a body bag, and a ready alibi if he screws with you.”
“Hopefully he will screw me, and no burial implements will be needed.”
The Uber driver winked at me in the rearview mirror. I cleared my throat. Keeping my voice down would be ideal.
“Yeah, well, report back tomorrow. If I don’t hear from you by noon, I’m calling the twins and your shenanigans will be up, sister.”
The shudder of fear that ran through me was genuine. Liam and Lachlan were both incredible men—strong, loyal, smart. Devoted to family. They also had intense workout regimes and a willingness to hop any number of planes, trains, and automobiles to save their baby sister from the evil clutches of some “LA big shot” as Kendra had referred to him.
I’d told her I didn’t think he was all that big. True, he worked at a record label, but there had to be smaller ones. Surely if he had any major artists on his roster, he would’ve name-dropped. He hadn’t mentioned anyone. Most likely he was just trying to make it like the rest of us. Struggling, but on his way.
“I’ll call,” I promised before hanging up.
Good thing too, since the driver pulled up to the address I’d given him and my chin dropped to my thighs. Right about where the hem o
f my clingy, deep blue crushed velvet dress ended.
Yeah, so I wasn’t the best with casual. I’d gone out and bought some new clothes for this weekend. Sexy things. Including lingerie that I would probably always hide under my sweet pink and purple patterned panties in my underwear drawer. Hopefully they’d have some dirty memories attached, courtesy of one Kellan McGuire.
“Are you sure this is the right address?” I pressed my forehead against the window and bit my lip as I tried to take in the expanse of the property before me. As far as California real estate went, I was sure it wasn’t at the top of the range. Not by far. Even a cactus in LA went for more than I could fathom. But still, this wasn’t the kind of pad I’d pictured for an up and coming record exec. Maybe he had to keep up a front for the people he worked with to prove he was making it in a cutthroat industry. He might even have wild music parties here for all I knew.
“It’s the address you gave me, lady. Guess that man you came to see is doing all right for himself.” The driver winked again and tapped his thumbs on the wheel.
Clock was running, and I couldn’t stall any longer.
I paid him, adding in my idea of a hefty tip, and waited while he deposited my suitcase from the trunk by my feet. Then as the car pulled away from the circular driveway, I pursed my lips and wondered if it was too late to run back home.
What had made me think I was equipped to handle any of this?
The house was huge and white with tons of windows. They seemed mirrored to reflect the last pink and orange rays from the sunset. Made from privacy glass, probably. I took the stairs that wound up the side, climbing to a large veranda with a killer view of the city.
I stood at the ornate iron railing, hauling in deep draughts of the ocean-tinged warm breeze. The water probably wasn’t that close, but my imagination always filled in the blanks. I tugged my short jacket tighter around my body and let my gaze soak up the lights coming on in the high rises that seemed to stretch in every direction in the distance.
This place held so many possibilities. I swore I could feel them in the air. Or maybe that was just anticipation.
The door opened behind me and I braced, not even getting a chance to turn before that familiar presence loomed behind me. I didn’t need to look to know it was him. I smelled his alpine shampoo and the clean scent of his basic, utilitarian soap, and my entire body clenched in reaction.
His big hands came up to bracelet my wrists on the railing and he brushed his mouth over my hair. “You came.”
My voice was going to shake. I just knew it.
“I said I would, didn’t I?” Through some miracle, I managed to sound relaxed. Even a little snarky. I hadn’t had to summon my bravado for most of the first night I’d spent with him, but now that I knew what being with him entailed, I was practically a vibrating wire of need.
He slid his nose through my hair, inhaling deeply, and I gripped the railing. It took so little from him to make my system rev. He tapped the pulse in my wrist and I shut my eyes.
I could play blasé all I wanted, but he already knew I was throbbing all over for him. Inside and out. Even my skin felt as if it had shrunk in the warm air.
“Is your father going to show up here to drag you home?” His warm breath skimmed over my neck, as erotic as the edge of a feather.
“No. They think I’m spending the weekend with Ken.” He growled and spun me around, and the sight of him again after the last three weeks was a punch to the chest. His hair was different. Shorter but somehow wilder, the top gelled up into a faux hawk. “My best friend, Kendra,” I reminded him.
I didn’t get a chance to say anything else or even to continue my perusal past his eyes before he dragged me against him and threaded his fingers through my loose hair. I’d left it down, hoping this very thing might happen.
He gave me that look, heavy and intense, an instant before his mouth came down on mine. Every time I expected rough, punishing kisses that matched his firm grip on my hair, and every time his lips were soft and gentle. They molded to mine, and he learned my shape again for several frantic heartbeats until his tongue slashed between them. Slick and hot, his kisses left no confusion about where his thoughts—and the stiff length digging into my belly—were headed.
“I have more than one condom this time,” he said between kisses, his free hand grasping my waist so he could haul me even closer.
It was never close enough. The clothes between us—hell, even the air—were simply too much.
“Me too.” I reached up, eyes still closed, and caressed his jaw. He groaned, but it wasn’t enough to cover my sound of distress. “You shaved.”
“You like the beard?”
“I did.” It was hard to get the rest out. “I liked the way it felt between my legs.”
“Christ.”
I didn’t have time to say anything else before he plucked me up into his arms. He bent us precipitously to pick up my suitcase and carted me inside, kicking the door shut. He set me down long enough to drop the suitcase and to press buttons on a seemingly complicated alarm system. I frowned as it beeped and numbers scrolled past on the screen.
What the heck was all this? He hadn’t even locked the cabin in Turnbull, but out here, he’d opted for mega security. Perhaps it just came part and parcel with living in such an expensive area.
“Where’s the armed guard?” I asked, only half kidding.
He grunted and picked me up again, this time in a fireman’s style carry over his burly shoulder. When I shrieked, he smacked my ass and I fell silent.
So much for a house tour. Apparently we were headed right to the bedroom. I might’ve protested about that if I wasn’t at the perfect angle to check out his ass.
Cradled in worn denim, his buns were spectacular. If I stretched just a bit more, I could bite one.
He toted me up a spiral staircase flanked by walls covered in huge paintings. Of the sea. And fire. And a lone snow-covered tree in the forest, shuddering in the wind. I didn’t get a good look at them despite my twisting and gyrating, which seriously pissed me off.
I enjoyed romance as much as the next person, but this didn’t feel like a sweet gesture. That wasn’t Kellan’s way of doing things. Actually I liked that he was more straightforward.
But this? This felt like he was trying to keep me from seeing his place.
Halfway up the endless staircase, I slapped his back to make him put me down. He finally obliged, saying nothing as I pointed. “Who painted those?”
“Does it matter?”
I touched his cheek and made him look at me. He was very good at not meeting my eyes, and I wasn’t going to allow that this time. “Was it you?”
That muscle I remembered flared in his jaw, giving him away. “Just a hobby,” he said under his breath.
“They’re incredible. That tree gave you away.” Driven to keep touching him, I brushed a stray lock of hair out of his chocolate eyes. I didn’t like the product in his hair or the style or his new clean-shaven look.
I wanted the same Kellan back I’d had at the cabin. Rude, crude, uncouth. Raw in all the best ways. Not this slick, polished version who carried me around in a pseudo expression of romance.
“I’m the same man,” he muttered, resuming the climb. At the top of the stairs, he took a left and just kept going.
I rushed after him. Had I spoken aloud?
Knowing me, probably. But I wasn’t going to hide my feelings. At least not about this.
“You’re even dressed different.” I pulled at the sleeve of his white button-down shirt and took in the rest of his attire. He had on a black belt studded with spikes, probably store-manufactured bleached and slashed jeans, and trendy boots with a heel that had clanged on each rung of the stairs. That wasn’t all. Unless I was mistaken, he was wearing eyeliner.
Genuine panic seized my throat. “Why are you dressed like this?”
He just kept walking. Since I wasn’t going to continue to yank on his clothes like a petulant child, I
stopped and crossed my arms.
When he realized I wasn’t following, he paused and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I told you I work with artists. You gotta play the game.”
“That involves eye makeup and glitzy houses and belts that look like they were modeled on a dog’s choke collar.”
He walked away and left me standing there.
Eventually I gave in and followed him. What choice did I have? I’d flown to the other side of the country like an idiot, so I wasn’t leaving without some sex.
Good sex. Tear the freaking roof off and set that shit on fire sex.
It wasn’t my problem what he chose to do with his life. He hadn’t even asked about mine. Forget that, he hadn’t even asked me how I was. Or if I’d had a good flight. He’d just kissed my fool head off and manhandled me, just in case I had any doubts about what he had planned this weekend.
I didn’t, but that didn’t mean I was going to let him dominate me. In bed was one thing. Out? Nope. Not happening. Not with him or any other male again. Or female for that matter.
Talking to you, Ken, even if it’s only in my head.
I marched down the long hallway and did my best not to notice the vaulted ceilings or the off-white walls with fancy crown moulding. This was not my suburban home where paint had been slapped on so many times that the baseboards were covered in a rainbow of hatch marks from all the different colors used over the years. The floor beneath my heels was glossy and black, mirrored just like the windows. If I dared to look, I’d probably see my reflection.
This place didn’t fit the Kellan I’d come to know at all.