Love Me Two Times (Rock Royalty Book 8)

by Christie Ridgway

  “Y-you do remember,” she said.

  He was staring through the window at the structure. “No,” he said slowly. “Not like you’re thinking. Not all the way, not yet, anyhow.”

  “But you drove to this address.”

  He glanced at her, his face unreadable in the dark. “It’s where you lived then?”

  “Yes.” She clutched her fingers together in her lap. “We were here often. We cooked dinner together nearly every night.”

  He nodded slowly. “And you wore those shoes—the ones you have on now. I see flashes of them like an old movie stuttering on a screen.”

  Her throat closed up tight, so she had to cough before words could come out. “You bought them for me. A going-away present.”

  Why had she chosen to wear them tonight? They should have stayed forever tucked in her closet.

  Now he turned his head to look at her. “It’s not a fantasy, is it? You wore them, you wore only them.”

  She’d been completely naked, except for the shoes. Jewel forced herself not to squirm. “Look, it’s…embarrassing out of context.”

  “No. It’s beautiful. You were so beautiful that night.” He drew a knuckle down her cheek. “And hot. I fed you from my hand.”

  “That’s all on you,” she grumbled, feeling the flush crawl over her skin. “Insisting I walk around like that. Insisting we share from one plate.”

  “You liked it,” he said in a devil’s voice, full of smoke and sin. “You liked everything I ever ‘insisted’ upon. You liked the ‘insisting’ in and of itself.”

  Jewel jerked her face away from his touch. “Of course I did, because…” Because under his spell it was like being drunk, a happy woozy, drunken feeling. Lust like she’d never experienced before. His focused attention had seduced her—body and heart.

  “Another image keeps popping into my head,” he said now. “Balloons?”

  “Oh.” Would this be how it happened? The memories trickling back to him, each one almost agonizing for her to relive?

  “A bouquet of balloons?” He glanced at her. “What’s that about?”

  “On the night after we met at the bar. You brought me a dozen balloons in different shades of blue.”

  “Huh.” He seemed to mull over the idea. “That doesn’t sound much like me.”

  She shrugged, unwilling to say more. It seemed that so far he was remembering things—the shoes, the balloons—but not any real feelings attached to them. Of course he’d assume he thought a naked woman wearing high-heeled shoes was “hot.” But when it came to the balloons he didn’t remember telling her he’d bought them because she’d shared that blue was her favorite color—the color of the sky—and he said now he’d never look at it without thinking of her.

  She’d been flattered, delighted, charmed, even though he looked sheepish and admitted it was the corniest thing he’d ever said to a woman.

  Which had flattered, delighted, and charmed her even more.

  Beck started the car and began driving again. “A book. You read a book aloud.”

  “An old Cold War-era thriller we found at a flea market.”

  He’d enjoyed the few times they’d poked around together at local collectives, she always hunting for some piece she could use for her jewelry business.

  “You were naked when you did that too.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Not every time.”

  “And music,” he said slowly. They were nearing the turn onto Laurel Canyon Boulevard. “We took turns calling up music videos of our favorites.”

  “You were mad for a heavy metal band from Eastern Europe.”

  He chuckled. “They gave you a headache. So you retaliated by playing Cyndi Lauper for me.”

  “Sometimes girls just wanna have fun,” she said, smiling.

  They had reached the gates of the Velvet Lemons compound. Beck slowed the car. “Is now one of those times?”

  “What do you mean?” Her pulse tripped, her heart banged against her ribs.

  “You could come in. Have a nightcap.” He traced her bottom lip with a fingertip. “Wearing only those shoes.”

  Jewel squeezed shut her eyes. So not fair!

  “Think what you might help me remember.”

  Swallowing her groan, she tried gathering her resolve. It was dangerous to get close to him again. She had to remember her dignity, her pride, the danger he might be to both—

  “I want to be with you again, Jewel.”

  Those words in his low voice crumbled her defenses, because she’d always want to be with him again, too. Conceding defeat, she nodded dumbly, and he squeezed her knee before pressing down on the accelerator again. In minutes he was leading her by the hand into the living room of the cozy cottage that had belonged to Gwendolyn Moon. When he let go of her to pour the wine he offered, she laced her fingers together and tried to calm her breathing while staring at the soft-colored flowers woven into the carpet.

  He returned to her and she glanced up.

  “Hey,” he said, concern overtaking his face. The goblets he set aside. “What’s the matter?”

  “Nothing.” She tried smiling. “Nerves.”

  “Are you cold? I just turned on the heat.” He gathered her against him. “Is this better?”

  She pressed her cheek to his chest and felt the steady thump of his heart.

  Then he tipped up her chin so he could look into her eyes. “What do you want?”

  “Fewer questions.” From him, from herself. Was this right? Was this wrong? What did the future hold? Why, when it came to him, did she act against her own best interests? “I don’t want to think anymore tonight.”

  His lips turned up into a slow smile that sent her pulse galloping. Between her legs she felt herself begin to go soft. Damp.

  “Sugar.”

  The one word dragged over her skin like a fingertip. His favorite name for her when they were intimate. She swallowed, hard. “Beck, tell me what you want.”

  “I did. To share a nightcap with you while you’re only wearing those shoes.” His nimble fingers went to the tiny buttons at the back of her blouse, undoing them with a patience that only served to ignite her blood.

  He slipped the fabric from her shoulders. “I’ll light a fire while you finish getting naked.”

  Was she really going to do this? But her shaking hands were already at the front clasp of her bra and she wanted him so much. He’d insisted there was no shame in that.

  His back was to her while he worked at the fireplace just a few feet away, but he didn’t look over as she continued to undress. She’d managed to retie the straps at her ankles when he turned around, backlit by flames. She licked her suddenly dry lips, excruciatingly aware of the cuff bracelet at her wrist and the fabric strip hidden beneath it as well as the soft suede bindings at her ankles. Her pulse raced beneath them.

  “Come here, sugar,” he said, crooking his finger. “Now I want to see the light from the fire wash over your skin.”

  She called upon her inner runway model as she crossed the distance between them.

  “Beautiful,” he said, then took one of the goblets off the mantel and handed it to her. He clicked the rim of his glass to hers. “To balloons, and books, and a beautiful pair of shoes.”

  She sipped the red wine, and it tasted like something a prince would offer a concubine. Rich and spicy and meant to allay a woman’s nerves. The heat from the fire licked along one side of her body, warming her, and yet she trembled.

  He reached out and traced the slope of her breast with a fingertip, not lingering on the nipple even though it tightened almost painfully. His hand brushed down to her mons, then moved back up so he could touch her other breast the same as the first. When he was done, she was breathing heavily, and the glass was tilting in her hand.

  “Another sip,” he said. “To relax you.”

  Afterward, he took the glass from her and replaced it on the mantel. Then, with a hand in her hair, he tugged her head back and moved in for a kiss. Sw
eeter and more drugging than the wine. When he lifted his mouth, she had that lovely drunken feeling coursing through her blood.

  “I’m not steady on my legs,” she said, clutching his shoulders and laughing a little.

  “Then drop to your knees, sugar.”

  Her breath rushed out at the softly spoken command. Oh, God. She was naked and he was fully dressed and looking at her with cool control in his eyes. Desire pulsed in her blood, and her breasts swelled.

  Drop to your knees.

  Oh, yes. Her core went wet as she complied. Then she braced one hand on his solid thigh. Breathing hard, she pressed her forehead to his other leg, trying to calm herself.

  His hand stroked her hair, and she whimpered, feeling her need for him grow. “Shh, sugar, you’re all right. I have you.”

  He did. He would. He would have her always even when he walked once again out of her life.

  But for now, she had him, too.

  She glanced up, her question in her eyes.

  With a small, satisfied smile on his face, he nodded.

  His arrogant smirk only made her want him more. So she made quick work of unfastening his jeans. He stripped off his shirt but didn’t move to help her in any other way. She knew what he wanted, how he liked her to spread open the denim and push down his boxers just so in order to frame his cock and balls.

  They were heavy and full, and it turned her on to fondle him in the cup of one hand while she placed tiny kisses up and down the shaft of his erection. His hand stroked her hair again, a light touch that communicated he was nowhere as urgent as she felt.

  She would see about that.

  Using her tongue now, she licked his cock, wetting it so it shined in the firelight. With the tip, she circled the plump head and then tickled the slit, tasting the fluid leaking there. He shifted, his stance widening, and she moved into the space between his legs.

  “I remember,” he said, his voice rough, “you giving me a blowjob in your kitchen, behind the counter. Your front door was open, only covered by the screen, and your neighbor paused outside of it to chat.”

  She shuddered, half in embarrassment, half in increased arousal, thinking of that episode herself. He’d talked casually to her neighbor, mentioning Jewel had “things to do,” while his hand was pressed tight to her head and her fingers—at his earlier suggestion—were between her thighs.

  “I wonder what else might come back to me,” he mused, and she thought of a dozen shameless moments as she slid her tongue up him again and then took him into her mouth.

  Now he groaned lightly, his fingertips tightening on her scalp. It caused goose bumps to break out over all her bare flesh. She took more of him, tonguing and sucking and trying to turn him on more as she breathed through her nose, taking Essence de Beck, testosterone, and sex deep into her lungs.

  She glanced up to see his eyes on her. He stared down in that intense, concentrated way he had that made her feel seen, important, cherished. Though one hand was still tight in her hair, he used the other to tenderly brush strands off her forehead as she continued to minister to him.

  “I remember…” he whispered. “I remember you were in love with me.”

  Instantly, she closed her eyes to shield herself and sucked harder to distract him. But he moved back, pulling free of her mouth. He tugged on her hair, and she knew what he wanted.

  Jewel opened her eyes and looked at him once again.

  “I remember you were in love with me,” he repeated.

  It wasn’t a question. Still, she surprised herself by giving him an answer anyway.

  “I am,” she said.

  Then he fell to his knees, and the kiss he gave her was tender and sweet and possibly apologetic. But she didn’t want to think of that, so she threw herself into it, and soon they were both naked on the rug before the fire. Bathed in firelight and his caresses, she opened herself up to whatever he wanted from her, knowing her honesty meant their second affair was at its end.

  When he entered her, she threw her arms over her head, clasping one hand over the bracelet that was over the fabric he’d tied there. His first thrusts were hard, and then he curled one of his hands around one of her calves, pushing back her leg to open her farther, to let him in deeper. He put his mouth to her breast and sucked without mercy, and all of it was good. Sweet in a burning, stinging, desperate kind of way.

  She didn’t want mercy.

  Only this final memory. He was grunting, his muscles tightening. She felt electric and exposed and like there was nothing to hold on to, so she tightened her hand on her wrist and let the coil of her desire begin to spring free. Maybe he felt it, because his hand went to her clit, not a gentle touch there, either, and her hips snapped to meet his, over and over, as she let herself go on the last adventure he would ever share with her.

  Chapter 13

  Two mornings had passed since the night Jewel crept out of the cottage at the compound, with Beck sprawled and sleeping in front of the fire. She’d left a note—I’m good, but I’d like some distance please.

  He was walking up Grandma’s driveway now, but she couldn’t complain about it. She’d called him that morning herself, asking if he would bring by Doris’s Nicky Aston jewelry set.

  “Great, right on time,” she said now. Her grandmother was already in the car, ready for her day’s outing with Doris and Soul. The elderly ladies and the baby were taking the train to meet a friend in San Juan Capistrano for lunch and more junking. “We have fifteen minutes to get Doris.”

  Beck’s gaze moved from a serious study of her face to Soul, who was propped on Jewel’s hip. “Hey, buddy,” he said to her, his thumb brushing her cheek.

  She returned a flirty look from under her lashes and he laughed. “How’s the teeth situation?”

  “Not bothering her lately, thank goodness,” Jewel answered.

  “How about you,” he said, slanting her a glance. “You bothered by anything?”

  “I’m great,” she said, trying to sound one hundred percent sincere.

  He frowned, so possibly she’d been at seventy-eight or seventy-nine. “Maybe we should talk.”

  Jewel hitched her daughter higher. “There’s nothing to say, Beck. Really.”

  His expression communicated dissatisfaction, but after a moment he said a reluctant, “All right.” Then he handed over the large velvet pouch that housed the jewelry, and looked at Soul again.

  Jewel’s heart twisted. “It’s ten days until the wedding. If you want to schedule some time for you and Soul to visit…”

  His chest rose and fell on a deep breath. Then his gaze moved from his daughter to the tips of his boots. “That’s probably not a good idea. We all should be moving on.”

  “Right.” Jewel nodded briskly and turned toward the car to tuck the baby into her car seat while juggling the pouch and her purse.

  “Let me do that,” Beck said, and scooped Soul from her arms.

  If he thought she didn’t see him press a kiss on the baby’s hair, then he thought wrong. She swallowed past the lump in her throat and pasted on a smile as she got behind the wheel. He shut the rear door, patted the roof, then stepped back.

  One jaunty wave, and he was just a figure receding in her rearview mirror.

  Grandma was conspicuously silent. Soul craned in her seat and gave her own baby wave.

  All very friendly. And final.

  Of course, she’d see him at Cilla and Ren’s wedding and a couple of pre-events next week, but she’d manage to keep as far from him then as he was from her now.

  She’d be a tiny figure in his metaphorical rearview window as well.

  At Doris’s house, Jewel pretended there wasn’t a bag of cement in her chest and trotted up the walkway to ring the bell. The older woman answered it immediately and looked surprised when Jewel held out the velvet pouch.

  “What’s this?”

  “Your Nicky Aston set,” Jewel said. “Gavin told me you were asking for it.”

  Doris frowned. “I
do have an appointment with the exhibit curator in a few days, but I don’t know if I want it here until then. I’ll probably put it in with the coffee in the freezer and forget all about it.”

  “I don’t think you’re that bad off,” Jewel said.

  “I misplaced the jewelry. I can’t find where I put Alfred’s coin collection. And my mother’s sterling silver baby cup is missing.”

  “Um…you gave that to Soul, remember? You had her initials engraved right beside your mother’s.”

  Doris’s expression cleared. “That’s right!” With a little bounce in her step, she crossed the threshold, only to pause when the phone rang inside the house.

  “Blast,” Doris said as it pealed a couple more times.

  “Shall I run and get it?”

  Doris smiled. “Oh, thank you.”

  On the other end of the line, it turned out, was Gavin. “Oh, hey, I was just going to wish Granny a great day,” he said. “Did you, uh, bring the Nicky Aston jewels to her?”

  “She wants me to hold onto them a while longer.”

  “Put the set on the kitchen counter,” Gavin suggested. “I’ll make sure nothing happens to it.”

  “Okay, well.” Doris stepped in and Jewel cupped her hand over the speaker end of the phone. “He wants me to leave the set here.”

  Doris grabbed the receiver and quickly informed her grandson that she wasn’t taking custody of the jewels quite yet. If he protested, Doris cut it off. “We’ve got to go if we’re going to make our train. Goodbye, Gavin.”

  With everyone finally bundled in the car, they headed for the train station. Doris’s concern about her failing memory worried Jewel a little. She grilled them on their plans—being met at the station by a friend, then lunch and shopping before same said friend returned them to the station. All seemed clear. Jewel knew which train to expect them on in the late afternoon.

  And when she offered to keep Soul with her, the elderly ladies insisted on sticking to the original idea.

  “Maisey wants to see her,” Grandma declared.

  So she dropped them off with their bags, the baby, and smiles all around.