Rock, Rattle & Roll

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Rock, Rattle & Roll Page 12

by Taryn Elliott


  But he didn’t want it to end quite yet. He rolled them both, never missing a thrust. He wanted her mouth, wanted her taste inside of him and around him in the blast of sunshine with her laughter. He rolled his hips, laughing when her eyes went wide and she hooked an arm around his neck. She dragged him down as he went deeper then shallow.

  “You freaking tease,” she said on a shaky breath.

  “You got it. I missed you, Harper. I don’t want this to end yet.”

  “Are you kidding? We’ve got two more days of this.” Her voice broke as he slipped his fingers in between them.

  “Two more days,” he panted. “We’ll kill each other.”

  “Honeymoon reboot. I’m all for it.”

  “Christ, yes.” He hooked her knee over his hip and drove down into her. “God, you feel too good.”

  Her nails bit into his back. “If you stop again, I’ll never made those strawberries again.”

  “Now that’s just mean.” He smiled down at her and circled her clit with his thumb until she shook, until she screamed, until his name was a hoarse cry. When he couldn’t hold back any longer, he rode out her last orgasm and let go. When her legs slid limply to the bed and he managed to catch his breath, he couldn’t hold back a wheezing laugh.

  “I should ask why you’re laughing, but my thigh is still shaking from that last whopper of an orgasm. So, I gotta say, I just don’t care.”

  He dropped to the bed beside her, his fingers sliding over her, unable to stay away from her.

  She moaned and tried to curl into herself. “Ever heard of the term open nerve?”

  He gentled his touch. She was slick with him and her combined. He lowered his mouth to her breast, sucking lightly as he teased her to the brink again. Her release was long and sweet. The kind that had started on a bus with two people fumbling into love. And now the love had created something new and exciting. He took a mental snapshot of the day. Sunshine and Harper. Love and forever. Wife and the future mother of his child.

  He didn’t know exactly how they’d get to the end of this new road, but it was the start of something amazing—that much he knew.

  Fourteen

  Ch-Ch-Changes

  “I miss the beach already.” Harper rubbed her hands together as they walked up the stairs to the house in the Hollywood Hills. More Christmas lights had been added to the railings since they’d been gone, as well as a fat wreath with a huge purple bow. It was also at least twenty degrees colder than Galveston. The last two days of their honeymoon had been unseasonably warm and perfect. So perfect she’d contemplated staying right there through the New Year.

  Damn responsible nature had killed that idea.

  Deacon opened the front door, dumping their duffel bag into the mudroom. The thing was filled to the brim with sand no matter how many times she’d shaken out their clothes. Music blared from the living room then went silent.

  Harper grinned up at Deacon when she heard Jazz’s loud whisper for everyone to be quiet. She took his hand, dragging him into the living room.

  “Surprise!” Jazz held up a sign that said, “Welcome home” with precisely seven exclamation points after it. One for every color of the rainbow.

  Nick had a party horn sticking out of the side of his mouth. His face was deadpan as he blew into it, making the stupid party favor shriek. “Congratulations on fucking for a week straight.”

  “God, you’re such an ass.” Simon rose off the couch, two party hats on his head like horns. “It’s congratulations on making love for a week straight.” He waggled his eyebrows. “As dirty as possible.” He crossed the room and shook Deacon’s hand, then pressed a smacking kiss on Harper’s cheek. “Way to go, blondie. You look sassy and happy.”

  Harper rolled her eyes. “Gee thanks, Simon.” But she was happy. Still freaking out every other hour or so, but definitely happy.

  Gray gave them a halfhearted salute from the couch. “Welcome home, guys.”

  Jazz bounded over to them, hugging them both before taking Harper’s hands and dragging her to the couch. “Tell me everything.”

  Nick reached next to the sofa and pulled out his acoustic, settling it into his lap. “Are we going to get a blow by blow about the whole week? Because if we are I’m going upstairs. I’d rather watch Guitar Center.”

  “Then go, Mr. Rude,” Jazz said.

  Nick huffed, but kept his mouth shut and strummed his guitar. Harper didn’t recognize the song. Maybe they’d actually gotten some writing done while she and Deacon had been away.

  Deacon popped his knuckles. “Actually, this is really well-timed. I didn’t think I’d get all of you together at once before tomorrow. And I don’t really want to talk about this in the studio.”

  Jazz tucked her feet under her legs and couldn’t stop bouncing.

  Simon quirked an eyebrow. “Care to share what’s turning you into the human vibrator?”

  Jazz stuck out her tongue. “Not my news to tell.”

  Nick stopped strumming. “Should I put my guitar down for this?” He pulled the cigarette out from behind his ear and stuck it in his mouth before taking it out again to flip it around at the filter.

  Harper moved next to Deacon, linking their fingers. “We’re doing this now?” she asked him out of the side of her mouth.

  Simon climbed onto the couch and perched on the back support. “This better be good. I have a very dirty woman waiting for me who’s been sexting me for the last hour.”

  They’d gone over how to tell the band at least fifteen times since they’d woken up that morning. She opened her mouth to ease them into it like they discussed.

  “We’re having a baby,” Deacon blurted.

  Or they could just spit it out. “That is not how we rehearsed.”

  Deacon’s cheeks flushed. “Sorry.”

  Jazz popped off the couch and jumped into Deacon’s arms. She wrapped her legs around his waist and levered herself up to kiss his cheek. “This is so great.” She jumped back down and tacklehugged Harper. “So, so awesome.”

  Nick looked from Deacon to Harper, then swung his gaze to Jazz. “Are you high? We’re a band. What the hell you so amped about the idea of a baby on a bus for?”

  “Hey, watch it.” Harper’s voice rose.

  Nick turned on her. “What, it’s not enough that you guys are married? You gotta bring a kid into this? Now?”

  All strong and valid points that she’d lived with for days now. Except everything was different now.

  Deacon stepped in front of her. “Look, man, I know it’s not ideal.”

  “Ideal? Holy shit, D. What the fuck?”

  Harper pushed past Deacon and stalked to Nick. “This wasn’t planned, but you know what? We’re dealing with it. We’re having it. There is no discussion here. I realize this will make things difficult scheduling wise—”

  “Difficult?” Nick paced the room. “Difficult is adding a sixth person to the bus. Catastrophic is a fucking...what do you call it? A goddamn playpen.”

  She felt Deacon seething at her back, but she held up a hand to him. “You don’t think we’ve thought of that? That I’ve thought of that? The baby wasn’t planned, but it’s a reality. Our reality.”

  Nick collapsed back onto the couch. “What the hell happened to my band, man?”

  Jazz plopped down next to Nick. “It became our band. Now more than ever.”

  Simon crossed his arms and walked over to Harper. “So, a baby?”

  “A baby,” she confirmed.

  He nodded. “Can I borrow it sometimes? Chicks really dig babies. Makes them think I’m all sensitive and shit.”

  Harper laughed. “No way in hell.”

  Simon gave her a pouty face. “I’ll wear you down.”

  Deacon looked at Gray. “What do you think, Vapor?”

  Gray crossed his arms over his chest. “It’s going to be an interesting tour.”

  Deacon gently gripped Harper’s shoulders. “Never liked boring anyway.”

  Gray ga
ve a rare smile. “But I’m happy for you guys. This is good news.”

  Jazz hopped off the couch and went to the side drawer. She waved a book at them. “I’ve been doing some reading.”

  Nick flipped open his Zippo and slammed out the back door, a puff of smoke in his wake.

  Harper gripped Deacon’s hand on her shoulder, leaning into him. “Not quite as bad as I thought.”

  Deacon wrapped an arm around her waist. “Impressive mama bear growl there at Nick,” he said low into her ear. “That was hella hot.”

  She laughed. “You’re a sick man.”

  “What? I like when you get all territorial about our kid. It’s pretty awesome.”

  “Nick brings it out in me.”

  Deacon snorted. “He brings it out in most people.”

  “So it says here that your boobs get sensitive. Like, you can have an orgasm just from sucking on the nipples sensitive.” Simon looked up from the baby book Jazz had apparently handed him. “Is that true?”

  “That’s the first question you ask me?”

  Simon shrugged. “Sounds like a perk to me.”

  Gray gave a soft snuff of a laugh before standing up. “I’ll be back later.”

  Jazz looked up from the book, elbowing Simon out of the way. “Where are you going?”

  “Out.” Gray grabbed his coat from the closet. “Don’t wait up.”

  “What was that about?” Deacon asked as the door closed.

  Jazz brought the book to her chest, arms wrapping tight. “He never stays home anymore.”

  Harper frowned. Definite undercurrents there. “You okay?”

  “Sure.” Jazz sighed, opening the book. “I am now.”

  Harper linked her arm through Jazz’s and peeked over her shoulder. “So, tell me what you’ve learned.” She listened with half an ear as she watched Deacon go out the back door. She hoped he could talk Nick down. A lot of changes were going to happen. She didn’t want to cause another rift within the band. This baby was happy news no matter how Nick reacted. Jazz’s cheerful chatter helped support that.

  A few minutes later, Deacon returned with a tiny shake of his head.

  Nope, Nick wasn’t ready to talk evidently.

  Deacon sat next to her, both he and Jazz spouting off information about babies and pregnancy like they were in a trivia contest.

  When Simon sat on the other side of Jazz, a purring George in his lap, Harper finally relaxed a little. This family she’d married into wasn’t exactly what she’d envisioned for herself. But like the baby that was now a part of her, so were they. And she wouldn’t change a thing.

  Please read on for a sneak peek of TWISTED—Coming Fall 2014

  Let Your Voice Be Heard

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  TWISTED

  Chapter One

  Then

  “Gray, your new sister is here.”

  Gray rolled over on his stomach and dragged the pillow over his head. He was still hungover from the party last night and wasn’t in the mood to play nice. Not while there were cymbals crashing in his skull. “Can I talk to her later?”

  “No. You can talk to her now.”

  Gray groaned. “Brent’s home for the weekend. Let him play welcome wagon. I’ll take the night shift.”

  “Brent already went back to campus.”

  Gray groaned. Figured. His older brother swung in for a night then swung back out again before the fawning stopped. Leaving everything to Gray as usual.

  “Besides, I think you’re more suited in this case.” The mattress sank as his mom sat down at his side. “This one’s not had an easy time of it. I think a friend would do her good.”

  Instantly guilt twisted in Gray’s already knotted stomach. Damn Mad Dog. He was never drinking that crap again, no matter how often Jimmy tried to tell him getting loaded would help their band. Bullshit. All it had done was give him a fucking headache and put him in a pisser of a mood. He rolled over and tossed his arm over his eyes. “How bad?” he asked tiredly.

  “Pretty bad. Her mom kept her sister but turned Jasmine over to the state. Said she’d gone wild and she couldn’t handle her anymore. Since then, she’s bounced from place to place.”

  “So she’s trouble.” He didn’t have time for that. He could stir up enough of his own.

  “I think she’s just lonely. You have to meet her.”

  The foster kids his mom and dad took in had usually come from rough environments. Some of the children were friendlier than others, which was understandable. But it had been six months since the last one, and he’d begun to think that maybe the Duffys had taken in their last kid. He and Brent would be off to college sooner rather than later and maybe they were looking forward to their empty nest.

  But now they’d taken in Jasmine.

  “Jasmine, huh? Like the flower?”

  “Yes. Jasmine Edwards. You two actually have a lot in common.”

  He snorted. “Oh yeah? Like what?”

  “You’ll see.” She stood up. “I’m going to give you two some time alone. I’ll be in the den, okay?”

  Gray grunted and waited until she’d left to haul his ass out of bed. He checked his appearance in the half bath off his bedroom. Lovely. Bloodshot eyes, check. Way too long hair that looked like someone had gone at it with shears, check. Dragon breath from puking in the bushes before he’d crashed that morning, triple check.

  He brushed his teeth a couple of times, pushed a hand through his hair and sniffed his Dokken T-shirt before taking another run at his pits with his deodorant. Good enough. He headed downstairs, taking the steps two at a time. It wasn’t like he was meeting anyone he needed to impress.

  Five minutes with this chick and he could consider his duty done. Then maybe he could get some practice in on Krystal Sword’s new material. He’d been writing this new song—

  Halfway into the living room, he came to a halt. Everything stopped. His feet, his breath, his heart.

  Curled up in one corner of the couch sat a tiny brunette, a guitar stretched across her lap. It dwarfed her, making her seem even smaller. Her fingers moved like a blur, coaxing out the most beautiful music from the antiquated acoustic. Scratches and welts covered the cherry wood, but it didn’t matter. She might as well have been playing the finest instrument that ever existed.

  Head bent, she strummed and sang a song about a woman on her wedding day. Hope, fear, excitement. Crying tears of joy. He didn’t know the song—folksy type music wasn’t his thing—but he couldn’t stop listening. Or watching the way her perfect pink lips curved around the words she sang so effortlessly that she became one with the melody.

  When she finished, she glanced up and flushed. “Oh.”

  Her eyes were bright blue, like the sky on a sunny day. Surrounded by blue flecked lashes, those stunning irises bored into his and left him mute. He couldn’t say a damn thing.

  “I’m sorry. I guess I shouldn’t have been playing.” She set the guitar aside and brushed her hands off on her skintight white jeans. The denim was sliced all the way up and down her legs, and through the holes he could see glimpses of color on her skin.

  “Tattoos?” he asked.

  Her flush only worsened as she followed his gaze to her legs. “No. Markers.”

  “Huh?”

  She pulled open one of the gaps on her knee and a drawn-on daisy appeared in the hole. “When I get bored, I draw on my clothes. And on myself, since I’m easier to wash off.” She gave a little hitching giggle and stood up, sticking out her han
d. “I’m Jazz. You must be Gray.”

  He clasped her hand, not the least bit surprised when heat flared between their palms. But she didn’t seem to notice. She just kept smiling at him, her huge eyes locked on his.

  “Yeah.” He swallowed hard. “I’m Gray.”

  “Nice to meet you. How old are you?”

  “Sixteen. You?”

  “Fourteen and a half. But I feel way older.”

  He looked her up and down. “You don’t look older.”

  She threw back her shoulders. “Yeah, ’cause I’m little. But I could still grow. It could totally happen. I take my vitamins. I work out.” She flexed her tiny bicep under the pink sleeve of her T-shirt and he couldn’t help grinning.

  “Sure. I bet you’ll end up six feet tall.”

  “Nah. That’s as tall as you are. I’d settle for five-two.”

  Gray glanced down at her red Chucks. “You could wear heels.”

  “No way.” She scrunched up her perky nose. “I’d rather be short.”

  He laughed and gestured to her guitar. “So how long have you played?”

  “All my life.”

  He tried to take a deep breath. Realized his lungs were still seized up like he’d just run a mile. God, she was cute and she was into music? And she’d be living in his house? Down, boy.

  Dealing with chicks was no big deal. He’d never had any trouble acting cool around them before. This one was a little too young for him anyway. Fourteen-year-old girls weren’t going to be as easy to coax up into his bedroom, something he did on the regular. He loved girls. The way they smelled. Tasted. Felt under his hands. They were like guitars, all smooth lines and perfect curves. He adored pulling different sounds out of them, just like he did his ax.

  But this particular one would be his sister. Sort of. Which made this squicky. Still...

  He cleared his throat. “You sound like me. I’m in a band.”

 

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