Love on the Run (Pine Harbour Book 5)

by Zoe York

  He laughed out loud, his head tipping back, and she tried not to get too distracted by the roll and bunch of his shoulder muscles, and the way he restlessly moved his thick arms as the laugh rolled down his long body.

  “What? That’s cutting loose.”

  “That sounds like a broken neck waiting to happen.”

  “Chicken?”

  “Not even a little. But I thought you meant like tequila shots and karaoke or something.”

  She giggled. “Do you sing?”

  “Nope.”

  “But you’d do karaoke with me?”

  “I’d do anything with you, princess. Okay. First we’ll do it my way.” He caught his lower lip between his teeth and waggled his eyebrows. “Then once we’ve got some liquid courage in us, we’ll do it your way.”

  “I don’t need tequila to ride the bull,” she protested as he spun around and slapped the bar.

  “Maybe not. But I do.”

  “We can do something else.”

  “Oh no. You’ve challenged me. I’m a competitive man.”

  “Well…that’s silly. Let’s do what you want.”

  He leaned in close. “I want to impress you.”

  Her breath caught in her throat. He didn’t need to do that. Maybe…

  But the bartender was in front of them and Dean was ordering two shots for each of them before she could say anything. He picked up the shot glasses and handed her one before lifting his own in the air. “To cutting loose.”

  She raised hers to meet his in a gentle clink. “Alrighty.”

  After they tossed back the shots, they headed next door to a club with a mechanical bull and a decent-sized dance floor. There was a sign-up form for the bull, so Dean put his name down, then they did some line dancing. He had zero problem following the choreography, and when a slow song came on, and she raised her eyebrows at him, he held out his arms and she folded into his embrace.

  “You don’t mind doing this here?”

  “Unwritten law in Nashville—nobody’s going to pay any attention to me having a social life.”

  “No videos currently being taken of you slow-dancing with Arm Guy?”

  “Not likely.”

  He turned her effortlessly. “And if there are?”

  “I’m okay with that.” She waited a beat. “Are you…?”

  He slid his hand from the small of her back to her waist and spun her around before answering. “Yeah.” He tugged her hard against his body. “I am if you are.”

  Well, that was an unexpectedly easy conversation. She rolled her hips against his as he led her through the dance, trusting that he had her.

  Around and around they went, their bodies moving in unison as he moved them across the dance floor. And when he finally stopped, they were along the wall, near the back, and there was a private nook right there.

  Without letting herself think of all the reasons not to, she grabbed his hand and pulled him into the shadows.

  He loomed over her, big and warm and perfect. The first brush of his lips against hers was hard and fast. A test. Were they really doing this here?

  Yeah. She twisted her arms around his neck and pulled him against her.

  Kiss me. The simplest, neediest of thoughts, and it was all she could manage. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t speak.

  Slower this time, he lowered his head. His lips pressed hers open, his tongue questing right away. His hands squeezed at her waist, then curved around to cup her bottom through her dress.

  He could tug it up. She was wearing the skimpiest panties underneath. He could touch her and she could touch him. He’d be so hard in her palm, so hot…

  With a growl, Dean broke away from the kiss and jammed one of his forearms against the wall beside her head. He leaned against it, breathing heavily.

  She tried not to feel such a thrill at the effect she had on him, but it was hard.

  Hard.

  She giggled.

  “What?”

  “I was thinking it was hard to resist you,” she whispered, modifying her answer a bit. “And you know. Hard. It’s a dirty word.”

  He stared down at her. “Oh shit, you’re drunk.”

  That just made her laugh harder. “Well, yeah. We’ve been drinking all night.”

  “Okay, princess. Let’s take this party home.” He pushed away from the wall and turned to steer her out of the nook.

  “But the bull!”

  “I’m sure it’ll be here the next time I visit.”

  That made her smile. “Next time?”

  He just patted her hip and pointed to the alley door.

  “I’m not that drunk,” she protested under her breath.

  “Then let me take you home because you said my cock was hard, and now I want nothing more than your hands on it,” he growled in her ear.

  Oh. Okay, then.

  She behaved herself in the back of the hired car, just tangling her fingers with his on the seat in between them. But as soon as Dean let them in the side door of her house and turned on the alarm, she slid her hand down the front of his jeans and gave his still-hard erection a good squeeze. “Hello, officer.”

  He grunted and grabbed her wrist, tugging her hand away from his body and spinning her around at the same time. His palm slid up her side, hot and heavy even through her shirt. “You want to play, princess?”

  She twisted her head to the side, trying to catch a glimpse of him. “Maybe.”

  “You think you deserve the white glove treatment, Ms. Hansen?” His breath brushed against her ear as he leaned in and nudged her feet apart with his foot.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “We got a report that you were drinking tonight.”

  She smiled and pressed her forehead against the wall. “I’m not sure if I should be answering any questions.”

  “Could you pass a sobriety test, ma’am?”

  She gasped. “What did I tell you—”

  He cut her off with a swat against her bare thigh that stung just enough to send a shiver up her spine. “Apologies, ma’am. Just doing my job.”

  “I may have been drinking. But I didn’t drive.”

  “And how did you get home?”

  “In a hired car.”

  “What company?”

  “I don’t remember. My bodyguard organized it.”

  “Likely story.” He rocked his erection into her bottom, his hand sliding up the front of her leg at the same time. Trapping her. “And where is this bodyguard now?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Just you and me, princess. And now I need to search you.”

  She whimpered as his fingers slid under her panties and found her soaking wet, ready for anything he might want from her. She rocked into his touch, trying to rub her clit against his fingertips and keep pressing against his erection behind her at the same time.

  “What’s this?” He nipped at her ear as he jerked her panties down her thighs.

  “What did you find?” She tried to kick off her boots, fully intending to spin around and climb him like a tree, but he clamped his hand down on her hip.

  “Leave the boots on.”

  “Oooh, officer.” She swivelled her head the other way, catching her lower lip between her teeth and batting her eyelashes at him. “Are you sure we couldn’t work something out? Since you like my…boots so much.”

  “I don’t see how you’re in a position to be negotiating anything.” He cupped her sex, his entire hand covering between her legs. “God, you feel good.”

  She gave up the role-play then, rocking shamelessly against his touch, and behind her he fumbled with his jeans, then shoved a condom into her hand.

  “Open that and we’ll call it even.”

  She giggled as she ripped the foil, then passed the slippery latex back to him. But her laughter died as he quickly thrust into her, fast and hard and deep, and she scrabbled at the wall. Oh, yes.

  His arms wrapped around her, one sinking low a
cross her hips so he could roll his thumb over her clit as he fucked her from behind. The other crossed her chest and wrapped around the side of her neck, holding her in place and shielding her from the bump of the wall as he increased his speed.

  She pressed her hands against the wall, too, but he had her, so she reached behind her and slid her fingers into his hair. “Dean,” she breathed, panting and desperate already.

  “I’ve got you,” he growled. “Come on.”

  He was so thick inside her, hard and solid, each thrust a threat and a promise at the same time. Her body sang as he surged into her and protested when he retreated, every nerve ending licked in both directions so she was spinning hard toward a climax before she realized it.

  It was too much.

  It was just enough.

  “Almost there, oh my God,” she breathed, and he grabbed her hand off the wall, shoving it under her dress.

  “Get yourself off. Make yourself come on my cock,” he growled, and she closed her eyes, letting the feelings wash over her.

  This was hot and out-of-control.

  But it was perfect, too.

  He was wrapped around her, holding her tight. It was dirty, but oh so loving. And that was the best fantasy of them all, that Dean was a forever guy, her forever guy, and this wasn’t a fling that had a definite end date on it.

  Because even though it was and it did, how she felt for him wouldn’t just turn off at the end of the tour. I love you, she let herself admit as she stroked herself into a freefall. Tumble with me, she begged in her mind. And as he growled his own muttered words, filthier than hers, she imagined he was right there with her in more ways than one.

  Bittersweet and filthy, it was the best orgasm of her entire life.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  HE’D seen a lot of sides to Liana already, but when she pulled a pair of reading glasses out of her bag he did a double-take.

  “What?” she asked as she tucked a lock of glossy hair behind her ear.

  “Nothing,” he said, trying to swallow his tongue. “You don’t look like a librarian pin-up or anything.”

  “Shut up.” She grinned. “I just wear them when I’m writing.”

  “I’d like to watch you write more often.”

  Just then the door opened, saving him from making more of a fool of himself.

  They were in a converted house at the end of Music Row, the offices of a group of songwriters that Liana apparently worked with when she was in Nashville.

  Her idea of a few days off and his were pretty different, not that he was complaining. She’d explained that it was good for Track to hear she was working Music Row, that she wasn’t scared. Yes, he controlled her next record. But he didn’t control the songs she might write for someone else. And frankly, she was to the point where she might just give away a song to make a point.

  Plus it was pretty cool to see the inner workings of the music industry—especially a side that made her light up from the inside out.

  When Caleb Anderson walked through the door, Dean’s enthusiasm dimmed for just a second, but he kicked himself. Liana only had eyes for him this summer. It was fine.

  The younger man wasn’t alone, either. Behind him was West, and an older woman who looked vaguely familiar. When she introduced herself as Karen McAster, he realized she’d had a couple of hits in the late 90s—which dated himself as much as her.

  Interesting.

  She took charge of the writing session, flipping on the monitor on the production board. A dizzying array of colours and lines of recorded music filled the screen. With a few taps on the keyboard, a bit of a song started playing.

  Everyone nodded along, making notes or grabbing an instrument.

  Dean was surprised—again, he really needed to check all assumptions at the door—when Liana picked up a guitar. “How about this lick instead?” she said, singing back some of the lyrics, changing the melody a bit as she played along.

  She kept playing as Caleb took over the vocals, and her fingers flew over the strings. They worked on four songs, finishing one, and it was an impressive flow of work.

  Dean kept his question about the guitar to himself until they took a break two hours in. “You never play on the road,” he said when they were alone.

  She shrugged. “I have. Not this tour.”

  He didn’t push the inquiry further, because his curiosity didn’t trump her right to privacy. Maybe later, he found himself thinking, knowing he meant after the tour, when he’d be gone.

  When the other songwriters came back, he took lunch orders and headed out to make himself useful.

  But he didn’t get that far, because he ran right into Track Gantley at the bottom of the stairwell heading back to the parking lot behind the house.

  The singer sneered at him. “You look lost.”

  Dean stared past him, projecting an air of get the fuck out of my way. “Excuse me.” Do not engage. Do not—

  “What are you doing here, besides panting after Liana?”

  “At the moment, I’m in charge of fetching lunch.” He dragged his gaze lazily up to Track’s face. “You’re in my way.”

  “You’re a bad influence on her.”

  Well, that was direct. And wrong. Dean cleared his throat. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “It’s not going to work.”

  Dean shook his head. “I really need to get lunch, so if you’ll excuse me.”

  “She’s refused to meet with us while she’s in town. Her latest album is unacceptable and—”

  “I’m going to stop you there and remind you that I’m not someone who’s privy to the contractual details of your agreement with Ms. Hansen, and as such probably should not be told your opinion of her work that is under said contract.” Dean bit down, hard, to keep any other, choicer words from spilling out.

  That didn’t stop Track from continuing his bizarre attack. “You don’t know what you’re doing. What you’re messing with.”

  “I’m not doing anything other than being a good friend to Liana.”

  “You keep telling yourself that. But I see how you look at her. You’re no better than any other shark out there.”

  Whoa. Dean didn’t like how he got his back up to that one. He exhaled roughly, slowly, trying to maintain control. “Takes one to know one, Gantley.”

  “You and I are nothing alike.”

  “That’s for damn sure.” Dean knew he was treading on thin ice, but he couldn’t help himself. “Why are you so hung up on her still?”

  Track gave him a look of pure derision. “You think I still want in her pants? I had the frigid bitch—”

  White hot rage propelled Dean’s fist forward, connecting to Track’s jaw with a serious crack.

  Shit.

  Their ragged, heavy breaths filled the hallway.

  Track slowly stood up and rubbed his jaw, fire lighting up his eyes. “That was a mistake.”

  “You gonna tell anyone that you took a punch?” Dean leaned in and rolled the dice. “You got hit because you’re scum. You got hit because you’re weak. And small. And pathetic. But most of all I hit you because you insulted a woman, and I don’t think that flies in Tennessee or anywhere else you might make noise about this. Don’t underestimate me, Gantley,” he growled. “Don’t play games with me. And don’t even think about messing with Liana.”

  Then he shoved past the singer and threw himself into the hot, humid afternoon sun.

  So much for staying in control.

  * * *

  — —

  * * *

  He made it halfway to the restaurant they’d called in an order to before he pulled over and parked so he could call his brother.

  Jake picked up on the third ring. “Hey, how’s life on tour?”

  “I punched Track Gantley.”

  His brother let out a harsh exhale. “Wow. I’m assuming he deserved it.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Any witnesses?”

  “No, but
Homeland Security might be listening to this right now.”

  That got him a laugh. He hadn’t been kidding.

  “How’s everyone back home?”

  “I’m currently reading a book about home births.”

  Shit. That was…real. “I don’t know what to say to that.”

  “Me neither. But what Dani wants, Dani gets.” Jake didn’t sound disgruntled about that at all. If anything, the softness in his voice was enviable.

  And for the first time ever, Dean kind of understood it.

  Not that he loved Liana, of course. It wasn’t like that.

  Exactly.

  But it was something. He didn’t punch other men. Ever.

  And he’d called Jake for a reason. Not Matt or Sean, or even one of the Minellis, because only Jake knew what it was to grow up a Foster and still be capable of a healthy relationship. Although it wasn’t like his relationship with Dani was logical or practical or anything else Dean valued in his own friendships.

  Jake had fallen for Dani when she was still an off-limits teenager. And he’d waited for her, through college and other relationships, until they were on the same page.

  Dean didn’t have that kind of patience. He couldn’t imagine watching Liana with someone else.

  But he would, wouldn’t he? Once the tour was over. He’d go home. And she’d move on with her life.

  His gut twisted.

  Jake cleared his throat. “Did I lose you with the pregnancy talk?”

  “Nah.” Dean made a fist and bounced it lightly off the steering wheel as he winced. “I just…”

  “How’s the singer?” Jake offered when Dean trailed off.

  “I think I might be falling for her.”

  Stunned silence was his brother’s only response.

  Dean knew the feeling. He groaned.

  “Does she…know?” Jake cleared his throat. “Do you need Zander to come and bail you out?”

  “Fuck off. Yes she knows. I guess…we’re in a relationship.”

  “You don’t sound impressed.”

  “I am. With her. Not with myself. I don’t know. She’s…” He thought about her with that guitar. “She’s amazing. She’s got so many clever layers that nobody ever sees. And she’s talented, too. Holy fuck, man, you should hear her sing. On stage, or just off the cuff. There’s nothing like it. But she’s tough, too, because this is a crazy town. And it’s hard to be in the public eye like that. I could never do it. They’ve given me a nickname—”