by J. C. Hayden
I sent Catrina a wide-eyed look but she gamely ignored me and kept looking at Holly with a kind look on her face. What the fuck was Catrina doing?
“No thanks.”
“We should go,” I muttered to Cat, but she ignored me.
“It’ll be fun, I promise,” Catrina said. “Talia’s really talented and the evening is always super low key. Not a ton of people usually, but the places do get fairly packed. But we get there early so we have a place to sit. Anyway, Brody and I could pick you up even. I’m sure he’d love to see you, too. I could probably force Gabe to take a night off work.” Catrina looked earnest and hopeful, and Holly just watched her for almost a solid minute of unbearably uncomfortable silence.
“Okay.”
Catrina pumped one of her fists when Holly agreed. She gave her all the details, and I knew there was no way in hell she was going to actually show up. But I wouldn’t burst Catrina’s lovely little bubble until I absolutely needed to.
“You just invited Holly Goldsmith to my show this weekend,” I groused as soon as we paid our bill and walked outside.
“I sure did,” Catrina said brightly. “It’s going to be awesome.”
I took an Uber to Jack’s apartment when we left. Patrick, his doorman, let me up, and when I went into the door that Jack had left unlocked for me, I saw him lying on his huge leather sofa, eyes closed, snoring softly with a book on his lap.
I took that moment just to study him. The planes and angles of his face, the slope of his cheekbones, the curve of his mouth that I could sometimes just stare at absently without realizing it. His long, hard body was draped across the entire expanse of the sofa. He’d still gone to work today to close out many of his clients or transfer them even though his dad had been so furious when he told him he was quitting, that his dad had told him not to bother coming back. So, he was still in his work clothes, and his collar was undone several buttons, his tie hanging loosely around his neck.
He looked edible and perfect and everything I’d ever wanted or needed. Seeing him there, knowing he was all mine, knowing he loved me, made my heart feel too big for my chest. This man—this perfect, beautiful, smart, sexy man loved me. He was mine and I was his. After everything, he’d found his way into my heart even if I’d resisted it, even if I’d pushed him away. He’d never given up on me. On us.
I sat next to his legs on the couch and pushed back the dark brown hair that had flopped onto his forehead.
His eyes fluttered open, and the shy, soft, gentle smile he gave me almost made my heart stop.
“Hey, gorgeous.”
I didn’t reply. I pushed my fingers further into his hair and leaned down to kiss him softly. Just a brush of lips. He was still smiling that smile when I pulled back.
“I love you,” I whispered.
His eyes widened almost imperceptibly.
“I do.” My voice was barely there. “I love you.”
Saying the words was the greatest joy and rush I had ever known. It felt like I’d been swimming against a current for hours and then all of the sudden, I was on dry land; like a piano that had been out of tune until someone had laid their hands on it and brought out that one crisp clear note after a perfect tuning. It felt safe and right and wonderful. I loved Jack. I’d loved him for almost as long as he’d loved me, but I’d been so scared to let myself. I wasn’t scared anymore. Saying the words was so simple that it almost made it feel like I’d been saying them forever. I was exactly the same person I was before I said them, except the entire world had opened up in front of me.
Jack just watched me for a long time before he finally sat up and pulled me into a hug.
“I’m sorry I didn’t say it before.” I whispered the words into the crook of his neck.
“I wanted you to say it when you were ready,” he replied into my hair. “I would’ve waited forever.”
A tear slipped out of the corner of my eye, and when Jack pulled back he kissed it away.
“I love you, too.”
I kissed him for real this time. I didn’t try to hide myself from him. Both of our eyes were open, and I didn’t try to stop the tears. I let him see everything—all the wild, intense, passionate feelings I had for him. He kissed each tear off my cheeks, holding my face in his hands as he did so. I choked out a small sob and buried my face in his neck again. We held onto each other tightly, and I reveled in his whispered words in my ear as he began to undress me. He told me how much he loved me, how beautiful I was, how he would never leave me, how much he needed me, wanted me, cherished me. The words went directly from his mouth into each crevice of my heart, filling me so full of him that I felt like I couldn’t breathe.
I’d never known anything like this. Before him, I’d never known what it felt to be loved like this, to need someone and to be needed by someone like you were an extension of them. To be as necessary to their existence as a vital organ. That’s what Jack was to me. He’d been a part of me since I was a girl—a young woman in her early twenties who had let two men shape how she saw all the other men who came after them. But Jack had found his way in even then, even when I denied him, even when I pushed him as far away as I could. Now, I’d finally let him in. He’d been there all along, but my willingness to open myself to his love made it so much sweeter.
Jack Harding was the love of my life. I’d fought it for seven years, and I was finally done fighting. Instead, I would fight for us, never against. Not anymore.
I was on my back on Jack’s sofa. He’d stripped off all my clothes piece by piece the same way he’d stripped down all the walls I’d put around my heart—slowly, delicately, carefully. He had one knee on the couch between my legs, the other on the floor as he looked down at me and took off his clothes, his eyes on me the entire time. I was panting below him. I didn’t know where to put my eyes or my hands. I wanted to take in every bit of him, show him all the love I had for him, and that made it impossible to be still. I ran my hands down the skin of his torso as soon as he lifted his shirt. Then down his arms, loving how his muscles felt under my hands. I wanted to look at his face, but I was desperate to drink all of him in, so my eyes flicked back and forth, over and over, between different parts of his body and then back to his eyes. I couldn’t get enough of him.
His name tumbled from my lips like a benediction. We held each other’s eyes then, conveying through our gazes all the things we felt for one another. The moment felt too big to be real, too massive for Jack’s living room, his apartment, the entire city. How could I hold onto this moment? How could I keep it with me and let it sustain me for the rest of my life? I didn’t know how, but I would try like hell.
He leaned in to kiss me as he slid inside. I whimpered into this mouth—a desperate, needy sound that I couldn’t hold back—and Jack made a small noise in the back of his throat.
Our bodies were plastered together as we moved against the leather. My limbs were shaking as I wrapped them around him and clutched him to me as tightly as I could. I knew it wouldn’t take long before I came. He was deep inside me, his thick length filling up every inch of me, but it wasn’t even that. It was the emotion of this moment that was taking me higher.
It felt like there was a bright, burning flame right in the center of my chest, and the heat was radiating out to my limbs, crawling across my skin, making me a captive of that feeling, holding me in its thrall.
“I love you,” I breathed against his mouth. “Jack, I love you so much.”
“Baby,” he moaned as he sped up his thrusts, tunneling in and out of me, almost leaving my channel completely each time only to sink back in harder each time.
He buried his face in my neck, our sweat making us stick together as I wrapped my arms tighter around his hot, damp back. I whispered the words in his ear again and again, moaning as I did so, and the choked sounds coming from him were turning me on even more. I tightened around him and he grunted loudly, so I did it again. And again. And again and again until I knew he was close, until I knew he wo
uldn’t be able to take much more. I was right there with him.
“You’re mine,” he growled in my ear. “You are mine, Talia.” I moaned loudly at his words, letting them wash over me, burrow inside me even deeper than he was. “You’ve always been mine. You’ll always be mine.”
“Jack.”
“I love you.” He leaned back only enough so he could look at my face. His eyes were heavy lidded with lust and desire, and his face was glistening with sweat. I’d never seen him look so beautiful.
“I love you,” he breathed again. He slammed into me over and over. “Come for me. Please, Talia, I love you, come for me.”
I came as soon as he told me to. I screamed into his mouth as he kissed me while I came. I was trembling hard, my body quaking as he I came harder than I ever had in my life. The feeling almost frightened me. I worried it would never end—that I would just lay here forever lost to the sensations, lost to him.
The blood was roaring in my ears and my vision dimmed, but vaguely I registered the sounds coming from Jack, the feeling of his hot release flooding me. I knew he was right there with me, lost.
◆◆◆
“How was your dinner with Catrina?”
We were a sweaty, sticky mess on Jack’s couch, but both of us were too worn out to move. So instead he pulled the small blanket from the back of the couch over our cooling bodies as we laid there still trying to catch our breaths. The blanket didn’t even cover below Jack’s mid-calf, but it would be enough until we both forced ourselves up and into the shower. Our legs were tangled together, and I was running my fingers through Jack’s sparse chest hair, my head on his arm, as he ran his hand up and down my back.
“It was good. I missed you today.”
He leaned forward and kissed the tip of my nose.
“Same he—”
“Oh, my god, you’ll never guess who we ran into.”
“Who?”
“Holly Goldsmith.”
Jack looked like it was the last person he was expecting. “Seriously? Did you talk to her?”
“I didn’t really. Catrina did. And she invited her to my show tomorrow.”
Jack gaped for several seconds and then burst out laughing. I shoved at his shoulder.
“It’s not funny!”
“Oh, it’s hilarious,” he said, still chuckling. “I can’t believe she did that. I didn’t think they were friends.”
“Um, they’re not. Remember how I told you all the shit that happened with her making fun of Cat for being a virgin?”
“Wow, yeah.” Jack shook his head. “So, why did she invite her then?”
I sighed. “Well, she did look really sad, or whatever.”
“Aw,” he said. “That’s sweet.” Then he narrowed his eyes at me. “Oh, my god, you totally feel sympathy for her.”
“No, I don’t.”
“You do! I can see it. You feel bad and part of you wants her to come so you know she’s okay.”
I began wriggling in Jack’s arms, but he just laughed and held me tighter.
“It’s okay,” he said, kissing my neck. I couldn’t stop the sigh that escaped as I tilted my neck to give him more access. “You’re a big softie. I always knew it.”
“Whatever, Harding.”
Then he was kissing me, making me momentarily forget about Holly and my show and every other thing in the world but him.
Epilogue
Five Months Later
Talia
“Good set tonight, Talia.”
I looked up from where I was sitting on Jack’s lap on a couch in a sectioned off VIP section of the club and I could feel his hard cock pressed against my ass.
I didn’t recognize the person who stood on the other side of the rope, but I looked up with a grin and a wave.
“Hey, thank you so much. What’s your name?” Jack ran his hand up my inner thigh, and I shivered in his hold.
“I’m Travis.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Travis. I’m so glad you enjoyed it.”
When Travis walked away, I turned to Jack and grabbed his face in my hands so I could kiss him hard.
The venue we were at tonight was unlike any I’d ever played before. It was a large, nationally known blues club that had featured bands and artists I’d admired for much of my life and had been open for over thirty years. When I was on stage, playing to all the people packed in the music hall, who were singing songs I wrote along with me, it was one of the most surreal experiences I’d ever had.
Ever since Flora and Fauna had gotten our new guitarist, Adrian Lord, several months ago, we’d all decided to get more serious about how we showcased ourselves and how we played music. I’d resisted a lot at first—especially when Adrian wanted to get a bassist so I could focus on writing songs and being our vocalist—but eventually I’d agreed to the bass player, Faron James, and we’d hired a manager and released our second full length album in that time that featured the song Isaac and I had written together the day after Jack and I had made love for the first time in six years. It was called “Don’t Let Me Tell You to Go,” and it was the last song on the album. We’d tried different styles with it, but ultimately all three of us decided to strip it down and have it with just Isaac on the piano and my voice. When I’d played it for Jack and saw the tears shimmering in his eyes, I’d fallen in love with him all over again.
“I can’t wait to take you home,” Jack murmured huskily in my ear. His hand was traveling further up my inner thigh, and my short, black leather dress was doing nothing to hide what he was doing.
“Me too,” I breathed. “Need you.”
His thumb brushed my clit and Jack gasped when he realized I wasn’t wearing any underwear.
“You were up there all that time without anything under this dress?” he growled.
I shook my head. “I took them off after the show.” I bit his ear lobe. “Just for you.”
“Fuck.” His hand traveled higher until his fingers were lightly toying with my clit. When he felt how wet I was, he cursed again. “As soon as I get you alone, I’m going to fuck you so hard.”
“Yes. Please.”
“I’m going to pound your wet, tight little pussy until you can’t walk.”
The loud music pounding through the club was the only thing that covered the sound of my moan.
“First I’m going to fuck you over the couch,” he whispered. “Make you come on my cock.” His hot breath on my neck and ear was driving me as wild as his fingers and his words. “Then I’m going to take you to our bed and eat you until you scream. And then I’m going to fuck you again.” I whimpered and clutched the back of his neck.
I loved how he said our. It had only been two weeks since we’d moved in together, and it had been blissful. Jack hated how I left globs of toothpaste in the sink on occasion, but other than that everything was beyond perfect. Coming home to him, waking up to him, going to bed next to him every single day and night was a dream come true. I loved him more every day.
Jack and I had had dinner with his parents exactly once. It hadn’t gone as horribly as I’d expected, but when Jack’s mother started to make comments about the country club or her donor list for her charity and remarking how I “probably wouldn’t know anything about that,” Jack had made our excuses and we hadn’t been back since. I told him I didn’t mind the snide remarks and that I’d be fine to give it another try because I knew it wouldn’t be easy, but he’d just sighed angrily and said we could give it another go in six months.
His sister, however, was a different story. Julianna and I got along amazingly. She asked me questions about my family and told me she couldn’t wait to meet my mom, and she’d even taken me out shopping and to lunch just the two of us several times over the last five months. Jack’s nieces, Sophia and Ainsley, were every bit as amazing as Jack had sworn they were, and he and I had gotten to babysit them for a night while Julianna and Elliot had a date night. We’d watched Moana twice and then made a choreographed dance to “Y
ou’re Welcome,” that made Jack laugh raucously.
Jack took his hand from off my back and shifted so my back was against the arm of the chair. He brought that hand up to toy with the diamond bracelet on my wrist that he’d given me three months earlier on Valentine’s Day. I’d protested at first, telling him it was far too expensive and that I couldn’t take it, but later, when he’d fucked me in nothing but that bracelet, holding me down by my wrists reminding me I was his, I wouldn’t have given up that bracelet for anything.
I wouldn’t call myself a romantic, but Jack definitely was. He showed me romance as much as he could, and I’d grown to adore it. His small gestures—flowers sent to the studio, a card left on my bedside table telling me he loved me, breakfast in bed—were often even better than the way he made me feel when we had sex. That’s how much and how deeply those gestures made me feel.
I gasped when Jack slipped a finger inside me, still lightly touching the bracelet on my wrist.
“You look good in diamonds,” he said against my mouth before he kissed me—a soft, teasing kiss, where he only faintly brushed his tongue against mine. He slid his hand up the back of my hand until one of his fingers brushed my ring finger.
“You’d look better with one right here.”
I was barely registering what he was saying, I was so fucking horny. I just wanted him to take me home already. Stop teasing me and just fuck me.
“Would you wear my ring, Talia?”
He slid his finger out of me, and I finally became slightly coherent again.
“Jack?” I was breathless and confused and turned on, writhing on his lap and staring into his green eyes.
He pressed his forehead to mine and I inhaled his scent, pine and him.
“We should get married.”
My heart sped up. I didn’t know if it was the lust and whiskey talking or if he really meant it. I tried to huff a laugh, but the speed of my breath and my heart made it more of a strangled sound.
“Is that how you ask a woman to marry you?” I tried to joke, my lips brushing his.