by Lauren Rowe
I reach my arm around his neck behind me and turn my head and he devours my lips.
A flash of pleasure zings my clit underneath Dax’s talented fingers, making me gasp. I abruptly disengage from our kiss and grip the sink, readying myself for what’s surely going to be a body-quaking orgasm.
“Oh, God, Dax,” I choke out.
He sucks my earlobe like it’s my clit, and I lose it. Warm, delicious waves seize me, making me cry out and crumple into the sink. As my body undulates and warps, Dax stiffens behind me and comes like a rocket inside me, my name on his lips. And, lucky me, I get to witness the whole thing in the mirror—the look of pure rapture on Dax’s gorgeous face as he reaches orgasm. It’s the same primal look that overtook his face several times last night while playing his guitar. The look of a man in the throes of pure ecstasy.
As Dax’s body shudders and quivers, he covers my mouth with his hand and I lick and bite at his fingers, still ravenous for him.
We’re both breathing hard. Coming down from the high. He turns me around, grabs my face, and kisses me deeply, making my very soul lurch and bound and leap inside me.
I return Dax’s kiss, clawing at him, grasping, needing, and finally leave his mouth to nip at his neck and jawline. I nuzzle his glorious hair and inhale his delicious scent. I lick his neck and grab his ass. I feel addicted to this boy. Drugged. I’ve never felt this kind of high with someone. This kind of desperation.
When Dax leans back, his eyes are blazing. “Those fireflies are fire-breathing dragons now. A fucking Phoenix on the rise.”
I nod, as excitement surges inside me.
He zips his pants. “You head back out there first. I’ll wait five minutes and then come out and say my goodbyes. Meet me at my hotel as soon as you can get away. I texted you the info. Come as soon as you can, okay? I can’t stand the thought of being apart from you.” He’s trembling. Like he’s giving me instructions to board a lifeboat on a sinking ship. “And don’t forget to swing by your place and get a week’s worth of stuff. I want you in my bed for a solid week, Vi.” He touches my face, his blue eyes smoldering and his body language verging on manic. “I feel like I’ve waited my whole damn life to be with you again. Like I rubbed a magic lamp and made a wish, and now you’re finally here.”
I nod profusely and try not to whimper.
He kisses me again, passionately, before finally peeling himself away from me. “Okay, go on, baby. The sooner we get out of here, the sooner we’ll be naked and my tongue will be inside you.”
I shudder with excitement as I pull myself together. “See you soon.”
“See you soon, disco momma.” His chest heaves with excitement. “Oh, God. A solid week. Talk about flow. This is gonna be epic.”
Chapter 34
Violet
The alarm on Dax’s phone goes off, yanking me out of sleep.
“What the fuck?” he says next to me, rolling over and reaching for it. He looks at his screen. “Aw, come on! Fuck you, Colby. Asshole. Fucker. I hate you.”
I laugh. “What?”
“I forgot Colby made an appointment with a therapist for me today. Fuck!”
I giggle and touch his bicep. “Maybe therapy will be good for you.”
“You’re all the therapy I need, Violet Rhodes,” he says, pulling my naked body to his. “You’ve helped me talk through all my shit these past couple days, and you’ve done it naked. Sometimes, in a bathtub. Can a therapist say that?”
“God, I hope not.”
“And not only that, you’ve got therapeutic tools at your disposal this guy couldn’t possibly have. Amazing, healing stuff like this.” He grabs my ass and squeezes. “And this.” He grabs my breast. “And this.” He brushes his hand between my legs, making me jolt with arousal. “All this is the best therapy I’ve ever had.”
“You’ve had therapy before?”
“No.”
I roll my eyes.
Laughing, he kisses my cheek. “I don’t need actual therapy to know your brand of it is way better than anything else on the market. I’ve never felt better in my life than I do right now after spending two days and three nights here with you. Any problems I was having toward the end of the tour, they’re all gone now, thanks to you and all your amazing”—he grabs my ass again—“therapy.”
I press my nose into his. “Anybody would feel like they don’t have a care in the world after talking and fucking nonstop for two and a half days. The problem is you can’t stay in this room, talking and fucking with me, forever.”
“I don’t see why not.”
“Babe, seriously. Therapy will help you figure out how to feel this happy”—I grab his hard-on—“out there, in the real world.”
“You sure you want me to feel this happy out there? Because I think that’s a public lewdness charge waiting to happen.”
I giggle. “And Ryan thinks he’s the funniest Morgan. Ha.”
“When did he say that?”
“At the wedding. He and Keane were having a debate, and I happened to be sitting at the table, watching them. Highly amusing. It was a fight to the death.”
“Who won?”
“Keane, I’d say.”
“And rightly so. Where was I?”
“Dancing with Kat.” I smile. “Being adorable and sexy and yummy from afar.”
He kisses me. “You’re adorable and sexy and yummy. Especially right now.” He begins stroking between my legs again. Kissing me passionately. And, quickly, I’m ramping up to full-throttle.
Suddenly, Dax’s phone starts chirping again, and he abruptly pulls away from me with an annoyed groan.
“Goddamned Colby. He added a second alert!” He shuts off the sound. “You know what? I’m not going. I don’t need therapy. I’m cured.”
“Go, Dax. It’ll be good for you.”
He nuzzles my nose. “But I’d rather stay here with you and fuck you again, all day long.”
“Well, that’s not gonna happen, regardless, because I’m going wedding-dress shopping with Maddy and her mother today.”
“Today?”
“Yep. So I guess you might as well go to your appointment, even if it’s just to humor Colby.”
“When are you going?”
“I’m meeting them at eleven thirty. What time’s your appointment?”
“Eleven fifteen.”
“See? Perfect timing. It’s fate.”
“You’re coming back here after shopping, though, right?”
“Of course. And I’m sure I’ll be rarin’ to go, sexy boy. Wedding dresses get me all hot and bothered.”
“Perfect. I’ll do some writing this afternoon while you’re gone—which always gets my juices flowing. So when you get back I’ll be desperate to impale you with my hard songwriter’s cock.”
“Oooh. You’re gonna impale me with your hard songwriter’s cock? Sounds like ecstasy.” I grab his hard-on under the sheet again. “Maybe you should show me how you’re gonna do it now, real quick, just so I know what I’m looking forward to.”
“Gladly.”
His lips crush mine. His hand slides between my legs and inside me. And soon...
“Oh, God,” I grit out. I make a tortured sound, arch my back, whimper... and then... heaven. My deepest muscles begin rippling against Dax’s fingers inside me with a delicious orgasm. Oh, God, he’s good. And he’s only gotten better and better as we’ve gotten to know each other’s bodies over the past three days. As we’ve had candlelit meals in our suite and talked the nights away about anything and everything.
Wordlessly, Dax climbs on top of me and burrows himself inside me, without a condom. We talked about it yesterday and decided to go for it. I’m on the pill, and we’re exclusive, so we’re taking the plunge. And I must admit, having Dax inside me, bareback, makes me even more ravenous for him than ever. Just knowing he’s feeling every ridge and muscle of me, that there’s absolutely nothing to dull his pleasure and there’s nothing between us, no matter how thin, feels
like a metaphor for how close we’ve become, just this fast.
As Dax thrusts, he grinds his hips against my pelvis with gusto—and I receive him enthusiastically. When we get going like crazy, I wrap my thighs around his torso and dig my fingernails into his shoulders like I’m hanging onto the edge of a cliff, and I moan and groan and babble his name. Oh, God, yes, I do. I bite and kiss and suck on his neck and lips, every cell in my body alive with my delicious addiction.
With a loud, lusty moan, I arch my back underneath Dax, dig my nails into his back again, nice and deep, and come, prompting Dax to jerk on top of me and release inside me... just as Dax’s phone begins blaring loudly for a third time.
Dax jolts on top of me at the unexpected sound. “Fuck!” He rolls off me, grabs his phone, and turns it off with annoyance. “Yes, Colby. I’m going to the appointment. Now leave me alone, you asshole.”
“He’s a very sweet and protective asshole.”
Dax returns to me and smiles. “Yeah, he is. He’s the best.”
“Where’s the therapist’s office?”
“Beverly Hills.”
“You should be good if you go down Wilshire.”
“Yeah, that’s what I’ll do.” He rolls onto his back. “Colby said this guy specializes in celebrities. Apparently, my family doesn’t think I’m dealing with the ‘overnight fame’ thing all that well.”
“I would tend to agree with them. Wouldn’t you?”
Dax turns his head to look at me, his brow knit. “Why do you think that?”
“Because I can see it on your face. And also because I know, from watching the RCR guys implode that first year, all in different ways and to varying degrees, that overnight fame is a huge adjustment. Let alone becoming a cultural phenomenon the way you have.”
Dax looks surprised. “I’m a ‘cultural phenomenon’?”
I pause, not sure if he’s serious. “Yeah. Definitely. Nobody has made more of a splash this year than 22 Goats. You, in particular.”
Dax makes a cute face that tells me he truly doesn’t comprehend just how famous he’s become. “Yeah, maybe seeing this guy will be good.”
“I think so. Therapy is a good thing. Nothing to be ashamed of. I’ve had a ton of it, and I’m not ashamed of that. It’s helped me a lot.”
“Yeah, maybe there are a few things I could talk through.” He’s quiet for a moment, staring at the ceiling. “Remember that girl I told you about—the one from summer camp who rocked my world and then ghosted me?”
I slide my palm onto his bare chest and cuddle up to him. “Julia Fortunato.”
“Wow, amazing memory.” He makes a face of disdain. “She contacted me a couple months ago.”
My heart stops. I lift my head and stare. If Dax did the thing he told me he’s always fantasized about doing to her—fucking her brilliantly before ghosting her—I truly don’t want to hear this story.
Dax continues, “I think that’s when I realized, with full clarity, I’d opened a door I’d never be able to shut again. For years, I fantasized I’d see Julia again and turn the tables on her. But in reality, I didn’t even want to touch her. Having her come out of the woodwork, only because my band had hit it big, was just too repulsive to me. It was just so symbolic of what my life had become. I realized the entire world was filled with Julias, and all I wanted, the only thing, was my one, true-blue Violet.”
I release the breath I’ve been holding. “You didn’t sleep with Julia?”
“Nope. I told my agent to tell her I got her message but, sorry, I didn’t remember her.”
My heart is soaring. “Oohh, that makes me happy.” I snuggle into him and kiss his cheek. “Make me even happier and tell me more about how you wanted me, and not her.”
He chuckles. “I was aching for our genuine soul connection. I wanted a girl who’d like me, even if the fame and money went away.”
I touch his chiseled face. “I would, you know—want you if the fame and money went away.”
“I know. There’s no doubt in my mind.”
We share a huge smile.
“Therapy helped you?” he asks.
“It did. I did it throughout all four years of college. But still, full disclosure, if I were a cake, and therapy an oven, I’m only half-baked now.”
He chuckles.
“I’m still a lowkey shit show in some ways. I’m just not as massive a shit show as I might otherwise have been. I’m definitely not cake batter anymore, though, so I count it as a win.”
“Violet, you’re one of the most together people I know. I’m more of a shit show than you are.”
“Good thing you’re going to therapy, then, huh? Seriously, though, I know you’re infatuated with me right now, because you’ve been fucking me for, like, sixty hours straight, but I feel the need to warn you: I’m still a work in progress.”
“Of course, you are. Everyone is.”
“I just don’t want you projecting this ‘perfect girl’ thing onto me. I’m not perfect. I’ve definitely got flaws.”
“What are your flaws? Tell me a single one. As far as I can tell, you’re literally perfect.”
“See? I don’t want you to do that. I’m not even close to perfect.”
“So, tell me a flaw.”
“You tell me one first. I want to see how dark we’re gonna go here before I drop too big a bomb.”
He chuckles. “Well, I’m moody as fuck. Moo-fucking-dee, dude. I overthink things to the extreme sometimes. I’m selfish on occasion, especially when the muse strikes. There’s more, I’m sure. But that’s the stuff that comes to mind, right off the bat. Your turn.”
I twist my mouth. “Well, off the top, I’d say I have major trust issues. Fear of abandonment. And those issues come out in ways I don’t always understand completely. Sometimes, I push people away, when it’s the last thing I consciously want to do. And then I’m sad when they go away, as requested. Lovely, huh?”
“All of that is perfectly understandable, considering your background.”
I’m quiet for a moment. “I saw the way your father looked at your mother at the wedding, when she was flitting around, being silly and dancing and drinking champagne... And I was just so in awe of him. He’s just so obviously in love with your mother, you know? He’s nothing like her, that’s plain to see, but he gets her.”
“Yep. They’re a perfect balance.”
“I realized watching them—actually, stalking them—that I’ve never seen a couple like them before. Even in the best of times, my mother and stepfather’s marriage wasn’t like your parents’. They loved each other, I think, but they didn’t get each other like yours do. Plus, their marriage only lasted four years and ended horribly. Your parents have been together...?”
“Thirty-two years. And they’re still obviously in love.”
“See? Relationship goals. But not just that, family goals. All you kids so obviously love your parents. And they love you guys. And it’s just so...” Tears unexpectedly prick my eyes and I wipe them. “Sorry. I don’t know why I’m suddenly feeling emotional. Seeing your family just made me realize how screwed up my life has been. How much I’ve missed out on. And, if I’m being honest, it made me feel kind of insecure around you. Like, how could I possibly be right for someone like you, when you come from that kind of stability and love?”
He puts his palm on my cheek. His blue eyes are blazing. “Violet, do you have any idea how good a person you are? Everyone can see it. My mother fell in love with you the minute she met you.”
I sniffle. “She did?”
“She wanted to fix me up with you. I mean, what kind of girl inspires a mother to want to pimp out her son?”
I giggle through tears.
“I know my family is a bit overwhelming. My parents are one in a million. I’ve got all these siblings and we’re all in each other’s business. Privacy is nonexistent. Case in point, this therapy appointment I’ve got to run off to in exactly two minutes. But don’t you see? Our different bac
kgrounds are probably why we both feel the connection we do. Yeah, I come from a ‘perfect’ family. And yet, my whole life, I’ve felt an ache in my soul I can’t quite shake—a homesickness—unless I’ve got a guitar in my hands. And then there’s you. You come from pain and abandonment and loss. And yet, you light up every room you walk into. As far as I’m concerned, that makes us a perfect fit.”
My breathing catches. My heart palpitates. “I’m not always happy,” I confess. “I get blue sometimes.”
“If you’re blue, it’s because you’re perfectly human, not because you’re broken,” he whispers.
Tears well in my eyes. “Thank you. I think I am broken, though. Way deep inside. I’ve worked hard to fix the broken shards and glue them back together—the same way you glued your mother’s vase back together. But, like that vase, if you were to look really closely, you’d see the cracks and lines.”
He kisses me. “The lines and cracks make you beautiful.” He strokes my face. “Just promise me something. You won’t push me away because you’re scared. Just keep showing me your lines and cracks, baby. Because they turn me on. And not just physically.”
I swoon and nod. In truth, though, I’m not sure how much longer I can keep letting Dax tear down my walls without, at some point, surrendering to my instinct for self-preservation. When Dax first suggested this arrangement, I pictured myself rolling around naked with him, in secret, for a whole lot longer than a week. Indeed, I thought I could do it for months. But now, I’m feeling like I won’t be able to hand him my heart on a silver platter without first securing his. Without knowing, for sure, Dax won’t smash my heart if I hand it over.
Dax’s phone rings with an incoming call. He looks at the phone, mutters, “Jesus, Colby.” And picks up. “Hello, Colby. Yes, I’m going to my appointment.” He pauses. “I know. I will. Thanks. Bye.” Dax ends the call with a chuckle. “Fucking Colby.”
Stuffing down the vague feeling of dread that’s beginning to nip at my happy little bubble, I force a smile. “You’d better get moving, babe. You don’t want to be late.”
Chapter 35