Wicked Serenade: a Lost in Oblivion Collection

by Quinn, Cari

  She didn’t want this.

  What was wrong with a fling? Why couldn’t they stay in that simple slot? Why did it have to be this man that burrowed under her skin?

  His lips drifted over her neck to her ear. “I love you, Harper.”

  She did fight now. He held her down, but he did pull out of her. Instantly bereft, she ached to have him back and to erase the last twenty seconds from her memory.

  How could he break the rules? Unspoken rules that never ever included that four letter word.

  “It’s okay. I don’t want anything from you. I just needed to say it.”

  Reeling, she stilled under him. If he didn’t want anything from her, he wouldn’t have said it. He would have kept it to himself like men were supposed to, dammit.

  Why did she have to fall—no. She shut off her brain to that train of thought. She wasn’t in love with him. She was high on good sex and forced proximity. Surely, that was the problem. He was feeling it, too.

  He turned her to face him. The gold of his eyes were so bright they looked back-lit. He quirked his lips at her in that simple way that dug the dimpled grooves deep into his cheeks.

  God, he was so freaking beautiful. Inside and out, he was the backbone for everyone. He deserved someone that would hold him up. Not someone like her.

  She was never in one place long enough to unpack, let alone be important to someone. She’d just disappoint him.

  He brought his hands up to cup her face. “Baby, don’t.”

  Still off balance, she simply stared at him. He’d only called her that once. Another freak out, another time.

  “I can’t pretend I’m not feeling it. I’ve never actually said those words to anyone.”

  Her chest burned and oxygen became a problem. She twisted out of his arms and slid from the bunk, dragging on her clothes.

  Skin, emotions, even her rib cage felt like it had been pried open with a crowbar.

  “Harper,” Deacon called after her.

  She dragged her tanktop down, running with her shoes in her hands.

  Simon grinned at her insolently, and she finally noticed it was Annie draped over him. But his face went from teasing to serious. He stood up. “Harper?”

  She shook her head and hot-footed it down the stairs and out into the night. The air felt too cool, the starlit sky too bright as she ducked along the trucks.

  Deacon’s heavier footsteps slapped on the pavement then suddenly stopped.

  She flattened herself against one of the equipment trucks, ordering her breathing to regulate and her heart to slow to a normal pace. Crap. It wasn’t like he stabbed her, but it sure felt like he had. Precise fish deboning in process thank you very much.

  “Harper, I didn’t say it to make you freak out.” He waited a beat, then sighed. “Fucking hell, Lawless. This is supposed to be a good thing.”

  The “Lawless” endearment almost had her. Every ounce of her wanted to come forward and face him, but her feet were glued to the pavement.

  “You don’t think I’m scared, too? You weren’t catatonic when I told you I haven’t said this to anyone before, right?”

  Her lips twitched with the need to smile, to cry, to tackle him and beat him bloody for making all of this so difficult now.

  He sighed. “I don’t want to leave you here alone in the dark. At least let me see that you’re back to the sleeper bus, huh?”

  She tipped her head back, the stars glittering overhead then blurring. Straightening her shoulders, she slipped back out from her hiding spot and stood before him.

  “You don’t get to just blurt that stuff out, you know. I was enjoying a very satisfying orgasm and a perfectly boneless afterglow.”

  He reached for her, slipping a heavy lock of hair out of her eyes before he cupped her cheek. She couldn’t see him in the dark, but she was soothed by the familiar smell of him with a chaser of her own scent that clung to his skin.

  The eclipsing shadow of his shoulders blocked the lights from the bus behind him. All of it made him a dark void looming over her. Then he was dragging her into his chest, and the void dissipated, and it was just Deacon.

  Just Deacon, and his familiar blasting warmth and solid muscles. She looped her arms around his waist and pressed her cheek against his chest.

  He laid his cheek along the top of her head. “I don’t know how to do this either, Harper.”

  “Obviously you’re doing better than I am.”

  “Am I all one-sided on this?”

  She heard him swallow, felt the hitch of hesitation in his voice. It made her hug him tighter and vised her throat closed.

  There was no way she could lie to him. She didn’t understand the chaos of emotions, but obviously she felt something. Or this wouldn’t be so hard to figure out.

  “No,” she whispered.

  “Come back with me. Let me hold you tonight.”

  She stiffened.

  Instead of stepping back, Deacon crouched and hooked his arms under her butt and lifted her up. Instinctively she wrapped her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck. He kissed her. Soft lips that reassured instead of inciting the buzz of excitement that overwhelmed her sometimes.

  He breathed into her.

  Cherished her.

  Earlier in the night she’d been so focused on enforcing the simple lust that lived between them that she ignored this crucial part of Deacon. The man that would never be rough with a woman unless pushed to the edge.

  “I’m sorry,” she said against his lips.

  He stilled so suddenly that she had to brace herself on his shoulders. “For what?”

  “That I pushed too hard. That I yelled at you then just expected you to invite me into your bed. That I honestly thought this thing between us could just be sex.”

  “So, you agree that it’s not.”

  “C’mon, big guy, it hasn’t been just sex since the first time we went at it in that shed.” She heard his relieved breath. “But you gotta know this is crazy fast. You said yourself that you’ve never said the words before—which is crazy, by the way.”

  “It’s true.”

  “Well, whatever—”

  His grip tightened on her hips. “It’s true.”

  “Okay.” She smoothed the hair at the nape of his neck. “Okay,” she said more softly, “then how do you know that this is the big L?”

  “I’m getting the feeling you’ve never said it either.”

  “Oh, I have.”

  “I see.”

  She threaded her fingers into the thick waves of his hair. The disappointment in his voice pushed the lump in her throat right back up to strangle. “I fell madly in love with a boy and gave him that all important v-card…at least, girls at seventeen think it’s important. I know I did at the time.”

  He tightened his hold on her. “And what happened?”

  “He nailed my panties to the bus wall like a trophy.”

  “To the…well, shit.”

  “Exactly.” The darkness helped. And the fact that Deacon was nothing if not intuitive. “Look, I know you’re nothing like Jesse.”

  “Who the fuck is Jesse?”

  She had to smile. The instant growl of displeasure and…maybe jealousy?

  “Harper.”

  Definitely jealousy. “Tell me, darlin’, is this jealousy thing going to be a habit?”

  “Just answer the question.”

  She sighed. “Are you just going to hold me like this as we have this whole conversation?”

  “Do you want to have it on the bus with the rest of the animals?”

  “Uh, that’s a no. Look, put me down.”

  “So you can run again?”

  She tugged his hair. “No, I’m not going to run. It was just temporary…terror.”

  “I tell you I love you, and that inspires terror? Christ, Harper.”

  She unhooked her leg from around his waist knocking him off balance enough that he had to let her down. “This isn’t coming out right.” Following
instinct, she laced her fingers in his and dragged him behind her.

  “Where are we going?”

  “The truck.” If she was going to bare her soul to this man, it was going to happen with food.

  They weaved in and out of the trucks lined up until she found the Food Riot trailer. She punched in her code and lifted the door enough for Deacon to roll in. She followed him, letting the door drop back down with a clang. She slapped on the overhead lights and headed for the island. “Are you hungry? Wait, that’s a dumb question, you’re always hungry.” He dragged one of the stools over and sat down at the island. “This is becoming a habit.”

  “What is?” he asked with a sigh.

  She wiped her sweating palms against her thighs before pulling an apron over her head. “Whenever we have a talk, it’s in this truck.”

  “Are you baking or cooking this time?”

  She smiled. “I need something salty.” He simply arched a brow and she snickered. “I think I’ve had more than enough of that kind of salt.”

  “It’s never enough, Lawless.”

  The familiar warmth slid down her spine. No, she couldn’t seem to get enough of him when it came to naked-time. Heck, she could sit in his lap and snack on his lips for an hour without getting tired of him.

  She crouched into the lower cabinets and pulled out a half-sheet pan and ripped off a matching length of parchment paper. She pulled a bag of potato rolls out of the pantry, grabbed a plastic cutting sheet, knife and condiments from the shelf and dumped it on the island.

  She stacked the rolls on top of the cutting sheet and pushed it and the knife over to Deacon. “Cut these in half. As many as you want for yourself, then add two rolls for me.” She turned away to preheat the oven.

  “What are you making?” He didn’t sound overly interested, but he unwrapped the bag and began pulling out the rolls.

  “Ham and Swiss sliders with a twist.”

  He shrugged and took out eight rolls. She shook her head. Nearly three in the morning and he could still put it away. She took the rolls from him and lined the baking sheet.

  “Okay, so you know I’ve been a roadie most of my life, right?”

  Deacon nodded, watching her as she stacked ham, Swiss and a tiny dab of mayo on the inside cover of the roll.

  “Well, I worked with my mom for Jesse Tanner’s world tour.”

  He frowned. “The name sounds vaguely familiar.”

  “It should. Though he’s probably not exactly the music you listen to. And he’s not as big as he used to be.” Jesse had held the teen dream status for a lot of years, but his spoiled rich kid antics were wearing thin on the world. Add in a less than stellar last album, and his star was heading for a crash.

  “Not that douchebag Disney kid.”

  “Former, but yeah.”

  “You and him?”

  She popped a bowl with butter into the microwave. When the microwave dinged, she took the bowl out and added Dijon mustard, some onion powder, Worcestershire sauce, brown sugar and poppy seeds into the bowl and mixed it together.

  “I was young and brash, and Jesse was fascinated with the fact that I crawled all over the lighting rigs like a monkey.”

  “You did?” He grinned.

  She nodded and drizzled the glaze over the tops of the sliders. She ripped off a length of foil, covered the baking sheet, and slid it into the oven, turning the timer to seven minutes.

  How was she supposed to tell him about Jesse? She’d blocked him out of her life for a long time. On impulse, she rounded the island and stood before Deacon. “I didn’t hop right onto the love train with Jesse. I’d seen too many spoiled assholes over the years.”

  He played with her fingers, looking down at them instead of at her.

  “He made me feel special, made me think I was the only girl that understood him.” He’d played her so completely.

  “He said all the right things,” Deacon said softly.

  “What I didn’t know was that he’d been making bets with his friends. His crew of friends that always seemed so immature. I couldn’t figure out why Jesse kept them around.”

  “You know I’m not like that, don’t you?”

  “I do.” She looked him straight in the eyes. “You’re nothing like Jesse. I loved the idea of him. The thing is, I loved him with an innocence that I never really recovered after that night. He didn’t even let me have one day.” She tipped her head back. The memory of the hidden panel on the bus that had so many other pairs of panties on display. Her pale blue lace ones had looked so sad next to the black lace and red satin, the dark purple and hot pink—all of them so loud and sexual next to hers.

  Deacon slid his hand along the back of her neck, dragging her between his legs. He whispered her name, as he brushed his nose along hers, and his unique scent slipped under the memories, pushing them into the past where they belonged.

  The oven dinged. She swallowed and tried to detangle herself from him, but he held on.

  “I can’t say that I know how that feels, but I can tell you that he was a tiny-minded asshole that should have his nuts carved up with that paring knife you wield like a ninja.”

  Her lips twitched and the smile wanted out so bad. “Can’t say I haven’t thought about it a time or two.”

  “But that’s not love. That’s disappointment and betrayal.”

  “That’s what happens in this lifestyle, Deacon. Women are a commodity, a vice, and a temptation.”

  “I don’t work like that.”

  “You say that now.” She stepped back, and this time he let her. She pulled the foil off the sliders, and the buttery sweet smell made her mouth water. Food, she understood. This love crap was going to be the death of her.

  She closed the oven again, resetting the timer. She curled her fingers around the handle of the oven and stared at her bare toes.

  “Have I ever given you a reason not to trust me?”

  “No.” She turned around. “But then again, we’re in that happy-go-lucky phase where we can’t think about anything except getting naked.” She filled her arms with the supplies and stalked across the space to the pantry. “What happens when I’m in New York working a tour, and you’re still on this coast?” She looked over her shoulder. “What happens when we don’t see each other for months at a time?”

  He followed her, spinning her around. She clutched the bottle of Worcestershire sauce to her chest and stared up at him. “Then I use my goddamn hand, or we have phone sex or Skype in a dark room. FaceTime on our phones. It doesn’t matter. This is it for me.”

  “How can you know that?”

  He took the bottle from her, set it on a shelf behind her, and pulled her forward. “I know it like I know how to put a song together. It’s instinct.”

  “Yeah well, lemmings have the instinct to leap off a cliff. Doesn’t make it right.”

  He dragged her into him with a laugh. “God, you make me nuts.”

  “Feeling’s mutual,” she mumbled into his pecs.

  “It’s not all or nothing, Harper. Just because I love you doesn’t mean I have all the answers. It just means, I don’t want you to walk away after the last show.”

  She linked her arms around his back, pushing her hands under his t-shirt to get to his skin.

  He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Besides, I won’t give you a choice but to fall for me.”

  She peered up at him. “You think so?”

  He lowered his mouth to hers. The kiss was sweet as it was brain-erasing. The man knew how to win an argument.

  The oven dinged again and she slipped free of him. “All right, how about we table this forever crap and stuff our faces instead?”

  “I never said forever, but I’m glad the word is in your mind, Lawless.”

  Twenty-Three

  September 13, 6:00 AM - Los Angeles

  Deacon rolled closer to Harper, curling his arm around her waist. She nuzzled into his neck. In sleep, his girl was very cuddly. They moved together in
the narrow bunk like they’d been doing it for years.

  But tonight, he’d actually get to put her in his bed at the penthouse. To spread out with her. To let her ride astride him instead of worrying about smashing his or her head into the overhead.

  Absolute privacy.

  He couldn’t wait.

  They were actually home. Well, a little outside of home, but worth the drive in to actually see their place. To get off this fucking bus.

  They were going to meet with Jackson and see about their contract at the penthouse. And with one night between the last two shows, he was looking forward to all of it.

  The five and a half weeks had gone by in a blink. They’d exceeded the expectations of Trident, and he had every confidence that they’d be offered a contract. They’d paid their dues for years, and it was high time something good happened for them.

  Harper’s phone chirped. The familiar soaring seagull cries and crash of ocean was their morning wake up call. She turned into him, brushing her cheek against his chest with a moan.

  “It can’t be time.”

  “You can always go on my morning run with me.”

  She snorted. “I’d rather clean pots after Mitchell’s chili.”

  “Wow.”

  Hooking a thigh over his hips, she maneuvered him over until she was splayed across him. Damn, she had strong thighs. He slid his hand up the smooth, tanned skin, feeling the flex of muscle.

  He could wake to that every damn morning of his life.

  She leaned over him, her sunny blonde hair curtaining around them as she brushed her lips over his jaw, nipping his chin then swiping over his lower lip with the tip of her tongue.

  He could feel the smile before he lost himself inside of it. The kiss was light and sweet and filled with an easiness he’d never thought he would find. Not here, not now when things were still so uncertain with his future.

  He knew what he wanted. Knew that this woman was everything he’d ever needed. He banded his arms around her back, drawing her into a deeper kiss. Instead, she pulled away with a teasing flick of tongue and nip of teeth.