by Quinn, Cari
Nick deflected with sarcasm and a shitty attitude. Simon used his sexuality to draw people in, but hid behind the physical act. At least that’s how she’d been reading him for months.
Until last night.
She laced her fingers around his relaxed ones. Until last night when he’d told her he loved her. Blindsided with a single one word.
Margo wasn’t exactly looking for that. Simon was supposed to be the perfect man for no strings, no love. And now…nothing made sense.
Everything felt heavy and too real. This was a job, nothing else. Simon was the cherry on top. Outrageous sex and finding out that she had a sexual side hidden away. Finding out she wasn’t a prude lost in the chamber music that had ruled her life for so long.
Funny that at twenty-five, she learned that sex was amazing and that lust came in more forms than skin on skin. That his music—their music together—had been just as eye-opening as the rest of her time with Simon.
But now it was different. They were different. And now she found herself standing up for him.
Oh yeah, this definitely wasn’t in her job description.
“Yeah, you can’t even answer me,” Nick said. “And you think you can take care of him?”
Margo’s chin lifted as she turned toward the doctor. “What does vocal rest entail? After the initial ten days.”
“Most of the time it’s a gradual introduction to talking, but I’ve found that if they limit talking as long as possible, the patient has less recovery time to deal with.”
Deflated, Lila shut her mouth.
“I realize he’s in the middle of a tour, but this is non-negotiable. If he wants a prayer of keeping his career on track, then he isn’t going on the road for six months. And even then, it’ll be a lot of vocal coaches in his future. He’s going to need to relearn how to sing.”
“It’s not like he’s lost his knowledge base,” Deacon said.
“No, but he’s been compensating for the cyst for a while from the looks of things. Usually once a cyst is removed, it’s just a waiting game. The problem is, the vocal chords can be prone to polyps and other issues once they’ve been damaged. Babying them is what he really needs.”
“Okay. Are there any dietary concerns?” Margo asked.
Nick’s eyebrows shot up. “Is she for real?”
Ignoring him, Margo turned her entire body to face the doctor. “I need instructions and the best possible treatment plan for him.”
“Excuse me. What makes you think you can just take over?”
“Shut up, Nick. She’s doing this for Simon.” Deacon held his arms out. “Are you going to be with him day and night?”
“Fuck no. I’m not his babysitter. That’s not what he needs.”
The doctor stood up and pushed her chair back to its spot along the wall. “While I wouldn’t call it babysitting, I would say he needs a relaxing environment that he can stay quiet in.”
“We don’t relax,” Nick snarled.
“Well, he’s going to have to learn how to.” The doctor looked at her. “Acid is not his friend. So if he has any acid reflux issues, I’ll be prescribing him something to keep that to a minimum. This also means no alcohol. At all.”
For the first time, Lila actually looked shell-shocked as she pushed her fingers through her hair. Lila’s hair was always neat and orderly. Even her curls were under control.
Now it was a tangle of wheat colored waves down her back and her suit jacket was open. A rust-colored smear actually dared to mar her lapel.
Simon’s blood.
Margo closed her eyes for a moment. When she’d seen the blood, her heart had literally stopped. It wasn’t like there were rivers of it. Just a mouthful, but it had been on his lips, on the stage. Streaked across his cheek.
She shook her head. “I can handle that.”
“Right. Your first response to anything heavy is to walk, Violin Girl.”
She stalked across the room to Nick. “Margo. Learn it, because my violin, my bass, and my cello doesn’t mean shit right now. He does. Simon does. So I don’t care what I have to do to get him better, I’ll do it.”
“And I won’t?” Nick crowded in on her and they were almost eye-to-eye with her heels on.
“I’ll do it better.”
Until just then she hadn’t realized how true that was.
Nick shook his head. “What, because you’re going to fuck him for two weeks? I’ll admit I can’t do that better than you.”
She curled her fingers into fists at her sides. She’d never struck another human in her life. And her palm itched. Oh, it itched so badly. But she could see that’s what he wanted.
Nick was angry and afraid. And she wasn’t going to give him an outlet, dammit.
She wouldn’t be giving him any of her energy. She was going to need it for Simon. He was the important one right now. And she only had enough reserves for one man.
Small fingers wrapped around her wrist and slid down to join with hers. “You can take care of him. I know it.”
Margo looked down to see Jazz beside her. Her huge blue eyes were swimming with banked tears.
Nick swore.
Jazz held onto her hand and crowded in on Nick, laying her head on his chest. “Super Slut doesn’t—”
“Simon,” Margo said. She hated that name. Hated the thought of him touching anyone else. Had hated it from the moment he’d touched her in the studio. Because she knew he wasn’t the one-woman-man she wanted him to be.
Did she honestly want him to be one for her?
Jazz laughed. “Yes. Simon. Your Simon.”
The kneejerk urge to tell her no, he wasn’t hers was there at the tip of her tongue, but she didn’t voice it. Not now.
Because for now he was.
What happened after the two weeks was a question she wasn’t going to ask herself.
Lila sighed. “All this posturing is giving me a headache. I have calls to make and the media to wrangle. Holy clusterfuck,” she muttered as she headed out the door with her phone in her hand.
Deacon stood behind Harper, his hands lightly kneading her shoulders. “Whatever you need us to do, we’ll do.”
Margo sighed. Simon needed his people. They were his family and she understood that, but she wasn’t sure they were exactly the best thing to help him rest and relax. “We’ll see what he thinks when he wakes up, but I have a few ideas.”
“Care to share with the class?” Nick asked between gritted teeth.
“I was thinking about taking him out of the city. My…” She swallowed. Was she really going to do this? Bring him into her real world? “My family has a house in St. John.”
Nick’s eyebrows shot up. “St. John? And you’re a gun for hire?”
Her hands fisted again. “I’m not my family. But I’m willing to ask them for him.”
He tilted his head. “Is Violin Girl the black sheep of the family?”
“A year ago I’d say no.” Now she wasn’t so sure.
“We have money,” Nick muttered. “We don’t need your charity.”
“No, but if the media gets a hold of the fact that Simon is at a resort or even your house in the hills it will be nothing but bedlam. You know that.” Nick’s eyes flashed. He did know it. She’d seen how the public reacted to them just at a hotel. This, when Simon’s blood was in the water? No, nothing about this would be good for awhile.
The media would forget if he stayed away.
A very real fear in its own right. People didn’t have long memories. Whatever the next biggest thing was…that would own the papers and the paparazzi. And that’s what they were right now. Even before the concert tonight.
God.
Just tonight.
Not even twelve hours since it happened and nothing was the same.
And she’d actually just offered to go and deal with her family. Maybe she needed her head examined in the ER?
A loud snap broke them all apart.
Nick peeked around her. “You didn’t j
ust snap your fingers at us, did you?”
Simon was sitting cross-legged in the middle of his bed, the marker board on his lap facing out. He nodded with a fuck-off look on his face.
Do I have a say?
“Of course you do.” Margo rushed back to his side. “It’s just an idea.”
He used the eraser end of the marker and smudged out his words. The squeak of the marker was the only sound in the room.
Unlimited sex?
Jazz gave a watery laugh. “Perv.”
Simon waggled his eyebrows. He flipped it over and scribbled again.
Not sure I want to be indebted to your parents.
She wasn’t sure she wanted to either. Just the idea of it made her want to pull on a cardigan and her orchestra clothes. Their house in Boston was austere and traditional—all the things she’d been for so long.
So different than what she’d become because of this man, these people. She’d been comfortable in her skin for the very first time in her life. Walking back into that house, into that life again…
She shivered.
Simon frowned and braceleted his fingers around her wrist then slid down to lace their fingers.
Margo covered their joined hands with her free one. “Maybe it’s good we both get away for awhile. How long were you awake?”
He gave a slight shrug, but his eyes were lit with a little of his old fire. He dragged her down and stared into her eyes as he touched his lips to hers. He wrinkled his nose and pressed his lips together then mimed brushing his teeth.
She grinned at him. They all needed to be cleaned up and get some rest. She traced the expressive wing of his eyebrow. “I have to go to Boston. Think you can do without me for a day?”
He stretched out his legs and crossed them at the ankles as he tucked his arms behind his head and gave her a nonchalant nod.
She laughed because it’s what he needed. What they all needed.
She looked over at Jazz and Gray, Harper and Deacon—both anchored to one another. She and Simon were two buoys in the same water. Not quite together, not apart.
But Nick stood just a touch away from everyone, with a defiant tilt to his jaw and his hands jammed in his pockets.
Lila walked in, her eyes unreadable. “I have a meeting with Donovan tomorrow. I think we all need some rest. Especially Simon.”
Simon leaned back on his elbows and frowned. Whether it was at Lila’s words, or the idea that everyone was leaving, Margo wasn’t sure.
She slipped her hand into his. He tightened his hold on her, but his focus was still on Lila.
“All right, c’mon. Do the goodbyes and kisses if that’s what you’re into.” Lila made a wrap-it-up gesture.
“Simon couldn’t handle my kisses,” Nick said.
Simon flashed him the middle finger. Just like that, the tension in the room dropped by half.
Deacon came up beside Simon and clamped one of his huge hands on his shoulder.
Harper patted her huge stomach. “I can’t bend over.” Simon patted it back and Harper gave him a watery laugh. “I’ll check with the doctors about what you can eat and smuggle something in.”
Simon gave her a thumbs up.
Gray and Jazz shuffled forward, Harper and Jazz twisting fingers together as they passed one another.
Such an odd thing. She’d never had a friend she was so close to that emotions would bubble to the surface like they did between Harper and Jazz. Some of it could be the baby hormones, but from the moment Margo had been around them…they’d had a connection that Margo had never felt a part of.
They didn’t exclude her, but that kind of sharing never occurred to her either. Even with her sister. Of course when it came to her sister, keeping her distance was more of a defense mechanism.
She never knew what could happen in the future if she gave Juliet too much ammunition. Anyone in her family, really. And yet, here…this was a dysfunctional family by all accounts and somehow they made it work.
Just when she was getting a handle on things in this crazy life she’d entered into, they changed all the rules on her.
She glanced down at Simon as he got an exuberant hug from Jazz and an awkwardly endearing handclasp from Gray. This man child that heated her blood, showed her what music and passion could create, and now reality was sitting between them.
This wasn’t fantasy anymore.
She wasn’t sure what they were now. They had morphed into something more in the last few months. He’d even told her that he loved her.
She wasn’t entirely sure she understood that either.
Did he actually love her or the idea of what she was?
Right now her concerns didn’t matter. She might not have all the answers about how to define what she and Simon were to one another, but she wasn’t letting him face this alone.
The band finally left after well wishes and insults. Nick hovered in the doorway, the last to leave. His long, lightly scarred fingers tightened on the doorjamb. His amber soaked gaze speared her with a fierceness that made her step closer to Simon.
“I’m entrusting him to you, Violin Girl. Don’t fuck it up.”
“I’ll do my best.”
“Best isn’t shit. If you’re in this, then you’re in. Otherwise you can split now.”
Simon snapped his fingers and pointed at Nick then made a cut it gesture near his neck.
“No. I’m not going to shut up. I’m the one that will have to go find your sorry ass somewhere if this goes south.”
She slid her thumb along Simon’s. “He’s just worried.” She said it more to herself than to Simon, but it was a hard truth. Now wasn’t the time for screwing with anyone’s emotions. “We’ll take care of each other, Nick. I promise.”
He gave a sharp nod and started walking. “I’ll be here tomorrow, dumbass,” he called from the hallway.
“You two have a strange relationship.”
Simon scribbled tell me about it on the board.
She leaned down, caging him with her arms. “Are you going to be okay for a few days while I set things up?”
His gaze slid down to her mouth then back up to her eyes. He mouthed, “maybe.” Instead of the kiss she’d been expecting, he slipped his fingers through her hair. It was usually tied back from the stage, but that had fallen hours ago.
The slow stroke of his fingers and light tug on her hair made her eyes flutter shut in reaction. She was used to his firmer grip and the intensity that followed them around like a third person in their relationship.
This lighter touch was almost worse. It was reminiscent of the night on the bus. God, had that really been less than two days ago? It felt like everything had changed in such a short time.
And now this? She opened her eyes again and his striking silver-blue eyes were hooded and sharp at the same time. Lust swirled between them like a fragrance, heady and consuming.
He got to the tips of her hair and went back for another slow stroke and she was fairly certain she was going to need a stretcher to get the hell out of there tonight. This time, he tugged her down, again bypassing a kiss to skim his nose over her jawline, behind her ear.
The moan she usually got out of him was gone, but the silence was worse. She could hear the change in his breathing, the light hitch there, followed by a flick of his tongue and soft trail of kisses down her neck.
This time she moaned enough for both of them. He brushed his knuckle along the curve of her breast and lightly pinched her nipple. Her elbow joint went out as the shudder pulsed through her.
He dragged her onto the bed. “Simon!” But he didn’t seem to be listening. She groaned as he pushed her skirt up enough for her to straddle his lap. Before she could tell him no—or even pretend to—he’d pulled her shirt down and flipped the cup of her bra until the cool air of the room met skin.
His busy mouth at her neck as he cupped her breasts together had her gasping.
“Someone could come in. A nurse…” She trailed off because his lightly callu
sed thumbs circled her nipples followed by the softness of his lips and tongue.
She rolled her hips because she couldn’t do anything else. The ridge of his cock was there, swelling harder between her legs. Simon was usually so vocal, so full of praise or moans of reaction. The lack of sounds made her try harder to pull them from him, even though he couldn’t—shouldn’t—make them.
His hold tightened, his breathing hotter against her skin, but the part that tossed her over the edge was the light bump of his hips under her.
“Oh, God. Oh, God.”
His hands came up to frame her face, his fingers sliding into her hair as his thumbs traced the apples of her cheeks. He held her there, watched her. His eyes so fierce as the friction and the tiredness and the worry coalesced into a soft, rolling orgasm.
He touched his forehead to hers, his breathing just as labored as hers. She slipped her hand under his sheet to find him. Just a johnny coat kept him away from her.
But he shook his head. He pressed his cheek to hers and blew out a slow breath as he dragged her up and into his arms. She slid to the side of him and tucked her face into his neck.
He held her close and she snaked her hand under the covers, into the open sides of the hospital gown to get to his skin.
She needed that contact. But she didn’t move down. Even as alluring as his obviously still hard cock was, she wanted to feel his heartbeat more. The soft sigh he made let her know it was the right course of action.
And as his breathing slowed and the leftover drugs in his system worked their magic, she felt him relax under her. She lay with him a little longer, her own stress and worry reeled in by the reassuring thump of his heart.
By the time she slid from the bed, he was completely out. She eased an inky lock of hair away from his forehead and kissed him softly. Then she gathered her things and spotted a nurse in the doorway with her arms folded.
She couldn’t help a lopsided smile and a shrug. The nurse stepped aside and Margo threw a look over her shoulder one last time. For him, she was willing to face her parents.