by Tara Leigh
Chapter Thirteen
Dax
We stayed at the restaurant a long time, talking about music and family and life in the industry. Verity had only two margaritas over three hours, so I offered to take her back to her car, but she said she’d rather just call a service tomorrow morning since she had to be back at the studio anyway.
It was just as well. I wasn’t eager to say goodbye. Even so, the extra forty minutes driving to Beverly Hills went too fast. Sitting beside me, content and relaxed, her shoes kicked off, bare feet resting against the console, Verity looked like she was right where she belonged.
I turned off the ignition in her driveway, watching her pink toes slide back into her heeled sandals. “Today was really great, Dax. Thank you.” I glanced back up to her face. My mouth watered, hungry to feast on those pretty, plump lips that had given shape to a song she didn’t know had been written about her.
There was a moment when I thought Verity would lean over and kiss me, but she didn’t.
And neither did I.
Feeling like we’d both lost an opportunity, I got out of the car.
How the fuck could I just let Verity go, let her walk away after the day we spent together? As she moved away from me, the gap between us growing ever wider, tension spread from my neck to the soles of my feet, every muscle screaming in protest.
Maybe Verity was doing the right thing. She had too much at stake and I had nothing left to give.
Not trust. Not kindness. Sure as fuck not love.
I watched her red hair swoosh against the skin of her shoulders. Skin that felt like silk and smelled like sugar.
My hands twitched at my sides, wanting nothing more than to plunge my fingers through that river of fire, brave the heat that would surely burn me up.
I shouldn’t have stayed to watch Verity perform. I shouldn’t have set foot in the studio with her. And I definitely shouldn’t have left with her after our session was over.
Music was my passion, and Verity’s voice—damned if she didn’t make me burn with passion for her.
Verity Moore was a star. The kind of musician that burned so brightly she would become the sun in her own universe. And I knew what it was like to be drawn into someone else’s orbit. To give up everything for something as elusive and ephemeral as love. For Amelia, I left my home, my family, my city, my school.
I should know better now.
I should let Verity go.
I should stay away.
But right this minute, I didn’t give a flying fuck about any of those shoulds or shouldn’ts.
The way I once felt about Amelia paled in comparison to my feelings for Verity now.
I needed to know if she tasted as good like she smelled. If her kisses were as sweet as her voice.
I needed to know how that fine ass of hers, bouncing just the tiniest bit as she walked away, would feel in my hands. Christ—I wanted to bite it.
The other day, I’d been the one to walk away. In my own fucking house, no less. Not sure how I managed it then, and I sure as fuck didn’t think I could repeat it today. Because as I stood there, every inch between us was a weight sitting on my chest. Heavier and heavier until it hurt just to take a breath.
If I let Verity go, let her disappear behind one more closed door, I was going to suffocate.
If I went after her, if she let me catch her, let me touch her, let me take her—there would be consequences. With my track record—bad consequences.
But right now I didn’t want to think about them. Didn’t care about anything beyond me and her and us. Here and now.
Consequences could fuck off.
“Verity.” My boots thudded against the stone walkway that led to her house, each one of my strides swallowing up three of hers. She turned, her confused gaze latching on to mine as I grabbed her by her tiny little waist, hoisting her up. “I haven’t said goodbye yet.” I kept walking, stopping only when I got to her front door, pressing her back against it as my hands slipped to her ass.
Confusion gave way to understanding, the desire coursing through my veins mirrored in Verity’s expression. “Oh. Me neither.” She wrapped her legs around me, making a noise that was somewhere between a whimper and a purr before parting her lips and staring greedily at mine. Sexiest damned invitation I’d ever received.
I didn’t need my hands to hold Verity up, so with a last squeeze of her delicious ass, I slid them along her spine and into the hair at the base of her scalp, gathering the silken strands into a fist and tugging, eliciting a moan that shot straight to my dick. Goddamn, this girl could make sounds like no other. If they came in a bottle, they’d outsell Viagra.
“So, this is goodbye, then?” Verity’s skin shone alabaster beneath the light of the moon. Flawless as fresh cream. I dipped my chin, giving a long, slow lick from the base of her neck to the lobe of her ear, drawing it inside my mouth, biting at the tender flesh until I was rewarded with a breathy gasp. Following the line of her jaw, I planted light kisses as I made my way to Verity’s sweet, sweet mouth.
“Yeah.” She tasted like a blend of fresh cider and the spicy margarita we’d just shared. “Fuck, you taste good.” I groaned.
The first tentative flicker of her tongue against mine brought a rush of urgency, a primal need for more. So much more.
I nipped at her lips, slanting my mouth over hers until our tongues were tangled, the kiss deepening with each lick and taste and tug. Christ, I was hungry. Hungry for everything Verity was willing to give. Hungrier still for all she was holding back.
Our breaths became ragged pants, punctuated by moans and groans and the wet slide of tongues.
An orchestra of lust.
Verity’s hands wrapped around my shoulders, her fingers kneading the muscles that were bunched and knotted, so tight and tense. Her fingernails dug in through my shirt, and I felt a flare of hostility for the fabric that shielded me from the scrape of her nails, the heat of her palms.
My body was a linked chain of hard lines and rigid planes. Rough stubble and calloused fingertips.
Verity was all soft hollows and sweet curves. Miles of satiny skin. Mounds of silky hair.
Her soft yielding to my hard.
Her sweet surrendering to my rough.
As if we’d been made for each other.
Two souls with just enough wrongs to make everything right.
Verity’s hips shifted forward, the friction sending a tsunami of lust that drowned any other emotion or introspection. It crashed over me, leaving me clinging to the only thing that was solid and true. Verity. I didn’t need to use my years of Latin to know what her name meant. Truth. That name fucking suited her.
“Dax.” My name was a whimper, a plea, a promise.
On Verity’s lips, my name was everything.
My response was a growl against her mouth. I could taste the desperation on her tongue. A need that matched my own. Her hands slid along my shoulder blades, making the jump to my arms, gripping my biceps.
“Verity.” It almost hurt to say her name. Because I wasn’t giving her truth. I was using her radiance, stealing her light to ease the darkness in my soul. All I had to offer was this—the sharp prick of pleasure. Temporary. Fleeting. But fuck if it wasn’t good while it lasted.
And for now it would have to be good enough.
Because I couldn’t stop.
One kiss wasn’t enough.
Not nearly enough.
I pulled back to take in the beauty of her face. Lips swollen, cheeks flushed, flaming hair a messy tangle. Eyes bottle green, dreamy and unfocused. Most gorgeous woman I’d ever seen. “What are you doin’ to me, True?”
Before Verity could even attempt to answer the question I hadn’t meant to ask, my mouth was on hers again, one hard press before I moved down her jaw. I was losing my damned mind, chasing each one of Verity’s breaths, each beat of her heart that fluttered against my tongue as I made my way down her neck, sinking my teeth into the gentle rise of her shoulder.
&
nbsp; Freeing my hands, I slid them along the outer curve of her ribs, the indent of her waist, the flare of her hips. The hem of Verity’s shirt a barrier begging to be breached.
I didn’t care that we were still outside. Verity lived in a gated community, and there was a line of hedges that protected us from street view, neither of which would prevent a dedicated paparazzo from taking a shot. But I hadn’t seen any tonight, and the sight of Verity herself was my only concern. Without any hesitation, I lifted her shirt, drawing it up and over her head, the silken tendrils of her hair a waterfall cascading over my forearms. “Fuck,” I rasped, feasting on the sight of Verity’s breasts displayed in a barely there bra of see-through lace, the tight furl of her nipples pushing through the thin fabric.
Palming the gorgeous swells, I brushed my thumbs over the lacy peaks. Verity gasped, her back arching, breasts pressing into my hands.
My dick pulsed angrily, furious at its zippered confinement. If I’d had even the slightest intention of holding out long enough to actually get inside Verity’s house, it was swallowed by that gasp, disappearing into her pretty pout of a mouth.
Slipping my fingers beneath the lace cups, I edged them down, responding like one of Pavlov’s dogs to the sight of her nipples peeking over the top. Dusky pink peaks, they called out for my mouth, my lips, my tongue, my teeth.
Christ, they were sweet.
Verity’s raspy moans and groans seeped into my eardrums as I worshipped her breasts, moving from one to the other, wanting to devour this girl. Her hands moved up my arms, nails scraping my neck in their haste to dive for my scalp, pulling and tugging at my hair. “Dax…please. I want—I want—”
Her words were chased away by my ragged groan as I reluctantly pulled away just enough to check on her, needing to know that she wanted this as badly as I did. “What do you want, True?”
Her eyes were glazed over, struggling to latch on to mine. I loved seeing her like this. Not quite in control. Her sharp edges worn smooth by the blunt force of desire. I dragged the back of my hand over the line of her jaw, her flawless skin a satin caress against my knuckles. Verity closed her eyes, lashes like spiky crescent moons on the rise of her cheekbone, rubbing her face against my hand. “You, Dax. This.” And then her eyes snapped open in a fierce blaze of certainty. “I want this.”
In that moment, had she asked, I would have cut out my heart and served it to her on a silver platter.
A heart that was charred and ruined. Unpalatable.
If she could see what I had to offer, she wouldn’t want it.
But this? This I could give her.
It was all I could give her.
“You’ve got it,” I growled, sealing my promise with a kiss that was hard and demanding,
I might hate myself tomorrow, but I wasn’t fighting that battle tonight.
I widened my stance, Verity settling deeper on the swollen bulge between my legs. A pressure that hurt so good. Her pants were made of a light, thin material that had been printed in a wild pattern. The kind best pulled off by women with long legs and lean muscles. They’d been driving me crazy all day. The slightest bit transparent, so that in the right lighting I could see the shape of her thighs through the fabric. Covered and exposed at the same time. Teasing me with every step.
My tongue plunged beyond her lips, tracing every inch of that hot, needy mouth as she rocked herself against my jeans, knees pressed tight along my sides, working the friction like I wanted her to work me, my cock cheering her on with every pass.
It had been too long since I’d given in to lust. Too long since I beat off, just me and my dick. No guilt necessary.
Through her thin pants, I swore Verity could have ridden all the way over the finish line, but I was too selfish for that. Desperate to touch her, taste her. To take her there myself. My hand slipped between our bodies, plunging below her waistband and down the flat plane of her belly to the apex of her thighs. She was slick with her own heat, slippery with need. And the cry she gave when my fingers rolled over that pulsing bundle of nerves at her core—almost a keening wail—had the hair at the back of my neck standing on end.
I gave a satisfied grunt. “So good it hurts,” I rasped, setting up a determined rhythm as her head lolled back against the door, the fierce prick of her nails scoring the nape of my neck.
A deep exhale vibrated her lithe frame, her body so hot, so pliant. So fucking mine.
I wasn’t at all tempted to rush this, to rush her. I’d wait forever if it meant I could watch the orgasm break over Verity’s face, rolling in on a tide of garbled grunts and sweet sighs, panting breaths and muscle quakes. My pleasure just as potent watching Verity find hers.
I could feel my dick dripping, smearing its excitement all over my thigh. I might shoot off inside my jeans like a teenager stumbling onto his first porn site. The thought of sinking into Verity’s heat, gliding all the way home, until we were joined together like a jigsaw, was almost too much to take.
Even though I was touching her, Verity’s hips grew frenzied, the tempo picking up, her hold on me—her hold over me—tightening. I bit down on the smooth skin of her shoulder, deliberately hard enough to leave a mark she would see in the morning. Damn, how I wanted to leave my mark on this girl.
In this girl.
I felt the second Verity’s muscles drew tight, as if there were a coil winding and winding. Waiting.
She inhaled a quick breath, holding the air in her lungs until the thread snapped, and then all those muscles went slack as she cried out her release, trembling wildly in my arms. Movements that were beyond her control.
Something inside me snapped, too. Broke off completely. I felt it, like a missed step. A dropped chord. A distinct wrongness when only a moment ago everything—Verity in my arms, my name on her lips, her pleasure at my hands—felt so right.
I pulled my hand from her pants, tracing her lips with the wetness clinging to my fingertips.
Kissing it right off her.
Fucking delicious.
Regret was already bubbling up inside my gut as I deepened our kiss, holding Verity by the waist as she slid down my body to stand on her own feet.
She ended it, pushing against my shoulders with the heels of her hands. “That was one hell of a goodbye…but it shouldn’t have happened.” Her beautifully melodic voice was barely a broken whisper. “And—and it can’t happen again.”
A half-assed excuse was on the tip of my tongue, but I cut it off before the lie could shame me further. Instead I gave a slow shake of my head and forced myself to meet her gaze. “I know.”
“It’s just…If I—if we become a thing, you know what people will think.”
“Yeah.” My shoulders sagged. “We wouldn’t have worked out anyway.”
Green-tipped daggers of hurt pointed their blades at me. “Thanks.”
I took a step back, knowing she was reading my response in an entirely different way than I’d meant it. Meanwhile, my dick thumped my zipper in a rage. You fucking fool. What are you doing? The energy between us still blazed brighter than the full moon above, and I fought against gravity to take another step. “I’m sorry, Verity. You deserve better.”
Chapter Fourteen
Dax
No way.” My answer was automatic, a hard fucking N-O.
Unfortunately Travis Taggert didn’t know the meaning of the word. “Did you listen to the track?” he asked.
“I don’t need to listen to it. I was there.”
“Fine. You know who did?” No. And I didn’t want to. But that didn’t stop Travis from telling me. “Your label. They fucking loved it. I’m talking full-on loved it.”
Pride welled up in my chest. I couldn’t help it. Together, Verity and I had created an awesome fucking song. And it felt good to know others thought so, too.
Even though I wished it had never seen the light of day.
Travis was still talking. “The team working on Verity’s album loved it so much they took it to the team that works o
n your albums. They loved it so much they took it up the chain, all the way to the head of the damn company. And he loved it, too. They don’t want the acoustic version as just a fan extra. They want to release it as a single. And they’re sending it out to Hollywood studios right now, looking to get a big-budget movie tie-in. Dax, this song’s got legs. If it takes off—and it will—Verity’s fans are going to want, and deserve, to hear it on the tour.”
“They can have it. The song is hers. Verity can perform it with another guitarist though. It doesn’t have to be me.” I knew I was being unreasonable. Sitting onstage with Verity for one song wasn’t a big ask. Especially since she was singing my song.
“It’s the optics, Dax. A link between two acts that most people wouldn’t think belong on the same stage—it’s brilliant.”
A harsh chuckle rumbled from my lungs. “We don’t belong on the same stage.” We didn’t belong on the same tour, either. But that was a battle I’d lost, so I was dealing with it.
“There’s only so many times I can tell you that you’re being shortsighted.” I heard the sound of friction and I imagined my manager smoothing his palm over his head as he paced the length of his office. “But it’s your loss. I’ll tell the label they’ll have to go with plan B.”
I didn’t know what plan B was, but it sounded innocuous enough. I sighed, the tension in my shoulders easing. “Thanks. I appreciate—”
“Maybe it’s for the best. You know how well Jett plays to the audience. The fans will eat it up.”
I pulled up short, my fingertips turning white as I squeezed the phone. “Wait…What?”