Have Mercy: A Loveswept Contemporary Erotic Romance (26 page)

She waited for what felt like an hour for his response.
It feels good, but it’s not enough. I’m trying not to thrust toward you, trying not to pull your hair
.

Go ahead and thrust. I’ll open my mouth and take you in. Are you touching yourself, imagining it?
Emme could feel him, the heavy solid weight of him against her tongue; she could taste him, soapy and bitter and warm in her mouth. When he texted back, she could barely suppress her sigh.

Yeah. It’s good. It would be better if you were really here
.

Shhh. I know, sugar
. She gave herself a full minute to pity herself, to pity him, before she typed more.
But I’ve got you in my mouth, one hand wrapped around your base, and you taste so good. Do you want to come in my mouth? Or on me? All over my belly, maybe?

God, Emme. I’m going to. Soon
.

She squeezed her thighs together, trying to ease the ache she felt. She could see him, hand tight around himself, forearm flexing as he stroked. She wanted to watch him come, wanted to see his head fall back and his face twist into a grimace of pleasure-pain, wanted to watch as he relaxed muscle by muscle into the bed afterward.
Come on, sweetheart. Do it. Come all over me. I want to see it. I want to feel it
.

I am, I am. God. Emme
.

Her hand opened and closed helplessly against the base of her throat. She’d seen it before and
the scene played in her head again; come coating his hand and his belly, the abandon on his features as he gave himself over to it. She wanted to clean him up, hold him close, stroke his hair while he nuzzled into her shoulder.

I’m holding you, my body curled around yours
. She only paused for a moment before she added it.
I love you. I miss you
.

Do you need me there?
The reply came almost instantly.

Emme thought for a moment. She desperately wanted him with her,. She wanted to share her songs with him, hear the rhythm he’d create for them, watch them take shape as they worked together to give her work life. She wanted to hold him at the end of the night, wanted him to reach for her hand in the back of the van like a fifteen-year-old being driven to the movies with a girl for the first time. She wanted the dirty film that had dropped over the world to lift again.

But did she
need
him?

He’d had enough of being needed. The best gift she could give him now would be her ability to stand on her own.

No. I don’t need you. I want you and I love you but I don’t need you. I’ll be fine until you’ve done what you need to do
.

Her eyes stung as she sent the answer. It was honest, but she didn’t know if it was what he wanted to hear. She hoped to God he understood her and wasn’t hurt by it.

I want you, too. This isn’t enough
.

She exhaled when he responded, the breath leaving her body in a slow, controlled swirl.
You can hear my voice tomorrow. I’ll be live on Jed and Greg’s show again
.

I’ll be listening
.

The number of phone calls he’d had to make was astounding.

By the time Tom finally hung up for what he hoped was the last time that day, the right side of his face was hot from being pressed against his phone. He hoped there wasn’t any truth to that rumor about cell phones and brain tumors, or he’d be in big trouble by tomorrow.

Tom’s jaw ached. His whole body was sore, and his eyes were gritty from lack of sleep and from worry. And yet, he felt resolved. Lighter.

He only sank when he went to the SoundGap main page to listen to Emme’s interview and saw a picture of his sister in handcuffs on his front lawn.

Trouble for Emme?
the headline read.

Bassist Tom McKinney involved in legal drama. “It looked like he was in a fight over a girl,” witnesses say. “He and this other guy. He knocked the other guy out, but then the girl got arrested!” Could this be why Emme asked him to leave the tour?

Sick fury swirled through his stomach at the sight of his sister’s face splashed on the site. Her struggles were her own, not his, and even if he had chosen to be in the public eye, she hadn’t.

But then, despite his anger, he reread the text of the article.
A fight over a girl. He knocked the other guy out
. It was so far from the truth, such an insane distortion, that he couldn’t help it. He laughed.

And really, was it any more ridiculous than the claim that Andy was cheating on his wife? Andy was a faithful guy, and Tom wasn’t fighting over his own sister.

He was worried about Emme, though. He hadn’t told her about what had happened when he’d texted her. He’d meant to. She had offered him comfort before.
Tell me what you need
.

He’d needed an escape for just a moment, something that was for him alone, and he’d taken it. Now he had to hope it didn’t come back to bite him, or her.

He made his last trip out back to the garbage cans and poured powdered cleaner all over his kitchen. It wouldn’t take much longer to make his house livable again, at least. Having the more tangible physical mess under control had made the emotional mess feel a little less tangled and overwhelming.

He set up his computer to the live streaming option on the SoundGap site and waited for it to buffer. He was tackling the stove with a sponge and all of his weight when the interview kicked on midsentence.

“… address the rumors?” Jed was asking.

“Sure.” Emme’s distinctive voice was muffled, since she was joining the interview by phone. “I’ve tried to keep my personal life private but apparently I’m not very good at that. So I’ll be honest with y’all. I was pretty shocked to see myself on the front page of your blog; I would’ve worn more makeup to the airport.”

Tom scrubbed harder at the dried-on red stain on the surface of the stove. She didn’t sound nervous, not like she had during that first interview, but his stomach was trying to lurch out of his body through his esophagus for her.

She took a breath, and the sound of her sigh sent a wash of longing over him. “My band has had a rough time. The bass player we had on this tour, Tom McKinney, had to leave the tour suddenly to deal with an emergency at home. He’s the one you see in that picture taken in the bar. When he left, Andy graciously agreed to fill in for him for a part of our tour. He’s the one you see me hugging in the airport. Andy and I have been friends since just out of college. He is married to a lovely woman, and we have never been more than friends and colleagues. That hug was because I was so glad to see him and grateful that he was willing to take the time out of his work and personal schedule to help us out when we were in need. I realize that’s not a very exciting answer, but I feel that it’s unfair to his wife to allow speculation to continue.”

“Well, you don’t have the best track record with married men …,” Greg interrupted.

“Sugar, you ought to know this. A faithful married man wouldn’t break his vows if I stripped plumb naked and danced on his lap. He’d tell me to get lost, and I would. An unfaithful married man wouldn’t need more than a glance as an excuse to cheat. Andy is a faithful guy, and while I think he’s a fantastic bass player, I certainly haven’t danced naked anywhere near him.”

Tom snorted then imagined Emme dancing naked and almost immediately got a hard-on. He’d gotten ridiculous over her.

“So, what about Tom McKinney? What can you tell us about him?”

“
Him
I’d dance naked for.”

He could hear the wry smile in her voice, and he stopped with the scrubbing and moved closer to his computer.

“Tom is a fantastic bass player. One of the best I’ve heard. Certainly one of the best I’ve worked with. He brings a sensibility to my music that I would never have thought of on my own.”

“It appears that he also owns a bar and music venue in Louisville?”

“He does. That’s how we met. I played there.”

“So with his new legal troubles …”

Emme interrupted. “I can’t comment on that, but from the pictures I’ve seen, it looks like he’s not the one in handcuffs.”

“So who is his mystery lady then?”

“You know, I’ll answer anything you ask me about
me
, but I can’t speculate on anyone else.”

There was a pause before the next question. “So, Emme, you have to know this question is coming. Are you involved with him? Is that why he left the tour?”

Tom found himself holding his breath. He shouldn’t be upset if she said no. She had a right to keep her life separate from these vultures. And now, with this new scandal, maybe she should deny it for her own good, for the sake of her own image. God knew he’d caused enough trouble for everyone. But he still had no idea what she would say, and he knew, even if his brain thought differently, that his heart would hurt if she lied.

She didn’t hesitate. “I am involved with him, is one way to put it, I suppose.” She paused and Tom dropped the sponge and sat down at the computer as though moving closer to the sound of her voice would make her speak more quickly.

Emme laughed a little at herself. “I adore him. I love him. And right now I miss him so badly I ache all over. I wish I were with him now, and my thoughts are, even though I’m not, and once this tour is over, I am going home to him as soon as I pack up after my last show.”

“Is it a good idea to get involved with a band member? That’s worked out poorly for you in the past.”

“Oh, it’s a terrible idea,” she agreed cheerfully. “It could all fall apart and my career could collapse. I hope it doesn’t. The last time, I chose the wrong man. This time, I hope I’ve chosen the right one. I do know that no matter what happens, he’s worth it.”

Tom’s whole body shook at the sound of her voice announcing to the entire world that she loved him. That she trusted him, and herself, and whatever this was between them. Some combination of pride and desire and terror pounded through him as she spoke. He nearly grabbed his computer monitor and hugged it. She wanted to come home to him.

He wanted to go home to her.

He’d probably be all over the media now, but he didn’t fucking care. He had one more phone call to make and he had an utterly filthy house to finish cleaning and he had a heart so full of joy that it pushed out against him and crashed into the atmosphere.

He made the five-hour-and-twenty-minute drive in four hours and forty minutes.

He had no fucking clue which hotel they’d be staying in but he knew at which bar she’d be playing. When Emme made a schedule, she planned it out months in advance and stuck to it.

It was such a relief to know he could rely on her and that he could find her no matter where she was.

All of his plans were half-assed and only just set into motion, but he had a smartphone and a laptop and a credit card, and Emme waiting for him at the end of his drive.

He had to circle the block to find parking, and ended up leaving his car parked halfway up a hill so steep, he worried that it would roll backward even with the emergency brake on. The line outside the door stretched down the street. He texted Emme but got no response.

He tried Dave and Guillermo, too, while he waited. No response from Guillermo. He figured they were doing the sound check when Dave messaged him back.

I’m done with this shit. I’m on my way home. Good luck
.

What the hell? Did that mean Emme was playing a show without her guitarist? He tried calling her again, but her phone went straight to voice mail.

Tom pushed his way through the line with an “Excuse me” or “Sorry” to each person he bumped. He knew he was getting the stink-eye from at least half the people on the sidewalk, but he didn’t care.

When he got up to the bouncer, though, it was a problem.

“The line’s back there.” The guy pointed. He was big, with a beard down to his navel. He was wearing a stocking cap despite the fact that it was easily eighty degrees outside, and even though he had to be at least fifty years old with a lot of hard living behind him, he still looked scary as hell.

“I’m with the band.” Tom found his palms sweaty, like when he’d been called to the principal’s office for some infraction in elementary school. “I’m the bass player. But I guess tonight I’m the
guitarist.”

“Then why didn’t you get here when they did?” The bouncer sent an assessing look over him. Tom thought he raised one eyebrow, but his cap was pulled down so low on his forehead that he couldn’t tell.

“It took me a while to get here. Look, if you don’t believe me, tell Emme that Tom is here.”

Apparently the bouncer didn’t read music gossip blogs, or he’d have recognized Tom from the giant picture of him with Emme currently headlining the biggest one in the industry. He’d have thought notoriety would at least have some advantages.

“Look, man, maybe you’re some kind of stalker. Maybe you’re an ex-boyfriend she doesn’t need bothering her right before a show. She’s a classy lady and I’m not going to upset her.” The bouncer crossed his very large arms across his very large beard and his very large chest.

Okay, so maybe the guy
did
read gossip blogs. “Could you at least ask?”