Hung Out: A Needles and Pins Rock Romance (26 page)

With a quick bend, he picked it up and turned back. I shivered at his closeness and the contact with his skin when he pressed it into my hand.

“I told you, I didn’t really want one…”

“You know what we need, Scar?” He cut off my protest and tipped his head down to mine. “We need closure.”

“Closure?”

“I miss you. I miss
us
. The way we used to be.” He continued to hold my hand, and his whisper stirred the fine hairs against my hairline. “I fucked up. And you know I’m sorry about that. I wished for so long we could find our way back. But if we’re not going to… We need to make a better last memory.”

My thoughts shifted to the barn, wondering if he was referring to sex, and before I could wonder too long, he confirmed it.

“One thing I hate, I mean really hate, to the point of obsessing about it constantly, is that the last time—our last memory of us
together.
It was hot. But shit, I was fucking fuckin’ you like a beast. And then it all went bad from there.” He dropped my hand but ran his fingers up my wrist, up my arm to my elbow and then down again. “I think I could deal a lot easier—we both could—if the last time was not a wall bang in a barn.” And then his thumb brushed my lips in that old familiar way, sending a jolt of lightning down to my belly and then farther. “If it was as sweet as it was hot…”

Could I do it? Bang Gage, knowing it was for one time only?

Yes!
My body screamed, and acting on no will of my own, my tongue darted out, tasting his thumb.

T
he intimate caress to the tip of his thumb caused a shiver to wrack his frame, yet at the same time, liquid fire lapped every cell of his body. Fuck, he had missed her tongue.

Just as much, he’d missed the look in her eyes when he touched her like that, when he kissed her… His chin instinctively dipped, but he curbed the instinct, waiting.

What he’d suggested was either the smartest proposition of his life or proof how much of a self-indulgent ass a former rock star could be. Later, when he looked in the mirror and reflected his intentions, he never settled on a clear answer. Not that he cared.

All he cared about was possessing her again. And in the process, getting Scarlette fuckin’ Conterra fantasies out of his system once and for all, so they could be best sibling-like friends. Her blues were partially hidden beneath her thick lashes for the longest as she evaded his eyes in favor of her slide on sneakers. Her lids lifted, but she stared beyond him, and he rubbed his dampened thumb into her lips. Finally, her eyes met his gaze, and she tongue lashed his thumb again, this time drawing it into her mouth with a suckle and holding it with her teeth for a moment.

He jerked his thumb from the heavenly ministrations of her mouth, and his lips crashed to hers, eager to replace his digit with his tongue. His fingers splayed the sides of her head, forking into her hair as he slanted his lips across hers and a guttural groan escaped the recesses of his soul when their tongues clashed.

The kiss was as wild as it was sweet. The force of it sent her stumbling backward, but he held her steady and groaned yet again when she clutched his shoulders for support. Her back hit the door and then her head settled into the groove of one of the panels. They fed and fueled on one another’s kiss. Her head was still in his hands when he drew back just far enough to ask, “So, yes?”

Her breathing was as labored as his was, and he drowned in the beauty of her flushed cheeks and passion-steeped eyes. A flicker of impatience crossed her expression, and unable to reach his lips, she kissed his throat. The heavenly slide of her lips and tongue made it to the hollow above his collar bone before he lost it and used her ponytail to tip her face back to his, capturing her mouth again. His fingers worked her shorts, and he hooked her panties, dragging until both garments hit her ankles. Inhaling the scent of her as he nipped at her neck, he pushed at his jeans when he felt his belt part under her hands. His fingers dug into her fine ass, reacquainting with the curves and valleys. Tracing the heat of her slit, he swallowed her whimper into their next kiss, and then her yelp when he plunged his fingers into the warm wetness that was all his. “So wet for me.”

Unable to wait, he knelt a bit and in one smooth movement replaced his fingers with his cock. Gripping her, he pulled her up with him, and cursed with familiar satisfaction when her legs wrapped him. When their rhythm had her wedged to the wall, her shoulders and head bumping, he managed some sort of thought process, enough to swing them around and still locked together dump her onto the tall bed. She released her arms from his neck, but not the grip of her legs and he straightened, maintaining his hold as he continued to rock her. Strands of her hair had escaped the ponytail and lay in wild disarray on the bed and clothing around her face. Beneath the sleeveless blouse, her tits bounced and he wished he’d taken the extra half a minute to rip the garment from her body. His mouth watered, missing what he hadn’t taken the time to taste.

Her head bumped his bag enough to send it over the opposite edge of the mattress, and her fingers curved, reflexively clutching the cord to his charger. Her eyes held his, the lids half closed. Hiking her legs up a bit higher, he angled his thrust and growled in satisfaction when those blues rolled back into their sockets and she screamed his name. Again, and again she shrieked, mixing his name with unintelligible syllables of gibberish. And then she was simply screaming. His ears thundered with his own pulse and he bit the tip of his tongue to hold himself back until he felt her legs tremble for the second time. With a roar of his own, he slammed himself to her as he came, and it was then he noticed as if in an alternate reality, the condoms settling from their bounce all over the bed.

The multi facets of irony in what had just happened didn’t escape him.

The condom he’d placed in her hand was unopened on the floor behind him somewhere.

Once again, they’d fucked like animals.

And he was no closer to giving her up as a lover and having her back as a sister.

“S
on of a bitch.”

At his curse, I drug my eyes open and couldn’t keep from moving my chin enough to nuzzle the dark damp strands of hair resting against my face. He’d collapsed crossways on the bed with me, and one of his legs lay intimately between mine.

Lifting his head, he eyed his task as he worked a few of my blouse buttons from their slots. His fingers stroked the valley between my breasts and then the swell of each. Dipping beneath my bra, he tugged at one of the achy taunt nipples. His words were breathy. “That didn’t exactly go as planned.”

Meaning we’d screwed like wild animals again? True dat. But I couldn’t add my amen yet. My limbs were still rubbery and my lips wouldn’t part.

“Want to go again?” He’d liberated one of my girls from the confines of the bra and now we both watched as he toyed with it. My heart slammed against my ribs, but I controlled my breathing.

“Whatever.” I gave in to the urge to tease him with words as much as he was teasing me with touch. “We can have a do-over if you want to.”

His gaze darted to mine, and I saw the flicker of hurt before he aptly read the sass in my eyes. “We don’t have to.” He pressed a finger between my lips, wetting it and brought it back to his playground. “If you don’t want to.” The cool air of the room bathed the damp tip, making my body long for his mouth, not his hand.

Summoning every ounce of my sapped strength, I rolled to him, running a hand up beneath his tee shirt, stopping on what I sought. I smiled in gratification to hear his groan when my fingers circled one of his nipples. “Want to take a shower? Play it by ear?”

It was a game we’d had between us in the past and my memories flickered pleasantly within the lobes of my brain.

Want to fuck? Maybe. Come swimming with me. We’ll play it by ear.

Want your dick sucked? Oh, I don’t know… Let’s take a shower. Play it by ear.

Which of course, ‘playing it by ear’ had never been a serious option. Sex had always been the agenda from the beginning of any of our wordplay. As it was now.

Grabbing my hand, he tugged me upright, and we sprinted to the bathroom. A push shoved the door closed. We stripped the vestiges of our clothing in record time—socks, shirts, and my bra. He adjusted the shower and we stepped over the side of the tub and wrapped together beneath the spray.

His head dipped and I groaned when our lips meshed. Not that anything was on my mind now except the familiar fire burning through my every vein and capillary, but I’d already conceded some time ago that no kiss would ever be as good as the ones Gage and I shared. Our kiss was every bit as hungry as the one that had begun the crazy out of control ride in the bedroom. His mouth consumed mine and our tongues slipped and slid together in all of the ecstatic ways I remembered…

Until he stopped, and forcefully set me away.

In the lighting of this room, his eyes took on a whiskey hue as they skimmed from the lips he’d just kissed to my toes, which almost touched his. My body reacted as if it were his hands instead of his languid look caressing it. My nipples hardened, heat pooled into a wet ache between my legs, and the goose flesh prickled my skin.

Reaching out, he traced a finger down my chest and stopped at the sensitive patch of skin just below a slight bikini line leftover from days in his pool more than a year ago. “I love looking at you…”

“Ditto…” I slid both hands up hard flat abs and moved closer to glide them around to his backside. “New ink?” With my tongue, I traced the half-opened rose and its charred petals positioned in the center of his breastbone among all the barbed wire music staffs and notes I remembered.

“Like it?”

“Mmh, hmm.”

He ran a finger down the conclave of my chest. “Um, earlier, I didn’t ask and should have. You still okay this way?” His other hand remained on his own body and encircled around those long thick inches of pleasure. An answering throb or two pulsed between my thighs. At first, I misunderstood what he was asking, remembering all the times he’d indulged my voyeuristic side. But his next words cleared things up. “With nothing between us…”

He was speaking of condoms.

Unwillingly, an ugly reminder flickered through my mind of the woman—his ex—Allison or whatever her name had been. And of the throngs of women I’d seen throw themselves at him.

“Should I be?” I countered and watched a scowl shadow his face.

His answer was immediate and earnest. “I’ve never gone without—except with you.” Grazing his fingertips up my stomach, he tweaked the tip of one breast. “I was asking about you.”

“Me?” I drew in an indignant breath, and a twinge of anger coursed through me, knowing Derrick had been my only lover in so long. “Seriously? Me.” He had no way of knowing my lack of a sex life and yet the buzz of anger became a flurry of fury.

“Birth control, Scar.” His agitated fingers left my body and forked into his wet hair. “That’s all I was asking. Believe me. I don’t want to know anything else.”

Any
one
else, he obviously meant.

“There’s nothing else to know,” I snapped. “Way to kill the mood, by the way.”

“I got plenty of mood right here…” He closed in, surrounding me with his expanse of ink and muscle. His callused hands landed on and possessively squeezed my rear while his hard dick smashed against the soft skin of my front.

It became a give and take match of mouths to skin with Gage winning—when he wanted to. The scruff on his chin was heaven against the most sensitive expanses of my skin. His lips brushed each trail he blazed until I was delirious. The taste of him was something I’d hungered for, far too long. The laps of his tongue here, there, everywhere, fed my craze.

We played against the tiled walls, and at some point, ended up horizontal, stretched out in the tub as the spray of endless lukewarm water rained down. The bathroom acoustics echoed our every moan, groan, and whimper in a sinfully sexy way.