Hung Out: A Needles and Pins Rock Romance (7 page)

“But he didn’t. He liked you. He wasn’t going after you like he does some people.”

“Why did this have to happen now? The stupid video? I tried not to give a fuck about that video. I really did. I thought I was okay with it, even if it never went away…” Her voice trailed. “We were so stupid.”

The pain in his heart was so emotional it was physical. He heard a tell-tale sniffle and realized she was hurting as badly. “Are you crying?”

“No.”

“Let’s Face Time, okay? I’m gonna hang up and call you―”

“No!”

Yep. Definitely crying. Another stab jabbed his chest, his eyes had a mysterious ache, and his throat hurt when he spoke. “If I told you I was sorry for that night, I’d be lying. I remember how your hair felt blowing all over my skin… The mix of the surf pounding with the sound of you coming. Everything was perfect, Scar. Perfect.” Since his only extreme emotion had been anger for so long, he was surprising himself more and more with such revelations, especially to the degree of the next one. “And when you looked at me afterward, I saw it in your eyes. Love.” His signal dropped some, and he moved to the window. “I’m sorry for the shit you’re going through because of it. But I’m strangely conflicted when it comes to trying to be sorry that perfect moment is on video. What I am sorry about is that some jackass put it on the internet when I would have paid everything I had for it to be for our eyes only.”

“It was a perfect night,” she agreed, and some of the stressful weights banding his chest released. “I need to stop letting other people ruin it for me.”

“No one can ruin it. It’s ours, honey. And hopefully it will be pulled for good from the sites. But whether it is or isn’t, the hype is going to die down.”

Her breaths evened out and her voice seemed calmer. “It was perfect, wasn’t it?”

“Damn straight.” His curse was a reverent vow, and then he dropped his voice even though he was alone. “Want to watch it with me?”

The seconds ticked like a click track. One. Two. Three. Four. A few more. And then…

“Uh huh. Okay.”

They each did a search and hit play.

“You’re beautiful.”

“So are you.”

Deciding not to take offense at being dubbed beautiful, because together, they truly were, he swiped the screen, zooming in some. “He was right, you know. This tops Tom and Pam’s.” Or any other leaked or planted sex clip on the internet.

He waited, ready if she disagreed to bait her into a smile by pretending to take it personally. After all, he could measure up—he’d been just as blessed with rock-star-cock.

Her agreeable “Mmh hmm” against his ear was breathy—either fatigued or intrigued.

“Scar?”

“Hmm?”

“Wanna come visit?” He’d told her he didn’t want her to see him in this place, but suddenly another couple of months without her seemed an eternity.

T
he heels of my snakeskin pumps made a quiet plunk with each step on the slate floor. My eyes were partially hidden behind shades that had conformed to the indoor lighting. I kept my gaze down on the colorful pattern swirling the tiles. Blues, browns, golds. The décor was very Aztec with rug hangings, scattered woven blankets, and large clay vases dotting corners, and either side of a massive stone fireplace in the great room.

Feeling eyes on me, I lifted my chin and curved a practiced smile. This was my fourth visit. Shady Oasis was no stranger to celebrities in the form of patients or their families, but still an atmosphere buzzed around my entrance. After a quick sweep of the room, I headed to an unoccupied section, nodding as I passed at the few I’d chatted with before. Smoothing the back of my dress, I lowered into one of the two rocking chairs and waited.

I had already sent a text before stepping from the cab, and I turned my screen on to see if any had come through during my walk in.

“Excuse me. You’re Scarlette Conterra.” The young woman was beautiful. When she raised her hand to tuck a wavy strand of hair behind her ear, the patient band on her wrist slipped a couple of inches down her forearm.

“I am.” I nodded, and flexed an inquiring smile.

Anyone in here who knew music, knew who I was.

Social media recluses who hadn’t seen headlines like
A Dead Ringer For Her Dad, Rock and Roll Lovechild Inherits Billions
, or more embarrassingly from the sex tape scandal
Blended Family Affairs. Siblings or Lovers?
still knew who I was. Girlfriend of the resident rock star, whatever his name was.

“I’m Andrea. I just wanted to say hi. It’s great to meet you. Gage never stops talking about you.”

“Gage talks to you about me?” With fame, I had remained grounded, solid. But I had been overexposed to distinctive personalities and mimicked some of these personas at will. Right now, I arched a brow and put on my best snooty air. I couldn’t help it. The girl was gorgeous. And thinking of Gage talking to her—shining his ‘engaging’ smile on her—did ugly things.

“To everyone, actually. All good things. Don’t worry.” A nervous giggle expelled with Andrea’s next breath. “Anyway. Have a good visit.” The last part was accompanied by a blush, and she hurried away.

It was nuts. I had actually thought ahead enough to imagine Gage going about his musician life while I was putting in long hours at the university. Playing in his cover band. Or joining another band. Having friends over to swim while I wasn’t home. And yes, in the last few months, his house had felt like home. But I had never dreamed I had to worry about what he would be doing in rehab.

“Scar Dar’!” His husky voice vibrated my ear, and his breath sent a heated shiver through my limbs. He’d come up behind me, and I leaned back, enjoying his hard body. I jumped when he bit my ear, and when my head turned away in self-defense, he claimed my lips as smoothly as if he had executed the plan that way. Restraint manifested in a clench of his fingers to my arms when he respectively forced space between our lips.

Rules. I’d only skimmed them, but I was sure they included no macking like horny teens in the common room during visiting hours.

“How’s my dog?”

I pulled a semblance of the face I’d shown Andréa. “Rascal’s fine. And so am I. Thanks for asking.”

“I’m fine too.” He saw my arched brow and raised me one. “Thanks for asking.”

A giggle bubbled to the surface, and suddenly I was laughing and he right along with me.

Hooking a finger into the silver cuff bracelet, he tugged until I was a breath away again. Instead of kissing me, he said, “Let’s go for a walk.”

We held hands as we took a trail around the pool area and began down the slope toward the lake in the far distance. Looking at our entwined fingers, I couldn’t help but see the symbolism of stark reality—the change from when I’d shown up at his door. My bracelet was silver, adorned with designer engravings, while his was vinyl, decorated with his patient ID and specifics.

When we’d walked for more than ten minutes, I slowed. Looking at my feet, he stopped me and held his hand out. “Give ’em.”

“My shoes? No. It’s okay. I didn’t know, or I would have worn something else. But they’re fine.” The last times we’d stayed close, either around the pool or in the recreation room.

“Scar, just step out of ’em.” He tugged on my ankle. “This bike trail is paved almost all the way down.” I kicked them off, and he straightened with them in one hand, and reclaimed my hand with his other.

He seemed to be headed toward a large stable and gave my wrist an impatient tug when I dallied too long at a fence exclaiming over paint horses. The paved trail had ended, but the sand was soft and dry beneath my soles.

We kept up a nonstop chatter, but when we entered the huge empty barn, I quieted while taking it in. The horse stalls were empty. He led me beyond them and turned a corner. The sandy floor became a rough stone floor and he paused before a door, whipping a key from his pocket. After a furtive look around, he unlocked the door, pulled me through it, before closing and relocking it behind us. His sneaky manner alerted me. This had been no casual walk around the grounds. Natural lighting filtered through a window at the end of the hall, enough for me to tip my face to his in silent surprise and see his return smirk.

We passed what looked like a few offices, and at the window, he turned to a stairwell. I followed him up and found we were in a large loft. A huge opening was on the outside wall, and through it, was a magnificent view of the grounds and lake. An open half wall across from it overlooked the inside of the barn. Across on the far side of the barn, I saw an identical open window. A cross draft flowed through—obviously part of the architectural planning.

I turned back to the outside view, and when he nudged me closer to the outside wall, away from view of anyone entering the barn, I considered the key and realized his clandestine motives even before he nuzzled his face in my neck.

“This is why I asked you to wear a dress…” He spoke against my skin. “Damn, you smell good.” I shivered when his tongue swabbed the crook at my shoulder. “Taste good, too…”

Holy shit, it had been so long. My panties were already warm and wet. “How did you pull this off?” I put it out of my mind that conjugal visits were absolutely not allowed. I knew because Gage had asked the first day he’d come to check the place out and do paperwork!

“Money makes friends in high places.” He swiveled me to face him and hungrily claimed my lips. “Damn, I’ve been dreaming of this kiss—a
real
kiss.”

“Friends in high places?” I spoke around his tongue. “Like the stable?”

“Like one of the grooms,” he concurred. “Now shut it, and kiss me!”

Our tongues clashed, and he sucked the breath from my lungs. After kissing thoroughly, he slowed things enough to tickle and tease with his rock star kisses. By now, I was a pro with these techniques and pressed closer when I had him groaning. My senses were so enamored with the taste of him that I barely registered his fingers beneath my dress until he jerked my panties down.

“Unbutton this…” With a trail of his finger, he indicated the front of the dress.

“You do it,” I retorted, unwilling to remove my hands, which were tunneled beneath his tee exploring the sinewy muscles he’d developed during his stay.

“I would, but I need a taste. Fuck, it’s been so long.” He knelt as he spoke, and his head disappeared beneath the loose skirt of the dress.

My knees almost buckled with the first swipe of his tongue and a cry ripped through my throat.

“Scar,” he spoke from the tent of fabric. “You gotta stay quiet.”

So matter of fact was his tone, as if he was shushing me in a movie theater. A hysterical giggle was the next threat to the silence—for about one second. Doing a damn good job of holding back a moan, I took another look at our surroundings, realizing although we couldn’t be seen in the corner we’d adjourned to, we could very easily be heard should someone come into the barn. “I won’t be able to… You can’t…”

“Just for a minute.” And done with wasting time talking, he turned his attention back to me.

I managed to swallow the next scream and concentrated on the feel of the wall digging into my shoulder blades. He held one leg, lifting it and parting me to him more, and when I whimpered, he sank his teeth into my thigh in warning. The pain only increased the pleasure. Trying to make my mind work enough to think of another distraction, I tipped my head back, staring into the rafters.

“I’m gonna come…” I whispered the warning.

“Don’t… Not yet…”

The vibration of his voice intimately against me was almost my undoing. More thoughts. Like, shit, I had only done the most basic of manicuring down there with summer being over, him being gone, and classes consuming my time. Embarrassing. Right. You’d think. But somehow, I didn’t care. All I cared about from second to second was what his tongue and lips were doing next. Each time I made a sound, he paused to bite the inside of my leg, enough once to bring a sting of tears to my eyes. Why in heaven was the pain with the pleasure so erotic? My fingers twisted in his hair, which had grown so long, and I gave it a yank with each painful nip.

“You unbuttoned yet?”

“No… oh…”

“Tell me when you are…”

“And you’ll stop?” I was already ripping the first button from its slit. He didn’t stop the delicious swirls of his wicked tongue to answer. Two more buttons free. Not that I wanted him to stop, but I’d already heard sounds just outside and was biting the inside of my lip to remain quiet. Last button, and I called it as I was undoing it. “Done!”

He tongue-lashed me one last time before relaxing his hold on my leg, and I almost collapsed in a haze of ecstasy. His hair was sticking out in all directions. He dipped his hands into my bra and lifted the girls out, lavishing them with enough attention to have me throbbing almost as heatedly as if he were still between my legs.

A vibration of a moan filled my throat, and I fumbled with the fly of his jeans as a diversion. Hooking my fingers into the waistband, I used the momentum of sliding down the wall to peel them down, and then overly excited to have him huge and hard before me, shoved the denim all the way to the floor.