The Song Remains the Same (42 page)

“We’re getting off the subject.”

“You started it,” he grunted.

“Well, what I was trying to tell you was that maybe Brigid using heroin
wasn’t
so ridiculous. Maybe losing you did hurt her enough to want to find a way to dull the pain. I could relate to that, okay? But, in the end, it was her choice, and that sort of blame shouldn’t be laid at your feet.”

“I wonder if I could’ve prevented her from takin’ her own life, like maybe if I had been nicer about the whole thing. I was a bit of a dick—”

“So was she,” I huffed under my breath.

He gave me a lopsided grin. “Yeah, she was. But still…”

“Still, I should’ve realized she was unhinged. I knew that she was using.”

“It’s the worst for Devon,” he said softly.

“I think, when she realized that she wouldn’t be able to just snap her fingers and fix things between them, she just…gave up on everything. She couldn’t have you, she couldn’t have him, and she was fucked in the head from whatever shit she had gone through with the Cannibals.”

Phil nodded, lightly tracing his fingers around the outer curve of my breast and down my rib cage. Scooting closer, he slid his arm around my waist and pulled me into his warmth. Distracted by his thick cock pressing into my abdomen, I automatically pushed into it.

“Do you want it?” he asked, his voice deep and smooth.

“D-do you?”

Motherfucker could make me breathless and incoherent, even after being together for more than a year.

“I always want you,” he replied. “I could spend the rest of my life inside you.” He pulled my thigh up over his hip. Positioning himself, he dragged my body against him as he thrust forward.

Nothing else felt so
right
. He pulled me even closer, so our chests pressed together. Still, he watched me, searching…

“I am sorry she’s gone,” he said. “But I said my good-byes a long time ago. She hurt you, and she tried her damnedest to hurt us. It’s hard for me to forgive her for that.”

He was so deep inside me that I could hardly concentrate on what he was saying.

All I could get out was a gasped, “Okay.”

Slowly, he pulled out until only the head of him remained inside, and then he just as slowly pushed back in. The centers of his eyes expanded, swallowing up the maple-sugar irises.

His voice taking on rich dimensions that warmed parts of me not often recognized, he said, “You’re my other half. The only way my life makes any sense is if you’re in it.”

“Something like that…” I breathed.

His gaze was so intense that I wasn’t sure I’d be able to hold it for much longer.

“
Exactly
like that,” he stated.

After sleeping in until ten in the morning, Phil and I headed out for food and coffee and…
shopping
. He was like a chick with the shopping shit, insisting on getting me a whole wardrobe of warm clothing.

“We live in Louisiana,” I reminded him.

“For the most part, yeah, but we’ve been traveling around a lot, and…”

“And?”

He grinned wickedly.

The “and” turned out to be Phil taking me to a gorgeous, huge apartment. At first, I was clueless as to why we were even there.

“What do you think?” he asked.

It was clean with bright white walls and pinewood floors and spacious with a killer kitchen and a wrought-iron spiral staircase that led up to the bedrooms. “It’s beautiful.”

“You want it?”

Startled, I turned my eyes on him. “What?”

“I was thinkin’ of gettin’ us a place here. There’s always one or two of us flyin’ here for somethin’ or other, and I was hopin’ you’d want to come here more often and check out the music scene.”

“Oh.”

“So…you want this one?”

I looked around again, absolutely loving the place. “Yeah. Yeah, it’s really awesome, babe.”

“Thank fuck. I already put an offer in,” he said, jingling the keys. “The realtor should be here any second, and I’ll tell them we’ll take it.”

“Damn. Just like that?”

“Just like that,” he replied with a smile.

The realtor was more than thrilled, and the place was ready to move into straightaway. Phil signed the contracts, putting the place in
my
name, and wrote a check for
ten and a half million
dollars. Then, we were given the keys.

“Wanna go pick out some furniture? We’ve got a few hours before we meet up with Stephen and Tara.”

“Uh…yeah. Sure,” I replied, still stunned.

Heading to various shops, we bought some big brown leather couches, a pine-and-glass coffee table, and pine dining room table and chairs. For shits and giggles, Phil bought professional cookware and appliances. All of it would be delivered the next day, including the massive king-sized bed and frame.

“We’ll get the rest of the shit we need tomorrow,” he told me. “But seriously, I can’t take those fuckin’ colors Stephen has goin’ on in their place.”

I had to agree with him there.

We headed back to the tastefully garish penthouse apartment, showered, and got dressed for an evening out. Phil looked fantastic in his usual get-up of dark green Dickies and a black button-down shirt. He’d also been growing out his beard, which I loved even though it hid his dimples. His hair was getting seriously long, and his man bun looked fat.

“You look gorgeous, Baby Girl,” he warmly told me, his eyes sparkling, as he took in my dark denim skinny jeans, knee-high brown boots, and the new emerald-colored cashmere sweater he’d just bought for me.

I had pulled my hair up into a fancy ponytail and applied some eye shadow and mascara.

“Thanks. So do you,” I replied.

“I’m a fuckin’ lucky bastard.”

Smiling, I took his hand, lacing our fingers. “I’m the lucky one, babe. You’re my wildest dream come true.”

He sucked in a deep breath, and I knew that look—hot, raw, and sensual. He was gearing up to undo all the work I had just put into making myself look presentable.

“Later, babe,” I admonished.

Pulling me close, he brought his face a breath away from mine. “Give me a taste now.”

Nipples tight, crotch damp, I found myself being pulled into his chest by the force of the magnetism between us. My arms slipped around his neck, and I pushed my aching tits into his warmth. His mouth slanted over mine, tasting wonderful on my tongue. I groaned as he growled. Sliding a hand over the curve of my ass, he reached and pressed his fingers into my denim-clad burning center.

“Fuck, you’re hot,” he murmured against my lips. “I wanna eat the fuck outta you.”

“Stop it,” I whispered.

He knew I was a sucker for his filthy mouth.

Grinning, he quickly kissed me once more, and then he led the way out to the living room where Stephen and Tara were waiting for us. The four of us went out for a fantastic dinner before heading to a club to check out some of the local talent.

At least, I had
thought
we were checking out the talent.

We were taken to a VIP section and sat at a curved booth by a hostess in a really short black skirt and tube top. Smiling and batting her eyes, she touched my man a little too much for my liking, and she all but melted when he smiled at her and asked for four shots of Jäger and beer. She had boobs, too—big ones that seemed to be in a constant state of jiggle.

“Looks like Brandy has it bad for Phil,” Tara hissed in my ear, glaring at the woman’s sashaying ass as she made her way to the bar with our drink order.

“Was that her name?” I asked.

Phil pulled me into the booth, tucking me under his arm and into his side. He was in a really good mood and seemed overly excited for some reason.

“What’s up with you?” I asked, feeling my mouth tug up into a smile when I met his sparkling eyes.

“What do you mean?” he asked, trying to play it off and grinning when he couldn’t.

“I mean, you’re bouncing around like Brandy’s boobs.” I laughed.

Then, I was greeted by the woman herself, dropping off our drinks and scowling at me. She wasn’t so cute with that sour look on her face.

Craning his neck and smiling, Phil pointed across the VIP room at a woman who had just walked in and was looking around. “That’s the reason I’m bouncin’ like titties.”

The woman was stunning. Dressed similarly to myself in jeans and a sweater, she had thick, curly red hair loosely pulled back into a bun and a minimal amount of makeup on her face. She didn’t need it. She had flawless skin, a sweet rosebud mouth that was a natural berry color, and softly flushed cheeks.

Phil waved at her from behind my head. She caught the movement, and her dark eyes lit up. Her smile was simply breathtaking, and I felt a swift pang of jealousy.

This woman, more than any big-breasted hostess named Brandy, could pose a threat to my confidence. If I was Phil’s type, then so was this woman. Hell,
I’d
sleep with her.

“Hey, guys!” she said as she approached the table.

Stephen and Tara gave her a friendly greeting.

Her eyes shifted from Phil’s beaming face to my politely curious one. “Is this your Baby Girl then?”

“The one and only,” replied Phil, holding out his hand to shake hers.

Her warm brown eyes met mine, and she smiled and held out her hand for a shake, which I accepted, highly suspicious.

“Hi, I’m Mike O’Flaherty—”

Gasping, I cried, “Shut the fuck up!”

“Have a seat, Mike,” said Phil.

“You’ve heard of me?” she asked as she sat across the booth from me.

“You’re only one of
the greatest
music journalists! I think I’ve read every article you’ve published. I thought you might have quit since I haven’t seen anything from you in a while.”

“Mike’s been more behind the scenes, I think, right?” said Phil.

She smiled. “Been doing a lot more editing than writing for the magazine. My schedule got a bit screwed for a while, and I couldn’t travel as easily.”

“Wow,” I breathed. “I can’t believe I’m actually meeting you.”

“Baby Girl, you weren’t even half this excited when we met,” huffed Phil.

“Were
you
?” Mike asked Phil.

“When I met Kenna, I nearly had a heart attack. I was
that
fuckin’ excited. She was like a damn cucumber, actin’ all cool—well, except she had some sweaty-ass hands.”

Tara and Stephen busted out laughing while my face went up in flames.

“So, are you conducting an interview with these guys, or…”

Mike swung her eyes to Phil. “You didn’t tell her?”

“Nope. I like surprisin’ her.”

“Tell me what?” My heart rate accelerated tenfold.

Mike smiled. “I’ve read your reviews—”

“What?” I gasped, suddenly wanting the ground to open up and swallow me—right after I punched Phil in the throat.

“Phil has been sending me your reviews of the up-and-coming talents, and I wanted to meet you.”

“I…okay,” I replied, feeling woozy and light-headed after the blinding rush of embarrassment.

“I like your style, the sophistication of your writing. I think it’s something I’d like to work with and promote. You have a brilliant way of expressing the music in words, and I think it’d be worth it to give you a shot. Your grammar is top-notch. I’d hardly have to edit a thing.”

My jaw hanging open, I swiveled to look up into the smiling face of my Dark God of the Universe. Pride and adoration just poured off him. It made my heart trip in my chest, feeling how much faith he had in me.

“I’ve got an interview with tonight’s headliner in about an hour,” said Mike.

My attention was pulled back to her.

“Would you like to join me?”

“I would love to.”

“Awesome,” she said, smiling.

Two hours later, Mike and I were exchanging phone numbers and email addresses, and we headed over to where Phil was hanging with a few other famous musicians, Dean, the guitarist for Black Prophecy, and his girlfriend, Robin, among them.

Phil’s face brightened when he caught sight of me. “How did it go?” he asked, holding out his hand to me and pulling me in close.

“She was great,” said Mike, a dazzling smile aimed my way. “We’ll be in touch.”

“You’re leavin’?” asked Phil.