I lower my head, hiding a smile.
Then I try to hide a blush when he adds in the barest voice, only for me, “Sex with you, J.”
Stone wins the next hand, and he tosses a question at me. “Does it ever bother you to be on the road so much?”
“I miss LA, but I’ve been on the road for a while and I think I’m pretty adaptable, so I don’t mind it at all.”
“That’s your superpower. You’re adaptable.”
“I think it’s one of them. What about you? Do you love the road?”
“I do. But I’ve been on it a long time. I love LA too.” He stabs his finger against the felt table. “Ask me another question.”
I frown. “Is that how this works? I thought the asker got to pick. You’re so demanding.”
“Yes, but do me a solid. Ask me what my next song is. The song I’ve been working on.”
I don’t know exactly what he’s getting at, but judging from the way his eyes sparkle, I’m pretty sure it’s someplace I want to go. “What’s your next song?”
His grin is crooked, pleased, but a touch nervous too. “It’s called ‘The Guy in the Picture.’”
His gaze holds mine.
I slip back in time, and like it was yesterday, he’s looking at the shot of me with my sister and saying those words. Telling me, for all intents and purposes, he’s going to write a song for me.
Now, here we are, and he is writing it.
My chest tingles, then those tingles spread to my entire being, to my soul. “Would I like the song?”
For a sliver of a second, nerves flash across his irises. But they’re gone in a heartbeat. He straightens his shoulders. “I hope so. It’s for you.”
For the first time in my whole entire life, I swoon.
My head is an electric haze.
I want to haul him into my arms, kiss him in front of the entire casino, and tell anyone who’ll listen that he’s mine. All mine.
I clench my fists so I stay still. “I want to hear it.”
“I’ll play it for you soon. I promise.” He leans closer to me. I catch the ocean breeze scent of his hair, and I nearly lose my mind. His voice is a barren whisper. “Do you want to go?”
“Yes. Now.”
We leave, and once we’re in the elevator, we move to opposite sides of it.
I grip the railing behind me. He does the same. But we stare at each other—with heat, longing, and something brand-new. The admission that I’m the guy in the picture.
That’s who I want to be.
28
Stone
I’m buzzed as the door falls shut.
My skin is singing, my cells longing for him. I launch myself at Jackson, pushing him against the wall, slamming my body against his.
Frenzied and fevered, I’m driven by all the things we said, and all the things I still want to say.
Everything I want to tell him. Everything I’m putting down in a song.
But how do I give voice to this cyclone of emotions clawing through me? To all this newness?
I don’t know, so instead I kiss him the way I feel.
We kiss like fireworks, like an anthem, like lightning and thunder and summer rain.
When we break apart, I drag a hand down his shirt, my breath coming hard. “Did you think about fucking me all day?”
He growls his answer as he wraps his arms around me. “I always do.”
“I thought about you onstage tonight. I think about you offstage too. All the time. I can’t get you out of my head, J,” I say, trying that on for size, taking steps to telling him how much I feel for him.
His lips quirk into a dirty grin. “Sounds like tonight would be the perfect night to edge you, then.”
My skin sizzles. My bones practically hum at the prospect. “Would you?”
Jackson loops a hand around my waist, hauls me in close, and yanks me against his firm body. “Would I? Do you not get it? I want to do everything with you, to you, for you.”
I groan, sparking everywhere at his promises. They sound like more than sex. They sound like he wants to be the guy in the picture.
Right now, though, my body is plugged in, and my body gets priority. My desires are cranked high. I need to touch him and to be touched.
I run a thumb down his jaw, tracing his carved features. “Edge me.”
He lets go of my waist, holding up one finger. “One rule.”
“Hit me up.” I’d probably agree to anything right now.
He clasps my face, holding me in both hands. His touch feels wildly possessive. “Do you trust me?”
I don’t have to think twice. The answer is self-evident. “Completely.”
“That’s the only rule, then. Just trust me to take care of you.”
“I do.”
Tonight feels like we’re running to the edge of the cliff and jumping into the ocean.
And I’m shouting in excitement as I fall.
We start in the shower, turning the water as hot as it can go. It beats down on both of us as we rinse off the day, getting clean. Jackson turns me around, lines up his chest against my back, and slides his hands down my arms.
I shiver from the brush of his body as I heat up inside. His hands reach mine, and he pushes my palms against the tiled wall.
“Stay like that,” he murmurs.
“I will.”
Closing my eyes, I relish the sensory overload—the sounds of the water, the heat of the shower, the feel of him.
His big palms skate down my body, and I shudder at the way they travel along my frame. His hands meld to me, covering me, curling over my ass, brushing down my thighs, then up again. He loops his hands around my waist, travels them up to my pecs, and grips them.
He pushes his strong chest against me, and I moan, lowering my head so I can sink into the feel of him.
He paints a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses along my neck, but he doesn’t stay there for long. His hands return to my back, roaming lower, then between my legs, cupping my balls.
There’s a noise. The sound of Jackson’s knees touching the tile. He’s on the floor.
I shudder with anticipation.
I know what he’s going to do, and I want it so badly. Desire winds down my spine. Filthy images flash before me as my cock hardens impossibly more.
“Yes,” I moan, before he even touches me with his lips.
Just knowing he’s going to is enough to make me throb.
I am aching.
My whole body is screaming out for him. Longing for what’s next.
He bites my ass, and I groan. He nibbles on my flesh, nipping at the musical notes, humming as he goes. More bites and nips and kisses. Like he’s marking me all over.
Lower, then lower.
And then, wicked bliss begins.
He flicks his tongue down my ass, and I shiver. I’m going to die of pleasure.
“J,” I groan.
My lover presses his mouth to me, and it is torture. Beautiful, exquisite torture.
Electricity flares in my veins, sparking, sizzling.
Sensations rocket through me.
His tongue is soft and eager.
So intimate and so deliciously dirty.
I can’t form words. I can’t speak. I can only moan, because this is phenomenal.