Speaking of the devil, while Grayson’s hold music filtered into my ear, I watched Jason walk down the stairs and head into the kitchen. When he saw me sitting at the table he nodded and smiled, staring down at the hint of cleavage peaking out of my tank top for a second longer than necessary. Well, well, well… maybe I wasn’t the only one craving round two.
“Yes. Hi Brooklyn, Grayson says he’s very busy right now and can’t talk.”
What a shocker.
“Beatrice, could you tell him it’s an emergency?” I asked, knowing that would get him. I used that trick at least once a month, but it never ceased to work. He never wanted to ignore me on the off chance that this time it could actually be an emergency.
Jason glanced over his shoulder, eyeing me up and down. Once the hold music kicked on again, I shook my head at him. “It’s not a real emergency.”
He laughed. “Of course not.”
I watched him spoon some sugar into his coffee before he came to sit across from me at the table. Apparently since I was making a call in the middle of a kitchen, I didn’t deserve any privacy.
“Can I try a sip of your coffee?” I asked. He’d added a little bit of milk once he’d sat down, and for once I thought it might taste better than my black version.
He eyed me curiously, but then slid the cup over. Holding the phone to my ear with one hand, I used the other to grab the mug and took a sip. The second it hit my tongue I could feel my taste buds shriveling up from how sweet it was.
“Jesus, did you put the whole cup of sugar in there?” I asked, handing it back over.
He grinned. “Are you asking me or Jesus?”
I rolled my eyes. “That is such a dad joke.”
“Hello, Grayson speaking.”
Oh, shit. I waved my hand at Jason to let him know to stop talking, but he just readjusted in his seat, making it so his foot was resting against mine. If I weren’t on the phone with another man, it’d feel like we were enjoying a breakfast together like a couple or something.
I gulped down the idea.
“Brooklyn? Are you there?”
“Oh, yes. Hi Grayson!” I tried to focus on the phone call.
“Tell me, are you missing a leg or an arm?” Grayson asked.
“No,” I shook my head, realizing Jason could hear every word of our phone call.
“Did your car explode?”
“No.”
“Are you stranded in the desert somewhere?”
“Haha, I get it. This isn’t a real emergency.”
Oh God, Grayson was pissed with a capital P.
“You do realize that I’m running a company, right? So when you call me at ten in the morning, I’m going to be in a meeting with a client or out on a job site.”
I felt like a little kid getting reprimanded. Jason might have been quiet and broody, but Grayson was seriously intimidating when he wanted to be.
“I’m sorry. I swear I won’t keep you long. I just really, really need you to call Cammie. She’s nervous about graduating and she’s been in that studio working twenty-four-seven.”
He cut me off. “I don’t see how that concerns me.”
“Grayson Cole,” I said with all of the courage I could possibly muster.
“I’ve got to go, Brook, but if I have time, I’ll give Cameron a call soon. Bye.”
With that, he hung up, leaving me glancing down at my phone like it was about to chew my hand off. Maybe I didn’t want him calling Cammie. Would I really want her to have a boss like Grayson? She’d probably end up spending even more time in the office than she was currently spending in the studio.
“Friend from home?” Jason asked with his eyebrows perked up.
“He’s an old friend that I’ve been trying to connect with my sister.”
“For a date?”
I snorted. “God no. Just so he could maybe mentor her a little bit, possibly give her a job once she graduates in a few weeks.”
He nodded. “Don’t you think she could figure out a job on her own?”
I glared at him across the table, but he just sat there with his calm mask, sipping away at his sugar-filled coffee.
“Don’t you think you should learn how to drink your coffee black? That sip tasted like I was taking a bite of a candy bar.”
Jason flashed a perfect, white smile. “Never had a cavity in my life.”
I dropped my phone on the table so I could give him a sarcastic round of applause.
That’s how our breakfast went. We teased each other, chatting when we felt like it, staying quiet when we felt like it. We checked our email on our phones and took calls. The only thing we didn’t do was discuss the day before or anything involving our sexcapades. And the weird thing was, I didn’t care.
“The award show is getting close. We only have another week or two here before we head back to LA so we can practice on stage,” Jason said, looking up from his phone. He’d probably received the same threatening email from our record label that I had. On the surface it’d seemed nice and formal, but I could tell they wanted to make sure we knew how serious this duet was.
“Well then, let’s go work,” I said, standing up and grabbing both of our coffee cups. “If you grab my guitar, I’ll top off our coffee and meet you upstairs.”
A few minutes later, I kicked open his bedroom door, careful not to spill any of the hot liquid on my hands as I maneuvered toward the sitting area. My guitar was propped on the armchair, but when I passed by his bed, I recognized a pair of my underwear— a lacy red thong— lying on his pillow.
“Did you go through my stuff?” I asked.
He turned around, glanced at the panties, and then up at me with a devilish smile. “I saw those on the top of some folded clothes and I figured we needed some inspiration to get through the morning writing session.”
I laughed. “So if we get some lyrics down, then what?”
I walked over to hand him his coffee, but before I could step away, he gripped the back of my thigh and slid his hand higher along the seam of my pants. “Then we get to reward ourselves.”
…
Most of what we wrote down that morning was complete shit. Lyrics that could have been written by a five-year-old if such a five-year-old wasn’t even trying very hard. I was concentrating as best as I could, but every time Jason started playing, strumming the strings on his guitar, I became enraptured by his hands. I thought about the calluses on the tips of his fingers, the way they’d felt on my skin, the way they’d dipped into the grooves of my hip.
“Are you concentrating on music or something else?” Jason asked, cutting the song off and eyeing me with suspicion.
“I am—” I paused and looked around his room. “Really admiring what you’ve done with the place. Especially that pile of clothes next to your bed. Very hobo chic.”
Jason laughed and dropped his guitar next to him on the couch.
“I think that’s enough for today, don’t you agree?” he asked, walking around the coffee table and taking my guitar out of my hands.
“Gentle with her,” I chided as he set my guitar next to his. When he spun around his brow was arched in amusement, but I stayed put. I was safe on the armchair. On there, I was just another musician, trying to write a song. But then Jason decided to strip that feeling from me in one easy move.
He propped his hands on the arms of the chair and dipped down to steal a kiss from me. I was caged in against the soft fabric, with his biceps on either side of my chest. I wrapped my arms around his neck and tugged him closer so that he had to bend his arms to oblige.
If the position were reversed I would have crawled onto his lap, but Jason kept his weight propped up, tantalizing me with the distance. When his tongue slid across my bottom lip, asking for entry, I obliged by reaching down for the button on his pants.
“These look hot. We should take them off,” I said, as my fingers tugged the zipper down.
“How polite of you,” Jason teased, tugging my shirt up the sides o
f my torso.
“I’m just looking out for you here. Don’t want you to get overheated,” I laughed, letting the pants fall to the ground and then smiling at the pair of black boxer briefs staring up at me. Let’s have a round of applause for that sight, ladies and gentlemen.
“Ah, I feel better already,” he said, before standing and tugging his shirt over his head.
I fell back against the armchair and propped my arms behind my head. “My my my, how the tables have turned,” I joked.
He grinned. “You have three seconds to stand up and strip or this show ends.”
“What?! That’s not fair. I thought you were going to do a little dance for me. I want to see you shimmy. We might be able to work it into our Grammy performance.”
“Three,” he began, his arms crossed and his brow arched.
“Oh c’mon, shake that butt for me.”
“Two,” he continued, adding his fingers into the mix.
“NO!” I said, jumping off the couch and ripping my shirt off over my head. I heard threads splitting, but I’d tear the shirt apart with my teeth if it meant I got to sleep with Jason again.
“One and a half,” he teased as I tried to slide out of my jeans.
“Stop counting! This isn’t fair!” I was literally hopping around on one foot. Fuck you, jeans. How dare you come between me and my orgasm? I fell back onto the floor and wiggled as fast as I could. That’s what I get for wearing skintight jeans. From now on, I’m only wearing mom jeans that go up to my boobs.
Jason helped me rip the jeans from my ankles and then gripped my biceps to lift me off the ground and toss me back onto the bed.
“Whoa, caveman action. I like it,” I teased scooting back until I hit the center of his bed. Per usual, the blankets were crumbled into a mess and half his pillows were tossed to the side. He must be a kicker when he slept… or maybe he slept spread eagle. In the nude. With whipped cream.
He shook his head and stalked toward me.
“Good, good. Now beat your chest like Tarzan,” I added with a wink.
“I think if you’re still making jokes, I’m not doing a good enough job,” he said, dipping his knee onto the bed and crawling over me.
“You’re right. I think this mouth could be put to better use—”
I’ll give the guy credit, with a line like that, I was kind of asking for him to shove his you-know-what in my mouth, but instead, he kissed me. Hard. And he didn’t stop kissing me for the next thirty minutes. I could almost feel my lips bruising. I knew that when I walked out of his room later it would look like I had had an allergic reaction to something I’d eaten because the man had kissed me senseless, but I didn’t care. I just needed more.
His hands explored every curve of my body, adding feather light touches to each sensitive spot: the groove of my knee, down the center of my chest.
I dug my fingers into his thighs as he rolled the condom on, enraptured by the sight.
“I really, really need you inside of me,” I told him as he tossed the empty condom wrapper on the floor behind him.
His gaze found mine, and for a moment, he froze, staring back and forth between my eyes with a clouded expression. But then he blinked, and bent forward, biting the skin in the groove of my neck at the exact moment that he pressed deep inside of me. HELLO HEAVEN, I’VE MISSED YOU.
I heard myself release a throaty moan, like I was literally relaxing every muscle in my body all at once. And then the shudders began and I was completely helpless. I tore at his sheets and he licked and sucked and kissed every patch of my skin he could find.
It was as if the world was apologizing for the months, and months, and months I’d gone with zero sex. As if the HR department of the world had caught their mistake and were scrambling around to fix it.
Well, I tip my hat to you, HR department. You nailed it with Jason Monroe.
…
After what felt like hours, I laid back on Jason’s sheets staring up at his ceiling with a dopey smile on my face. He was humming the melody of the song we’d created and I kept replaying the lyrics we’d come up with the day before in my mind.
When the idea hit me, I sat up in bed, grabbed my bra and panties and slid them on as I walked to the armchair. The lyrics were coming and I wanted to get to my guitar while they were still fresh. I positioned the guitar on my lap and plucked the strings, humming to myself as I worked the words in my mind until they’d formed into complete lines. And when they did, I sang soft and low.
Loving you would be as easy as taking a breath
But to look at you, that’s a dance with death
I’d risk it all,
For you I would
You’d make me fall,
And fall I would
Loving you would be as easy as taking a breath
But to lay with you, that’s a dance with death
“I like that,” Jason said, sitting up in his bed.
I repeated the last verse three more times before the next lines came to me.
I thought once was enough
You turned to me and called my bluff,
Maybe I should have walked away
but I couldn’t resist, I needed replay after replay
Chapter Eighteen
A few nights later, I found myself checking emails in my bed. It was only 8:00 P.M., but I’d opened the window in my room to feel the soft breeze a few hours earlier and promptly decided I wasn’t going to get out of bed again for the rest of the night.
Well, that is, until Derek interrupted me.
“Brooklyn, you decent?” he asked after tapping his knuckles on the door.
“Uhh, hold on!”
I quickly stashed the remnants of a candy bar and the romance novel I’d been devouring inside the drawer of my bedside table. It’s not that I’m embarrassed to read romance, but this particular book’s cover was a little over the top, even for me. Ripped hunk with billowy white top, tearing the corset off some damsel in the distress. i.e. the stuff dreams are made of. LuAnne had lent it to me.
“Okay! You can come in,” I said, sitting up and folding my legs like pretzel.
The door opened and his blonde head poked through the gap.
“I was going to go into town and grab a beer. Wanna come with?”
The invitation seemed easy enough, but then I thought about the fact that Hank wasn’t there to escort us.
Before I could even ask about security measure, Derek pushed the door open all the way and straightened up. “I know Hank isn’t here, but I can be your security guard for the night, and believe me, no one in this bar will recognize you anyway. I swear.” He puffed out his chest and flexed his biceps for good measure.
I laughed and rolled out of bed. My smutty read would have to wait until I got home. I had a craving for a cold beer.
“Do they have darts there?” I asked.
“Yep,” he smiled. “And the first game is on me.”
“I’m in,” I said, moving to my closet so I could change my top. I’d spilled spaghetti sauce on it at dinner and hadn’t bothered changing yet. “Give me two seconds and I’ll meet you downstairs.”
“Got it,” he said, backing out and closing the door behind him.
After finding a loose peasant blouse (that looked oddly similar to the cover model’s shirt on my book), I freshened up my make-up and trotted down the stairs. Derek was standing in the entryway twirling his car keys around on his thumb, and when he saw me coming down he smiled wide.
Seeing him standing there by himself made my smile falter. I’d assumed everyone would be going to the bar, but the fact that it would just be Derek and me left a tinge of guilt in my stomach.
Sure, Jason and I weren’t anything official, but we were having sex and we were becoming really good friends. I think. The sex was definitely happening, unless I was imagining that too.
“Did you ask Jason if he wanted to go?” I asked, trying to sound just the right amount of interested in the question.
 
; “Nah, LuAnne said he was busy writing or something,” Derek said, stepping forward to guide me to the front door.
A part of me wanted to twist out of his arms and go up and talk to Jason myself, but maybe this was a good test. If things were truly the same between Jason and I— if we were simply colleagues— then I could go out and get a drink with Derek without having to worry about a thing.
Right?
…
Once the bartender had slid an ice-cold Corona with lime across the bar, everything seemed peachy keen. Derek challenged me to round after round of darts. In the beginning, most of my darts actually hit the dartboard. However, as the night progressed, and the Coronas kept coming, my dart-flinging abilities took a nosedive. (I stopped when one errant dart managed to wedge itself between the ceiling and the wall.)
“Pitiful! Just pitiful, Brooklyn,” Derek teased, walking forward to grab the darts out of the board while shaking his head. “You’re making me look bad in front of all of my friends.”
I turned around to inspect the small bar. There was one bartender and three patrons in total. One of which was Paulo, who looked to be on a date with a well-dressed man.
“There’s no one here, you liar! You’re just sad because you don’t know how to play my version of darts.”
Derek tipped his head back and cracked up. “I’m sorry. What version is that?”
I smiled confidently, but the beer was starting to get to me so my facial muscles weren’t quite cooperating. “Ceiling Darts. I just invented it.”
Derek squeezed his eyes closed, holding in his laughter. “Oh boy, it’s time to get you home. Jason is going to kill me. I already know it.”
He set the darts down back in their holder, snatched my Corona from me mid-sip, and dropped it into the closest trashcan. “Whoa! Party foul. Give me back my drink. And why will Jason be mad? Can he not play ceiling darts, either?” I asked.
He shook his head and laughed. “Let’s go.”
Somehow, Derek managed to get me out of the bar even though I insisted that Paulo really wanted me to come and say bye to him. I even shouted out to him, but Derek kept pushing me out the door, apologizing to everyone as we went.