By Degrees (47 page)

He pushes in hard once and growls.
 
“Say it again.”

“Fuck me, Tarin,
please.”
 
I gasp the last word out as the feel of his length sliding into me brings me higher and higher into the clouds.

He pushes in several more times.
 
I feel him growing even harder inside me, his cock getting bigger somehow, stretching me, making me groan with the ecstasy I sense just outside my reach.

“Please … please …”
 
I can’t make sense anymore.
 
Words just come out that I have no control over.
 
“Tarin …”
 
Our movements are getting faster, more hurried, both of us rushing towards the end.

But as we get closer and closer to the finish line, I don’t want the end to come.
 
It’s the journey that is taking me places, the things happening on the way to orgasm that suddenly mean the most.
 
I never want this to be over.

His hands are traveling up and down my body, while kisses rain down around my face and neck.
 
He can’t seem to get enough of me as he bucks against me wildly and squeezes and pulls and strokes and shouts.
 
I’m yelling now too and hanging on for dear life.
 
Nails dig into his back as I feel myself falling, falling, falling…

“Scarlett!” he shouts, pulling my hair with a fisted hand and smashing his heavy body into my much smaller one.

“Tarin!” I gasp as I feel myself flying off the cliff.
 
Wave after wave of strong, pulsing, shivering orgasm rock my body.
 
I moan, I shout, I cry, and the two of us turn the bed into a tangle of sheets and legs and arms.
 
The smell of our sex comes up around us and just adds to the sensual atmosphere.
 
One last scream from both of us brings us to the end, and once again, the tears flow from my eyes.

When we finally come down to earth a few minutes later, Tarin is still inside me but lying almost diagonally.
 
I’m spread eagle on the bed, staring at the ceiling as my vision comes back into focus.
 
The only sounds in the room now are our heavy breaths as we try to get oxygen into our lungs.

He reaches over and tries to pet my head, but instead mashes my face a few times.
 
He’s talking but his mouth is mushed into the covers so it comes out muffled.
 
“You’re so pretty,” he says.
 
“And I love your pussy too.”

I slap him away and try to roll him off me.
 
“Go away, dirty boy.”

He laughs, lifting himself up by his arms and looking over at me.
 
“You like it.”
 
His hair is pressed in on one side and he’s sweaty.
 
He should probably look ugly to me but I’ve never seen such a beautiful man in all my life.

I slap his back.
 
“I like you.
 
That’s it.”

He falls to the side, slipping out of me and lying on his back, his lower body still over my legs.
 
“Man.
 
That was awesome.
 
I’m in love.”

I slap him again, this time hard on the arm.
 
“Don’t you dare.”

He crawls off me and sits on the edge of the bed, taking off the condom and putting it on the wrapper on the nightstand before turning back to lie down by me.
 
“Don’t I dare what?
 
Love you?”

“No, stupid.
 
Don’t you dare tell me you do like that.
 
It’s rude.
 
It’s not a casual word and you don’t love someone just because you have good sex with them.”

He play-frowns.
 
“I’m sorry.
 
You like the romantic stuff, huh?
 
And by the way, it was
great
sex, not just good sex.”

“All girls like the romantic stuff, idiot.”
 
I’m trying to be offended, but he’s so damn cute right now it’s impossible.
 
His hair is pure trauma and he’s pouting like a little boy.
 
He actually looks worried.

He lifts up his fingers and starts ticking them off.
 
“Okay, so no casual I love yous, no dirty words during sex, and … you like it when I eat your pussy.
 
Did I miss anything?”

I slap his fingers away and press my hand into his face, trying to push him away too.
 
“Go away.
 
You’re ruining the moment.”

He grabs my hand and pulls me over next to him, forcing me to cuddle up to his side with my head on his chest.
 
My efforts to avoid the forced affection are futile.
 
He’s way stronger than he used to be, and I’m really not trying all that hard.

“I’m sorry, babe.
 
Let me try again, okay?”
 
He angles his head to look down at me and I nod.

“Okay.
 
First of all, that sex was magical.
 
I’m going to write a song about it.”

“It passed the test?”

“Absolutely.
 
A- plus plus plus.
 
Now I know for sure.”

“What do you know for sure?”
 
I’m pretty sure I know what he’s going to say but I play stupid just so I can hear it.

“That you’re my forever girl.
 
You’ve got the whole beauty thing going, brains enough for the both of us, athletic skills in the ring - even though you let a teenager kick your ass once, but I’m willing to write that off as a fluke - and you can appreciate the kind of music I make.
 
You’re the whole package.”

I squeeze him tight to me, more happy than I can express in words.

“Now it’s your turn,” he says, looking down at me again.
 
“Am I your forever man?”

Some of the happy fades, replaced by worry.
 
For some reason a vision of Austin pops into my head and I worry what he’d think.

“What’s the matter?” Tarin asks.
 
“I’m not your forever guy?
 
Dammit, I knew I should have made you come while I was down there.”

“Shut up,” I say, laughing slightly.
 
“It’s not that.
 
I’m just thinking … things I shouldn’t be thinking.”

“Austin.”

I sigh.
 
“How’d you know?”

“It’s only natural.
 
You were with him for a long time, he died a tragic death, and I was there.
 
We’re all connected.
 
Hell, if it wasn’t for him, I wouldn’t even be here right now.”

The idea of Austin being the reason that we’re together is freaky.
 
“What do you mean?”

“He’s the one who got me started in my career.
 
Before he intervened, we were playing small clubs and getting ignored along with a million other guys.
 
And he’s the one who invited me to that party in Chicago.
 
If I hadn’t been there when that whole thing happened, who knows…”

“You agreed to work with me because you felt guilty.”
 
I slide off to the side a little and reach down to his tattoo.
 
Guilty.
 
I trace it with my finger.

“Yeah.
 
That was part of it.
 
And then there was you.”

“Me?”

“Yeah, you.”
 
He nudges me.
 
“Don’t act like you don’t know.”

“Don’t know what?”
 
My smile is back and it won’t go away.

“How sexy you are.
 
You fucking rocked my world the minute you stepped into it.
 
You’re like a disease.”

“Hmmmm.
 
A disease.
 
Now
that’s
sexy.”

He pushes me over and climbs on top of me.
 
“Don’t make me sex you into submission, woman.
 
Now that you’re my girlfriend, we’re going to have to lay out some ground rules.”

I arch an eyebrow at him. “Getting a little ahead of yourself, aren’t you?”

He reaches down and puts his hands on my waist as he lifts himself up higher.
 
“Think so?’’

Before I know what’s happening, he’s flipped me over onto my stomach and he’s on top of me, pressing his hard cock into my backside.
 
His lips are so close to my ear as he leans over, the hot air tickles me mercilessly.

“What are you doing?” I say, laughing into the pillow.
 
I’m half suffocating in its softness, pushing up with my arms to arch my back.

He pushes my back down with one hand and positions himself lower to enter my folds from behind.

I moan long and low as he slides into the slippery wetness between my legs.
 
He doesn’t have a condom on but I don’t care.
 
I know he used them with all the fangirls he was ever with and I’m not going anywhere.

“I told you,” he says in a low tone.
 
“I’m sexing you into submission.”

Five minutes later with the aching need built up again and the sweat pouring down both of our bodies I submit.
 
“Fine!
 
I’ll be your girlfriend.”
 
I can barely breathe I’m panting so hard.

“That’s what I thought,” he says, stroking the orgasm out of me hard and fast.
 
I cling to him to keep from falling into unconsciousness and weep when he’s left me completely spent.

Chapter Forty-Six

TARIN AND I HAVE BEEN in bed all day and now it’s dinnertime.
 
Jack hasn’t reappeared and we’ve decided cereal is the best way to build our strength for another couple days of escape from real life, before he has to go back to L.A. and I have to get on with the business of fixing the damage left behind in the wake of Austin’s death.
 
Both of us have a lot of work ahead of us.

Tarin crunches away on his granola.
 
“I’ve gotta do this European tour.
 
Everyone’s counting on me.”

“I know.
 
I’ll miss you, but you have to do it.
 
You and Scott have worked so hard.
 
You can’t let everything fall apart now.
 
It’s only four months.”

“We
all
worked hard, you included.”
 
He nudges me with his elbow and my next bite of dinner goes sloshing back into my bowl.
 
“You could come, you know,” he says.
 
“Travel Europe with me.
 
Be backstage for every show.”
 
He winks.

I roll my eyes.
 
“As attractive as being your number one groupie sounds, I’m afraid I’m going to have to decline.
 
I have to stay here.”
 
I sigh, putting my bowl down on my nightstand.
 
“I’ve been thinking about this for a while now, and some things Jack and Scott said are really hitting home for me lately.
 
I think I need therapy.”

“What’d they say to make you think that?”

“Actually, it’s not just them.
 
It’s you too.”
 
I cross my legs and sit up straight, plucking at the sheets by my shins.
 
“After Austin died, I just kind of threw myself into rescue mode.
 
I blamed myself for his death, so maybe I thought if I could go out there and prevent it from happening to someone else, it would absolve me of that guilt I was carrying around.
 
But no matter how much good I did, it never did anything to make me feel better about Austin.”

“The one who got away.”

“Kind of.
 
He slipped away.
 
By degrees, like you said.
 
Maybe if it had happened all of a sudden it would have been so shocking I would have noticed it sooner and thought to do something.
 
But it was like little by little he drew away and got colder, and little by little I let him change me too.
 
Or I changed myself, I don’t know.”
 
I shake my head, trying to figure it all out.
 
“I just need to talk to a professional to help me work through it.”

“There’s nothing wrong with asking for help if you need it.
 
I did.”

I look sideways at him, raising an eyebrow.
 
“I don’t recall you asking.”

“People have different ways of asking for help.
 
Some are cool with just walking up and saying, ‘Help me.’
 
Others are more like back door people.”

“Back door people?”

“Yeah.
 
They ask for help by showing how much they need it.”

“You’re definitely one of those,” I say, picking up my bowl and smiling.

“I don’t like asking for anything.
 
That’s just who I am.
 
Austin offered to help us out a bunch of times, but I kept turning him down.
 
I didn’t want a handout.
 
I wanted to earn it.
 
I guess he knew how much I really wanted the help deep down, so he fucked up that band’s equipment and got us the show of a lifetime.”

“We both owe Austin a lot,” I say softly, watching the lumps of cereal floating around randomly in my bowl.
 
The little lumps kept moving to be by bigger lumps, like they didn’t want to be alone.

“Yeah.
 
We do.”

The mood has gone suddenly sober, but for some reason, that makes it easier for me to talk about Austin.
 
“It’s hard for me to go from being really sad about him, then to angry, then to grateful in such a short period of time, especially when he’s not here to talk to about it,” I say, giving a voice to the thoughts that have been haunting me night and day for weeks.