Played (Elite PR) (6 page)

“Aaron,” she gasped. “Don’t stop.”

“I don’t intend to,” he said as he slowly pushed one finger inside.

Mel gasped, her eyes wide. Damn, she was tight. No problem, he knew how to handle that. Slowly, he worked his way in with gentle lazy strokes, but when her entire body went rigid, he stilled.

Shit, shit, shit.

“Are you okay?” He’d never forgive himself if he hurt her.

“It’s okay. Don’t stop.”

She wasn’t lying about the other night. Clearly, it’d been a long time. Why did he like that so much? Because he was one sick bastard, that’s why.

Aaron took his time, enjoying each touch, each taste of her lips, her neck, her breasts. Mel began to move against his hand, so he gradually added a second finger—even slower than he did the first.

Her moans told him he was doing just fine. She was tight, but his fingers quickly began to stretch her. He couldn’t stop the images of something else stretching her, filling her. Once he was sure she was ready, he thrust those two fingers deep inside. He relished her reactions too much to take it slow.

He pumped his hand vigorously. It was time to finish this, before he lost all control.

“Please untie my hands,” she said. “I need to hold on.”

It was a plea that took his breath away. She needed more from him than a quick rub to get her off. She needed a connection too. He understood that. No matter how he lied to himself over the years, he completely understood.

He untied the shirt and whipped it off. Her hands grabbed him, kneading his shoulder like a kitten—like she couldn’t get enough. She pulled herself up, and his arm involuntarily wrapped around her to hold her to him. She buried her head in the crook of his neck.

He didn’t relent. She was tightening, gripping his fingers now. So, so hot.

His dick pulsed behind his pants, wanting to make its way toward the heat.

He still didn’t let up But he pulled his fingers out long enough to tease her clit before diving in again. She pushed against his hand.

“That’s it, baby,” he said, hoping he could quickly talk her over the edge before he came in his pants. “Ride it out. Take what you need. Damn, you are so wet, so fucking sexy. I want to bury myself so deep inside I don’t come out for days.”

She released a loud moan and dug her nails into his shoulder. Good, it was working. Her breath burned his neck as her breathing grew quick and shallow. It wouldn’t be long now.

“Christ, woman, if anyone knew what you kept beneath those prim, girlie clothes. Nobody would expect your greedy needs. How did I get lucky enough to find out? You are a goddamn fantasy.”

Mel whimpered and arched her back, her tight little body squeezing his hand. Her lips parted and he was sure he’d never seen anything so beautiful—that full mouth and flushed skin. Her breath hitched and he knew what would follow, so he increased the pressure in long, hard strokes.

“I’m going to come,” she said, completely confident. Not embarrassed, not ashamed or shy about it.

Good God.

“Do it, Melody. Now, darlin’. Come right here on my hand.”

And that did it.

Her eyelids fluttered and her mouth dropped open, before her head fell back, the pulse pounding in her beautifully arched neck. Aaron took a little nip, wanting to share in this as much as he could, not wanting it to end.

Her hips pumped, and his hands worked her slower now, deeper, allowing her to ride the wave. And when he felt that final contraction around his fingers, he pulled her close.

Chapter Six

S
o yeah, she just got played by the cowboy. Deliciously, expertly, utterly played. Her mind was swimming. Here, all this time she’d been wanting—waiting—to do something wild, uninhibited, completely out of character, and it finally happened just as she had to leave. Or should she say, was
forced
to leave.

She didn’t know which her landlord deserved more: a punch to the junk for kicking her out of her apartment so suddenly, or a party in his name for creating the opportunity for her wild night.

Aaron Major had tied her up, whispered filthy things in her ear, and worked her over until her body hummed. Oh, she grew achy just thinking of it. And what was
that
all about? In her experience, once was usually enough to satisfy her appetite. Tonight? She could’ve gone at that man buffet-style.

“So how was that for you?” Aaron asked, pulling her to his side so they were face to face.

“You mean my screaming and panting didn’t give me away?” She felt no need for pretense. She’d basically told him her whole life story before he’d even laid a hand on her. Most guys would’ve cut her off, or made a move, or pretended to listen as their eyes glazed over. Even Teddy had been guilty of that on more than one occasion. But Aaron seemed truly interested. And, for once…
she
was making the moves. Still, even with her begging, he wouldn’t let her reciprocate.

That was one for the record books.

“Maybe I just want to hear it from your lips,” he drawled, in that lazy country way that made her want to lick every inch of him. He tucked her post-orgasmic hair behind her ear, waiting on her response. He wasn’t running out the door or drifting off to sleep, and dang, that unnerved her a little.

“What I call it is a fond-ass farewell. Going out in style.” She ruffled his untamed locks, which had completely come out of the tail at the back of his neck, and tried not to darken the mood. Lord knew she didn’t need to get all emotional about some random hookup when she was leaving. “What about you? Are you sure I can’t show you my…appreciation?”

“I’m sure.” He released a shaky sigh that made her wonder if he really was. “And trust me, I enjoyed myself very much. You might be one of the most fascinating women I’ve ever met.”

And then he had to go and say that.

She’d been pursued before, wanted, loved even, but she’d never been taken care of in this way. And she’d never been called
fascinating
in her life.

“So what are you going to do next, Melody Sharp?” he asked, in a welcome change of topic. “What’s your next chapter look like?”

“Well,” she said, absently tracing a circle on his chest with her finger. She snatched it away once she realized what she was doing,

“Hey,” he said, taking her hand back to its previous location. “That kind of touching is okay.”

His smile put her at ease. His entire demeanor did. For someone who could whip her into a frenzy with a word or touch, he could also calm her in much the same way.

“Fine,” she teased. “But can you at least lose the cowboy shirt?”

He rolled his eyes, but sat up and unbuttoned his shirt. And holy hell, when he tossed the ugly garment aside, she was not prepared for the chiseled surface that was his chest. “Better?” he asked.

Honey, you have no idea.

“Much.” Her voice cracked a smidge as she patted the bed for him to resume his horizontal position, but she covered her awe by going back to drawing those misshapen circles. Warmth bloomed under her skin once again.

“As you were saying…”

“Right, the next chapter.” She kept her eyes focused on her finger as it grazed the smooth, wide expanse of his chest. “Well, since I’ve basically hit rock bottom, I think it’s time to concede to Atlanta and go back home. The city gave me a run for my money, but now I’m homeless, broke, with only half the job I started out with.”

“Hold on there.” He pulled her chin up, his eyes searching. “You can’t let one setback stop you.”

“It’s more than one setback. My God, my apartment is on lockdown. As of this moment, I have only one pair of underwear to my name.”

“Okay, you might not believe this, but I’ve been in a very similar predicament.”

“Yeah, but guys don’t mind going commando,” she joked, slapping his chest. Geez, it was hard as granite.

“I’m serious,” he said, so passionately that the tiny hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. “You’ll be able to get your stuff back from Cole. He can’t legally keep it. And if the Ice Queen really wanted you out, she would’ve shown you the door. From what you’ve told me, she doesn’t seem the type to second-guess herself. If she’s willing to invest in you, that tells me you must have something to offer.”

Mel had never thought about in that way. She couldn’t see past the blow to her ego when Miranda delivered the news. But he was right. Her boss was a hard-nosed businesswoman who had no trouble getting what she wanted and no qualms about firing people, so there had to be a reason why she kept her around.

Maybe she needed to find out what it was.

“Think about it,” he said, sitting up now. “You’re welcome to stay here in the spare room for a night or two until you figure it out. But you’ll have to find something more
substantial
to wear to bed.”

“What’s it matter, if I sleep in here behind a closed door?” she asked.

“Because, I may have been good tonight, Mel. But I also have a bad side. And when it comes out, you’ll need more than a flimsy door to hold me back.”

J
esus, Johnny, and June, what have I done?

Aaron paced around the living room, cursing himself for what was by far the most idiotic move he could’ve made. He was acting like Cash again, thinking with his dick instead of his brain.

Not only did he spend his evening putting his hands all over that temptress who threatened to make him unravel, marking her like she was his, but then he went ahead and offered her shelter for another night. Or two!

Melody flippin’ Sharp. Her name played in his brain, over and over again on repeat. It was musical and contradictory, soft and harsh at the same time. Much like her personality.

What the hell had gotten into him? The very last thing he should be doing was waxing all poetic about a girl who was just making a slight detour through his life. So they messed around a little. He didn’t need to get all tangled up in her, that was for damn sure.

By tomorrow, he predicted, she’d be heading back home to Sweetwater. It was a thought that left a sour taste in his mouth for several reasons he couldn’t explain and one he needed to expel—as in,
right the fuck now
. It was just…he hated to see her give up.

Though he could see her back in the fancy little town where men golfed on Saturdays and ladies went to lunch. Where you didn’t lock your doors and would never be evicted from your home in the middle of the night, left with no place to go. The kind of place he once lived, before his dad died and his mama pissed away all of her money on booze and drugs and who knows what the hell else, forcing them to move from place to place until he finally got his own record deal and was able to send money home.

He stopped and picked up the one family photo he had sitting on the shelf with all of his music books, guitar picks, and strings. It was the only year he remembered all four of them together at Christmas—the year he got his first guitar. Mama tuned it for him and played carols all morning. It was the memory he always went back to as a kid, hoping it’d be that way again.

It never was.

If it wasn’t for him and Graham, or his father getting sick, his mother might still be singing. The way he saw it, you had to choose. There was no room for a big career
and
a family.

His poor daddy learned that the hard way. Always alone with two little boys, while country sweetheart Corrine Meadows was out “making music.” Now that Aaron had been there, seen the lifestyle first-hand, he knew she was doing plenty more than that. She didn’t come home, even when she had the opportunity. But his father never complained. He once told him that he knew what he was getting into with Corrine. Still, he wanted to be part of her life—even if it was a small part.

It was more than Aaron could say. He wanted nothing from her, or her pathetic life. Once he was able to afford to send Graham off to a private boarding school, he did. And during the holidays and breaks, the kid would come to stay with him. Even in the middle of the craziness, he always pulled it together for Graham. It was his job—though they never got the courts involved. They didn’t have to, Corrine never fought his decision. For her, it was a relief to have someone else take over. Neither one of them had seen her since.

This is why you don’t mix music with a family
.

One would always suffer, and it was damn selfish to try to do both. He might not be able to stay away from playing his songs, but he could avoid bringing anyone else into the impossible lifestyle.

Shit, why was he thinking about this now? Must’ve been all the baring of the souls—and other, more interesting parts—with Mel tonight. It put him in such a state he wanted to drown his sorrows in a bottle of Jack. Instead he picked up his guitar, trying to put the night, and all the shit it dredged up, behind him.

Trouble was, the night also brought a spunky blonde with it, and so he couldn’t put it completely out of his mind. Not when she was there, half-naked, in the next room. His depraved brain conjured up the way she looked when she told him she was going to come—her eyes hooded and lips swollen. The scent of her flushed skin, and the way it felt when she finally let go, was something he’d remember on his deathbed.

He played a few chords then, shutting his eyes to help quiet his mind. He’d never get any sleep unless he settled down, and he needed the rest in order to deal with his manager the next day. As his release date loomed, Rita became increasingly demanding. He had to be ready for her, and strong enough to draw the lines he required to keep his head straight.

But the sad truth was, as much as he loved cradling his guitar and hitting those soft low notes, that sorry plank of wood had nothing on Melody Sharp.

Chapter Seven

W
hen Mel woke up, she’d forgotten where she was for a moment. But when she realized it was the cozy nest Aaron made for her, she refused to get up. How odd. She wasn’t usually the type for lazy mornings in bed. She never really slept all that well…ever. Her mother used to say Mel was too busy for sleep, even as a child.

She wouldn’t say busy, so much as unsettled. She rose most days already feeling two steps behind, like she was missing or forgetting something. Yet, that
something
never came to her. Last night, however, she went to bed feeling sated and, strangely cared for—the first time in a long while that she’d felt that way.

The sheets smelled like him, all woodsy and warm. She inhaled the intoxicating scent and reached her arms above her in a long, luxurious stretch, wishing he was there with her as a pale glow came in through the uncovered windows. She’d forgotten how much she missed morning sex, but she wasn’t about to hunt him down and suggest it after he’d declined her multiple requests last night. Still, it seemed a shame to waste such a morning. So she let her anxious hand run down her belly, remembering the way he had touched her, kissed her, moved his fingers inside, bringing out a part of her that had been repressed for far too long. Her eyes fluttered shut when the tips of her fingers slid beneath the silky fabric…until she heard a floorboard creak.

Shitty shit shit.

She pulled her hand from the danger zone and shot up in the four-poster bed, eyes searching, fearful she’d been discovered. It was like high school all over again. There was no one there, but she wasn’t taking any chances. She placed her palms on top of the covers where she could keep her eyes on them. Honestly.

After she found her breath, she took in the space that she’d been too preoccupied to notice the night before. It was identical to the room in her own apartment, but she used hers for an office. Here, boxes were piled high in the corner, a few family photos sat on the bureau, and a shelf of books and baseballs lined the far wall.

A knock on the door made her jump again. This time she was just relieved she stopped her trip down memory lane when she did.

“Come in,” she called, feeling her face heat when a large cowboy wearing jeans and a T-shirt materialized in the doorway. He looked absolutely mouth-watering—his hair still wet from his morning shower, the sleeves of his shirt hugging biceps that she had the privilege of touching last night, and his jeans slung low on hips that she hadn’t yet explored.

Yet. Hmmm.

She was so consumed by his presence she almost didn’t see the massive cup of coffee in his hand. When she did, its rich aroma made her want to cry. “What time is it?” she asked, extending her gimmee hands for the java.

“Time for your sort to get off to work, I’d imagine,” he said, passing her the mug.

The first sip was strong and smelled like toasted nuts and cocoa. Delicious. The caffeine went straight to her head, pushing her past the memories of her lust-fueled night with Aaron and her solo attempt this morning, to more pressing issues—such as her current homeless status, bank account balance, and mental state. Did she really beg a stranger for sex just a few hours ago? Yeah, she should probably be embarrassed by her behavior in front of the gorgeous man she’d only recently met, but she was already feeling too low from her current state of affairs to indulge in any further self-loathing.

Plus she liked him too damn much.

“Thank you,” she said. “The coffee is perfection. And last night…”

“It’s okay,” he interrupted. “We don’t have to talk about that. I was just being neighborly, is all.” The corner of his lip turned up and amazingly made the awkwardness of the situation fade.
How did he do it?

“Darlin’, if the world had neighbors like you, we’d all live in a happier place.” She flashed a quick wink. Yes, she really should be embarrassed. She clearly had not acted like a lady in her time of need. Still, Aaron looked down at her with a smile, so it couldn’t have been all that bad. Could it?

She reached for her phone to check the time. He was right. She was due in the office in an hour. And then some more practical concerns seeped into her brain. She had no clothes, none of her things. What in God’s name was she supposed to do now? Was it time to just call it quits?

No!
The voice in her head was insistent. She needed to end her job at Elite on her own terms—on good terms. That way maybe could secure a good referral for a PR job close to home. Going back to Sweetwater with a plan would be a lot easier than just showing up at her parents’ house, empty-handed.

“Well…” He headed for the door. “Let me know if you need anything.”

She nodded, but all she really needed was the key to her apartment and her things. Just the thought of what happened when she went to her place last night had reignited the fire in her belly. She viciously punched her landlord’s number into her phone, ready to unleash her fury.

Once he picked it up, she said one word. “Explain.”

“Look, Mel,” he told her. “I had no choice. You’re two months behind in rent and you weren’t returning my calls. My hands were tied. I have to answer to people as well.”

“Of all the sneaky, lowdown, gutless moves,” she hollered, good and loud so he was sure to hear exactly what she thought of him. “I was left alone, without a place to stay, in the middle of the night. In Atlanta. Who does that to somebody? Tell me that much, Cole.”

“Like I said, my hands were tied.”

“I told you about my pay cut. I just needed a few more weeks.”

“That’s what you said a few weeks ago.” He released a long, annoying sigh. “Mel, I don’t actually own the house, or the places downtown. I manage them for my parents and they are on my ass. I held out for you as long as I could.”

A laugh crept up her throat. She knew it! God, she knew it! All these times he went strutting around like he was Mr. Big Shot Real Estate Mogul, trying to impress her before asking her out and then brushing her off when she said no, as if his options were endless. She always thought he was full of it.

“You know, Cole.” Oh, she wasn’t going to let him off that easy. “Before these last few months, I was never late. Never. Also, I think written notice is required in these situations. You can bet I’ll be making my way down to the courthouse. And I’ll be reviewing you—and your parents’ company—on every social media site I get my hands on. Now, where are all my things?”

“Settle down, Mel.” His voice wavered. “You don’t have to do that. I took good care of your things, I promise. We shipped everything to Red River Storage on Axel Road. It’s all in a unit and paid up through the end of the month. We can handle this without getting all nasty about it.”

How generous.

She hung up on the bastard.

There was no chance of making it down there before work, so she’d have to get her stuff on the way home. But how to make herself presentable in the meantime?

“Mind if I take a shower before I go?” she called out to Aaron, who was messing around in the kitchen, if the clatter of pots and pans was any indication.

“Sure,” he said. “There are extra towels already hanging in there.”

She sized up her clothing options. Black tailored capri pants and the lavender blouse she wore yesterday, a scarf, a few pieces of extra jewelry in her bag, and a pair of flat-heeled sandals she always kept on her for relief when her feet ached from her crazy-high heeled shoes. Okay, she could pull this off.

After her shower, she wrapped her curly locks into a loose chignon and applied the makeup she never left home without—a survival plan she’d now used two times in as many days. She slipped into her black pants and pulled Aaron’s white T-shirt over a camisole before cinching it with her pink scarf. She added a long pendant necklace and earrings to match, and slid into her backup shoes. A quick check of her reflection in the full-length mirror behind the bedroom door revealed she didn’t look half bad.

Since the universe wasn’t playing nice, today she would just have to start making her own luck.

W
hat would Frankie do?

It was the question she had to answer if she was going to recover from this latest setback. What was Rule Number Three?
Connect and be connected; you don’t have to go at it alone.
Okay, so who were her connections? Who could she reach out to in her time of need? There was Kevin, Tiffany the Intern, and her new friend Genn. None of them were great options, but these were desperate times. Once she got her things back, she could put them up on Craig’s List to make a quick buck. And there were plenty of incentive programs at work that offered a pretty nice bonus. Point was, she had options.

Still, first things first—she needed to buy some time to put some sort of plan in place. And hey, he’d offered…

She walked into the kitchen, rehearsing in her head what she planned to say. A place to crash for one night, two tops, was all she needed. She took a breath and put on her game face, but as she closed in, Aaron’s words stopped her dead in her tracks.

“No, I haven’t hired the party planners yet,” he said into the phone, his voice quiet and clipped. She quickly backed out of the kitchen entry, behind the wall, to give him his privacy. “And as far as the image consultant, or whatever it is the label wants me to get, I’m not doing it.” Well, those were words that made her ears perk right the hell up.

“The launch party will cost
how much?”
He slammed his hand down on the counter, making Mel jump. “That’s not possible, Rita.”

Holy shit! What was all this?

Aaron had a label? And a launch coming up? She tilted her head, holding the rest of her body still as she listened, riveted by the conversation. After his performance last night, she knew he was an incredible musician, but her brain was too focused on her own tragedy—and even more on his smoking bod—to give it another thought.

Was she really hearing this right? He needed party planners—an insulting term, but she’d let it go—and an image consultant?

“Hang on, Rita,” he grumbled. “I’ll ring you back in a few minutes.”

He hung up and said a few choice words under his breath. On the other side of the wall, Mel began frantically typing on her phone. He came around the corner into the living room. He knew she was there, but she ignored him, holding up a finger to signal she needed a minute.

“What are you doing?” he asked when her fingers finally stilled.

“I’m getting ready to help out a neighbor.” She put down the phone, grinning like Miranda on billing day. “So, you really need an event specialist and an image consultant?”

“Depends on who you ask.” He shrugged. “If you ask my manager, Rita, well then the answer is hell yes.”

“And you have a label?” she asked, her mind racing. This was huge. “As in
music
label?”

“I do,” he ground out, running his hands through his hair. He swallowed and asked, “Why?”

“Why?” She laughed. “Because that’s what I do, cowboy.” She looked around the room for a pen and paper, finding what she was looking for on the built-in shelf leading to the kitchen. The notepad was full of notes and verses and random words. She flipped through it to a blank page, tore it out, and led Aaron to the kitchen table. It was already set with two place settings, and from the looks of all the pots and pans on the stove, he’d been making them breakfast when the call came in. His kindness only made her want to help him more.

“All right, I’ll bite. What do you do?” he asked as she signaled him to sit.

“I work at one of the best PR firms in the country.”

Cue the applause.

“Well, if you heard that much of my conversation. You also heard that I don’t have the money to pay for PR or parties or fucking image consulting. Not sure your Ice Queen would go along with that.”

“We could work that out if you’re interested. Miranda can be surprisingly creative with the accounting, if she really believes in someone. As for the imaging consulting, I have an idea.”

“I appreciate that, honey, really I do.” He set his phone on the table, like he was happy to get rid of it. Mel got the impression he didn’t care for having to answer to someone. “But you told me yourself that you don’t even know if you’re going to stick around. And that your boss hates you. And a bunch of other crap that doesn’t really scream,
hire me.
”

Ouch, the truth stung, but Frankie’s Rule Number Two echoed in her brain.
Know what you want, and go for it.
She wanted this. She could do this. Turn this hunk-o-cowboy into a country music star? Yes, yes, for the love of Carrie Underwood, yes. She was made for this project.

Who was she kidding?
He
was made for it. That voice. That face. The way he looked in those jeans…and the way he
would
look once she shrunk those babies up in the right places.

“That may be true, but that was before this opportunity.” She quickly jotted down her notes on the paper. “Elite is the best, Aaron. Even if something did happen with me—which it won’t—you’d have a world-class team on your side.”

“I can’t afford the best.” He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms, defiant. “And I’m sorry, but I don’t need—or particularly want—a launch party, and as far as the image consultant, I’m not some high-maintenance dipshit who needs all that crap. I signed with the label to play music and that’s exactly what I’m going to do.”

“That’s all fine and dandy, but what about your contract?” She waited for a reply, but the look on his face, blank and confused, was all the answer she needed. He didn’t have any idea what was in the contract, so she went in for the kill.

“There are all kinds of clauses and demands in most entertainment contracts that require marketing and appearances and an all-around effort on your part that goes beyond playing music. And if you think you don’t have money now, breach that contract and we’ll see how your finances are doing then.”

His phone rang again and the screen flashed the name
Rita
. Aaron dropped his head into his hands. Now that lady had the kind of gumption she needed.