SailtotheMoon (15 page)

Zazz glanced at Riku, sitting at the other end of the table.
“Yes. Sometimes we agree that a song should remain individual.
Rumplepeter
is Riku’s. None of us felt it needed any more than what we gave it. But my new
song needs more input. I’m hoping the dudes will help me with that.” Laura
assumed that V was one of “the dudes” and knew why he used it. They were always
“dudes” to each other. They’d have used that terminology when they first met,
and they wouldn’t change now.

“What about you, V?”

The blonde gave a dazzling smile. “I’m a colorist. I take
what they’ve done and add more layers. I don’t write on my own account. I don’t
have that talent. With Zazz in the band, we could survive on his stuff
forever.”

Everyone had their own talents and they contributed. Like
her job, but it didn’t work out like that. She was supposed to be part of a
team—social worker, district nurse, hospital nurse, GP, hospital doctor,
welfare worker—all working together. They never had combined meetings, although
she had monthly meetings with some of them. Not the hospital side or the GP,
ever. Those contacts were usually one to one.

She couldn’t change anything. Only do her work as best she
could. Was it right to choose personal fulfillment over the work she did? Guilt
suffused her, as it always did when she thought of her job. Not now. This time
belonged to him. His arm around her waist felt right, secured her. She
shouldn’t feel like that, not with Zazz, one of the bad boys of rock. But he
wasn’t like that, was he? Not really. He didn’t take drugs, he didn’t drink, he
thought clearly and analytically. He cared about people. Her, for one, his
father for another.

She kept half an ear open to the questions fired at the
band, but they were mainly routine. Who created what, what was this song about,
that song, were they planning the next album. Zazz took his share, kept his arm
around her, glanced at her from time to time, giving her a gentle smile that
moved her soul.

Chick declared the conference finished when someone asked
about Sabina’s health. They were straying into forbidden ground. What the band
had to say about that, they’d already said. Chick had told them that subject
was closed, so it was more than risking their limbs when they asked about her.
Someone yelled to Zazz, “Are you leaving the band now you’ve found true love?”

“Stupid question,” Zazz snapped in return, and Chick got to
his feet, held up his hand. “Time’s up, people. Thanks for coming.”

The band left through a door at the corner of the room,
together with their significant others, the ones who were present. By mutual,
unspoken consent they headed for their dressing rooms, and as soon as Zazz got Laura
into his, he kissed her, long and sweet. “I feel great,” he said when they came
up for air. “How about you?”

“Confused,” she said, trying to be as honest as she could.
“Happy.”

He grinned and kissed her again.

Matters would have progressed to an inevitable conclusion
had her phone not vibrated. She’d turned off the ringer when she’d gone to take
her seat. In case Zazz had wanted to get in touch with her afterward, she
hadn’t turned it off. But it couldn’t be him now. She dragged the phone out
with every intention of glancing at the screen and cutting off the caller, but
the name caught her attention.

Still with one arm around him, she answered. “Kelsie? Is
everything okay?”

Her friend’s distressed voice sounded loudly, enough for
Zazz to hear her, Laura guessed. “It’s Jimmy A. He’s got a hankering, he tells
me. He said he’d be wanting to get together with his old friends. I can’t
control him, Laura. I need help with him.”

She exchanged a glance with Zazz who stood, holding her, his
face suddenly grave. “What are you talking about, Kelsie? What do you mean?”

“He went to the Band On The Wall last night, and today I
went to see him. I didn’t know, I swear. I found stuff in his place. You
know—stuff.”

“Drugs?”

A pause, then a sob. “Yes. White powder. He said it was
heroin, and it was good to get back in the groove.”

“Oh fuck.” Without apology, Zazz snatched the phone to talk
to Kelsie. “Where did he get it? Do you know?”

“No. He says he’s going back to the club tomorrow night.”

“Oh shit. The place is a lot more respectable than it used
to be, but you can’t stop everybody. Okay, we’re on our way. We’ll fly down
tonight.”

Laura laid her head against his chest, weary and suddenly
exhausted. She couldn’t abandon Jimmy. Zazz moved against her, a cherishing
motion. “Scratch that. We can’t do anything tonight. We’ll be there tomorrow
morning.” He rang off and put the phone down. She lifted her head to see where
he put it, but he murmured her name and pressed her against him. He felt good,
so warm, so fucking human. James, not Zazz. “Come on, baby, let’s get back to
the hotel and get some rest. I’ll ask Beverley or Chick to sort us something
out.”

“After what we said—we should do something.”

“No.” From his voice she knew the call had completely
depressed his spirits, and she understood. His father was in trouble—again.
Zazz had spent most of his life dragging his father out of trouble and here he
was again, doing the same thing. Not a night to celebrate their newfound love.

As it turned out, she was wrong.

* * * * *

Zazz still signed autographs for the people waiting after
the show for the band. Even though most of the band had headed out, some fans
had waited for Zazz. Laura had become accustomed to fans trying to jostle her
out of the way, but Zazz kept his arm firmly around her waist until he released
her to sign. Even then she stayed close.

Only she knew how worried he must be about his father,
because he showed nothing to the fans, appeared as his usual charming, but
broody self. That should have been an oxymoron, but Zazz pulled it off. A
mixture of arrogance and attention to individuals, it worked in his own special
way. With nobody the wiser, except Laura. She held his hand when she could,
kept close, as much for him as for her. Anxiety radiated off him in waves, and
she wanted so much to hold him.

She’d had her chance in the limo, once they’d driven clear
of the arena and were heading to the hotel, a five-star nearby. They hardly
spoke at all, just a few murmured endearments, and he kept his head resting on
her breasts, his arm around her waist, holding tight.

They got to the hotel and he was his usual arrogant self,
swaggering inside with Laura tucked under his arm. She understood. He had a
public to please, even here, in the hotel staff, and he knew how to do it,
probably instinctively. They headed for the usual entrance for bands, through
the back, but this time a corridor outside the kitchens and a huge goods lift.
His only indication of his state was the way he tapped his foot on the way to
their floor.

They walked straight through to the bedroom they were
sharing. He kicked the door closed and reached for her. But this time they
didn’t grab each other in a paroxysm of passion. Instead, he took her hand and
led her to the bed where they undressed each other slowly, savoring the
experience. She flattened her hand on his chest, smoothing over his skin. He
covered her hand with his when it reached his heart. “That’s for you,” he said,
as she felt the heavy
thud, thud
under her palm.

“And mine is for you,” she replied, taking his free hand and
pressing it to the upper slope of her left breast.

He smiled. “Then we’d better look after them, hadn’t we?”

Only then did he lower his head to kiss her. Their lips met
in a perfect connection of what they both now acknowledged was love. Where it
would take them, Laura wasn’t sure, but telling him had felt so good. She’d
loved him for the past two years, but as an idea, a friend. Only when they’d
met and connected physically had that love come to full fruition. And now it
was here. There was no going back. What happened next in the real world would
occur outside this room. It had no place here.

They finished undressing. Without words, he drew back the
bedcover for her and she slid between the cool, smooth sheets, waiting. He
joined her and leaned over for another kiss. The condoms were where they needed
them, in the bedside table drawer. He barely left her for a minute while he
took care of protection.

He mounted her in the traditional fashion, settling between
her legs, and she raised her knees to press her feet flat on the bed. He sank
into her arms, holding nothing back, his face showing tenderness and need, as
she imagined hers did. Slipping his fingers between her legs, he tested her
readiness. She could have told him she was more than ready, had been since the
dressing room, despite the news about his father.

Laura refused to let her mind go there. Refused to let
anything from outside this room into their lovemaking.

Taking sheathed cock in hand, he guided it and pushed, so
the flared head slid in as if she’d been made for this. She caught her bottom
lip between her teeth and he bent to touch his lips to hers, making her release
it. His kiss was as gentle as his entry, and he didn’t close his eyes. Neither
did she. When he drew away and watched, she smiled and curled a hand around his
neck, pushing fingers into his hair. She loved the way it appeared black until
the light hit it, then gleamed pure dark blue. Subtle and fascinating.

He sank deep, paused when fully inside her. “I love you,” he
murmured. “I’ve never told that to another woman. Ever.”

She smiled at him. “I love you too.” No shadows in her mind,
not while he pulled out of her, then thrust.

As harmonious as a cappella, as sweet as a lullaby, with the
hidden bite of a Murder City Ravens song, he loved her. No doubt, no pause,
nothing held back. He didn’t tell her he loved her again. He didn’t have to.
Instead, he showed her. His body in hers, his hand caressing her, he stroked
her inside and out with an intensity she’d never known before. If this was good
now, how good would it get in future? She had no idea, but she ached to find
out. As often as she said she couldn’t, that they weren’t meant to be, her body
and her spirit told her it could, it would.

She’d tell him, but not yet. He needed this, what she could
give him, and he gave everything freely, accepted what he gave her in return
but expected nothing. Not now. She wanted him to forget, for a few hours,
before they left.

So he loved her, and she loved him back. When she curled her
legs around his waist, he could reach deeper inside her. He kept his hands by
her shoulders, carefully supporting his weight as he steadily drove her to
complete and utter madness. Every stroke touched the spot he’d come to know
well, the one that pushed her steadily toward culmination. Already she had
ripened for him. Her body was aware as she had never been for anyone before,
her willingness to give herself to him completely the key to her ecstasy.

She’d never realized that before, as she had never
understood what giving control to someone could be like. He needed it, she
knew, as she needed him to do it. He fucked her, his cock hard and relentless,
driving inside her, easy now. Her juices flowed freely, bathing his cock and
the top of her thighs and the bed beneath them. He didn’t talk, but as if he
understood by osmosis he did exactly the right thing at the right time. He
thrust into her, changing his strokes from deep to shallow, grazing her G-spot.

Her body blossomed like a flower bursting into full bloom in
the rain, or like a constant current of electricity surging through her. The
rhythm forced her pussy into hard, violent contractions around his cock,
milking it, drawing it deeper. He muttered her name in a voice far huskier than
she’d ever heard from him before, not at all like his usual melodious light
baritone. He dropped his head, resting his forehead against her upper chest,
and they stayed like that for—well, forever.

Eventually, with a sigh, he lifted his head and sealed their
mouths. They shared a long, luxurious kiss. He thrust his tongue into her mouth
and she opened for him while he took his time, tasting her, stroking her. She
tasted him in return, as he let her into his mouth, and the kiss began to turn
wild. He hardened inside her. Hastily, he drew away. “We’re taking a chance. We
shouldn’t do this.”

She considered, staring up at him, and she knew she’d love
his child. She also knew that such a decision would be selfish and unfair. “We
can’t, James. Not now.”

He nodded and slid a hand between them to hold the condom in
place while he withdrew from her. She sighed, already missing him as he rolled
over and got out of bed, heading for the bathroom. He glanced over his
shoulder, eyes bright with promise. “Stay right there.”

The toilet flushed and the sink taps ran, then he was back.
Natural to move into his arms, to let him press a kiss to her forehead, then to
her mouth. She traced her fingers over the tribal on his arm. “I could get one
of those.”

“A matching one?” He laughed, a happy sound. “If you like.
Maybe I’ll get your name tattooed in huge letters over my chest, so every time
I strip onstage, people will know who I belong to.”

She frowned. “What?”

“I’m yours. That goes with love, doesn’t it?” His expression
was graver than his words indicated. He’d gone for light, but he meant it.

“We can’t know how long this will last.”

He touched his finger to her lips. “Together or apart, it’ll
last a lifetime. But I don’t go in for the huge tattoos. You’ve seen Jace’s?
According to him it hurt like a bitch, but once he’d committed to it, he
couldn’t go back. Except for refusing to have it colored. He said the
monochrome was classier. Less painful too.”

She joined in his laughter.

“Hungry?” he asked. “For us, it’s early. Just after one,
believe it or not. We should be getting hungry.”