Strung Out (Needles and Pins #1) (35 page)

Thinking of their past together had panicked him this morning. Their past of memories and emotions was like a bottomless well. He was falling in love—possibly had already—and was in danger of falling and falling forever.

They began with languid, lazy kisses, but within minutes, she crawled atop him, holding his body hostage with every caress of her hands and fiery touch of her lips and tongue. He’d pinned her down earlier as he teased and tasted inch after inch of her beautiful body, but she had him submissive with only her lips on his skin—and every flick of her tongue.

As his craze built, every alpha instinct had him wanting to flip their positions, and yet those XY chromosomes also got-off on the rhythm of her tits with her every move, the straddle of her legs over his hips, and all that thick, wavy hair swinging around her flushed face.

And then she let out a whimper of anticipation as she aligned herself perfectly and he lost it.

“Dammit, Scar!” In his next breath, he had her on her back and her legs wrapped in his arms.

And in the next breath was inside her.

“
Seems weird without
Rascal.” Her words were groggy, right before they drifted off.

“Mmh hmm. He’s fine though. Seth texted.”

“And when were you checking texts?”

“I’m a ‘multitasker.’”

“You’re a liar.”

“I’m offended.”

She giggled and her breath bathed his lips. He told her about Seth texting way earlier asking if Rascal could spend the night. She accused him of getting a dog sitter so he could make his move. And between kisses and laughter, they drifted into a doze.

By the time the rapping on the door roused him, he realized it had been going on a while. Disentangling his limbs from Scar, who barely stirred in her sleep, he jumped from the bed. Pulling open the closet, he skimmed a hand down the shelves as his eyes adapted to the dark room. Plucking a pair of khaki cargo shorts from their cubbyhole, he shook them out and stepped into them commando.

He poked his head through a tee shirt as he sprinted the hallway and then peeled it off when it didn’t stretch to fit him. As he entered the lighted den, he glanced at the shirt and saw the flower motif on the pink material. Wadding the obvious woman’s tee in one fist, he stopped by the fireplace mantel and switched off the music. He stooped, sweeping their clothing from the rug, bunching it all together, and jamming it into a corner of the couch with a pillow on top. Carrying the trash that had been with the clothing, he detoured back to the kitchen, burying it in the kitchen bin in the folds of the pink shirt. Twisting the faucet, he held his hands beneath the stream in the sink and then wiped them across his face, slicking the unruly strays of his hair back as he did.

Finally, flipping back the shade on the windowed door, he checked to verify he wasn’t unlocking to the boogeyman.

What he found was a conundrum. Ivy Messlehof flexed her shoulders when she saw him, and a hopeful, barely-there smile curved her lips. There was no use even entertaining the idea of leaving her outside. The temptation was there of returning to bed to curl around a Scarlette who seemed more peaceful than she’d been in weeks. But Rascal pranced excitedly near Ivy’s legs, and when his dog saw him through the window, he pawed the door. Drawing a fortifying breath, he unlocked and swung open the door. Rascal shot through with an animated waggling tail.

When Gage continued to block the threshold without a word, Ivy spoke. “Gage!” Her dark eyes wandered over him. Seeing them alight with definite interest was a reminder of how barely dressed he was. “Wow!” Her eyes still hadn’t hit his face, and he suddenly wished he’d thought of donning the shirt he’d cleaned up, instead of rolling it with the rest of the clothing. When her gaze ran down his arm, stopping on the ink etching his left fingers, he knew some of that wow had been over his tattoos. For a second, he remembered Scar’s reaction play out in almost this same scenario the night she’d shown up on his doorstep. Her lips moved a couple of times before more words came out. “Just wow. I’ve seen you. Pictures obviously. But in person it’s so different.”

“Wow to you too, Ivy.” He felt guilty greeting her, even much more so, returning her joking compliment. But standing before him, as much as the woman she’d become, was the fourteen year old girl he remembered.

“The boys said they had permission to keep your dog all night. But he wouldn’t settle down. And I wanted to talk to Scarlette. So I said I’d just bring him over. Can I come in? I really need to see her. Please?” Relenting, he stepped back. She continued her seemingly nervous chatter as she passed him. “Did I wake you guys? I heard music and the lights were all on…” She trailed off when he turned away long enough to close the door. Her throat moved convulsively, and her eyes riveted from his shoulder blades to his face. “Um, anyway… she’s asleep isn’t she? Or is she mad?” This time when her gaze grazed below his face to his chest and more, she seemed off. “I should come back.”

“No.” Scar’s voice rang quiet but clear as she advanced on them from the den.

Ivy halted next to him and her hand, already reaching for the door latch, fell to her side. “I feel so bad about everything. I’ve been outside staring at the lake all night. I couldn’t go to bed without trying to talk to you.”

“Erm, I’m just going to…” He locked with Scar’s eyes with a silent inquiry and felt the okay when she blinked. “If you need me, I’ll be…”
Whatever you need always
. He whistled for Rascal and the two of them adjourned to the bedroom. It was the best privacy he could give her, other than resorting to closing himself in the bathroom.

They didn’t keep their voices down, and their conversation drifted clearly. He wasn’t intentionally eavesdropping. The bedroom didn’t have a television or anything. His phone was still in the dock in the other room, so headphones were out.

“You were right to worry. The guys in the band, on the bus that first night, they saw me texting and took my phone. Said they’d give it back. That it was to make sure I didn’t take pictures or anything. But it was lost by the time we reached L.A. By the time we were in L.A., I was sick of them. Things happened. At first, I was into it. Then sometimes it didn’t feel right. You know? I mean not bad things. Just sharing, and threesomes… foursomes… One of them had this ritual before every show. He had to snort cook from a girl’s… ass… so sometimes, that was me. It was degrading…”

He wished the bed would open up and swallow him with its layers of pillows and blankets to muffle what he was hearing to a bearable murmur of less audible words.

It was crazy on the road. Hell, the life for many musicians was crazy off the road. Until this moment, he’d never viewed the debauchery from the eyes of the women they’d used and discarded as party favors. He’d never been more ashamed.

“…I was so ready to dump them, but I was in Hollywood. Finally. My dream. Where it turns out, Pax has a wife! Did you ever know he had a wife? Keeping that under wraps is pretty miraculous…”

Not so miraculous, Gage thought. His own wife hadn’t come to light, not until she’d tried to take half of everything present and future…

“…so, get this. He introduces me to her. Tells her things.
Things
, you know? And she smiles and asks how long I’m staying! The rest happened like I said. Me and Bradley met, hit it off. The tape got out there. The thing is… Scarla, I didn’t know you’d be worried. I’m so sorry. I had no idea you’d give it another thought.”

“Why wouldn’t I? We were best friends.”

Silence.

“We were friends, I mean.”

Silence. And then Ivy. “I hadn’t seen you in years.”

“But we stayed in touch. Texted. Facebook…” Silence. “Oh… Seriously? I’m just one of the ‘Ivy Leagues’ now? One of your gazillion bitches who text and like your statuses?”

“No! I didn’t know. I didn’t realize. That you still thought of us as that close. If I had thought you were worrying—that you would get on a plane—I swear to God I would have―”

“I know.” Scar cut her off, and his heart ached for her. “I know. It’s fine. Don’t worry.”
It wasn’t fine
. He knew that voice. Her fake bravado voice. “I get it. Seriously, no worries.”

“Scarlette? It means the world to me that you did this. I mean, my mom didn’t even come looking. You’re the one who came. And I was sitting in the dark tonight, remembering us. The Dynamite Duo. Remember? It was us against the Ivy Leagues and Scarlette’s Harlots. I realized how fake everything in my life has been. Friends who turned on each other. Parents wrapped up in their own lives. Boyfriends who couldn’t handle the real me. But you’ve always been there, and I didn’t realize it. Because you were saying all the stuff anyone else said. But you’re the only one who meant it.”

“I’m sorry your life has been sucky. I hope it’s better now.”

“And there it is. The fake voice.” So Ivy knew her well enough to recognize it too. Part of him wanted to storm out there and rip the bitch’s hair out for hurting Scar. What the hell had possessed her to come clean with the brutal truth, when doing so would tear Scar apart? “I don’t blame you. Can you promise me something though? Call me again? Or text me if you want to start that way? I want to be friends again. I want to be best friends. Like we were. Like you were always.” Awkward silence. A squeak of sneakers on the floor. The clink of the door latch. “I’m glad you have Gage to get you through the shit coming up. He was always crazy about you from the start. I’m glad that hasn’t changed.”

The door closed, and Rascal jumped from the bed, clacking down the hallway to investigate.

He heard her stirring about in the kitchen. It was several minutes before she, followed by Rascal, shadowed the doorway.

“I guess you heard.” She crossed the room and handed over the bitter cherry mix in a chipped mug and a bottle of water. Then she scooted back against the headboard with him, cradling her own mug of something. “I’m such an idiot.”

“No you’re not. You’re a good person.” It killed him that she’d been lonely and reaching out to a ghost the last several years.

“I feel so stupid. About everything. Not just Ivy.” Meaning her mother too? “God…”

“Stop saying that. You’re not. You’re different. You see the good first where others see the bad first.” Sucking the drink down in one long swallow, he shuddered and took several gulps of the water. She twisted, pulling the chain on the antique lamp and switching it off.

Rascal wedged between them when they scrunched down to lay, heads resting on their pillows.

He rested his arm over her waist and searched for her eyes in the shadows. “Do you think she guessed about us?”

“She didn’t have to guess” Her fingers glided down his back. “You have eight very angry claw marks…”

“Is that okay with you?”

“That I marked you? Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”

“That she knows, smarty.” He brushed his fingertips along her wrist as he waited for her answer.

“I don’t care who knows.”

Did
he
care? She didn’t ask again, but he thought on it.

There would be a lot of shade thrown.

They would have to be ready for the publicity a relationship between Tyler Conterra’s daughter and the son of the man who had discovered and originally signed him would cause.

The icing on this cake was their prior adolescent relationship. Stepbrother and stepsister could easily be overlooked had they been adults who fell for one another and their parents married. But they'd grown up together in the same house; they'd sat across the dinner table as brother and sister for several years. Hell, Scarlette had begun calling his father ‘Dad’! Their twisted brand of stepsibling-turned-lovers was the taste of scandal media hounds thirsted for.

However, their prior relationship as ‘steps’ was what had brought them together. A fierce girl who had lost her father before she’d known him. A lonely boy who had lost a loving mother too soon.

He had always loved Scarlette. And she’d always loved him. She might not know it yet. But he was confident she would figure it out soon. Where they would go from there, he didn't know, but they would work through it together.