Collaboration (19 page)

And that’s another thing. We both head separate directions tomorrow and there’s no telling when I’ll see her again. Now that the video has been filmed and launched, there’s really no reason that I
should
see her, short of awards shows and industry events. As much as I’ll miss what he had here tonight, what I’m really going to miss is talking and laughing and just being near her.

“So… I have a question,” Taryn says, interrupting my thoughts. Good, I didn’t know where they were going anyway.

“Shoot.”

“Do you do that…what’s it called that Eminem did in the movie
8 Mile?
”

“What, freestylin’?” I ask. “Nah, I don’t do that. But I do give the guy props, ‘cause he can make raps on the fly like nobody’s business.”

“How come you don’t do it?” Taryn questions.

“I could do it, but do I want to? Hell no. One, freestyle raps center around put-downs, right? Well, I don’t have any desire to sit there and come up with clever little rhymes designed to slam somebody’s Momma or Daddy or their girl or whoever—that’s not my style. I may get shit for not doing it, but I don’t care. At the end of the day, the haters aren’t the people I gotta answer to, right? And,” I continue, “too many brothers end up dead right after a freestyle battles. See, it may all seem like fun and games and everybody walks away happy afterward, but in the end, nobody wins, ‘cause the guy who’s declared the victor ends up six feet under before the week’s out.”

“Are you serious?” Taryn asks.

“Dead serious,” I say with a smirk, trying to lighten things up. The last thing I want to talk to Taryn about is the reality of the world I live in. She might never give me a chance if she knew the truth. When she doesn’t say anything, I decide is a good time to ask a question that’s been on
my
mind.

“Peaches?”

“Yeah?” she asks.

“What’s up with you and country boy?”

“Are you referring to my guitarist, Ryder?” she asks, turning toward me with a smirk on her face. Shit, she knows I’m jealous.

“That’s the one,” I say, pulling her closer to me. “And you can wipe that shit-eating grin off your face.”

She grimaces and says, “I’ve always hated that expression. Sounds disgusting.”

“Yeah it does. Now quit avoiding the question,” I state and give her a brief kiss on her now extra-plump lips. For whatever reason, I just can’t seem to stop kissing her.

“Hah, you’re one to talk,” she responds, arching her perfectly shaped brow at me. “But okay, I’ll bite, especially since I don’t have anything to hide. Not when it comes to Ryder anyway,” she quickly adds and it’s my turn to cock an eyebrow at her. She rushes on, “I’ve known Ryder since I arrived in LA. He’s one of the best there is…um, best guitarists there is. Any genre, you’d be hard-pressed to find better. There’s never been anything between us though except friendship and musical compatibility.”

“Musical compatibility, huh?” I ask, not buying it—she’s definitely holding back on me.

“Yeah, he’s actually a pretty good songwriter,” she explains. “He’s co-written a couple of my songs and he’s great for bouncing ideas off of.”

“And it doesn’t hurt that he thinks you hang the moon,” I state.

She sighs before saying, “He has indicated interest—more now than ever before. Not sure why but he has.”

“Oh, I know
exactly
why,” I say, grabbing her picture perfect ass.

“Hey!” she exclaims in mock offense. “That’s not it at all. I actually think it’s my mom trying to push us together. When things didn’t work out with Maverick, she must have got it in her head that—“

“Wait, hold the fuckin’ phone,” I say, causing her to cringe. Shit, I’ve got to tone down the language in front of her. “Please tell me I heard you wrong. You were with Maverick?”

“You think you’re the only one who dates?” she asks, obviously offended.

“I don’t date, darlin’, I fuck. Big difference.”

“Good to know where I stand. Thanks for the clarification,
Trace
,” she says, and I hate the way she emphasizes my name. Or my stage name. Or whatever the fuck it is.

She pushes away from me and I know I’m about two seconds from getting my ass booted out of here. And even though I can’t believe she “dated” the biggest douchebag in the music business, I’m not ready to leave. Not when it could be for good. I grab a hold of her hands with each of mine, saying, “I’m sorry, Taryn. Being perfectly honest with you, babe, I have no idea why I’m harping like some fu—, uh, freakin’ jealous girlfriend,” I say. There’s that eyebrow again. I lean close and kiss it and the pissed-off expression on her face melts away. “My mistake. This is new territory for me. Usually I don’t care who’s banging who—“

“Whoa, who said anything about me banging either of them?” she cuts me off and it’s obvious I’ve offended her again.
Damn, you’re on a roll tonight, T.

“Okay, whatever. Never ask a question you don’t want to know the answer to, right? I just want to know more about you, that’s all. And I already know you’ve got a Momma who makes the Devil seem like a saint…”

There’s the smile I love. I take advantage of the fact that I’m temporarily back in her good graces, pulling her back to me again and kissing her delicious lips. She breaks the kiss after a minute or two, saying, “Well, maybe I want to know about
you.”
Yeah, I deserve that.

“What’s there to tell, sweetheart? You know I lived in the one of the roughest ‘hoods in the US, Dre’s my cousin, I’ve got an uncle who might give your mom a run for her money, and I’m lucky as shit to have what I do when so many don’t.”

“One,” she says, placing her index finger against my lips, “I don’t think it is luck. I’ve seen you work. You’ve earned what you have, Trace. And yeah, I think about it all the time how people work just as hard or harder and don’t even earn enough to put a proper roof over their head. But you know what? We’re in the position to help people and that’s what sets us apart from so many others. We don’t need all the money we make, and instead of buying another car we don’t need and that we’ll probably never drive or purchasing a bigger house that we only spend a few weeks of the year in, we can use what we have to make others’ lives better. I’d even go so far as to say we have a responsibility to do so, but I’d like to think we do it because we genuinely care and not for that reason.”

I know I’m staring at her and I know my mouth has dropped open but I could care less. What Taryn just said resonates with how I feel, though I’ve never had the balls to articulate it. I kiss her hand, which is resting on my jaw line, before wrapping her in my arms. I then gently lay her head on my chest and she pouts, “But I didn’t even get to two….”

I kiss her forehead, run my fingers through her hair, and close my eyes, hoping that morning will never come and we can just stay here like this forever.

Chapter 13

Taryn

Trace shifts and I slowly stir awake. Just as I’m about to ease out of bed to make sure I don’t have raccoon eyes or rancid breath, my head jerks back and knocks into his strong bicep. My hair is caught under his arm and I need to release it without waking him so I can escape to the bathroom.

Slowly and painfully, I pull the ensnared strands out without disturbing his peaceful sleep. There’s a small smirk across those impeccable lips, and if it wasn’t for my fear of him waking up and wondering ‘who the hell is this mess of a girl next to me,’ my lips would already be on his right now.

Easing myself up, I take a minute to relish the fact that he’s in my bed and soak up what I see. A sheet—
my
sheet—covers up his nakedness, while one leg has snuck out from the tangled sheets during the night. One muscular arm rests behind his pillow, the other remains by his side where he had been holding me close. A ripped and toned stomach that I had imagined running my fingers across is now exposed for the taking. I slowly ease up out of bed, knowing that the sooner I fix myself up, the sooner I’ll be back in bed with him.

A quick glance in the dresser mirror when I stop for a pair of clean underwear affirms my decision to sneak out of bed. Once I’m in my bathroom, I quickly brush through the tangles caused by an unbelievable night of rolling-in-the-sheets sex. Then I grab a washcloth to clear away the smeared makeup that should have been cleaned off last night. Any amount of blemishes the artists may have to cover up this week will be worth having Trace’s arms wrapped around me. Pulling the mouthwash out of the cabinet, I pour the minty liquid and swish it around my mouth. A good brushing would feel better, but the chance I might wake him with my loud electric toothbrush is too risky.

I’m just about to spit it out when the door inches opens and Trace appears in the doorway, leaning against the frame. Damn the man looks good standing there in his gray boxers. With all the urgency of last night, I wasn’t able to truly savor the sight of him before.

“Are you hiding?” he asks, walking straight toward me. The mouthwash starts to sting in my mouth, but I’m not about to do something as unattractive as
spitting
in front of him. He leans into the counter, caging me in, and my breath hitches and heartbeat accelerates with his close presence. Reaching over, he takes the mouthwash bottle from the counter and slowly unscrews the cap before pouring some into his mouth, never once breaking eye contact with me.

Not being able to hold the burning liquid in any more, I casually, and as nonchalantly as possible, turn around and let it trickle out of my mouth. Trace follows my lead a minute later, spitting it out over my shoulder. The simplicity of doing something so normal in a shared space has a uniquely intimate feeling. When I turn around, Trace’s lips land on mine and his tongue invades my mouth, making me seriously grateful for minty mouthwash. After kissing for an indeterminable length of time, Trace finally pushes back. “I missed those sweet lips,” he says.

“It’s only been…what, two hours since we finally went to sleep?” I joke, turning around to face the sink again. He quickly turns me back around with a firm hand on my waist.

“I miss them the second they leave mine,” he tells me with his characteristic wink. I’m not sure why it happens at this very moment, but a sudden worry washes over me. I assume it’s the fact that we’re parting today to continue our tours. What will happen? What are we?

“Hey…” He takes my chin in his hand, so that I can’t look anywhere but at his baby blues. “Where did you go?”

As we stand there in our underwear in my bathroom, I can’t help but feel like a silly high school girl who wants to know if her crush wants more than just a one-night screw. This insecurity isn’t something I’m used to feeling, and I hate the thought of what it might mean—that I might be screwed. While the questions overwhelm my brain, Trace waits patiently for me with curious eyes.

“Sorry, it’s nothing.” Of course I take the easy way out. Instead of asking what exactly it is that he wants from this, I remain quiet like some damn groupie who doesn’t expect anything.

“Peaches,” he sighs, enfolding me in his arms. My eyes search his for some sign of what he might say. The last thing I want is for him to throw some bullshit my way—I want him to be straight with me. Without being able to escape his intense stare any longer, I steel myself and ask, “What do you want, Trace?”

A small chuckle escapes his mouth. “Well, that’s a pretty broad question. First a shower—with you, of course—then maybe some eggs if have any, and…let’s see, a couple repeats of last night sound pretty good,” he teases while his hands give my ass a firm squeeze.

I jump slightly from his sudden grasp and Trace’s face immediately turns solemn. “Seriously though, Peaches. This isn’t some one-night thing for me. Is it for you?” His hands are now resting near my hips, where his gentle fingers graze my panty line.

“No,” I truthfully answer, and a dazzling smile lights up his entire face. With that, I start to feel at peace with my startling emotions for Trace. Maybe he won’t break my heart…maybe.  

“So…no country boy, right?” Trace asks, cocking an eyebrow.

“I already told you, there’s nothing going on with
Ryder
,” I say, enunciating his name. “What about you? Any girls I need to know about?”

“There’s never been, baby,” he assures me. Before I can ask any more questions, his lips claim mine. He kisses me like he did all night but there’s something different about this one. The determined urgency has a sense of dominance, as though he’s telling me I’m his now. And God, am I ever. 

We don’t share any more words, allowing our mouths and hands to do the talking. He props me up on the counter and his large hands cup my breasts, his thumbs rub across my peaked nipples, making me moan into his mouth. My hands roam down his tight abs to his waistband. Placing my finger under the elastic, I tease him by brushing it back and forth.

“Peaches, I need you to fucking touch me,” Trace says in my ear causing a shiver to shoot up my spine. Placing both hands on the sides of his boxers, I pull them over his considerable length, bringing my foot up to help drag them the rest of the way down. “Shit,” he murmurs as my hand wraps around his cock. When I massage my thumb over the tip and spread the drop of pre-cum around, Trace’s head falls onto my shoulder and bites gently. “You’re killin’ me,” he groans, causing me to increase my speed, loving the effect my touch has on him.

The faster I move my hand, the harder his right hand squeezes my hip. With a sudden growl, he picks me up from the counter and I instinctively wrap my legs around his waist with only my now very wet panties separating us. Continuing to devour me with his lips and tongue, he opens the glass shower door and reaches in, turning the water on. “Time to get you clean, Peaches.”

After he releases me, my feet find the tile floor and then Trace backs up a few steps. “I want to see you take it off,” he instructs. His azure eyes roam my body like a tiger intently observing his prey and he stares hungrily when I hook my fingers on each side of my panties, shimmying them down my legs. His eyes continue to follow the panties until I step out of them and then they travel directly to the area now exposed. “Fuck,” he says and I giggle as he takes me in his arms and under the warm cascading water.