Collaboration (28 page)

“So, what should I do?” I ask.

“Right now, don’t worry about it. Let me make some phone calls and see what I can come up with,” he says, lying back down and pulling me on top of him. “One thing’s for sure, he’s not ruining this night for us.”

Our lips meet and his hands rest on the exposed part of my back, right above my waistband. The soft touch of his thumbs has me shivering and goose bumps quickly form across my body in this heated night. “Tell me we’re alone and that no one will see us,” he says softly and I nod my head in confirmation. “Good, because I don’t think I could take no for an answer.”

His hands pull on the hem of my shirt until it’s off my body before removing my lacy pink bra. As he takes a nipple in his mouth, I push his shirt up, slowly running my hands along every defined muscle. While he lavishes attention on my other breast, my hands glide down his stomach to the button of his pants. When I pop it open, he gasps for air but before I can get the zipper down, he quickly tosses me over on my back, resting on top of me.

“My turn,” he says. He kisses his way down my stomach and I close my eyes in anticipation, my body already on high alert. Then he unsnaps my pants and pulls my zipper down slowly—
way
too slowly. Placing his fingers on either side of my hips, I lift my ass, allowing him to shrug my jeans off. His moist tongue licks up my leg until he reaches my already-soaked panties, where he snakes his tongue along the seam. I’m already becoming unglued before I feel his fingers near my entrance and I groan, just in case he doesn’t already know where I want them.

I hear an unmistakable rip and my eyes fly open to find my pink panties split in two. “Sorry, I was desperate to taste you,” he tells me with clear hunger in his eyes. After Trace spreads my legs wide, I watch as he devours me, his eyes never leaving mine, and the romantic scene from earlier has now become the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. “So fucking sweet,” he says, licking his lips before descending again. I arch my head back on the blanket, relishing the feel of Trace’s tongue as it flicks my clit before he sucks it into his mouth. My body bucks when he unexpectedly inserts a finger, maneuvering it until he locates my G-spot. One more finger goes in, and I’m so close that it’s taking every muscle I have to not let go because I don’t ever want this to end. He uses his hands to open me up farther, and when his tongue plunges inside me again, I can’t hold off. “Aughhhhh!!”

After a string of curses that anyone in his entourage would be proud of, I close my eyes, lost in the rapturous ecstasy. Before I can open them again, he’s on top of me, whispering in my ear, “Now I’m going to bury myself so deep inside of you, you’ll never want me to leave.” With those words, he does exactly what he promised. We match each others’ rhythm, thrust for thrust, moaning and grunting without abandon. After frantic clutching and squeezing, I release and he follows me seconds later before collapsing on me.

“God, Trace, I…” I stop myself, not knowing if we’re at this point yet. Although I’d be speaking the truth, I’m scared I’ll embarrass myself if the feelings aren’t mutual.

“I know, baby. I love you too,” he says softly against my ear. I can’t help but wonder if it’s the orgasm talking or if he truly means it. I don’t have to second-guess long because Trace pulls back from me, placing his hands on either side of my face. “I love you,
Taralyn
Starr.”

“And I love you, Aster Manning
the Third
,” I state as I smile up at him, surprised that he caught when my dad used
my
given name.

He chuckles before saying, “Have I told you I like it when you refer to me as Aster?”

“No, I thought I was annoying you,” I say with a wink and his fingers tickle my ribs.

“You get a kick out of annoying me, huh?” he asks, his fingers relentless as I squirm in his arms.

“Truce, Truce,” I yell.

“Tell me again,” he requests, smoothing his palms up and down my ribs.

“I love you.” I stare into his baby blues, hoping he can see how much I truly mean the words.

“I’ll never grow tired of hearing those three words leave your lips,” he reveals and bends down to kiss me again.

We remain curled up together under the night sky, enjoying every moment of peaceful bliss that we can. Eventually, growing tired, we venture back to the house. I leave Trace at the guest bedroom door after many goodnight kisses before walking to my room, missing him the second his body is away from mine.

***

The sun shines through the pale yellow curtains and I stretch, feeling refreshed. I’d forgotten how much I love my childhood bed—sometimes even the plushest hotel bed and linens don’t compare. After getting showered and dressed, I pack my bag and make my way downstairs toward the smell of coffee and the sound of sizzling bacon, both of which are making my stomach growl.

My dad and Trace are already sitting down and eating breakfast when I reach the kitchen room. Trace stands and wraps his arms around me, whispering, “I missed you last night,” while my dad smiles at the two of us.

While I’m getting a cup of coffee, I see my dad pick up his phone as Trace types something into his, before they both place them back down on the table. How cute—they must be exchanging numbers.

We eat breakfast, enjoying one another’s company, but I can’t help but look at the clock on the wall every few minutes, knowing my time with each of them is almost up. Since my dad is driving me to the airport and Trace is meeting Cal in Dallas, this will be goodbye for everyone. The worst thing is that I know I won’t see Trace for at least another month due to our insane tour schedules, and who knows how long it will be until I’m back in Texas.

After we’ve cleared the table, my dad excuses himself—probably so we can have some privacy—and Trace wraps me up in his arms and kisses me thoroughly. “I’ll miss you, baby,” he tells me.

“Same here. You’ll call me?” I question.

“Always,” he responds and I don’t doubt him because I can see the sincerity in his eyes. I run upstairs to grab a blanket I’d forgotten I want to keep with me, and when I walk outside, I find my dad and Trace talking, their faces serious. I’m really hoping it’s one of those father-daughter suitor scenarios, but then, maybe I don’t, based on the way they’re gesturing as they talk.

When they see me approach, the two shake hands and then my dad clasps Trace on the shoulder, saying goodbye—guess it must not have gone too badly. Trace climbs into the car Cal had gotten for us, and after a final chaste kiss, I watch him drive down the dirt road, taking my heart with him. I climb into my dad’s pick-up, where he’s waiting patiently for me, and then he pulls out onto the same road, kicking up a shitload of dust behind us.

“What was that all about?” I ask my dad, never one to pull punches with him.

“Ah, you know, a dad’s gotta put the fear of God into the man who loves his daughter.” Wow, that was some conversation. Just when I’m about to ask what exactly was said, my dad adds, “Speaking of putting fear in someone, I don’t want you to worry about Weston anymore, sweetheart.”

“Dad, I’ll just pay…” I insist, wanting the whole thing over.

“Taryn, that boy Weston is a piece of shit and it
will
get handled. You won’t hear from him again,” he assures me and I sit back in my seat and relax, secure in the knowledge that my dad has always been a man of his word.

Chapter 18

Trace

“Cal, good to see you, man,” I say, not even attempting a bro-hug since the guy is as wide as a fucking refrigerator and, even though I’m a pretty good size, I feel like I’m David to his Goliath—not good for my ego.

“Anytime, Ace, you know that. Now where is this little fucker? I ain’t gonna lie, I’m getting’ all kinds of antsy in this one-stoplight shithole…kind ‘a place every man and his fucking wife carry guns. And these are the kind that’ll shoot first, ask questions later, know what I mean?”

“Yeah, I hear ya, dawg, but you’re packin’ too, right?”

I laugh out loud at the look he gives me. Guess that
was
a stupid question. He climbs into the driver’s side of the black Benz he drove here, a clear indication that it’s time to roll. I slide into the passenger seat and hand him the directions Taryn’s dad gave me, along with his blessing to shut this motherfucker up—guess nobody messes with Pop’s little girl.

We speed away from the gas station where Cal and I had agreed to rendezvous this morning, leaving the shitty-ass car in the dust. Not sure where it came from and don’t really care what happens to it, just glad to be back with my boy and in a Benz. Damn, I may be getting a little too big for my britches.

It’s nice that the windows are heavily tinted so I can look out at the passing “downtown” without all these rubberneckers seeing in. So this is where my girl grew up? Cal’s right, it is a shithole. I must have a dopey grin on my face because when I look in the rearview mirror I can see a smirk on the big man, and any expression other than serious is few-and-far-between on his face.

A minute or two later we pull into the parking lot of a feed store—a fucking
feed
store—and Cal cranks up the beats playing on the satellite radio to near ear-splitting decibels. When I look at him in question, he explains loudly, “Let him know we’re here.” I nod my head and we listen to the music some before he turns it back down, saying, “And now we wait. Gotta make him sweat it out some first.” Damn, what did this guy do before he joined my team? Shaking my head, thinking I probably don’t want to know, I wait until he says, “You go in and ask him to step outside. I’ll stay here by the car while you talk to him.”

“Good idea, we want him to piss his pants, not shit a brick,” I tell him, laughing, and then I get serious again. “No really, I gotta thank you, man. I appreciate your discretion in helping me take care of all this. There aren’t many I trust, hell, not even Dre these days,” I lament, “but I trust you and…well, thanks.”

He nods his head in response and bites his lip as if he wants to say something, but it’s probably better he doesn’t. I don’t know what else to say to express my gratitude and I’ve probably already made him feel uncomfortable. I would never admit this—to anyone—but I like having Taryn to talk to…as in
really
talk to. I don’t have to put on a front with her, I can always say exactly how I feel, and she always lets me know where I stand. It’s like in those military movies where the cadets always have to ask their commanding officers, “Permission to speak freely, sir.” When she and I are talking, whether we’re together or long-distance, I don’t look for those cues to see if I can say what’s on my mind. I just say it and there’s never any judgment, giving me a freedom I haven’t known in…well, probably ever.

Even as great as my parents were, I always felt some expectations and judgment growing up, though I was far from unruly at that time. Could have had something to do with my dad’s numerous ‘fire and brimstone’ sermons, which I always felt were directed my way, even though he spent most of the time looking at the gossipy old ladies on the front row when he was preaching. If I really think about it, that upbringing impacted the choices I made, though I would never place blame on anyone other than myself. But I did always feel like I could never measure up, and after my folks weren’t around to keep me in line, I didn’t even try. Figured if I was going to Hell anyway, might as well make mine a first-class ticket.

“You ready?” Cal asks, interrupting my stream-of-consciousness. Thank God, I could probably sit here all day picking apart my jacked-up psyche. I nod once and he hands me an envelope saying, “Here’s the cheddar.” We both get out of the car and, as I tuck the money into the back of my waistband and under my shirt, Cal lights up a cigarette and leans against the Merc.

“That shit’s gonna kill ya, Cal,” I say, shaking my head at him as I start to walk away.

“Not before these skinheads do,” he jokes…or at least I
think
he’s joking. “Go wreck that boy so we can get the fuck out here.”

“’Aight, shorty,” I call out and chuckle when he flips me off.

When I enter the store, I immediately know who Weston is by the look on his face—it’s obvious he knows who I am and why I’m here. Before he can open his pie hole, I say, “Outside—now. This won’t take long.” I don’t wait to see if he’ll follow. As we step out under the store's awning, I see him glance nervously over at Cal, assessing the situation and probably his odds of survival.

“Don’t worry, half the damn town saw me drive over here so you’re safe—for now, anyway.” I want him to know I’m serious, and based on the way his Adam’s apple just bobbed up and down when he swallowed, I have a feeling he does. “Now I’m gonna make this short and sweet. I don’t have time for this shit, and I won’t be back to reiterate what I’m tellin’ you today…I’ll just send Cal over there,” I say, nodding my head in the direction of the brute of a man who is watching us closely, “and he can do the talkin’ for me. You catch my drift?”

The little shit doesn’t even have the nerve to speak, just gives me a nod. That’ll work for now, but he
will
agree to what I’ve got to say before it’s all said and done. “So here’s the deal. You will not contact Taryn, her mom, her dad, her friends, not even her fucking hairdresser. And you sure as fuck won’t talk to anyone in the media. That includes bloggers, paparazzi, reporters, gossip rags…do I need to go on?”

“No, but—“

“But nothing. You just let me finish. Now you asked for 100K, and that’s a hundred Gs you didn’t earn and you sure as hell don’t deserve. While I’d love to just tell you to go fuck yourself and watch while you do it, I’d rather give you a little fuckin’ money and never hear from your sorry ass again. If I do hear a peep out of you…well, let’s just say that no amount of money will survive the kind of heat where you’re going.”

I pause, letting my message sink in before continuing, “So are we clear? And don’t be a fuckin’ pussy…I want to hear you say that’s we’re clear.”