Rockin' the Heart (Hot Wired) (32 page)

Jase kissed the back of her
knuckles. “I love you. I thank God for you and have no idea what I’d do without you. I adore your devotion to me. I really do. Don’t stop. I will require pampering later—even if that means I have to give up my man card. But right now someone else needs you more.”

She licked her lips and tossed his best friend a cagey glance. In that moment, he’d have given anything to know what she was thinking. He scrutinized Fang, who stared at his sister, waiting for her to make her decision.

“You’re okay with us being together?”

“
I want you to be happy. It’s obvious Fang makes you happy.” He squeezed her fingers again. “I was an ass. Forgive me?”

Before she could say anything, Fang asked, “You were an ass about what?”

Leave it to his best buddy to demand a specific apology. Asshole. But Sam probably needed to hear it. “I was an ass for rejecting your relationship, for not giving y’all the benefit of the doubt, and most of all for being selfish and wanting to keep you both to myself. I could excuse my behavior by saying I was being overprotective, but that’s only the partial truth. The truth is I didn’t want to deal with changing my life to make yours happier. I saw it as an inconvenience, and I am sorry for my behavior. I was wrong.”

His former playmate shrugged. “I forgive you.”

“Wasn’t asking for
your
forgiveness. Appreciated Fang, but I need Sam’s.”

“Forgiven.” She pulled his hair like when they were kids, the love she held for him evident in her expression.

Jase was a lucky bastard. He did not deserve the family he had, but nothing would convince him to give them up. After getting a dose of how short life could be, he finally realized their happiness was all that mattered. The ‘what ifs’ could be dealt with
if
they occurred. Borrowing trouble had been a waste of time and had brought conflict to those he loved.

Lesson learned.
He hoped not to be repeated.

A week later Sam woke spooning with Heath. Backside warm, with his knee wedged between her legs, gave him just enough space to explore her intimately with his fingers.

His breath puffed against
the back of her earlobe, and he whispered into her ear. “Happy birthday, brat.”

A finger penetrated her.

She moaned and pressed down against his caress. Starting off this way, her birthday would be happy indeed.

His chuckle sent gooseflesh scurrying across her skin. “Someone’s eager this morning.”

She buried her nails into his arm and hooked her leg over his thigh, providing him easy access to her girly bits. A slight turn of her head and their mouths connected. Tongues tangled in a slow ballet, while his penetration matched the same languid pace.

A moment later he rolled her to her back, catching her hand and guiding it between her thighs. Confused, she stared into his eyes.

“Touch yourself.” She opened her mouth to protest, but he placed the wet fingers he’d used on her over her lips. “Now’s the perfect time to get
my
gift for your birthday.”

Amused that he’d purchased himself a gift, but frustrated that he’d worked her up and
wasted a timeout on a measly gift for himself.
On my birthday!
“You bought
yourself
something for
my
birthday?”

“More or less.” A wicked twinkle showcased the devil inside.
He slid off the bed, his cock swollen and the veins evident. She admired his ass while he rummaged through a bag. He returned with a single dark blue jewelry box. At the foot of the bed he stopped and stared at her. “You’re not touching yourself.”

“
By definition rebels are rule breakers.”

“Do you want my gift or not?”

“Not.” A flash of a frown scurried across his brow. “Whatever that is”—she toed the velvet box—“it’s your gift to you. I want you to fuck me…
that
is your gift to
me
.”

“
Brat, I have so much planned for you today, you’ll be exhausted by midday.”

“Promises…promises,” she teased.
“I hear rock star gods are shallow creatures. I’m suspicious you cannot live up to your pretty packaging and illicit promises.”

A smirk tilted one side of his mouth and his silver gaze glittered. “I’ve already proven I’m more than a pretty package.”
Yes, he has
. “I should tickle you for that gibe, brat.”

Sam offered him a cheeky grin. In response he ran his fingernail along the bottom of her foot. She gave a sharp squeal of surprise and executed a quick yank of her leg to remove his tickle from her insole. She surveyed him carefully ready to make an escape if he was serious about tickling her further.

“I’d rather fuck you instead.”
Thank God.
He caught her ankle and held her still as he kissed her foot where his nail had scraped.
Gawd
… even that was sexy. “I want you wearing these when I slide my dick into you.”

He
crawled up the bed and knelt beside her hip. He snapped the lid on the box upward. Gemstones twinkled in the light. Jewelry for each of her piercings. Sam laughed. No wonder he called it a gift for himself. “Only diamonds will do in the most intimate areas for my woman.”

She spread her legs and circled her clit with a fingertip. “You have to remove the old ones and put in the new ones.
You know since they’re
your
gift.”

He surprised her by not balking
and going for her bellybutton first. After unscrewing the barbell he slid the surgical steel out and placed it aside on the bed. He prepped the new jewelry. The top bead bore a gemstone, as well as a dangling heart. Hands steady he threaded the barbell into place and tightened the ball into position.

The straight nipple barbells came next, with each end showcasing half a carat gemstone.
She watched his face as he worked, his features washed in solemnity as if he tagged her as his by giving her these.

As he removed one and replaced it, he said,
“I almost bought the nipple shields, but I didn’t want anything coming between my mouth and these beauties.”

“I approve.”

He licked the nipple and set to work on the other one. With quick efficiency he completed his task, cupped her breast and flicked his thumb across the spiked peak. “You look amazing decked out in my diamonds.”

Her grin died when he bent his head and sucked hard on just the
tip. The contact had a direct line to her groin and she rocked her hips against his leg. As soon as he started, he vacated her breast and wiggled down her body placing kisses along her belly.

The barbell slid from her clitoral hood with barely a tease. His eyes dilated when the new one was in place. Like before, he bent his head and sucked. Her fingers dive-bombed his hair and held him in position until she climaxed a few minutes later.

As she went limp, Heath caught the back of her knees and went to his. Holding her legs open, his gaze focused on her core, he executed a thrust and impaled her as deep as he could go.

Sam cried out at the sudden fullness. Bliss bloomed and spread from
their connection, winding tendrils of ecstasy through her body. She twisted the sheets in her grasp relishing his hard plunges, each drive wrenching a gasp from her. Wild, uncontrolled sex, rough and raw, and Sam treasured every nuance.

The climax struck her
by surprise. One moment she steeped in the hedonism of his thrusts and in the next she combusted with a strangled cry. “
Heath
!”

He hooked
one of her legs over his hip and wedged his thumb on her clit as he came down on top of her. “Happy Birthday, Sam,” he said as his pad circled her nub, prolonging her orgasm.

She shook beneath him in unending pleasure,
his name falling from her lips as if whispering desperate invocations, “Heath… Heath… Heath….”

He
bottomed out, stilled and groaned in her ear. She clutched at his head and smashed their lips together as he spilled inside her. A little more hip action wrenched a tremble from her. Heath ceased the stroking of her clitoris and he collapsed atop her.

She drifted
to sleep. It felt like moments lapsed before he woke her and dragged her from the warm bed to the kitchen to partake in a late breakfast.

“I’m naked,” she pointed out
, shoving her hair out of her face when he pushed her down on the chair.

A devilish grin charmed her. “Just the way I like you, in your birthday suit.”

He wore lounge pants. She liked him nude too. “The birthday girl requests you disrobe, Mr. Fangor.”

“I’m not taking requests today, Ms. Collins.” He set a tray of blueberry pancakes in front of her and
soaked them in maple syrup. Just the way she liked them.

“Is this my birthday or yours?”

“Yours, but I’m allowed privileges.”

“Do I get privileges on your birthday?”

He opened a can of BuzzMe and placed it in front of her. “We’ll negotiate that at a later date.”

“What are you up to?”

Simulated innocence spoiled his features. “I can’t enjoy
my
gifts if you’re dressed, brat.”

That practicality coupled with the
guileless expression, set off alarms.

“Check out the article on page four.” Heath nodded at the
Celebrity Beef
rag resting on the table.

“Is it going to piss me off?”
She should prepare herself for the real possibility the paparazzi would rarely grace them with a moment of peace?

“I…hope not.”

She contemplated him a long moment. Unable to discern what he premeditated, she picked up the magazine, and flipped to page four. Written by the reporter they’d chatted with after the concert a couple of weeks ago.

Fang asks the question…

The headline read, along with a nice spread of photos of them kissing and hugging in public venues. Even a couple of snapshots from the abbreviated tour made the lineup.

“We look good together, pookie.” She blew him a kiss.

“It’s a known fact I’m the hottest of the two.” He winked back at her.

Lead singer for the mega hit rock band, Hot Wired, Heath Fangor—better known to his fans as Fang—was recently touted as one of the most eligible bachelors of the year by
RockLegends
. Fans from all walks of life agreed with the montage. Then Samantha Collins—sister to Hot Wired’s drummer, but better known for her rebellious antics that often land her on the wrong side of the law—was caught making out with Fang in a sex store. Fans were scandalized and abuzz by the news.

“What a crock of bullshit! We weren’t making out!” An almost kiss was a long way from making out.

“Keep reading.” He cleared his throat and sipped his coffee.

“It gets worse?”

He shrugged and crossed his ankle over his knee.
She speculated on his odd behavior, but he motioned to the article. “Read aloud so I can follow along where you are.”

Sam wet her lips and began to
read again…

Just that quick one of rock stars most eligible bachelors was off the single’s list. Speculations ran amok that it was a publicity campaign to promote their tour.

“They kinda got that one right.”

Heath remained silent, his finger tapping on the table
, his focus honed on her.

She
picked up where she left off…

Then they gave the fans a look into their life while on the tour. From the moment Samantha Collins stepped onto the stage and interacted with Fang, it was obvious there was charisma between them. Catastrophic charisma. Respect. Attraction. To put it bluntly, they are fucking hot together—

“They can say ‘fucking’ in an article like this?” Stunned she gaped at Heath.

Amusement glinted in his silver eyes.
“Seems so.”

Confused
she returned to the article…

—and all the female fans were crushed they had to cross Fang off their to-do list.

Sam snorted.

I was given the rare privilege of meeting them personally and getting an interview with them. I’m sold on this couple. I’m certain they’re going to be one of the romantic legends. Like Marilyn and JFK… okay I admit that’s a bad analogy, but Samantha is as sultry and sexy as Marilyn, so it’s an accurate description from that vantage. The best modern comparison I can come up with is Angie and Brad…

“Oh, good gawd! This is the most ludicrous article I’ve ever read.” She tossed the rag-mag on the table and picked up her fork. “He didn’t use one single piece of the interview we gave him. Shocker he created his own hype full of stupid jargon and even more ridiculous analogies.” Syrupy heaven hit her taste buds, and her eyes widened. “Oh, my God!
Sooooo
good. Orgasmic.”

His eyes darkened. He nodded at the magazine.
“Finish the article, Sam.”

Another slice of tongue-gasm
made passionate love to her palate. “Why? It’s minutes from my life I can’t get back.”

“Please. For me.”

She wagged her fork at him and catered him with a distrustful eye. “You’re lucky you’re so sexy and have an acrobatic tongue.”

He
leaned forward and smeared his finger through her syrup, licked the tacky, sweet substance off his digit. The move reminded her how he licked her arousal off his fingers. She swallowed hard.

“If
you’re
lucky I’ll demonstrate my tongue-talent for you later.”

With a groan, she stabbed her fork in her pancakes. “I fear giving in to you sets bad precedent, but with promises like that…
I’ll take the risk.”