Untwisted (8 page)

She hit the off button. “Sorry. I’m not in the mood for music. You know what I
am
in the mood for, though?”

“Let me guess. Chicken?”

“Yes.”

“Talk to me.” He slid his arm along the back of her seat to play with the ends of her ponytails. She’d tied one off on both sides of her head in deference to the climbing heat that didn’t seem to be alleviated by the rattling A/C. Or else her internal thermometer was off.

Maybe it was hunger sweats, caused by too much salad and not enough red meat.

“I am talking to you.”

“She didn’t seem happy we were coming, did she?”

She forced herself to stare straight ahead, because if she met his gaze, she would probably crumble. And she was frigging sick and tired of being a hormonal mess. “There is no
we
in this case. The one she didn’t seem all that thrilled to see is me.”

“I bet she was just surprised is all. She probably figured she’d get a letter in return, not a visit. At least not right away.”

“I’m sure you’re right. It’s fine. Everything is fine.”

“What happens if it’s not?” he asked, so softly that she almost couldn’t make out what he said over the hum of the air conditioner.

“Then I go through the same sense of loss all over again,” she answered, just as softly. Knowing he could hear her even when she didn’t have the breath left to raise her voice. “I’m back there walking away from the only family I’ve ever known, not knowing when I’ll ever see them again. Rewriting the end isn’t possible. This is just…it.”

“You have another family now.”

“I know.” She reached up to hold his hand against her shoulder, turning her cheek into the familiar comfort he always gave her, no matter what. “That’s why I’m strong enough to see this through. Why I’m not screaming for you to turn the car around in case this is just going to make things worse.”

“How could it be worse?”

“Oh, it could be.” She let out a brittle laugh. “If I don’t go see her, I can pretend that she’s still a little girl who isn’t old enough to decide she wants me in her life.”

He didn’t speak for a long moment, splitting his gaze between her and the road. His brow was marred with lines, a sure sign he was concerned. “We don’t have to go to her place if you don’t want to. I’ll just keep driving until we get to San Francisco.”

She didn’t have to ask him if he was serious. He would do it, if she asked him to. He’d just keep driving forever if it would make her happy.

“What’s in San Francisco?”

He flashed her a distracted smile. “A chance to rewrite history.”

“Hmm. Very mysterious.” She leaned across the console to kiss his jaw. “Just so you know, I’d be down with a Motel Six. Turns out the second trimester is when a chick gets really horny. Just FYI.”

“
Gets
really horny? Did I miss the time when you weren’t horny?” He laughed as she pushed his arm. “Not that I have a problem with this. Not one bit.”

“Watch it or I’ll go back to whining for chicken.”

“You want chicken more than my dick?”

“Depends what kind of dressing is on it. And what kind of sides. If we’re talking buttery corn on the cob or some creamy coleslaw—” She laughed as he covered her mouth with his hand, but she didn’t let up. “Maybe a biscuit. I could even go for some green beans…” Playfully, she nipped his palm.

“I love that sound,” he said, dropping his hand to her thigh. He rubbed it while he switched lanes, his attention now firmly back on the road.

She had to stop distracting him with talk of chicken and sex. Either topic made her entirely too excitable.

“What sound?”

“You, laughing. You don’t do it nearly enough.”

“Sure I do. I laughed this morning when I saw the kid had a twig and two berries.” She grinned. “It was pretty funny to see your jaw hit the ground.”

“Yeah, yeah. Watch it, Edwards.”

“You won’t be able to call me that once my last name is Duffy.” When that would happen, she wasn’t exactly sure. They hadn’t firmed up wedding plans yet, because they were waiting to see how the album release went and the booking for the tour. Their schedule over the next few months was so packed that even a short honeymoon would be hard to pull off.

“That might be happening sooner than you think.”

“Huh?” She frowned, jarring herself out of hazy daydreams of wedding dresses and seven-layer cakes. Truthfully, the seven-layer cake appealed to her more than getting all done up just to prance down the aisle like a polo pony, but she wasn’t about to eschew tradition.

“Nothing.” He yawned, but she had the strangest feeling that he was faking it. Who fake-yawned? And why? “I’m exhausted, since someone didn’t let me get any sleep last night.” He flashed her a sexy grin. “I think you should sing to me to keep me awake.”

“Dream on, rockstar. But if you ease your seat back a bit, I have an idea for another way I could keep you awake.”

Shooting her a look, he slowed down for a fraction of a second and did as she asked. “Do tell.”

“I was always a show kind of girl.” She undid her seatbelt and edged closer to flip open the button of his jeans.

“You do realize that this is against vehicular law. You’re not wearing your seatbelt. And crawling—oh sweet fuck. I’m supposed to be responsible.”

She freed him from his jeans and boxers, grinning to herself over that silly
this way to Oblivion
tattoo that he’d gotten while high last winter, and rubbed her thumb over the rounded tip. He wasn’t hard yet but she knew just what to do to get him there fast.

“No, you’re supposed to keep your eyes on the road and your hands on the wheel. Let me take care of this.” She gripped him in one hand and slicked her tongue up the side, turning her head so she could look up at his strong profile, highlighted by the sun streaming through the windows. He flicked her a glance, his jaw going tight under the beginnings of his five o’clock shadow. “It’s my job, and I’m damn good at it.”

“Your job is to suck me off?”

“Mmm-hmm. Among others. And right now, yours is to sit there and take it without letting anyone know what I’m doing.” She twisted her neck and eyed the steering wheel. “Can that thing be raised any higher?”

He played with the levers and gave her a triumphant grin. “We’re in luck. It was stuck in the middle position.”

Not so much luck. It gave her little room to work, but she was small…and persistent.

“You’re definitely getting lucky,” she agreed, slipping back to grab her purse.

The dejection that flashed across his face was priceless. “Then why’d you go back over there?”

“Patience, my sweet.” She pried open the mint case in her purse and slipped one in her mouth before resuming her position. “Go faster. I like it when you speed.”

“I’m already doing the speed limit. I will not go—Jesus,” he hissed as her cool lips slid over the tip of his cock. She pressed the mint against the head, swirling it around to add that extra bit of sensation before she wiggled closer and took him deeper.

The car sped up, just as requested.

She sucked harder, using the nails on her free hand to tease his balls. She shifted onto her knees, flattening her torso to wriggle into better position. In a couple months she wouldn’t be able to do this.

Hell, if she’d had that burger with lunch, she probably wouldn’t be able to do this. Her shorts already felt suspiciously snug.

She slid her lips up and down his shaft, both hands working, drawing him slightly to the side so she didn’t get her head stuck under the wheel. That thought made her swallow a giggle and the sound rippled over his length, causing him to remove one hand from the wheel to fist it in her hair.

“Sorry.” He sounded choked. Completely breathless. “Can’t stop.”

Her only response was another guttural noise in her throat as she cupped his balls tighter, rolling the underside of her engagement ring over the sensitive flesh to increase the friction. Some men might not’ve enjoyed that kind of play, but Gray sure did. His fingers weaved through her hair, pulling on her scalp as he forced her subtly down on his dick. Her clit pulsed at show of dominance and she squirmed, pressing her thighs together.

“You’re getting wet for me,” he breathed.

She pulled back long enough to roll her tongue over the pearly drop of fluid she’d earned on the head of hic cock. “So wet. I’m going to have to change my shorts before we get there.”

“Christ. I’m going to make a fucking mess if you keep talking like that.”

“That’s what my mouth is for.”

Lightly, he drummed his fist on the wheel. “Fuck. I can’t focus on the road.”

“Yes, you can. And stop swearing or I stop blowing your mind.” At his low curse, she drew him back inside, taking him in until the quick burn of tears blurred her eyes. She pushed on, relaxing her throat, hollowing her cheeks. Caressing his balls with one hand, she hummed softly, unintentionally picking up the beat to “Sugar Kiss.” His hips rolled up to meet her, taking her past her comfort zone to where there was only him. He slammed on the brakes, swore, and she didn’t move. Just kept sucking for all she was worth.

He would never let her be hurt. Never risk her or the baby for a moment. And right now she was about to prove her appreciation.

She squeezed her hand around the base of his shaft, adding the scrape of nails that always shoved him close to the point of oblivion. Then she pulled him to the side again away from the wheel and drew her head up, letting the trails of his desire cling to her lips before she smoothed them back down his cock. Slowly engulfing him again and again while he swelled and throbbed in her mouth.

“I have to come,” he rasped, and she couldn’t nod fast enough. She wanted him on her tongue, in her throat.

When she faced her past, she wanted to taste him everywhere and know she was his.

His erection jerked in her hand and she closed her fingers like a vise, making his thighs bunch and flex under her upper body. “Goddamn, baby.” He hit the gas again and she had the sensation of speed and the breeze wafting through the crack in the window before the car zagged left and hot fluid pumped into her mouth.

She took down every drop, swallowing over and over while her hand prolonged the rhythm on his pulsing flesh. And then when she was done, she pulled back long enough to suck in a breath before going back down to lick him clean. It was only then that she realized he was panting like he’d run a race and his knee was jittering like he couldn’t keep it still.

“You okay?” she asked, lifting his T-shirt to nibble along his sexy happy trail. God, his body was a damn feast to behold. She could lose herself on this particular playground for years.

A lifetime.

He didn’t answer for so long that she shifted to look up at him. He was grinning, his gaze centered on the road. His thumb circled at her temple before sliding down her cheek to rub over her swollen lips. “You’re a fucking goddess. Freaking,” he amended when she started to correct him.

“Finally, the man is learning.” She shifted back onto her seat and rolled her neck like a prizefighter who’d just emerged victorious after a title bout. “So…chicken?”

He laughed and turned on his signal to get off at the next exit.

She snapped on her seatbelt and grinned. No matter the odds, she never gave up.

That meant she wouldn’t give up on her little sister either. Maybe Oprah wouldn’t be hiding behind the drapes with a camera crew just yet, but she could still make this into a happy ending. She refused to settle for anything less.

***

Gray stood in the outside hallway of the restaurant, phone in hand, while Jazz bobbed her head to the country music coming through the speakers and pulled off crispy pieces of breading. She popped them into her mouth and licked her fingers, making him fight a grin. How the hell could she be so adorable not thirty minutes after swallowing his come like a damn porn star?

Better than a porn star. Not that he’d watched that much porn, all things considered, but no woman could be hotter than Jazz. The fact that she’d crawled all over their car on her hands and knees while carrying their baby in her belly…yeah.

He shifted and gripped the phone tighter. He was getting hard again, just from watching her eat chicken. Fuck.

“This is Father Freeley. My secretary said you have a rush job.”

Gray sent up a quick apology for the timing of this phone call. He was a lapsed Catholic in all ways, but this was pushing it even for him. “Yes, I do. I was referred to you from—well, it’s kind of a long story, but you used to work at Holy Family in Vista View. You were one of the priests who baptized me.”

“Was I now? How long ago was that?”

“More than twenty years ago.”

“And now you’re getting married.”

“Yes, well, I hope to. I didn’t really plan anything ahead of time.”

“Well, then. I hope you’re not treating your marriage the same way. I’m all for spur-of-the-moment, but if you haven’t gone through the suggested pre-marital counseling—”

“We’ve been in love for close to a decade. I’m not backing out.”

Father Freeley let out a long breath. “You’re still young, son. What’s the rush? Why not take the time to give your bride—and you—the wedding of your dreams?”

Gray looked through the glass door where Jazz was now tapping her fingers on the tabletop while she sipped on her iced tea. He smiled. She did that whenever she was bored. Drummer’s curse. In a minute, she’d probably come out here to look for him. The bathroom excuse only worked for so long.

“I’m hoping I can pull that off in about twenty-four hours. We’re not high-maintenance people. We don’t really care about the ceremony, we just want to be married. Need to be.”

“She’s pregnant, isn’t she?”

Gray coughed. “Uh—”

Father Freeley laughed. “Son, you’re not the first nor will you be the last to call me in a panic about a rush ceremony. Is she about to give birth?”

“No. Not even close. She’s barely showing yet, and besides, that’s not why I want to do it now. We’re going on tour soon and with the album coming out, it’s just going to be too hard to find time to get away.”

“Album, hmm? This is starting not to sound like the usual couple I assist in these times.”