Reckless Abandon (17 page)

“Days were short, but the nights were long

Crashing through waves wrapped up in your arms”

I start to hum the musical interlude when I feel Bo sit next to me. In an instant, the piano sings the part my father
wrote for guitar in this song.
Holy shit
. This song is on the album Bo has in his studio. My mouth runs dry, and for a second, I forget the words to the next verse as my heart takes over all noise in my head. I clear my throat to reach for my dad’s part in the song, but Bo beats me to it,

“Oh sweet mama don’t make me go

Take my hand, mmm don’t say no

Dancin’ through San Diego with you

That’s where I want to go

Mmm I say dancin’ through San Diego with you

That’s where I want to go”

My cheeks burn as I turn to watch Bo sing the chorus of my parents’ song without any help from me. I’ve been rendered speechless. His fingers skate across the keys, and his eyes are closed so tightly his lashes have disappeared. All levity has left me as I lean forward to stand and walk away from the piano. Bo stops playing when he feels me shift.

“Ember, stop.” He grabs my wrist and pulls my arm toward him. I meet his eyes and see them catch fire as they look me over. Goosebumps form on my skin under his watchfulness.

Neither one of us says anything for what feels like a Thousand. Damn. Lifetimes. I wriggle my wrist out of his grip and slide off the piano bench. Bo drives his fist across the keys and the raucous clamor of notes makes me jump.

“Damn it, Ember, what the hell?” He leaps to face me and we’re standing toe-to-toe, my chin lifted to meet his eyes.

“Me, what the hell?
You
, what the hell. You take me out of a concert to bring me to a studio, and then you play and sing along with me to
my parent
s’
song?” I’m yelling and I don’t care.

“No,
yo
u
,
what the hell.” He points his finger in my face. “You bait Ainsley at lunch, don’t let go of my hand when we walk in here, and
then
you want to
sing
in here? We haven’t spoken more than a few words at a time to each other in the last few weeks, and you start singing in my studio like nothing’s wrong.” He lowers his hand to his hip and takes a massive breath.

“What do you mean like nothing’s wrong? What the fuck is wrong here?”

“Everything is
fucking
wrong here, November. I’m in
love
with you. I’m absolutely crazy about you, and you dance around my organization like walking away from us was the easiest thing you’ve ever done.” His face darkens under his true thoughts about my actions.

“The easiest thing I’ve ever done? I did nothing but cry and scream for a damn week after I left here. You didn’t even try to call me, Bo! You didn’t even try ...” My voice breaks into traitorous tears as I recall the heartbreak I felt when he didn’t c
ome after me. He left me alone.
Just like I asked
.

“Don’t pull those tears on me now. You’ve got to be kidding me.
I was on my damn knees in your
ex-boyfriend’s
hotel room begging you to listen to me, and you expect me to chase you after he had to drive me home? How self-righteous do you intend to be, exactly?”

His words punch holes in my heart, and, I admit, my ego. I brush past him and head for the stairs, my vision blurred with angry, defeated tears. I make it one step past Bo before he grabs my arm, spinning me to face him.

“What?” I demand, trying to regain control of my arm.

“You love me, November. I know you do. I see it on your face and feel it from you whenever we’re together. Why won’t you let yourself be happy with me? What the hell is the problem?” His nostrils flare.

“I ...”

“I can’t take this anymore,” is all he says before grabbing my face and crushing his lips into mine.

Surprise jumps from my throat as I tighten my hands around his wrists, trying to pull his hands away from my face. He only pulls harder, burying his lips deep into mine—opening my mouth is my only relief from his pressure. His tongue feverishly searches mine, desperation seeping from each taste bud.

Fresh tears signal surrender as I relax into his body and snake my hands through his hair. A flip book of every passionate moment we experienced together flickers through my brain as his hands drag down my sides. His teeth tug on my lower lip before he dives back in, making my mouth his through pleading moans. Tightening my hands through his hair, I press my hipbones into his pockets. My heart beats through my lips, and I’m forced to pull away to catch my breath.

The previously silent studio records our erratic breathing. We stare into each other, holding each other, willing each other to say something. Bo’s eyes are dark with an intensity I’ve never seen. He’s still holding my face. I grab his wrists one more time, and he lowers his hands with mine. Adrenaline gushes through me, and I’m forced with a decision I don’t take long to make. I step back and cock my head.

“
I’m
the self-righteous one?
”
I clench my teeth in an attempt to calm my quivering chin.

“Excuse me?” Bo cocks his head back and considers my half question.

“No one has
ever
spoken to me that way. You’re an asshole.” I turn and place my foot on the first stair to head out of the studio.

“I won’t chase you forever, you know. I really can’t do this to myself for much longer.” He looks worn out and my chest tightens under the realization of what I’ve been putting him through, what we’ve been putting each other through.

“We can’t be friends.” I frown and head carefully up the stairs. When the studio door closes behind me, I hear him bang both fists on the piano. I reach for my cell and Monica picks up within the first ring.

“Look, we’ll talk about it later. Can you pick me up at DROP?”

Bo

“Dammit!” I growl as my front door slams behind me.

A few minutes after Ember left, I walked out of the center to an empty sidewalk. I called and texted to see if she was OK, but of course she didn’t respond. I finally received a text from Monica saying, “Everything’s fine.”

No, it’s not.

I know Monica’s on my side, but I also know I’m missing something. Something is holding November back from me, and it’s not just work.

Rae’s not home, so I tear downstairs to the studio, grabbing my bottle of Jack as I pass through the dining room. Damn, her kiss tasted better than ever—I couldn’t stop myself. I had to know her heart still belonged to me, and that kiss proved it still does.
Shit.
Whiskey burns my throat; straight from the bottle is best. I wasn’t lying. I’m not going to chase after her forever. If she wants to act like a child, she can do it somewhere else.

After an hour of the Tennessee waltz with my liver, I hear my front door open.

“Rae?” I slur up the stairs.

“Spencer?”

Ainsley.

“In the studio, Ainsley.” I set the glass bottle on the lid of my piano.

“I thought you had the concert tonight,” she chirps as she walks through the studio.

“Then why are you here?” I watch her cheeks redden under my gruff reply.

Ainsley clears her throat and licks her cherry lips before speaking. “Well, I saw Rachel and some guy at Les’s, and you weren’t with them ...” She stalks toward me with panther-like eyes.

“Yeah?” I turn on the bench and face her. “You didn’t answer my question—why are you here?” Cockiness takes over and turns up the corners of my mouth. I know exactly what she’s doing here.

In a second, I regret my baiting tone. Ainsley pushes my knees apart with her knee, sliding her slender legs between mine. Her chest is inches from my face, those perfect breasts taunting my will. Another second passes and her bubblegum-like scent greets the whiskey that’s overriding my system.

“Ainsley, stop.” I swat her hand away from my shoulder, but she only presses forward.

“Oh, come on now, Spencer, you don’t want me to stop—you never have.” She picks up both of my hands and wraps them around her waist. A tan strip of skin on her stomach grins at me when she lifts her arms back to my shoulders.

I’m supposed to hate her. She took advantage of my grief after my parents died. It’s hard to count her transgressions when her fingers tickle the back of my neck, chasing goosebumps across my chest.

“She’s got you all twisted. You think you want her, that you love her.” Ainsley throws her head back in mocking laughter. “She doesn’t know you the way I know you. We were each other’s first...” She lifts one leg at a time and squares herself on my hardening lap. Her delicate hands twist like thorny vines through my hair.

“Get off of me, Ainsley,” I grunt into her ear as she leans forward to brush her lips across my neck.

“You hide from me any chance you get. I’m not taking no for an answer anymore. You can’t hide how you feel about me. I see the way you look at me, the way your eyes sketch me from head to toe. Forget about her, she walked away from you—twice, judging by her absence after the concert.”

She’s good.

Gripping her tiny hips, I consider my options. Jack’s betrayed me once again, and all I can feel is her ass rubbing against me. All I can smell is her want. My moment of indecision is a second too long, leaving an opening just big enough for her tiny body to slither through as her lips sear into mine. The force of her kiss sends my back into the piano keys. I ignore their warning; I’m tired of losing.

Chapter Nineteen

Ember

“What the hell happened, November?” Monica volleys her attention between the road and me as my tears streak her car window. We’ve been sitting in the DROP parking lot for over half an hour in heavy silence.

“I just want to go.” I sniff and look at her through swollen eyes.

“Where are you going? It’s Thursday.” Monica reminds me that I’ve still got work in the morning.

“I’m calling in tomorrow. I just have a zillion phone conferences—I can do that from home.” I rub my eyes and tie my distressed hair away from my neck.

“What. Happened?” Monica begs, locking her car doors to prevent my exit.

I breathe out the sordid tale in one breath, my throat cinching around the details of Bo’s anger—and his kiss. She shakes her head and rests it against the back of her seat.

“First of all...your
parent
s
’
song?”

“Not now, Monica...I’ll explain that later.” I smirk at her attention to detail.

“I’m sorry, Ember. I’m sorry for the way I’ve been acting. I just...don’t know why you don’t want to be with him.”

Her words pinch my heart. Bo’s kiss felt exactly l
ike it was supposed to, exactly
mine
. He sweeps me off my feet with every sideways glance and simple smile. His passion for DROP is awe-inspiring. He wants me. He loves me.
What the hell is my problem?

“I think I still love him,” I admit for the first time in weeks. “The worst decision I could have made to get over him was to work on this project.” I thump the back of my head against the tear-stained window.

“Why do you
want
to get over him? If this is about work, have Carrie take you off the fucking project. Zoe is more than capable of taking over for you.”

“It’s Adrian, Monica ...”

“Oh,
fuck
Adrian.” Monica rolls her eyes and presses her head against the steering wheel.

“I care about him, Monica—he’s good to me.”

“Yeah, whatever. Just go talk to Bo and clear up what happened tonight. You still have to work together. If there’s any hope for you two, it starts with friendship. Deal with Adrian later. Will you take my advice,
for once
?” She gingerly slaps me upside the head.

“He didn’t have to kiss me.” I roll my eyes as my cheeks fill with fire.

“I think he did.” Monica’s long lashes sweep her cheeks as she takes a careful breath.

“How the hell am I supposed to clear anything up from tonight?  I told him we couldn’t be friends.”

Monica shrugs and sweeps her hands toward the door, motioning for me to go. I shake my head.

“I’ll go talk to him,” I resign as I leave her car.

* * *

A twenty-minute self pep talk later, I finally pull out of the parking lot and head for Bo’s house.

You just need to say you’re sorry for bailing and that you still want to be friends...

I almost use the closed gate as an excuse to abort the mission, but I vividly remember the code he gave me. Shaky fingers tap out the four numbers, and the gate slowly swings open. I climb back in my car and head down the driveway, white-knuckled and dizzy.