Strung Out (Needles and Pins #1) (38 page)

A young woman introduced herself as the onset stylist. I had already been tended to by a stylist before arriving, but now I sat for touchups while the cameraman and Willard pointed out shiny spots and hair wisps.

I was soon settled on the tiny set with the Scarlette Rose. The strap felt heavy on my shoulder. Looking up, I sought the comfort of Gage’s eyes and let my fingers drift over the strings. Up one fret, then back down, I concentrated on what I was doing and ignored the fiery pain in the tips of my never-quite callused fingers. I drifted from the song Gage had taught me, weaving in the extra layers he’d added as I learned. From there I segued into the bridge and verse of my dad’s song. The piece was simplistic and short.

When I lifted my head, I was almost surprised to see the camera and the hypnotized gaze of every other occupant in the room. “And cut!” The directive rang out and applause clattered around me. He asked me for one more take before I shrugged off the guitar. The rest of the interview time flew by. We talked mostly of what it was like to have access to my father’s life through media. We touched on my personal life, where I’d lived, what my music tastes were. Gage’s publicist, who was now mine too, had done a Skype session with me, advising me on the wording of my answers.

You don’t remember your father at all?

No.

You knew him though. Through his songs, videos, interviews. What is one thing you feel like he taught you in the legacy he left?

Don’t let fears control your destiny.

Thank you, Scarlette. You’ve grown up as beautiful a person as your dad. He would be proud.

“
I wish he hadn’t said that part
about my dad being proud. No one knows that.” I took a long sip of my beer and idly watched the several heads bobbing in the two pool levels.

“
I
know that.” Gage emphasized the pronoun, refuting my statement. His eyes caressed mine, but he didn’t physically touch despite his chair being only a few inches from mine. “He would be. I told you that already.”

“You killed it, Scarla.” Colt stood in front of his fancy grill and never paused in the flipping of burger patties to interject.

Switching my attention from Gage, to Colt, I smiled my thanks, becoming used to how he never got the deeper meaning of a conversation or gesture. The backyard gate swung open, admitting Caroline who carried a baking pan. Judging by the way his eyes always lit up in a special way for this one woman, Colt being a shallow dick would change one day.

After the greetings died down, Caroline left Colt’s side to sit on the edge of the pool and talk to Seth. Colt continued to poke at the meat browning over a glow of orange coals.

While everyone else was occupied, Gage tipped his water bottle ever so slightly. The stream splashed my collarbone and did a slow run down my skin, trailing through the valley beneath my swimsuit top before damming up at the elastic.

“Let’s eat these burgers already and get out of here.” His whisper was heavy with meaning, and although I only raised my brows, I couldn’t concur more.

Our second night at Arrowhead we had only snuggled in bed. The next morning we’d flown out, and events had unfolded too quickly over the last two days to think about sex other than a shower quickie. This afternoon, we had rushed home minutes after “that’s a wrap” had been called—long enough to change into our swimsuits. Another quickie had helped me wind down—at first. Now a couple of hours into the aftermath, thinking about that wall bang rekindled what felt like orange coals in the sweet spot of my insides.

Colt dished the hamburger patties up. I stabbed a piece of meat with a fork, slapped it between the two layers of a bun with only a squirt of mustard, and took a big bite. “Hungry?” He waved the spatula and sent an incredulous look my way. Nodding with my mouth full, I tried not to look at Gage. For sure, I didn’t want to provoke any of Colt’s obnoxious remarks.

I knew Gage was being careful of our relationship. He had removed his arm from around my chair, the moment the rest of the band began arriving.

I wasn’t sure if he was being considerate of me, or if he had his own motives. I understood if it was the latter. If there was anyone who didn’t need another scandal—besides rich Hollywood socialites suffering from affluenza—that person was Gage. His career in the spotlight couldn’t take another hit.

Caroline selected an empty chair and pulled it in close to the food fixings. As I heaped my plate, she conversed over the table. “I was so happy to hear you extended your stay in L.A.” I nodded and smiled around another bite. “Colt said you might finish school here.” Colt blasted his baby mamma with an annoyed glare, and now I did eye Gage. We had talked about it very briefly and only a few days ago. That I might transfer into one of the homeopathic colleges near Los Angeles while Gage was… gone. Apparently, he was so sold on this plan that he’d spoken of it in passing with Colt. I swallowed my bite and nodded. “That’s something I’m thinking on.” The others invaded the table and Caroline continued to talk, but I switched the topic to less personal matters.

“Thanks for the barbecue.” I bent to Colt’s chair as Gage and I prepared to leave and planted a brief kiss on his mouth. Beside me, I heard the low rumbling growl thing from Gage and knew that’s why I had done it. So sexy. However, I could actually feel the laser heat of Caroline’s gaze, and hobnobbing between the rest of the group fell deadly quiet for the span of a few seconds before resuming. Right. I’d kissed Colt right in front of his baby mamma. Not cool. Without missing a beat, I moved to Caroline and transferred the kiss. I had never kissed another woman on the face―much less for an instant on the lips―so I hoped the moment looked every bit as Californian as it felt uncomfortable. “I’ll see you around, girlfriend.”

Gage appeared startled by the out of character behavior, but he said nothing. He simply waved to his bandmates and their spouses. The moment we were closed into the garage at his house, he shut off the engine and leaned across the seats, cleansing my palate with a very thorough kiss.

Inside the house, we separated at the foot of the stairs. “I’ve got to feed and water the big bad guard dog and lock the doggy door.” We both showered Rascal with love and he pranced around, preening at the attention. “…And drink my stuff. I’ll be up in a sec.”

Upstairs, I went into my own room and did a quick jump in and out of the shower. The blank tiles were lonely looking, and I realized I was already accustomed to showering surrounded by Gage’s latest lyrical musings. Wrapped in a towel, I pawed through my dresser until I found what I was looking for.

The black boxer shorts with the blue silky top.

Hastily, I finished drying and donned them. After releasing the knot I’d piled my hair into for the shower and running a brush through it, I viewed my reflection. With my face washed clean of the heavy makeup required for the camera I looked more myself—even with my hair back to a color I hadn’t seen in years. Hooking a frizzy strand that must have escaped the shower bun, I tucked it behind my ear. I was pretty. I knew that when I really stopped to look at myself. As the daughter of Henni Smythe and Tyler Conterra, how could I not be? But if beauty was enough to hold on to a rock star, they’d all be hitched to the first cover girl they flaunted. I shook away that thought.

Gage wasn’t
a
rock star. Gage was
my
rock star. The light in my dark sky. At least for now.

D
windling the melody to a close, Gage ducked out of the strap and settled the guitar into its resting place. With a grimace, he downed the last of the cherry juice and while passing through the den, abandoned the tumbler on a table for the housekeeper to deal with. He was too eager to be upstairs to detour through to the kitchen.

As he ascended the stairs, Rascal appeared and as was typical ran ahead of him. The light was still on in his bedroom, but Scar was only a motionless lump beneath the covers. He shrugged his shirt off and began shucking out of his jeans while his eyes never left her.

Was she asleep? Or only fooling around?

“Asleep already?” he whispered, in case she really was. The stress she’d been under had to have her exhausted. “’Cause I was going to strip you naked and lick you like an ice cream cone…” At this, he thought he saw the barest movement. A hitch of her breath. He continued his seductive words. “…but if you’re asleep, I guess I’ll just sleep too…” God he hoped she was faking it. He sank a knee into the mattress, and easing behind her, combed his fingers gently through her new hair. Rascal bounded onto the bed, and the top sheet shifted. His fingers froze while he took in the shiny blue scrap of material and lace. Reverently, he traced a spaghetti thin strap, the contrast of silk and skin tickling even through his rough fingertip. “Damn if I didn’t just wake up on Dream Street.” He wrapped himself to her and prodded Rascal with his feet. “Get down, boy. Go sleep on the couch… Go on…”

His lips skimmed her neck and sweet words fell from his lips as naturally as each breath. “…smell so good …feel so good… so pretty, Scar.” She rolled to him and let him kiss the smile from her lips. A sweep of her hand fevered his skin, and he felt her suck in an unsteady breath when her hand settled on his bare ass. They took their time with the kiss. He skimmed his hands over the silk and then unable to wait, tunneled beneath the thin top to touch her smooth skin. The barrier of the barely-there material teased his lips when he began to inch his way down. As impatient as he was for a direct taste of skin, he enjoyed the frustrated heaves of her chest too much to rip the garment from her body just yet. When he was unable to wait another second, he pushed the hem up until it stopped beneath her breasts and trailed his tongue down heated skin to her stomach. Her gasp was loud, and her hand drifted from his shoulder to clench in his hair when he swirled her navel. Her breathing grew increasingly more ragged as his attention drifted downward. With the tip of his tongue, he traced the skin above the elastic waist of the boxer shorts. In response, her fingers tightened into a fist, clenching a handful of hair at his nape. His tongue dipped beneath the elastic and one of his fingers hooked the waistband, drawing it down a bit. The tug at his scalp became painful and then eased. He trailed his tongue over another expanse of skin, silkier than the top she was wearing and winced when her grip twisted painfully in his hair again, as she tugged him upward. And then like before, her grip relaxed when he paused. Abandoning his hold on her boxers, he curved his hands to her waist. Unable to stop his lips from curving in amusement against her, he mumbled into her soft flesh, “Is that a yes? Or a no?”

Her sharp intake of breath was loud, and beneath his mouth, he felt her stomach cave ever so slightly as she blew it out. “I don’t know.” Her fingers curled and uncurled as if in indecision.

Propping his chin on her boxers, he saw she was staring to the ceiling for whatever answer she sought. Shimmying up, he enjoyed the combo of silk and skin against his chest while nuzzling her neck. “Why don’t you know?” After asking, he lifted his head enough to study her face while she answered. For a while, he thought she wasn’t going to reply and so he kissed her, conceding.

But then she spoke against his lips. “I’ve never done that.”

He stilled, completely thrown. He couldn’t stop the heady thoughts that came next—one of them a private joke for his own enjoyment.
She
had done it. The searing memory of her lips and tongue on him earlier that morning had him instinctively grinding his hips to hers. But the thought of no one having ever kissed her in that way brought out a greedy possessive streak he’d never felt this intensely before tonight.

“It’s so…” she sighed, her embarrassment with the conversation obvious, “…too much. Too intimate. I’ve never let anyone.”

Their lips were still touching, and he locked his eyes to hers. “Are you going to let me?” If the soft question came out in the same wheedle he’d used on her as kids, it was because he suddenly felt as desperate for her to agree, as he had for her to split that last ice cream sandwich she’d been about to bite into when they were ten.