Vintage Volume One (14 page)

But all we got was an error

The song played in my head as Parker pumped in and out of me.

I wanted to think about how little I actually knew about this man who I was falling for. I wanted to think about how dangerous he was. I wanted to consider how dangerous I was for him, too.

But his hands were everywhere. His mouth dragged down my neck as we made love on my couch.

My mind was lost, focused on the pleasure and the feelings he was driving into me.

All of that combined with his powerful thrusts pushed me into an oblivion that was more intense than anything I’d ever experienced before.

“Can I see?” he asked softly, kissing the ink that wrapped around from my back to my torso. His head had come to a rest just below my breasts as we both regained composure for a few moments full of panting.

In my ridiculous lust for him, I hadn’t thought to cover up. I’d ripped my shirt over my head and tossed it on the floor. I’d pulled off my bra while he’d procured a condom from some pocket in his pants.

I wasn’t really ready to explain everything that my tattoos symbolized, but I was ready to let him see that part of me. It was a part of me that so few people ever got to see, but I wanted to let him in. I wanted him to know the real me.

I nodded.

Parker stood. “Be right back,” he said, heading toward the bathroom.

He returned, and I hadn’t moved.

He eyed me as he pulled on his jeans.

“Tell me about yours, first.” I tried to keep the pleading out of my voice, but if I was going to let him in on the most intimate part of who I was, I wanted to know something equally intimate about him first.

He pointed to the tiger on his bicep. “This tiger was my first. I took Mandarin in high school, and we learned about the Chinese symbolism of tigers. I loved the idea of etching power and protection onto my skin.”

“So you have someone protecting you all the time?”

He shrugged. “You could say that. Now you go.”

I stood up and turned around.

I hated people who got tattoos just to show them off. Mine were intensely private.

The butterflies on my upper arm were for Katie. She’d loved butterflies. She’d been obsessed with them, actually. She had promised me that someday she would get a butterfly tattoo, and she’d even drawn one that represented her and one that represented me.

Her life had been cut short before she’d had the chance to get her tattoo.

At her funeral, every person who attended released a butterfly into the air. Putting her butterfly on my skin was my tribute, my way to keep my best friend with me forever. And I added the second butterfly—the one she’d drawn to represent me—to symbolize our friendship. It only seemed appropriate to etch both of the butterflies she had designed on my skin.

Some people put family permanently on their bodies. Others burned skulls into their skin. On my back, I put myself on my skin. My initials: RCP. I’d learned a long time ago I was the only one I could really count on in life, but the letters symbolized many things to me. Resiliency, Courage, Perseverance. They were reminders of what I needed most.

Eventually I added an arabesque design that morphed into a snake surrounded by roses. The design twined around my initials.

Parker was silent behind me. I wished I could see his eyes, see his reaction.

“Your initials?”

I nodded. “It’s not narcissistic, I swear. It means many different things to me.”

“You don’t have to defend it, Jimi. It’s gorgeous. You’re gorgeous.”

I let out a breath. I hadn’t realized how nervous I had been for his reaction.

I felt his lips on my neck, his breath near my ear.

“What does your snake mean?” He backed up and traced the snake with his fingertips, sending a shiver though my body.

“Healing. Rebirth.”

“When did you get it?”

“About eight months ago. What does your snake mean?”

“Another symbol of protection for the Chinese, but also the idea of mended fragments.”

I was quiet, processing his words. Questions formed in my mind, but I didn’t want to ruin the moment by asking them. But mended fragments was the same idea as healing.

Again I realized how little I knew about him. What had he gone through?

In time, I’d learn more, just as he would about me.

But just as I wasn’t ready to talk to him about my past, he had a past he was entitled to keep to himself.

He ran his fingertip across my back again.

“I could stare at this forever, Jimi. I want to lick every inch of your back.”

As nice as that sounded, I was suddenly exhausted.

He smacked my ass, a sharp crack in the quiet room. I jumped, but otherwise I didn’t react. I liked when he was rough with me, but the gentler side of him that had emerged that night was nice, too.

“Maybe tomorrow,” I said, turning around and wrapping my arms around his neck. His jeans were rough against my naked front side.

“Not likely. We have studio time booked tomorrow.”

“Already?”

He nodded.

“That’s fast.”

“We have a pretty solid investor in our corner that’s helping push things through.”

I yawned. “That helps.” I moved to pick up my clothes, but he batted my hand away.

“Are you ready to sleep?” His sudden change of the subject was strange, but I was too tired to care.

I nodded. “You staying?”

“If you’ve got room.”

I smiled. “Plenty of room.”

I double checked the lock on my front door, but knowing he was staying was actually a huge relief. My dad had said he’d send someone to keep an eye on me, but I liked the protection of Parker. Maybe his tiger and his snake could protect both of us.

twenty-four

I awoke tangled in Parker James. As my eyes fluttered open to the new day, I couldn’t help the smile the formed on my lips.

He was still asleep. He slept in nothing. I slept in only a shirt.

My first thought was that I’d forgotten to take my sleeping medication the night before. I’d slept through the night. That never happened. Ever.

It was one of those great sleeps where I awoke feeling refreshed instead of groggy. I didn’t remember any dreams, and I preferred waking up that way. It didn’t leave me with a feeling of shame or fear or horror. Instead, I just felt happy that Parker was sleeping next to me.

I studied the snake that wound across his torso, protecting him. I studied the words in his song. It was the words “I’m dying for you” that stood out most to me.

There was significance there. I felt the sudden urge to know what that significance was. We were moving slowly, spending small bits of time together when our schedules allowed, and the pace was starting to become maddening.

I wanted to move forward with him. I just wasn’t sure how to do that without knowing more about him.

Fuck, I wasn’t even sure what “moving forward” entailed, exactly.

We were in a stagnant state where we were unable to move in any direction, particularly since we were both going out of town for a while. When we were both back home, maybe we’d finally find the time.

Parker’s eyes opened slowly, dark and heavy in the morning light. Sleepy Parker was perfection. His hair was a mess, sticking up everywhere. I ran my fingers through it, a gesture that came out far more intimate than I’d intended.

Parker smiled at me, a slow smile that morphed into a grin.

“Take your shirt off and get on.” Those were his first words of the day, spoken in a rasp that had the effect of immediately turning me on.

I followed his directions, pulling my shirt off and tossing it beside us. I climbed over him, and he positioned the head of his cock toward my entrance. He swiped it along my clit, sending a tingle of need through my torso.

“Fuck. Do you have a condom?” he asked.

I nodded and reached over him toward the drawer in my nightstand. He moaned as my breasts brushed against his chest.

I had no idea how old those condoms were, but it was habit to keep condoms in my nightstand. A girl just never knew when she’d need one.

I handed one over to him, and he fastened it on quickly as I took my position back over him. He poised his cock in the air, and I lowered myself down over him.

“Fuck yes,” he moaned, that morning rasp turning into a growl as I lifted myself up and pushed back down. His hips met my thrusts.

I lowered down as far as I could, taking in every last centimeter that he was offering me.

This was definitely my preferred way to start the day. 

He grabbed my hips and thrust. He somehow took control from the bottom, setting our pace as he lifted me up and down over him, creating the friction that drove us both toward climax.

It was another moment of perfection between us as I collapsed over the top of him.

He ran his fingertips softly through my hair, a sweet gesture that contrasted with his rougher side, and I felt myself fall just a little more for him.

When we’d first started whatever this was together, I was certain that one of us or both of us would get hurt in the end.

But the more time I spent with him, the less I saw an actual end for us.

We lay together for a long time. I may have fallen back asleep, or he may have, and then my alarm was beeping and waking us up to let us know that I had to get in the shower to get ready for work.

“When will I see you again?” I asked as he pulled on his shoes.

“Studio today and tomorrow. And then I leave.”

“So this is goodbye?”

“I think so,” he said sadly. “For now. Not for good.”

As he turned toward the door, I felt the urge to tell him I was inexplicably falling in love with him.

But I didn’t have the nerve to admit it to the one person who probably needed to hear it.

He looked a little lost as he gazed at me. Something was up with him, but I already knew him well enough to predict that he wouldn’t divulge whatever it was. He wasn’t used to feeling so strongly for one person, and I wasn’t going to push him. I trusted that he’d wait for me, and that was enough.

“I promise to text or call you every day. You promise, too.” His voice was nearly desperate.

I wanted to ask him where he was going. I wanted to tell him where I was going.

But I didn’t. He’d tell me when he was ready.

“I promise.”

He grabbed me around my waist and hauled me against him. His lips rested on mine for a moment. “I hate that I have to be away from you.” He leaned his forehead against mine.

“Do it for your career. I’ll be here when you get back.”

He nodded, smiled, kissed me one last time, and headed out the door.

I sighed as I shut the door behind him.

I had no way of knowing when I’d see him again. I had no way of knowing what would change between us, if anything, or whether I’d still feel the same way about him—or if he would still feel the same way about me.

I wanted to believe that nothing would change, that we’d pick up right where we left off.

But something told me it wasn’t going to work out that way.

Life almost never worked out the way I expected it to. Why would this be any different?

twenty-five

My dad’s tour resumed with a concert in Philadelphia on Wednesday night, and we were set to leave the morning before. The first stop after a tour resumed always required a bit of rechecking and reworking, and the band was going to switch up the playlist for the last leg of their tour.

My schedule at Vintage only took me through Saturday, and Tim left me off the schedule when the week ended. Parker hadn’t lied; he’d texted or called me every day, but we’d only chatted for a few minutes at a time. Either I was at work or he had to get back to work, so time was tight. When he wasn’t in the studio, he and the rest of the members of Flashing Light were busy revising, reworking, and practicing.

He would send me random texts throughout the days to let me know he was thinking about me.

He never left my mind for a second.

As much as I was excited to spend the next few weeks with my dad, I couldn’t help but feel the loss of time spent away from Parker. He gave me things I had been missing for a long time, but more than that, he gave me things I hadn’t even known I needed.

Safety, for one.

I wasn’t sure what was going on between my dad and Randy. When my mind called on the memory of the night Randy had hit on me, a twisted fear wrenched through me.

Having Parker close helped me with that fear.

I supposed Bruno—the ex-cop George recommended to follow me until I left for the tour—also made me feel protected, but I hated having someone watching me everywhere I went.

Parker was different, though. He managed to make me feel safe without hovering the way Bruno did.

I figured I’d be fine while I was on the road with my dad, but I had no idea what I’d be coming home to.

All of those thoughts ran through my head as I packed on Monday night.

My thoughts had been filled with everything I needed to do to get ready for this last leg of the tour. Rebecca, my dad’s assistant, had been hugely helpful. I wished her well in her upcoming wedding, she filled me in on the basics, and I memorized the schedule and searched for restaurants and attractions in each city that might interest my dad.

It was easier for Rebecca, who knew all of that shit in her head. That wasn’t something she could just relay to me.

So I called her often, texted her even more often, checked in with my dad, and checked the itinerary Rebecca had made for the next four weeks. I ran everything by Rebecca once more and finalized every last detail, comparing the bus schedule to the tour schedule. I confirmed hotel and restaurant reservations, just two of the luxuries my dad depended on when he was on tour.

I’d be riding on the crew bus. Each band member had his own bus—my dad often said that was what kept them together for so many years—and my dad and his new bride would be riding alone.

Rebecca typically rode with the crew. The crew had been with the band for years and years. They were like a family to me, a group of people I’d grown up around, including Keith, the band’s manager, and his wife, Vanessa, who had become a friend over the years. She was kind and took care of the crew, ensuring everyone had everything they needed.

Stepping in last minute as my dad’s assistant had given me a lot to think about, which allowed me to stop obsessing over Parker for a few minutes. It gave me something interesting to focus on, a project that I had limited time to complete. I threw myself into it, but he never left my mind for very long.

I was still curious about where he was going, what he was doing. If he’d be thinking about me.

If he’d find some other girl while we were apart.

We’d never labeled whatever was starting between us as exclusive. I’d never put so much trust into someone before, but then again, I’d never experienced a true adult relationship.

With Parker, though, there was a balance. We were both adults living our lives, adults who had met by chance and who had more in common than I thought possible after the first time we’d met in the break room of Vintage.

After I’d finished packing and was about to take my sleeping pills to head off to bed, my phone buzzed with a text. It was Parker.

What are you doing?

Getting ready for sleep. You?

Thinking about you.

What about me?
I settled into bed with my phone.

About how blue your eyes are. About your hair and how it flies around you when I’m fucking you. About sex.

I thought about that one. He was a guy. Guys thought about sex. So I needed some clarification on that point.
Sex with me?

My phone rang a few minutes after I sent the text.

“Hi.” My voice was soft.

“Only you, Jimi. Just you.”

“I miss you.” My voice was raw with emotions. This wasn’t me.

I’d grown a lot in the past year. I’d learned to rely on myself, because in the end, I was the only one who would always be there for me. And now I was finding myself dependent on Parker. He made me smile. He made me
feel
.

Hanging my hopes on a relationship with a musician was stupid. It was suicidal. It was the worst possible idea for me after everything I’d been through.

But the heart has a goddamn mind of its own.

If I could choose who I fell for, I never would’ve chosen Parker. For one, he was too much like me, but worse, he was a musician who would always put his career first. And I’d never expect anything less than that. He had to put his career first. Musicians didn’t have any other choice if they wanted to taste true success, to reach a level like Black Shadow.

But I did have a choice. I could choose to let his career ruin us before we even gave us a chance, or I could choose to accept what he did for a living.

In the interest of my heart, I chose the latter. As it turned out, I didn’t really have a choice at all.

“I miss you, too. God, I miss you so fucking much. It’s like I left a piece of myself at your place when I left the other morning.”

“I’ll keep it safe, Parker.”

He sighed. “It’s been almost a week.”

“I know. You know what I miss most?”

“What?”

“Your arms. I’ve never felt warmer or safer than when I’m in your arms.”

“I’ve never felt more complete than when I hold you in my arms.”

“Where are you right now?”

“At a gas station.”

“With the band?”

“Yeah. We’re somewhere between Albuquerque and Texas, I think. I waited to call you until we stopped. I just needed a minute away from them, you know?”

“I get it.” I laughed. It was such a boy thing, not wanting to talk in front of the guys. Not wanting to show emotion.

“We’re stopping at a hotel tomorrow night. I’ll call you then and we can talk longer.”

“I’ll be on the road by then, but I’m not embarrassed to talk in front of other people.” My voice held amusement.

“I’m not embarrassed, Jimi. Far from it, actually.”

“Do they know about us?”

“Yes.” His answer was immediate. That made me trust that he was being truthful. “They wanted to know what was inspiring my lyrics. Plus I never stop talking about you.”

“I want to see you onstage.”

“We’ve got some local gigs set up when we get back.”

“I’ll come to every one of them. I’ll stand up front and wear a low cut shirt so you can see down it from up there.”

“You’ll distract me. I’ll forget the words.”

I giggled, and then I heard some voices in the background.

“I have to go.” His voice was apologetic.

“Be safe, Parker. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

“Bye, Jimi,” he whispered.

We hung up, and I drifted off to sleep with Parker on my mind.