Chapter 17
Aspen
I’m a coward. It’s okay, I’ll live with it.
Three weeks. That was how long it’d been since that email had landed in Joz’s inbox, and since then…
radio silence. He hadn’t acknowledged it, responded, or made any kind of overture.
Not that I blamed him. If I’d been on the receiving end of such a cold, impersonal email from a man I’d tangled tongues with, I’d probably have met it with an equally chilly silence, too.
Today, we’d be under the same roof, and because of that I hadn’t slept a wink last night.
Presley was already in Studio A, headphones on, sound check complete, twirling the mic stand as though he were fronting a stadium instead of cutting an album for the first time in his life.
Unlike Joz who’d written his own lyrics, I’d hired a team of writers to pen Presley’s first album, and now my protégé was ready to change his life forever.
He’d grown in confidence each time I saw him, but after the conversation with Joz at The Crimson Room, I was on the lookout for that confidence morphing into arrogance.
Footsteps sounded to my right, slow, steady, and I caught a glimpse of Joz’s wild mane of hair before I shot back into Studio A’s control room. Cowardly? You bet. But I wasn’t ready to face him. Not yet.
Presley waved at me through the glass and flashed the kind of crooked smirk that would make his soon-to-be legion of female fans throw their panties at him.
I held up a hand in greeting, then took a seat at the sound desk next to the engineer.
The moment Presley began to sing, I forgot all about my own troubles and closed my eyes, drinking in the smooth silkiness of his voice, and the way he hit the high notes and the low notes with perfect precision.
After an hour, I stepped into the corridor to stretch my legs. Instead, I found myself hovering outside the door of Studio C. Like a laser had locked onto me, I pushed open the door and stood just inside where the shadows swallowed me.
Joz was in the recording booth, sleeves rolled up, revealing those gorgeous, tattooed forearms, his guitar strapped to his chest. His eyes were closed, fully immersed in the music.
He sang like he was confessing something painful.
I closed my eyes, too, letting the sound of his voice wash over me, letting him in for just a second.
The music cut out.
My eyes snapped open.
Joz was staring right at me. His expression didn’t shift, didn’t soften. I half smiled at him, but he continued glaring at me with that icy gaze. I turned on my heel, beelining for the door. I had no business being here, distracting him, stopping him from working. Professional, remember?
I made it three steps before the door to the recording booth flew open behind me.
“Wait.”
Slowly, I pivoted. “Yes.”
Fuck, Aspen. Did you have to sound so fucking cold, so fucking businesslike?
The sound engineer cleared his throat and busied himself by shuffling some papers. “Carl,” Joz said. “Give us a minute, would you?”
Carl looked at me. For confirmation, perhaps. I dipped my chin. He pushed back his chair and scooted out the door, closing it behind him.
Air, thick with tension, hung around me like a heavy cloak. I stared at Joz. He stared at me. For the next twenty seconds, neither of us spoke a single word.
A single knock sounded at the door, and Pam, one of our receptionists, poked her head inside the control room. “Oh, hi, Aspen. I didn’t know you were planning on stopping by today. Sorry to interrupt. Joz, your manager is trying to get hold of you. Said your phone is off.”
Joz didn’t look away from me. “Tell him I’m busy.”
“He said it’s urgent.”
“I don’t care.”
“Oh, okay.” She backed up, pulling the door closed.
“You should call him back.”
“He can wait.”
I nibbled my lip. “Joz, I—”
Another knock came. Joz cursed. Grabbing my wrist, gentle but firm, he opened the door, blasted right past whoever had interrupted us for a second time, and pulled me into a maintenance closet. Before I could protest, he slammed the door, enveloping us in darkness.
“What—?”
His mouth crashed against mine, his tongue parting my lips, his hands in my hair, then at my waist, then clamped to my ass.
Leaning into me, he pushed me against the wall.
Parting my thighs with his knee, he ground me onto him.
An orgasm born out of sheer frustration rushed at me with the speed of a bullet.
I came apart, gasping, grinding, seeking more friction, more of this man who my body obviously could not get enough of.
“Jesus Christ.” Joz buried his nose in my hair as he lowered his knee. “I’d have given up my career to see your face as you came for me.”
My chest heaved with the effort of breathing around a man who sucked all the oxygen from the room. Closet. Whatever.
“You wanted professional,” I reminded him.
“No. I wanted you. But professional felt safer. Less risky.”
“Risky for who? You or me?”
“Both of us. I will hurt you, Aspen. I won’t mean to, but it’ll happen.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Yes, I do.” His sigh filled the space around me. “I’m bad news.”
“But wrapped in such a pretty package.”
“Aspen,” he growled. “I’m being serious.”
“Joz, I’m a big girl, capable of deciding what or who I want.”
“Your email made it sound like you wanted nothing to do with me.”
I winced, glad it was too dark for him to see the blush creep over my cheeks. “You hurt me by walking out. I hit back.”
“You hit hard.”
“You didn’t reply.”
“What was there to say?”
“Ouch.”
His hand clasped my hip, and he tugged me close again.
“Aspen, shut up.” He kissed me again, his lips moving in perfect synchronicity with my own.
I shoved my hands into his hair, anchoring them there.
When I finally pulled back, it wasn’t because I wanted to.
It was because if I didn’t, we weren’t stopping at a kiss.
And I was not fucking Joz Raynor for the first time in a closet that smelled of damp mops and bleach.
“I should get back. Presley’s next door. I want to be there to support him.”
He kissed the top of my head. “And I need to get back to work, too. I have this boss who is so fucking demanding.”
I chuckled. “You don’t know the half of it.”
“No, but I’m going to find out.”
“You’re awfully sure of yourself.”
He rested his forehead against mine. “Come to dinner with me tonight.”
“Okay,” I whispered.
He kissed me again, but it was all too brief.
We opened the door right as Presley was walking by devouring a bar of chocolate.
His brows rose, and something flickered in his expression, but it vanished before I could get a bead on it.
Amusement, probably. It wasn’t hard to figure out what we’d been doing in there.
“Don’t mind me. I’m just grabbing a snack.” He disappeared into Studio A, and the door slammed. I’m sure he never meant to slam it. Probably slipped out of his hands.
I grimaced. “Ah, fuck.”
“Ignore him.” Joz grinned. “We’re over eighteen.”
“In your case, well over.”
“Ooh, harsh, Ms. Kingcaid.” He slapped my ass. “Better get back to it. Text me your address. I’ll pick you up at eight.”
“I can come to you.”
“Nope. Not this time. I’m taking you out on a date, and us guys born a hundred years ago think it’s right and proper for the guy to pick up the gal.”
“A hundred years? You telling me you’re a vampire now?”
He peeled back his lips and growled. “A vampire, you say.” He winked. “Just remember, I don’t nibble. I devour.”
He sauntered off with a swagger.
Damn, that man was trouble. And I could not wait to dive headlong first into all the trouble he could bring to my door.