4. Zak
Saint of Spades had put on their best show yet. No cover requests, no walkouts, and best of all, no scripts. Just three solid hours of playing the setlist they’d created for a crowd that was there to have a good time.
Despite Zak’s constant pursuit of perfection, she didn’t actually believe it existed. Which was why, perhaps, during an otherwise perfect performance, she had to sabotage everything by defiling their lead singer on stage.
She couldn’t get away from the party fast enough. As soon as a staffer came by to pack her guitar away, she made up an excuse about going to the bathroom and ran out the door to the back parking lot instead. All the fresh air in the world wouldn’t have been enough to give her clarity about why she just did that.
Not that the air was fresh. Fireworks were still being lit off along the bay. She wasn’t facing them as she sat on the hood of her car, but she could hear them scream and pop in the distance. Fine particles of smoke twined around the light poles and moths fluttered close to the coppery glow of the bulbs. Music she didn’t recognize boomed from speakers inside the venue, the vibrations reaching through the masonry to the cool metal beneath her bare legs.
She wasn’t alone for long before Chase found her, a sliver of his reflection appearing in the steel of the light post.
“Do you have hidden mind-reading abilities or something?” she asked.
“No, just a sense of direction. You went the wrong way for the bathroom.” The suspension creaked in protest as he leaned back on his hands next to her. “If I could read your mind, I wouldn’t have followed you out here to ask you what you’re thinking.”
She let out a deep sigh as she turned toward him, her knee bumping his wrist.
He was looking at her the way he always did, like she was the only thing on the entire fucking planet that mattered to him. And she couldn’t handle it anymore, even if it was selfish of her to want him.
Here goes nothing.
“I like you, Chase. I really fucking like you.” It was a fight to get those words out, though she knew he felt the same way. He had left no room for doubt. “And what I said to you that last day in New York was bullshit. There already is an ‘us,’ whether I wanted to admit it or not. There has been, even before the sex, because my feelings for you were never casual. And I’m terrified about what that means for my future, your future. The future of the band.”
His breath shuddered. “And what does it mean? For the band. For you and me.”
“I don’t know. I haven’t gotten that far in my thinking. It’s only been like ten minutes.”
Chase appraised her with a hint of a smile appearing at the corner of his mouth. He hooked a finger into the ankle strap of one of her heels and made room to stand in front of her. His knees were against the grill of her car. Hers, on either side of his hips. “What if we do things my way, then.”
Her fingertips dug into the edge of the hood as he brought a hand to the side of her neck, his thumb rubbing a line along her jaw. “Which is?”
“Throw the plans away.”
He kissed her slowly, imploringly. It didn’t matter if weeks had passed, or an hour and a half. Either way, her heart stopped beating for every first second his lips met hers. “His way,” could have been something insane—like changing their identities, faking their deaths, and escaping to a secret island getaway for the rest of their lives—and she might have agreed if he kept kissing her like that.
He broke away, barely, and smoothed a hand over her hair. “I told you. I don’t care what you label it. I don’t care if you ever put a label on it. I just want to do what feels right. I want to be able to tell you more than ‘I like you’ without scaring you off, because those aren’t the right fucking words, Zak.
“Like is for going to the beach and playing sports and eating chicken wings. You… every time I walk by the phone, I want to pick it up and call you. Every time I’m with you, it’s like I’m killing myself trying to keep my hands off you. I don’t want to listen to music when you’re not there to tell me what you think of it or give me some obscure fact about the artist. I don’t want to watch movies without you interrupting them to make jokes and comments. I have ten different bottles of hot sauce sitting in the fridge at my place, hoping you’ll stay there someday.”
His hand trembled at the back of her head. His smile wobbled. “You are so dedicated, brave, and special. So much more than like to me. You’re my best friend, the only true friend I’ve ever had. And nothing that could ever happen between us would change the fact that you gave me the courage to be myself. I swear to you, I am here to stay in this band for as long as you want me here. That is the one thing you can plan on.”
Seconds lapsed, and Zak knew he was waiting for her to say something. She should’ve been able to find at least a few words after he poured his heart out to her, but he’d taken them all out of her mouth.
“Ten bottles?”
“Yeah, ten. I don’t know the difference between cayenne, chipotle, habanero, and serrano, but I do know I’m not eating any of them.” He stared. “That’s the part you took away from everything I just said?”
“No, sorry.” What she took away from everything he said was that they were both in so much deeper than they should be. So much more than it was safe to be. But fuck it. She had already been honest with him about the way she felt. There was no reason to stop now. “The guitar was an excuse to have more time with you. To share the thing I love most with you because I want to share everything with you. Every belief and memory. And I want all of yours. I want to throw the plan away. I just don’t know what that looks like or what to say to you because—”
Chase’s lips slammed into hers and all the fears swirling around in her head ground to a halt. His touch was no longer gentle, but burning on top of her thighs as she deepened the kiss. And, in the interest of continuing her honest streak, she grabbed his wrists and moved him where she wanted him. Higher. Under the hem of the minidress she’d worn on stage.
He broke the kiss, his teeth scraping against her bottom lip, and spoke into her ear again. “That’s all you had to say. Just keep telling me that.”
It didn’t feel like nearly enough. It only scratched the surface of every confession she owed him.
“Fuck the plan,” she said.
“Fuck the plan,” he agreed. “Now tell me the other part again.”
She wasn’t sure how she was supposed to do that as his lips traveled down her neck. Kissing. Sucking.
“Tell me,” he repeated.
“Everything,” she breathed as he pushed her soaked thong to the side, inch by inch, and ran his fingers over what little it had covered. “I want to share everything with you.”
His kiss was a moment of sweet relief as he drew circles with his thumb and slipped one finger inside, a chance to expel the moan bubbling up in her chest. He tasted her lips, her tongue, with light, teasing motions. The same way he would if he were going down on her, if they weren’t already pushing every boundary in the open night, with thousands of people partying inside.
“What else do you want?”
She could tell him the easiest truth: she wanted him to take her right now, on the hood of her car. Wanted to see the look on his face, hear the sounds he made as he pushed into her. That was her escape. Sex was the only time she ever allowed him to be everything to her, the place where she could pretend they were in love. Like they were the careless, romantic people she conjured up in songs.
“I want to hold your hand. I want to make you as happy as you make me.”
Those beautiful blue eyes brightened with surprise.
He took her hand in his, kissing every knuckle as he worked in a second finger under her dress.
She gasped against his mouth, bracing herself with both arms around his neck.
“I can’t believe how lucky I am to know what it’s like to be seen by you, wanted by you,” he said. “Touched by you.”
“Mm, there’s a song in there somewhere,” she said wistfully, lyrics slipping from her mind to her tongue and into the air between them. “‘Luck is the look in your eyes. It’s hot and slow between your thighs. Luck is in your fingertips. It’s on your tongue, it’s in your kiss.’”
“I need to hear that one when you’re finished,” he said. “Need it added to the setlist. A song about the time I made you come in this piece of shit station wagon of yours outside a club filled with thousands of people.”
“Help me write it, then.”
His fingers sifted through the hair at the base of her neck, and then her legs were around his waist as he lifted her. “Tell me you have the keys.”
“My guitars are in the dressing room.” She shrugged with her arms extended over his shoulders. “I left it unlocked.”
He chuckled as he jiggled the door handle until it opened, and then she was horizontal. The musty padding of the backseat cushioning her spine and his body crushing hers as he pulled the door shut with his foot in the door pocket.
Their kiss turned clumsy as he shifted his tall frame to fit. She scooted back and sat up to make room for him.
“Let me.” She guided him upright and straddled him.
Her dress rose above her hips as the low ceiling forced her to sink heavier onto his lap. Through the zipper of his jeans, his cock pressed hard against the ache he’d coaxed with his touch.
She inhaled sharply. “I missed this. I missed you.”
“I didn’t go anywhere.” His hands slid up her sides beneath the dress, the fabric gathering around his wrists. “Don’t think I could keep myself away from you if I tried.”
But it hadn’t been the same. It hadn’t been like this. The smiles, the broken words whispered back and forth. His hands roaming everywhere. His eyes glued to hers, hooded with pleasure as she grinded against him and dipped her mouth to his neck.
She undid the first few buttons on his shirt to trace the groove between his lean pectoral muscles and the light, sparse hair leading to his collarbone, then followed the line with her lips.
Chase looped his thumbs under the band of her thong. “How much do you care about these?”
“You’ve got money.” She straightened her spine, catching his earlobe with her teeth. “Buy me a new pair.”
The lace ripped so easily it didn’t make a sound. A fast tug at her hips, and the fabric slipped away. Stale air cooled the wetness stamped between her thighs.
His fingers found her again in the darkness, from behind, starting up that same pace again. Steady strokes and circles as she undid his fly and worked his pants down. The head of his cock parted her, sliding against her clit. Hand cupping her ass, he pulled her closer as they moaned against each other’s lips.
She was done waiting. She had waited far too long already.
She worked him to the right angle. Lowering herself slowly, taking more. There were still inches to go before she hit the base of him, and she was already drowning in ecstasy.
“How did I forget how tight you are?” he said. Pained.
“Don’t know.” She pressed a kiss to his cheek as she sank further into the dizzying stretch. “I didn’t forget how good you feel.”
And she certainly hadn’t forgotten the prickling pleasure of his teeth grazing her nipples through her dress and bra, or the sound of him calling her beautiful.
He untangled her hair from the buttons of his shirt and collected it in one hand, pulling her in for another kiss.
She closed the last of the distance, taking him all the way as shivers erupted over her skin.
“Maybe you need to keep reminding me how good it is, then.” His hand flattened on her back. Then lower. He smacked her ass before squeezing it again, feeling the energy flowing from her hips to his cock as it threaded into her. A perfect fit.
She gripped the backrest on either side of his head, so she didn’t collapse entirely. “If you’re so obsessed with my ass, Payton, I can give you a better view.”
She shifted off him, instantly missing that full feeling until she turned around and eased back down again.
The rearview mirror was narrow, but in it, she caught the wide-eyed expression on his face, the crease between his brows. She pictured his parted lips, the tension in his shoulders.
His hands found her chest as he pulled her back against his body, burying a groan into her neck.
He bunched her dress up higher yet, over her breasts, and slipped the cups of her bra beneath them. Until they were strained and taut at the center between both bands of fabric. Compressed, further, when he grabbed them as his hips slammed into hers from below.
“I love every view of you,” he said, giving her breasts one last squeeze before running his hands down her sides. Landing on the dramatic curve of her waist, where his fingertips dug in as she clutched the driver’s seat to ride him harder.
Her forehead, sticky with sweat, hit the back of the headrest as he reached around to touch her clit.
It was sensory overload.
She bit down on her lip to keep from screaming, but a moan still escaped.
The confined space was spinning. The air coming in pants from their lungs as Chase spilled inside her, seconds before her own climax hit.
He held her close as she trembled, his body folded over hers. All languid kisses across her shoulders and lingering touches as he wrapped his arms around her waist and hugged her tight.
How did she ever, ever think this could be just a romp in the sheets? Rather, in the backseat, this time.
“Bet you don’t hate my car so much now, do you?” She tugged her bra back on and slid to the side, legs sprawled in his lap. “Yours doesn’t have nearly as much space.”
“Wanna go try it out and compare?” He massaged her calf muscle. “We can make it a bet. If the sex is just as good—or better—in my car, you sell yours to the junkyard and let me buy you a new one.”
“And if it’s not,” she countered. “I keep my car, you trade yours in for a Grand Caravan. Then there’ll be plenty of room one way or another.”
Chase tossed his head back in a short laugh. “Alright, bet’s off. Too risky. I am not driving a Grand Caravan.”
“Sounds like a lot of words to admit you can’t get it up again so soon after.”
He bent to press a kiss to her kneecap. “I don’t need to get anything up to make it good for you.”
She felt around on the floor mat until she found an errant elastic and used it to tie her hair up and away from her warm skin. “Thought you meant good or better for bothof us.”
He stretched an extra few inches, leaving another tingling kiss on her inner thigh. “If you think that can’t be good or better for me, you haven’t been paying attention, honey.”
Sweaty and sated and starting to get cold from her scant clothing in the chilly weather, it didn’t matter. He still made her melt. “We should probably head back inside before the others come looking for us.”
Chase opened the door and helped her out onto her unsteady feet. She adjusted her dress to a more appropriate length and checked the side mirror to wipe the smudged mascara from beneath her eyes.
He fixed all the undone fastenings on his own clothing before they returned to the party. Commando. Thanks to hers being ripped and his being… a mess.
Assuming everyone would be grabbing dinner and drinks, they made their way through the building to check the bars. Inside, music pounded through the floor, the bass turned up so high she could feel its pulse in her bones. Violet light rained down on them, broken up by ribbons of shadows from the glittery sheer drapes strung from the ceiling.
They didn’t see anyone on the first or second levels, but there were hundreds of partygoers still crowding the dance floors. Lights flashed everywhere, blurring all motion. Servers passed back and forth from the kitchen with trays full of small bites and empty glasses for the dishwasher. People drank, danced, and stumbled around to the lounge area and the bathrooms, all absorbed in their own worlds.
“Maybe the dressing room?” Zak raised her voice above the volume of the music.
Past the stairwell was the hallway leading to the room they had gotten ready in—the last door on the left. The lights seemed to be off, but she knocked anyway, assuming Edge might be inside seeking refuge from the multicolored barrage taking place in the club.
But it wasn’t Edge who answered. It was Dallas. His white shirt was rumpled and half sliding off, stained by what looked like champagne, and his hair was in even more slovenly condition. “Yeah? What do you want?”
“Have you been drinking again?” Zak forgot what she was originally going to ask. She got closer to his face to see if she could smell alcohol on his breath.
He scowled. “No. I haven’t. Is that all?”
“Dallas, you don’t have to lie to me. If you—”
Five glowing yellow fingernails moved past his arm.
Chase pushed the door open wider. “Lydia?”
Dallas looked to the top of the door frame as sneakered footsteps approached and Lydia appeared beside him. Glitter all over her face, and the straps of her dress slipping off her shoulders.
“Brother-dearest?” Lydia said through clenched teeth, combing her fingers through her blonde waves.
The two siblings stared each other down, their heads cocked to the side in a way that made Zak wonder if body language was hereditary. She wasn’t sure how the whole twin thing worked. Maybe Chase and Lydia were silently communicating something more sophisticated, but her best read on the situation was two words being unspoken four ways: “Oh. Fuck.”
“So.” Chase’s expressionless demeanor finally cracked. “Whatcha up to, sister-dearest?”
“Nothing at all.” Lydia raised her brows as she glanced between Chase and Zak. “What were you twoup to?”
“Nothing,” Chase answered slowly.
“That’s what I thought.” Lydia pushed her way out into the hall with a self-satisfied smirk. “Oh, and by the way. Izzy’s here. She was looking for you guys.”