A Love Song for Always Page 6

  He tears his mouth away from mine and leaves me gasping.

  “Someone could walk in,” I pant.

  His answer is to drag his teeth down my neck, making me moan and arch toward him for more.

  He’s always been the reasonable one. Now he’s not.

  Those hands stroke up my legs, making me wet from his confident touch even before they plunge beneath my lace panties.

  “Fucking need you,” he rasps against my ear before pressing two fingers where I’m wettest.

  Blind, I reach for his abs, running my hands up his beautiful chest through the shirt.

  Every sensation is amplified in the dark, our need turned into a fine point of desperation.

  My hands reach for his belt, stroking the hard ridge of him beneath. He grinds against my hand, rubbing against my fingers.

  I try to step back and trip on something. Tyler’s there to hold me up, grabbing me before I fall.

  If I ever thought it would be possible to get tired of him, I was wrong. His passion changes with his mood, with the day, with the weather.

  His fingers work inside me, stroking a spot that makes me hiccup breaths against his mouth.

  I reach for his belt, but his free hand drags my hand over my head, slamming my wrist against the wall and pinning me with his body. He withdraws, and I could moan in complaint, but he hitches my skirt up my hips, the delicate fabric threatening to tear.

  This is vintage. I think it but don’t say it, because what’s between us is old and new and priceless.

  My thong is pushed aside, and he’s between my hips, rubbing where I’m slick.

  Jesus, Tyler. He’s a fire, consuming me, and I can’t see through the flames. I want them to engulf me.

  I get my arms free and wrap them around his neck, dragging his mouth back to mine. Pinned between him and the wall, I lift my other leg too, and he lifts me higher so he can rub against me, tantalizing and teasing.

  Our shared exhale is need and frustration, our lips bumping and sliding.

  Until he drops to his knees and I stop breathing.

  I feel his eyes on me in the dark. I can’t see him, or me, or the contents of this closet, but I sense him.

  The second his tongue finds me, I die.

  “Tyler.”

  His groan against my slickness makes me tremble—with strength and vulnerability.

  “You.” His whispered word is a curse, a prayer.

  Tyler licks a trail where I’m burning up for him. Again. This time lingering on the tight bud of feeling at the top.

  I grab past his hair for the railing to get more leverage. Every breath I suck in has my ribs fighting with the tight beaded fabric of my dress. It’s a beautiful cage.

  This man knows how to make me scream. And from the way he’s devouring me, he’s dead set on making me do it.

  “Again.” He’s reading my mind, and I can’t even resent it.

  His name is a tortured whisper on my lips, and I feel his response in the way his fingers dig into my trembling thighs, the way his mouth vibrates as he groans against my skin.

  Tyler’s head between my thighs, worshipping and demanding at once. I hear what he’s doing to me not only in my sounds, but my body’s sounds. I can hear from the wetness how much I want this, how much he knows it.

  My body bends toward him, responding like one of the instruments he’s charmed over the years. He builds me up until every inhale is a shallow rasp, every exhale a shuddering sigh.

  “Come on, Six. Tell me how much you missed me.” He adds another finger, stretching me to the point of discomfort.

  But it’s the meaning of it that’s so sexy I can’t bear it—that I’m his like he’s mine—and the man I love is just desperate enough to need to prove it to us both.

  I come like that, in a moaning pile of limbs and pulsing need. He sucks on my skin, stroking the spot deep inside that makes me shudder. I fall, my head hitting the wall.

  Something crashes down on him.

  “Did you hear something?” Beck’s voice calls outside.

  No. No, fucking no.

  I’m tugging down my dress before the door opens.

  “There you are.” Beck looks between us, taking in us and the fallen closet railing. He claps Tyler on the back. “Bar in the bedroom closet’s sturdier. All you had to do was ask.”

  But as he shuts the door, I spot Zeke in the kitchen and my nerves return.

  I pray that misstep won’t come back to haunt me or Tyler.

  11

  Three days until the wedding

  “You have to sign all this?” Beck asks, surveying the stacks of VIP fan gear already loaded onto the charter plane when we get to the top of the steps.

  “Yeah.” I glance at Annie, who’s taken a seat with Rae and Elle up front.

  Haley sits with Sophie while Jax works on getting Mason to sleep.

  “I’ll do it for you.” Beck walks with his dog, who looks longingly at my jeans through the bars of his carrier as though he’d like to defile them, toward two seats facing one another near the back.

  “Doesn’t work that way, man.” I follow, dropping into one leather seat.

  “How long is this flight?” he asks, claiming the other seat.

  “Long.” I peer out the window at the sunny day. With luck, our destination will be as beautiful.

  “Roger that.” Beck reaches into the pocket of his designer denim and produces a black eye mask.

  “Getting your beauty sleep?”

  “In case I need it. We’re partying once we get there, I assume.”

  “Annie has the details planned. She’s actually been amazing,” I admit, casting a look over my shoulder at the front of the plane as I think of all the details she’s taken care of.

  I’ll make it up to her.

  But for now, I rise to grab a stack of tour shirts and one of the four dozen Sharpie markers included with the gear.

  The plane takes off, and I spread the shirts—laid flat to make it faster for me to sign them—on the table between us.

  “Album’s done. You need to take it easy.”

  “As if you do.” I laugh between signatures. “You’re filming sixteen-hour days. Plus, I’m not forgetting I wouldn’t have my career if you hadn’t filmed me playing after Annie went to LA with Finn back in school.”

  “Make sure you don’t.” Beck folds his arms over his chest. “What’s eating you, T? It’s more than this tour.”

  I hesitate only a second because Beck’s the closest thing I have to a best friend besides Annie, and I want to get this off my chest.

  “I told you Jax was working on a deal to buy Wicked. Well, he asked me to be on it too,” I say under my breath.

  Beck flicks a glance past me—a cursory look toward the front of the plane and its occupants—before coming back. “No shit. Why? Besides the cool factor of owning the most badass label of all time.”

  “It’s a good investment for a couple of guys who know the industry. Plus, it means something to me. I want to make a difference in the lives of the young artists there. Annie has her show, and I have my albums, but this is bigger. We’re just artists, but a label like Wicked?” I shake my head. “Wicked is music, Beck. I grew up at that label. Fuck, Annie and I met there. It’s different for Jax—more like a point of pride to turn it around, to fix what’s broken because he can. But I want our kids to see it. To have it be part of their lives. Hell, maybe they won’t even be into music. Maybe they’ll just need college paid for. But sometimes an opportunity comes up when you least expect it, and I never want to be too busy signing T-shirts of my face to notice.”

  Once we reach altitude, an attendant comes around to give us drinks, and Beck opens the door of the carrier to reassure Ernie everyone’s cool. Needing a break for my cramped hand, I shift back in my seat.

  “Never saw this happening,” Beck muses, staring out the window.

  “Us all having careers? You said the opposite the other night.”

  “That�
��s not what I mean. Figured we’d all be one big happy family. Now you two are branching off…” He rubs a hand over his jaw. “We need to stick together, man.”

  I frown. “We will.” When he doesn’t respond, I kick his shin with the toe of my sneaker. “Beck. Come on.”

  “Teamwork makes the dream work. I know Manatee’s my girl too, but it feels as if people are gonna start settling down.”

  I take back the stack of shirts and grab another. “This look like settling down?” I hold up a shirt with my album cover on it, the tour dates listed on the back.

  He chuckles. “Not yet.”

  What I don’t say is that I’m longing to. Part of me never wanted fame. I love my music and everything it’s brought me, but I’m looking forward to a manageable pace.

  Annie makes her way from the front of the plane, bending over next to my chair. “Hey. Either of you seen Sophie’s board book? I figured it might’ve slid back here.”

  I take her hand and press my lips to her palm. “Beck’s using it to practice his reading. He’ll be at a first-grade level soon.”

  “You seen T’s balls, Manatee? Figured they might be in your pocket.”

  She grins, and I rub a hand over my face.

  “You can stay in the man cave if you want,” Beck offers charitably, gesturing to back of the plane. “But you’re gonna need to drink hard liquor.”

  “That’s why Ernie’s down for the count?” She shoots an emphatic look toward the carrier, and I swallow a laugh. “I’ll leave you both with your testosterone,” she quips.

  We both watch her return to the front.

  “I bet you’re glad to lock that down.” Beck grabs another Sharpie from a cupholder on the table, uncapping it.

  “Yeah, I want her to be my wife. More than anything. But she’s always been mine, Beck.”

  “Cocky prick.”

  “I don’t mean it like that. Since I gave her that ring, since the first time I kissed her, since the first time she looked at my blue hair and decided I was worth her time…” I try to put words to the emotions I used to shove down before Annie taught me to open up. “She’s part of me. Nothing can ever change that.”

  Beck draws on a napkin, lines and letters I can’t read upside down. “I started pitching this reality series six months ago. No networks were buying because I wasn’t a big enough star yet. Fast forward to now, they’re returning my calls.”

  “Your point?”

  He pulls back to inspect his work, then holds up the napkin. Being Beck is in carefully printed letters with a smiley face.

  “Point is, never say never.”

  When we finally arrive, I’m the first one at the door of the plane.

  I signed as many shirts, badges, and posters as I could manage. Now, I stretch out my stiff arms and legs, flexing my hand—even a private plane can’t make that long a trip entirely comfortable.

  Outside, I’m greeted by sunshine and fresh air. This will be good.

  I already feel more relaxed. The ride to our resort takes less than ten minutes, all of us piled into cars. Elle, Annie, Beck, Rae, and I share one.

  Elle buzzes the window down, taking it all in. “Wow, I can’t believe you guys are getting married in—”

  Annie covers her friend’s mouth with a hand. “Don’t jinx it.”

  Elle rolls her eyes. “We’re already here. What could go wrong?”

  We get dropped off at the hotel.

  “Everything’s taken care of,” Annie assures us, brushing her hair out of her face as the breeze blows it back into her eyes and sweeps her skirt high up her thighs. I block her body from the wind, and she shoots me a grateful look. “All our bags are being taken to our villas.”

  She and I have one with a private pool and hot tub. The others have been assigned to either their own villa, or in a few cases—like Rae and Elle—they’re sharing. We’re staying in a secluded place on the island, and we’ve been promised there will be little to no intrusion from the outside world.

  I don’t take privacy for granted anywhere.

  “What are we doing this afternoon?” Elle asks.

  Annie looks around. “I figured people might want some time to themselves, so nothing’s scheduled until tomorrow.”

  Rae folds her arms. I don’t think she ever sleeps. “I’m going to the pool.”

  Elle frowns. “I need to bleach my hair before the weekend. I meant to do it sooner but ran out of time.”

  “I’m sure the salon can do it.”

  “Nah, it’s cool. If I can find an umbrella to sit under, I’ll come do it by the pool with you guys.”

  Beck arrives and wraps an arm around Elle and Annie. “What’s going on?”

  Rae responds. “Bonding.”

  He makes a quick count and curses. “Told you, no foursomes. But I should check my contract and see if it stands outside the US.”

  Annie laughs, and I’m grateful to my friend for helping lighten the mood.

  “You guys go ahead. I’m going to see who’s checked in,” I say, spotting Jax. I need to see if our Wicked guests have arrived.

  But Annie jumps in front of me. “I’ll stay too.”

  Despite the long flight, she looks beautiful, but there’s an edge of tiredness in her eyes.

  “It’s fine, Six,” I murmur, stepping close and brushing a thumb along her cheek. “Let me do this. I’ll have them send you the list so you can check it later by the pool.”

  I think she’s going to argue, but she relents, her expression filling with gratitude. “Okay. Just give me one second.”

  She exchanges a few words I can’t hear with the wedding planner who came out to greet us, flicking a glance toward me. Then Annie and our friends, plus Haley and the kids, depart in a couple of golf carts. Jax comes up next to me.

  Our dedicated on-site planner, a woman in her thirties with shiny dark hair and sun-kissed skin, greets us with a broad smile. “Mr. Adams. Congratulations. We’re so pleased to welcome you. We were told to arrange special transport for your excess luggage.”

  I frown. “Excess?”

  “The hold of your plane. There were several extra trunks.”

  Jax leans his elbows on the desk. “You didn’t think what was on the plane was all you had to sign, did you? If Zeke’s team is anywhere as enthusiastic as I remember, they packed it full.”

  My hand flexes, and Jax chuckles, clapping me on the back.

  I refocus on the task at hand, turning back to the planner. “We had three late VIP additions checking in. Have they arrived?”

  She consults her list. “Yes, they have. I’ll send you their villa numbers so you know where to find them.”

  Jax and I agreed we’d meet with them officially tomorrow.

  My phone buzzes, and I glance at the three villa numbers, a name beside each. “This must be a mistake.”

  “What?” Jax demands.

  The planner frowns and checks her phone. “I’m sorry, Mr. Adams. I was told there was a last-minute switch, but that is the correct name. He checked in with appropriate identification an hour ago.”

  We picked three artists deliberately—two are Grammy winners, and the third has a social media following in the tens of millions.

  But the third person on the rooming list isn’t the artist we chose.

  Having a plane full of swag is a setback. Doing a deal the week of my wedding is a setback.

  This, the name staring at me…

  This is a fucking nightmare.

  12

  The resort is stunning. A low building we passed on the ride over houses the administration, plus meeting rooms. Surrounding it are lush pockets of trees carved up with pathways leading to the private pods of villas, including the one we rented out for our use.

  Nestled amongst the paths are sparkling pools and flower beds exploding with pink and purple and white.

  But the island itself is the main attraction. Lush vegetation, palm trees, a balmy breeze that makes me feel as if I’m on another planet
. Far from the hustle New York and LA both personify in their own unique ways.

  I frown at my phone—no list from the resort or Tyler yet. I had asked the woman at the desk to keep one detail off the shared rooming list.

  My stealth wedding gift to Tyler—one grumpy British billionaire—hasn’t checked in yet.

  The attendant parks the golf cart in front of our villa, a light sand-colored building, and shows me up the walkway, holding the door.

  When I step inside, I suck in a breath.

  It’s beautiful, wood floors and open air. There’s a kitchen and living area that opens to a patio beyond, but I head down the hall to the bedroom. An enormous bed with wooden posts, plus a lounge area on one side with low chairs. The attendant sweeps the doors open to reveal a private patio with a hot tub and its own lap pool.

  “It’s perfect,” I tell him. I can’t wait to spend time with Tyler here.

  But first, I have something to do.

  The attendant departs, and I open my suitcases, pulling out a pink two-piece bathing suit. When Rae said she was going to the pool, I wanted to be there too. We haven’t had a moment together alone, and I’m determined to find out what happened at her gig. This whole week is about family and friendship, and what Beck said the other day is right—everyone here with us is as good as family.

  Once I’ve changed into the bathing suit and pulled a wrap overtop, I head out of the villa with a beach bag on my shoulder and aviators on my nose. This part of the resort is private, with a dozen villas surrounding a shared pool. When Tyler and I saw it, we knew it would be perfect for our intimate wedding and for family and friends to spend time together.

  I pad across the little walkway to the pool area, spotting Elle already there and pulling a patio umbrella over to her lounger. Beck is dressed in trunks and chatting up the bartender.

  “What’ll you drink, Manatee?” Beck calls.

  I consider as I approach, stopping next to him at the bar shielded by a thatch roof. I tug the sunglasses down my nose to inspect my friend. “Coffee.”