A Love Song for Always Page 9

  “Absolutely fucking nothing as long as we can do this.” Tyler’s voice is a dark promise before his wicked fingers press where I’m already aching for his touch.

  I don’t need his satisfied groan to tell me I’m wet. The way those fingers penetrate me, sliding deep, filling me with a confidence bordering on arrogance.

  His eyes change color. “Fuck, I’ve been thinking about this all morning.”

  My body tightens around him, and one of those sounds rips through my chest, muffled by his shoulder. “Tyler… don’t get me wrong, because this is hot—so damn hot…” I pant when his thumb presses against my swollen clit, taking my arousal up another thousand notches. “But I want more than this. It feels like we’re stealing moments, and this is supposed to be the time for us.”

  His jaw works, his nostrils flaring as if he’s being punished by some invisible force. “I know. Soon.”

  His tortured words land on my skin, melt there. Tyler knows it doesn’t heal what’s between us, and the fact that he doesn’t pretend it can makes it impossible to deny him.

  Because if all I have with him right now is this moment at the edge of the world, our life on the other side of this catamaran, I’ll take it.

  It’s never been about sex with Tyler. I’d love him even if we didn’t have a connection like this. But our connection leaves nothing untouched. He takes unrivaled satisfaction in claiming me inside and out.

  My body, my heart, my soul.

  I pull him out of his shorts, and his jaw clenches with need.

  “In my mind, we’re in a bed,” he whispers. “It’s you and me and nothing but time.”

  I shift down onto him, arching my back to take him. “Oh my God.” I hiccup a breath, fisting my hand in his hair.

  My nails scrape his shoulders, the tattoos across his chest blurring into a haze of black lines as my vision blurs at the feel of him.

  “I’m spending seconds as if we’re going to live forever. Taking you so slow you swear you’re going to come from the waiting alone.” He grinds me on him, around him, forcing my body to take him all the way in.

  The low rasp of his breathing is unbearably sexy against the background of our friends laughing, the occasional shriek of a bird or of Sophie.

  Tyler strokes into me, and I clench around him. My hands drag greedily up his abs, his pecs, and I lower my mouth to his neck.

  He stumbles back until his shoulders hit the anchored boat. “But every time I touch you, every time I give you pleasure, you take a piece of me. And I want to make it last forever because I want you to see it in my eyes every time you do that.”

  He lifts and lowers me on him, and I ride him as best I can. I rub my aching breasts against his chest. I can’t remember the last time I was this horny, but I’ve barely seen him all week.

  It’s not enough.

  “You feel so good,” I mumble against his ear.

  He chuckles. “You have no idea.”

  His hand strokes down my back, grabbing my ass and squeezing. I know exactly what he likes, and he knows me too.

  It’s what makes this perfect. Worthwhile. No matter what else it going on for us, we’ll get through it. I have to trust in that.

  As I rake my nails across his shoulders, as his strokes level out from shallow thrusts into long, purposeful motions, we chase each other toward the peak.

  My head drops back. Blue sky, birds, ocean breeze.

  And Tyler.

  I’m there first, my body tightening around him.

  “Yes, like that. Come for me,” he murmurs.

  He’s there a moment later, his damp shoulders tight beneath my hands, his beautiful firm mouth parted in the face I alone get to see.

  I memorize it, exalt in it. “More.”

  He obliges, coming for what feels like forever inside me.

  He’s leaning against the boat, the waves lapping against the side. I’m collapsed on him, my face buried in his shoulder, when noises from the boat above tear into my haze.

  “Where are they?” comes a voice from the boat.

  Shit.

  Footsteps on the deck of the cat echo in my ears as Tyler and I lock gazes.

  We spring apart, hoping it’s not too late.

  If it is…

  I will actually die.

  17

  “We have a problem.” Jax frowns as he looks over the side of the deck.

  I take in Annie’s flushed face. I’m still coming down from the high, and whether or not we look like it, my body is shaking from the release.

  A minute later, I’m hoisting myself out of the water and up onto the boat. Annie follows, her suit back in place. I wrap her in a towel before grabbing one myself.

  “Don’t tell me the artists from this morning have come back to say they won’t sign,” I say as Jax paces the deck.

  “No, they’re still debating. But there’s another party interested in buying Wicked.”

  My gut twists.

  Jax looks between Annie and me, and Annie lifts her hands. “What exactly is going on?”

  Jax grimaces. “I don’t want to ruin your day with details.”

  “You’re already in my day. So, you might as well tell me.”

  He explains that our exclusivity will expire this weekend if we don’t get a deal. If that happens, Wicked can try to get another buyer, but there’s no guarantee another owner wouldn’t focus on proven talent and slash every other cost—including up-and-coming artists.

  “Who’d have the resources to bring an offer?” she asks.

  “I’m not sure who’s spearheading it, but Zeke’s involved,” Jax said. “I don’t know how he heard about this. Everything’s under an NDA.”

  Annie’s face goes pale. “He was at Beck’s party. I didn’t tell him, but… he might have connected the dots.”

  My stomach drops.

  “Shit.” Jax rubs a hand over his jaw.

  “Don’t blame yourself,” I say, taking Annie’s hands, but Jax’s head falls back.

  “I don’t. You’re the one who wanted to buy a company the week of our wedding.” She rounds on her father, tearing her hands from mine. “And you think you can bring your chaos and everyone just rolls with it. I’m not rolling with it.”

  “Annie—” I reach for her, but she backs away, eyes flashing.

  “No. I’m sorry if I made this harder on you by letting something leak at Beck’s party. But you put me in a shitty position.”

  To his credit, Jax looks almost as upset as I feel at the sight of Annie on the verge of angry tears.

  She stares woodenly forward for a minute, ignoring both of us, before turning and marching toward the front of the boat, dropping off the side, and swimming toward the shore without a backward glance.

  Fuck. I’ve caused that, and I hate it. I hate her pain. I hate this deal. I hate the guilt roiling in my stomach.

  But I’m doing it for us, I remind myself for what feels like the thousandth time.

  I love this woman, and the fact that we’re wired differently is part of that. She feels everything as if life could be over the next second. I’m the one who thinks about the what-ifs, plans for every scenario from bad to worse. Today, being that person sucks.

  Buying Wicked was supposed to do something meaningful for up-and-coming artists while also providing for the people I love. But as I watch Annie emerge from the water onto the shore to meet our friends, I feel as if both her and the deal are getting further away.

  18

  One day until the wedding

  The knock on my door cuts into the blackness in my room. I shift out of bed, straightening my pajamas.

  Tyler’s not here.

  Worry floods me until I see the sheet of paper on the bed.

  Six,

  I’m sorry I missed you last night.

  We’re going back for the final push today.

  I can’t wait to see you for the rehearsal dinner.

  I love you more than anything.

  T


  The worry is replaced by a dull ache that makes my limbs heavy as I pad toward the door and crack it.

  Sunshine streams in, burning my retinas as I squint at the silhouette.

  “The wedding planner told me to bring you this.” Rae holds out a cup of coffee.

  I pull open the door and take it from her, inspecting the label. It says “Bride” with a heart drawn on it.

  “She wrote that too,” she insists, brushing past me into the suite. “Are you ready for your last day as an unmarried woman?”

  “Yes and no.” I scrunch up my nose, and she scans the room.

  “This is an interesting arrangement.”

  All the furniture is pushed back against the walls.

  “There were a dozen trunks of merch in here Tyler was supposed to sign. He had them moved to some storage place.”

  “Where is Tyler?”

  I rub my face. “I don’t know. He didn’t come home last night.”

  Tyler and Dad skipped dinner to work on the deal. But though I waited up until after midnight, my fiancé didn’t show.

  Regret crawls through my stomach as I think about our fight on the boat.

  “Come on.” Rae jerks her head toward the door. “We have plans.”

  I take a sip of the coffee, and the hot brew does something to settle my nerves. “Rae?”

  Her dark brows rise.

  “What if I was deciding to tell someone I care about some information that they might want? But it might ruin their time off?”

  “Normally I’d say tell him. But…” She looks past me toward the open doors, the beautiful morning beyond. I’ve never seen Rae look so wistful. “I know how hard it is to get a few days off. And most problems will still be there.” Her gaze comes back to mine, and she rolls her eyes. “Are you going to go get your ass dressed or what?”

  Ten minutes later, Rae and I show up at the day spa in the main building. When I walk inside, there’re friendly faces having an argument.

  “He’ll behave,” Beck insists, gesturing to the black puff. “Ernie is all class.”

  The spa attendant looks at him suspiciously, and the dog barks once as if to emphasize it.

  “You made it,” Elle calls. “We were getting worried Rae was too rebel to follow simple instructions.”

  Rae flips her off and crosses to one of the pedicure chairs. She sits gingerly on the edge and inspects the basin below.

  I snap my head up when I see Pen walking in, and my jaw drops. “You’re here!”

  “Of course. I’m not gonna let my best girl get married without me.”

  I run to her and squeeze her in a hug so hard it’s borderline cruel.

  “These fools might be famous, but you and me go back.”

  An attendant clears her throat, and we all turn to look. Four more women appear behind her. She lists off a range of treatments.

  “I’d blow someone for a pedicure,” Pen says. “These feet have been traipsing through airports all week.”

  Beck gets a drink and gets Ernie to sit in exchange for the little spa cookies.

  “What color would you like?” my spa technician asks, presenting the range of nail polish options. “Something romantic, I assume.”

  I study the samples. “Do you have something in a ‘So Your Fiancé’s Buying a Record Company Cobalt’?”

  Elle chuckles. “Or ‘Guys Leaving You Out Green’?”

  The tech looks between us, apparently nervous. “The closest is Forever and Ever Fuchsia.”

  “Where are the guys today?” Pen asks.

  After I decide on a soft shell pink that will go better with my dress than something outrageous, I fill her in.

  “So, he didn’t come home last night?” she asks.

  “He left a note. I get that he wants to help the next generation of artists and he wants to provide for us at the same time. But we’re going to be fine. All I need is him.”

  “He doesn’t know everything’s going to be fine,” Beck points out. “When you guys were mugged in New York and Tyler’s hand got fucked… that was hell for him.”

  “I know it was,” I toss back. “I was there.”

  He shrugs. “But things haven’t worked out his whole life, Manatee. You were the first thing that did, and he wants to do right by you.”

  I submerge my feet in the hot bath, tipping my head back as the competing feelings of appreciation and longing wash over me.

  Maybe Beck’s right. As maddening as it is right now, the way Tyler looks out for his own, the way he’s become the man who does, is part of what I love about him.

  “It can’t be that hard to finish this deal,” I mutter. “Get the papers signed. Get the artists on board…”

  Elle snorts. “Hey, Finn, let me convince you,” she says in a sing-song voice.

  I throw a face cloth at her, and she catches it before it hits her.

  “Wait—what the hell does Finn have to do with this?”

  We fill Pen in, and the way her eyes grow with every part of our story is mildly vindicating.

  “Enough of this. They’re working; we’re playing.” Beck angles his phone at his face and Ernie.

  I cock my head. “Your phone was salvageable after the ocean incident?”

  “Nah, I had another one dropped off overnight.”

  I roll my eyes.

  He hits a button. “This is Beck. I’m here with my friends on a secluded island paradise. Guess where?”

  Elle dives across the room, tackling him so that his phone flies out of his hands and lands in the foot bath.

  “Dammit, E,” he complains. “If I’m not in touch with my fans, they’re going to worry.”

  I wiggle my toes as I lift them out of the bath, and my service tech goes to work.

  “So, are you excited for the rehearsal tonight?” Pen asks.

  Anticipation prickles down my spine. “Hell yes. Want to see the dress?”

  I call the wedding planner to see if she can bring it over early.

  The silence down the line is horrifying. “I have a note that you were bringing it on the plane with you and would keep it in your villa.”

  My chest tightens as I look toward Rae and Pen. “I don’t have it,” I say into the phone. “I thought you were keeping it so Tyler didn’t accidentally see it.”

  “Let’s check your villa,” Pen says calmly. “It was in a garment bag, so it must be in a closet somewhere.”

  We head over there in a golf cart, my heart hammering the entire time. We check every closet as acid eats my stomach.

  Tears threaten my eyes. “It’s not here. It was in a—”

  Rae’s gaze meets mine. “Trunk. Where did Tyler send the merch trunks?”

  We head over to the storage facility on the edge of the resort in our golf cart, meeting the wedding planner outside.

  “How much merch did he have?” Pen comments, opening the first trunk to reveal T-shirts.

  I don’t answer, opening another trunk. Lanyards and VIP badges. We go through ten trunks as panic sets in, gnawing at my insides and corroding any semblance of the cool I’ve been trying to maintain this entire week.

  I stare at Tyler’s contact on my phone, needing to hear his voice.

  I hit it.

  It rings once.

  Twice.

  Goes to voicemail.

  I swallow painfully.

  “You guys,” Rae calls from under the lid of the final trunk.

  We race over to her. Peering over her shoulder, a huge breath whooshes out of me. I squeeze my eyes shut.

  “Thank fuck,” Pen says.

  I lift the heavy garment bag out of the trunk, unzipping it, unsure whether to trust it’s here until the zipper parts and reveals the purple fabric.

  Pen gasps. “Oh my God. Annie, it’s beautiful. Tyler’s going to lose his shit.”

  They help me carry the dress outside, where our planner is waiting. She promises to keep the dress safe and have it steamed overnight.

  I turn to Rae. “Would y
ou keep it for me after it’s steamed?”

  She blinks. “Yeah. Sure.”

  When we head back through the main lobby area, I see Hugo in his cage, calling to people who pass through.

  “Can he come tonight?” I ask the wedding planner.

  If he can’t be with his mate yet, maybe he can witness an act of love.

  19

  “Tyler. You still with us?”

  I snap my attention to the lawyers on the tablet. “What’re we waiting for?”

  “They’re reviewing your revised terms for the debt restructuring,” our lead attorney says.

  “Terms which are more than fair,” I press. “So, what’s to review?”

  There’s no answer.

  I tug on my hair and rise from the chair, the four walls starting to feel like a prison after twelve hours.

  I went to our villa to rest for a few hours last night, holding my fiancée while she slept. I don’t want to shift the burden of my responsibility onto her, but this situation has tested every ounce of my resolve.

  “What if we put this on hold until after the wedding?” I ask. My fiancée is getting ready for the rehearsal dinner, and I’m in here arguing over technicalities.

  “Exclusivity lapses tomorrow. Which means everything we’ve all been working on for weeks—months—is gone.”

  I’m typically the cool head in any conversation. Now, I’m frustrated enough to put a fist through the wall.

  I hope it’s worth it. Annie’s words from yesterday come back.

  I stretch out my arm, my hand. The place above my knuckle where the ring will rest tomorrow.

  Annie and I picked it out together at a jewelry store in New York. Having it on my finger, the weight of it, felt right.

  But more than that, I remember her face when she saw it on me. The look of complete and utter devotion. I want to deserve that look. To be the kind of man who takes care of her, not because she needs it, but because I need to do that. To protect her the way I was never protected.

  Before I left the villa this morning, I went looking for it in her jewelry box.