Wild Collision, page 22
She moans, the sound music to my ears.
Not being able to hardly touch her all afternoon, and then the way we both teased each other during dinner … I’m not sure how long I can last.
I’ve been picturing her bent over in front of me for hours and now that this moment is here, my body wants to lose control, to fuck her senseless until we’re both cuming, collapsing to the floor in an exhausted heap.
She rises up, wrapping one arm around the back of my neck. I grab her chin roughly and kiss her. Her tongue tangles with mine and I groan. She tastes sweet, like the caramel ice cream she had for dessert.
Her fingers tangle in my hair and she gives it a tug. I hiss between my teeth and I feel her smile against my kiss.
I glide my other hand up her stomach, stopping at her throat.
“Do it,” she pleads.
I squeeze her throat. Not enough to completely close her airway, but enough to make it difficult. Her eyes roll back in her head.
“Yes,” she breathes.
I let go and she takes a breath, releasing it, before I squeeze again.
When I let go this time she murmurs, “I love you.”
The trust glimmering in her eyes is nearly my undoing. She trusts me completely, to keep her safe, to bring her pleasure, to love her.
We are a beautiful madness, equals in every way.
I never thought I would find someone like her, I didn’t care to look, but she was here all along waiting for me.
“I’ve been waiting my whole life for you,” I growl in her ear.
Her breath is a gasp—her eyes lust ridden.
She leans down over the counter once more, and this time I can’t hold myself back. I pound into her with brutal force and she takes it, letting me lose control.
She falls apart a moment before I do, her legs shaking.
I hold her back to my front as we both come down from our high.
“Don’t let go,” she begs.
“Never.”
I’m never letting you go.
* * *
I sit up in bed, looking down at Mia. Her red hair fans around her like a curtain as she lies on her stomach, hugging her pillow. Her lips are parted slightly and she gives the smallest of snores. I smile.
Reaching out, I trail my finger down her bare spine and she shivers in her sleep.
Her classes don’t start back up for a few more days, so she gets to sleep in this morning before heading to the studio.
I don’t have the same luxury. Hayes is a slave driver—okay, that’s a lie, he’s dedicated and there’s a difference. We are too. We want nothing more than to get this album out.
I look at her a little while longer, noting the way her dark lashes brush the curve of her cheek. How she makes a small noise at whatever she’s dreaming. She gives a small sigh and turns her head the other way.
Taking that as my cue, I get out of bed and shower before dressing for the day. It’s cold as fuck out now so I tug a sweatshirt over my t-shirt and add a beanie for good measure. Living in L.A. for the last few years I’m not used to this kind of cold.
It’s funny how I’ve basically moved into her place. She didn’t ask me to, but it happened gradually. A toothbrush here, a t-shirt there, until most of my things slowly left the hotel and found their new home in my very own drawer. I spend most of my time here anyway.
I feel bad leaving the guys at the hotel, but not bad enough to take time away from Mia.
It already scares me thinking about going back to L.A. and leaving her here. She has school, a job, a life, just like I have one there, and I can’t ask her to abandon that. I don’t expect her to.
Long distance sounds like fucking torture but for her, I’ll do it. I’ll do anything. If I have to have my ass on a plane every weekend to see her, I will. She’s worth it.
I haven’t talked to her about this yet, after all we’ll be here for a while yet. But it is something we’ll have to talk about eventually.
I find a piece of paper and write her a note.
Gone to the studio.
I’ll be waiting for my muse.
-H
I leave it on the pillow I use and then kiss her forehead before I go.
I slip outside and into the chilly air, walking the few blocks to the studio.
I slow down when I see Hayes unlocking the door.
There’s nowhere for me to hide so I pray he doesn’t see me.
No such luck.
He looks up as he opens the door and smiles in greeting.
“Morning Hollis. You’re here early and … why are you coming from that way?”
Why are you coming from that direction? Huh, Hollis? Any other reason except you’re fucking his daughter?
“I … um … decided to go for a walk,” I lie. “It helps clear my head.”
“Oh, okay,” he says. “Well, get in here it’s freezing.” His breath fogs the air as he speaks.
I do as he says, breathing a sigh of relief my excuse was believable.
“Will the other guys be here soon?”
“No idea,” I answer honestly. “I left a while ago.”
I mean, it’s not a total lie. I did leave the hotel a while ago.
“We can start with you first this morning,” he says, turning on lights as he moves through the studio.
I take off my beanie, leaving my sweatshirt on for now, and head into the booth when he’s ready.
Once I’m seated behind the microphone I feel at peace. I’ve always felt most comfortable with a mic in front of me.
I’ve never had stage fright like some people. I love singing. I love entertaining.
I don’t know how long I’ve been recording—mostly re-recording parts that need work—when the other guys arrive. I get so in the zone when I’m recording nothing else exists.
By the time I’m done and taking a seat on the leather couch Mia arrives with a carrier full of coffee and a bag from Chick-fil-A.
“I brought breakfast,” she announces, shaking the bag.
Maybe it’s just me tooting my own horn, but I swear ever since we’ve been together she seems happier. Like she’s glowing from the inside out.
“You’re a saint,” Fox says, taking the bag from her. “I’m starving.”
He pulls out one of the wrapped sandwiches.
“There are two for each of you in there and one for me,” she tells him.
“I fucking love you,” he cries, taking out another before passing it on.
“Language,” Hayes warns.
“Like you don’t cuss,” Rush chortles.
“Not in front of my kids I don’t.”
“What kids?” Fox jokes. “I don’t see any kids.”
“Yeah, I don’t either,” Mia pipes in.
Hayes merely shakes his head and takes the bag when it’s handed to him. The bag finally gets back to Mia and she grabs her sandwich.
She sets the coffee carrier down and hands everyone their order. She ends up sitting in the chair beside her dad.
Having her so close and not being able to touch her or even look at her like she’s nothing more than an acquaintance sucks. I should be used to it, but I’m not.
I unwrap my sandwich and start to eat, forcing myself not to look at her.
I hate this feeling, like I’m living a lie, like somehow what we’re doing is dirty and wrong.
I did dirty and wrong for years, I’m man enough to admit that. I was an asshole, a jerk, I used women and they used me. With Mia it’s more. She’s my girlfriend for fuck’s sake and I can’t act like it because she’s not ready to tell her dad … and when she does, when we do … this all might go away. Everything my band and I have been working for might disappear. The fact they know that and aren’t demanding I end it should be cause enough for her dad to see this is real.
Something tells me he won’t be so logical.
I’m in love with his daughter, the little girl he’s vowed to protect, and my past goes against me. Nothing I’ve done proves I can treat a girl right, least of all a girl like Mia.
Honestly, I don’t know why my own mom hasn’t chewed me out. She’s probably wanted to, but she knows I’m stubborn and won’t listen to her nagging.
She was positively giddy when I told her about Mia. I want nothing more than for the two of them to meet. Mia would love her, and in return she would love Mia.
I polish off my sandwich and start on the other, still studiously ignoring my girlfriend.
Hayes and the guys are talking about the songs and changes they think we should make. I interject my opinion here and there, but my mind is in another dimension. I’m not invested like I should be.
Finishing my second sandwich I ball up the foil and sit back, crossing one leg over my knee and holding my coffee.
Mia’s eyes catch mine and she gives me a small smile before spinning away, still working on her breakfast sandwich.
I devour my food. She savors hers. It’s kind of cute how slow she eats. She’s like that a lot, stopping to savor moments, to take in everything, never wanting to miss a single second.
I want to get up and touch her, to hold her hand, to kiss her.
I can’t and it’s killing me.
If I had ever stopped to imagine myself in a relationship I would’ve been the one with the cold feet, not the girl, but here we are. I want her dad to know, for it to be out in the open and not this big fucking secret, but she doesn’t want him to know yet.
I know I have to respect her wishes, even if I want to blurt out right here and now I love this girl.
29
Mia
“Ooh, you’re going down,” I say to Rush, making finger guns and then pretending to blow out smoke.
“You wish, Little Hayes,” he remarks, picking up his bowling ball to take his turn.
“You’re going down, babe,” Kira tells him.
He looks over his shoulder at her. “Aren’t you supposed to be on my side?”
“I’m just fucking you.” She shrugs. “She’s my best friend. I choose her.”
“I’ll remember that,” Rush begins with a wicked grin, “when you’re begging me to lick your pussy.”
A woman gasps and we look over to see her slapping her hands over her son’s ears. “There are children in this establishment!”
“My bad,” Rush apologizes, but he doesn’t sound sorry at all. Kira herself is trying not to laugh.
I take a seat next to Hollis, Fox on his other side—Cannon has gone outside for a smoke break.
Hollis has been distant the last few days and I don’t know why. I suspect why, but we haven’t discussed it.
“Are you mad at me?” I ask, picking up a crinkle fry and dipping it in ketchup.
“No,” he sighs, and the word is honest. His golden eyes meet mine. “I’m worried.”
“About my dad?” I guess.
“Yeah,” he confesses. “It feels wrong, him not knowing. I see him five days a week Mia. Sometimes even on the weekends if he’s feeling particularly Hitler-ish.”
“Did you just call my dad Hitler?” I joke, my lips twitching with the threat of laughter.
“Okay—that was wrong of me, but he should know Mia.”
“I know,” I whine. “I know,” I repeat in a defeated tone. “I’ll talk to him soon,” I promise.
He gives me a look.
“I’m serious. I will,” I vow.
I know with my birthday coming up, and Christmas, I can’t keep this a secret any longer because I want Hollis to be there for those things.
“We can do it together,” he says reaching for my hand under the table.
I shake my head as Rush cheers. “It’s just a spare!” I yell at him. “I got a strike!”
Rush gives me the finger and the mother at the lane beside us makes a disgusted face and storms away—no doubt to report us to management, but I mean she’s the one bringing a five-year-old to the bowling alley at eight at night on a Friday.
To Hollis I say, “I think it’s better if I do it alone. Otherwise, he might kill you.”
He laughs and it’s good to see the light come back into his eyes. “Do you really think he’ll resort to murder?”
I give him a look.
“Right,” he drawls.
Fox leans over to Hollis. “Not that I’m eavesdropping or anything, you are right next to me, but um … yeah … Hayes would totally kill you. He probably will even if she tells him alone.”
“Thanks for the boost of confidence, Fox,” Hollis grumbles.
“Yeah, my dad’s not that bad.”
They both glare at me. “Okay, so he’s overprotective. But he’s a father. It’s his job. He’ll get over it. I’m turning twenty-three in two weeks. I’m an adult. I make my own decisions and my dad can’t tell me who I’m allowed to love. That’s not the way it works.”
“You go girl,” Fox says in a fake valley girl voice and high fives me. “You tell him.”
“Hey, what does the fox say?” Rush butts in.
“Not this again.” Fox rolls his eyes.
“Nobody knows what the fuck the fox says, but the Rush says it’s your fucking turn get off your ass.”
“See,” shrieks the mother from beside us, now returned with a manager. “They are heathens. They need to leave.”
“Oh clutch your damn pearls, Myrtle,” Rush groans. “You’ve got a kid, so I don’t know why you’re so offended by the words fuck and pussy.”
She stares open-mouthed.
The manager sighs and looks at us. “You’ve got to go.”
“Are you fucking serious?” Rush stands up. At six-foot-six he towers over the poor manager who’s probably still in high school.
“Um … yes,” the manager stammers.
“What’s going on?” Cannon asks, returning with the scent of cigarettes clinging to him.
The manager turns to him and literally squeaks like a mouse. I can’t say I blame him. Cannon is pretty scary looking even if I’m fairly certain he’s a giant teddy bear. But with all the tattoos, piercings, and muscles … yeah, he’s intimidating.
“Is there an issue?” Cannon asks. “I’m trying to understand what’s going on here?”
The woman turns to him. “I assume you’re with this … horrid bunch of hoodlums.”
“Hoodlums?” Rush snorts. “Oh, Myrtle, you wound me.”
“Stop calling me Myrtle,” she hisses. Turning back to Cannon she says, “The use of crude language in front of children is disgusting. You should all be ashamed of yourselves.”
“Maybe you should be ashamed for keeping your kid out so late,” Kira pipes up, saying what I’ve wanted to say this whole time. She points and we all look to the table next to ours where the kid is passed out asleep in his chair, his head flat on the table at an angle that can’t be comfortable.
“I … I …” the mother sputters. Not able to come up with a good argument she grabs her kid and calls for her husband who’s been lurking God knows where—probably looking for a new wife since this one is psychotic—and hauls ass out of there.
“Does this mean we can stay?” Rush asks.
The manager sputters for a moment but finally answers, “Yeah, but please watch the language.”
“Sure thing.” Rush salutes him before sitting down once more.
“I always miss all the fun,” Cannon jokes sitting down.
“Did you just make a joke?” I mock gasp.
“I can be funny … sometimes.” He shrugs, his shoulders stretching his leather jacket. “You guys always wait for me to leave to misbehave.”
“Yeah, Dad,” Rush starts, spinning in his chair with his hands clasped behind his head, “we know better than to act up in front of you.”
Cannon shakes his head. “Not your dad,” he mumbles.
“Stop acting like it then.” Rush sticks out his tongue. “Still your turn Foxtrot.”
Fox rolls his eyes. “All right Rushing River let me get right on that.”
“That-a boy,” Rush says, slapping Fox on the ass as he passes him. “Also, Rushing River is one-hundred percent going to be my stripper name.”
“I’m going to throw this bowling ball at your head,” Fox warns him.
“That’s called murder, Foxhound.”
Fox throws his hands up in the air in defeat before grabbing a ball and taking his turn. He gets a strike and turns to give Rush the finger—luckily no one sees, but we still might get kicked out.
Next up is Cannon.
I pick up my hot dog and take a bite. Hollis steals a fry off my plate and I swat him away. “Do not touch my fries, Hollis Wilder.”
“But I love your fries.” He smirks.
I narrow my eyes. “You’re not talking about fried potatoes are you?”
He swipes another and pops it in his mouth. “Nope.”
Fox returns and this time it’s him snagging one of my fries. I frown. “If you guys keep eating all my food you’re going to buy me more,” I say in a tone with no room for argument.
“Sure thing.” Hollis swipes another fry.
Fox takes another too and I waggle my finger back and forth. “Swiper no swiping.”
He rolls his eyes, chewing my fry. “What’s with you guys and the fox jokes today. You’re on a roll.”
“You’re easy to rile up which makes it fun.” Rush reaches over to ruffle his hair.
“Play nice while I’m gone children,” Cannon says, standing to take his turn.
I pick up my hotdog and before I can take a bite I shriek because all of my fries are gone.
I shove the paper container my fries were in into Hollis’s chest and he grabs it. “More potatoes, peasant, and make it snappy.”
He cracks a grin. “You’re cute when you’re hangry.”
“You haven’t seen hangry.” I narrow my eyes into deadly slits. “Fries, now,” I bark.
He stands and makes a dramatic bow. “Yes, my Queen. I live to serve.”
“You,” I point at Fox, “go get your own damn fries and make sure he does too. I’m not here to share.” Fox sits there for a moment staring at me. “Now.”
He scurries after Hollis over to the food part of the bowling alley.
Rush snickers. “Seeing Hollis whipped is hands down the greatest thing ever.”
