Mended (Connections, #3)(5)

I swing open the unlocked opaque glass door. Ivy walks in first and I follow. The built-in window seat, ceiling fan, light blue walls, and bamboo wooden floor are all that remain. The furniture and pool table are gone, but I don’t think either of us cares. Once I close the door we become two silhouettes in a darkened room. She turns around and stands on her tiptoes. With the blinds closed, there is barely enough light to illuminate anything, but I can see the gleam in her eyes. I bury my face in her neck. “Fuck, I missed you,” I say again.

My hands roam her body, and her fingers skim mine right down to the front of my pants. Her fingertips trace up the length of my zipper and when she finds the tab, she slowly pulls it down.

“Fuck,” I say, and let my head fall back—her gentle touch only excites me further. When I can’t take it another minute, I circle my arms around her waist and suck on her earlobe. “Ummm . . . that feels so good.”

She drops her hands and leans into me—and the strain in my pants actually becomes painful. I quickly pull her shirt over her head and feel my way to the inside of her bra. “Unsnap it,” I tell her and when she does I feel the full weight of her breasts in my hands and then with my mouth. Heat blazes through me and I can’t help but think about the looming summer separation that’s just a few days away—it’s really going to suck. I’m going to spend the next two months in Paris with my aunt, and Ivy will be taking her sisters to their grandparents’ place in Indiana. I hope those pictures she gave me help me get through it. I’m sure I’ll be doing a lot of fantasizing, so I try to capture every second of right now to use then as well.

When my lips return to hers, she’s trembling. “Are you cold?” I ask her.

“No,” she responds, her eyelids fluttering.

In the next moment, with our breathing loud and heartbeats louder, she pulls my shirt over my head. Running one hand along my abdomen, she teases, “Wow, have you been working out more?”

I catch her hand in mine and her smile lights up the room. I yank her to me and cover her mouth with mine in a hungry kiss. She responds immediately. My mouth caresses her soft lips and I want to taste every inch of her sweetness with my tongue.

Once I feel like I have thoroughly kissed her, I pull away, “Yeah, I’ve been working out every day, trying to exhaust myself to keep from climbing in your bedroom window and f*cking you. And if I didn’t think your mom would have me arrested, I would have.”

She laughs halfheartedly. “It won’t be long and we won’t have to worry about my mom.” I can hear a sadness in her voice and I hope it’s only that she’ll miss her sisters when she’s away at college She kisses the very corner of my lips and runs her hands back down my stomach.

I hold her tightly and claim her mouth. With her eager return, my breathing quickens and my pulse races. It doesn’t take long for me to lean back and crook my finger, leading her over to the window seat. Feeling a sense of uncertainty in her that isn’t usually there, I take my time. I want her to feel how much I love her . . . to know she doesn’t have to worry about us being apart. I unbutton her skirt at the waist and then tug the zipper down, and the skirt falls to the floor.

“Open your legs,” I command.

When she does as I ask, I cover her * with my hand and slip my fingers inside her panties. She is so wet. I suck in a breath, wanting to savor the feeling. It’s hard to believe two people could ever want each other as much as we do.

The room transforms around me. I see nothing but her as I quickly remove my pants. She watches me, and then I clutch her hips so I can lower us to the cushion, where I plan to spend all of the hour we have left making love to her. This time the sex won’t be frenzied, the f*cking won’t be hurried—no, it will be a reflection of how we feel about each other. I wish we had more time . . . I wish we had all the time in the world. However, right now we don’t. I know I have to get her home and then head back to school to pick up River. But I push those thoughts aside and sink into her. As I thrust in and out, the world as I know it fades away and pleasure is all that remains.





CHAPTER 1


The Wire

Xander, 30 Years Old

The magic of rock and roll—it casts a spell on you. And I’m no exception. I’m a band manager and I’m living the dream, touring with the Wilde Ones, helping them secure their well-deserved place in the music industry. I love being a part of it all, especially watching the band perform live—the crowds, the cheers, the music. It’s a high and a low all at once, and I wouldn’t trade it for anything. Every step of the way with this band has been fun, exciting, stressful—every possible emotion. Obviously we’ve had some breaks, but mostly we all put in a lot of hard work—myself, Garrett Flynn the drummer, Phoenix Harper the bassist, River Wilde the former lead singer, and now Zane Perry the new lead.

“Can you hear me now?” Zane bellows.

I nod my head as my heart pounds in my chest. My hands feel cold and clammy and a nervousness that makes me weak and shaky takes over. Doubts race through my head and I’m questioning if he’s going to make it through this. A vague awareness that something bad could happen has been kicking around in my mind, and I can’t shake it. The Wilde Ones are doing a sound check onstage and Zane’s not on his game.

It’s July and the weather has been brutally hot. But today it seems cooler. Maybe it’s the California weather. Maybe it’s the excitement of being home. The Beautiful Lies tour bus finally rolled back into our home state of California after six months away. While we’re in town, I have a laundry list of shit to do—meet with the accountant for the band, catch my assistant, Ena, up on changes to upcoming stops, and stoke some fires in the publicity department at the label to ease the questions about the lead singer transition. I’m actually thinking some of the more mundane tasks of my job are suddenly looking better and better. On the road my day is always the same, but never the same—posting dailies and arranging rehearsals are automatic, but the rest evolves with the location, the people, and the needs of the band.