By Degrees (32 page)

He’s rubbing his thumbs on the tops of my hands.
 
It’s strangely soothing, despite the fact that I’m saying things to him that I’ve never said to another human being.
 
I’m not even sure I’ve said them to myself.
 
And now that I’ve started, I can’t seem to stop.

“He was my everything.
 
I fell in love with him in junior high.
 
I was there when he picked up his first guitar.
 
Every song he wrote was pretty much about our life together.
 
We were kids, but we loved hard and we loved deep.
 
And there was Scott in the middle of all of it, and he became like my little brother …”
 
I shake my head with the memories, dropping my gaze to our linked hands.
 
“When Austin came into the fame-and-fortune part of the business, I was there.
 
I saw and felt him slipping away, but I didn’t realize how seriously bad it was until it was too late.
 
He wouldn’t listen to me anymore or let me have any influence in his life.
 
His new friends blew me off.
 
His agent acted like I was nothing and encouraged Austin to keep us apart.”
 
I’m upset at myself now.
 
This is the worst part of my memories.
 
“But I just didn’t try hard enough.
 
I should have forced him to listen to me, to do what I knew was right.
 
I should have punched that agent right in the fucking face and told him what I knew was going to happen.”

“You knew.”
 
Tarin says it with a soft voice that breaks at the last word.

I look up at him, wanting him to feel the pain in my heart right now, hoping it will help him see what I’m trying to do for him.
 
“Yes.
 
I knew.
 
I saw him going downhill fast - lost in the drugs and the attention, and the bimbots and all those other bad influences - and I just stood off to the side feeling sorry for myself and for Scott.
 
I didn’t fight hard enough for him and I lost him.
 
Scott lost him.
 
The whole world lost him that night in Chicago, and I can never get that back.”

“You have his music.”

I shake my head.
 
“No, I don’t. I can’t listen to it anymore.
 
It breaks my heart all over again.
 
I haven’t listened to it since he died two years ago.”

Tarin drops my hands, and I think for a second he’s going to get up and leave me there.
 
It’s what I deserve.
 
I let one of the greatest musicians of our time fade away to nothing.

But he surprises me, standing and grabbing my hands, pulling on them.
 
“Stand up,” he says.

I do what he orders because I really don’t have any choice.
 
He’s a lot stronger than he looks.

He does the last thing I expect of him; he envelopes me in a hug and I stand there, too startled for a few seconds to react.
 
My arms hang limply at my sides.

He speaks over my head.
 
“What happened to Austin is a real shame, but it’s not your fault.”
 
His arms go tighter.
 
“You hear me?
 
It’s not your fault.”
 
His voice goes rough. “Maybe it’s other people’s fault, but not yours.
 
You’re not guilty of anything but loving him.”

My body relaxes a little at a time. He’s giving me understanding and comfort.
 
Forgiveness in a way.
 
I wish it was enough.
 
“That’s easy for you to say.”

He’s holding me so tight now I feel like I’m in a straightjacket, but I don’t complain because I like it.
 
It’s as if my sins aren’t sins in his eyes and absolution is more intoxicating than those cocktails I just drank.

“It’s
not
easy for me to say.
 
You have no idea how difficult this is for me.” His words are loaded with meaning that I don’t understand.
 
I can feel their weight.

“What do you mean?”

He just hugs me more, moving his arms up and down my back, making the friction build between us, both under his hands and where the fronts of our bodies are practically melded together.

“Tell me, Tarin.”
 
My arms come up, and I place my hands gently on his back.
 
I love the feel of his lean muscles beneath his shirt.
 
My hands move up of their own accord, gliding over the soft cotton, feeling the heat of the skin I cannot touch.
 
If I do, I’ll be lost, and I cannot get lost in Tarin.

“I wish I could tell you.
 
I really wish I could.”
 
His face moves to my neck and his breath gives me chills.

My nipples go hard under my bra and I press against him without even realizing what I’m doing.
 
I just need him to do something with this feeling that’s coming over me.
 
There’s an urgency inside me that’s too strong for me to ignore or stop.
 
I don’t know what it is or where it’s coming from, only that it’s making me hot and jittery and wanting to see him with a lot less clothes on. The alcohol is doing what it does best - making my inhibitions fade to black.

“Truth or dare,” I whisper as his lips touch the sensitive skin of my neck.

“Dare,” he says back, his voice deeper and raspy.

I say the first thing that comes to my mind as my fingers dig slightly into his back.
 
“I dare you to take your shirt off.”

He pulls away without a sound or complaint and yanks his shirt off.
 
One second he’s standing there in a Quicksilver surf shirt and the next, he’s half-naked tattooed perfection just inches away from me.

I’m fascinated by his skin.
 
He steps closer and my finger comes up to touch his chest where there’s a tattoo of a dragon wrapped around a skull.
 
I follow the beast’s tail down to Tarin’s stomach and stop at the word
Guilty
, tracing each letter with my finger.

He grabs my hand and holds it in a firm grip, pulling it away from his abdomen.

I look up and his jaw is clamped shut.
 
He looks angry.

Cold sweats come over me as embarrassment takes hold.
 
“Are you mad?” I ask softly, worried I’ve totally misconstrued every signal he’s ever sent.
 
And now I’ve made him take his shirt off.
 
My complete lack of finesse or professionalism makes my face and neck burn with shame. I’m a joke. A walking, talking, bullshitting joke.

“No,” he says, his voice still rough.
 
“I’m fucking turned on way too much, so unless you want to be naked on that couch in about two seconds, better look but not touch.”

He releases my hand and it floats there in the space between us.
 
It takes me less than a second to make my decision.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

I STEP BACK, PUTTING SPACE between us.
 
I turn to go.
 
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have …”

His hand is on my arm and I’m spun around before I can get the rest of my sentence out.

“Bullshit.
 
You wanted to touch me.”
 
He’s gripping my wrist between us.
 
His eyes carry the biggest challenge I’ve ever seen.
 
He speaks in a completely relaxed tone of voice, with just a slight edge of sexual confidence. “Touch me.
 
Don’t be afraid.
 
You know you want to.”

I’m breathing so hard it could almost be called panting at this point.
 
I don’t know what to say.
 
His anger looks so good on him, arousing me more than I ever have been before.
 
The sexual energy I felt with Austin was always an eagerness coated with the candy floss of young love.
 
Tarin is making something entirely different come over me.
 
Something way more adult and way more hot.

“I can’t,” I whisper between breaths.

“Scarlett, don’t do this to us.”
 
He’s begging at the same time he’s angry at me.

“Us?”

He yanks me closer and I go without a fight.
 
Putting his free hand behind my neck, he pulls my face closer to his, speaking in a soft voice.
 
“I’m going ninety percent here.
 
This isn’t me forcing you.
 
All you gotta do is ten percent.
 
That’s it.
 
Ten percent and then you get all of me.”

He draws me to him.
 
Closer and closer my mouth gets to his.
 
I’ve never wanted a man more in my life than I want him right now. He stops pulling me when our lips are an inch apart.

“Here’s where you decide,” he whispers, his sweet soda breath puffing in my face.
 
“I did the ninety, you do the ten.”

Visions are racing through my mind as if I’m dying and I’m seeing my life in review.
 
I see my first kiss with Austin, us laughing in bed together, seeing him on stage and then drugged out on a couch backstage in some city I can’t remember the name of, his face in the coffin, Scott’s tear-stained cheeks, and then Tarin, angry at me, drunk, scared, laughing, his tattooes, his efforts to be kind … it all adds up to me being stupid and careless and too drunk to do the right thing.

I ante up the ten percent and close the distance between us.

Our lips meet and Tarin doesn’t hesitate to go deep with his tongue. The tide of sexual energy flows in and washes over my reticence, pulling it away and drowning it in my deepest desires.
 
To feel him against me, to have his hands on my body, to know that just for a moment, this messed up man who can make music that breaks my heart wants to be with me and be a part of my world, it blows my mind. I don’t know who I am anymore.
 
I’m not The Normalizer anymore.
 
I’m just a girl.
 
A really horny one.

His hands are everywhere, pulling off my clothes.
 
My shoes go flying, my dress gets unzipped, and in the middle of it all, our mouths are roaming everywhere.
 
First he’s kissing me on the lips and then the shoulder of my dress is down and he’s at my breast, sucking and pulling at my nipple.
 
The pain is erotic and it makes me moan loudly as I pant with anticipation over what’s to come.
 
He squeezes my breast hard as he sucks some more.

I can’t find a good place to put my hands.
 
All I can reach is his back and head.
 
I want to touch him everywhere, somewhere that will make him feel the electric shocks like he’s giving me right now.

He moves to my other breast, pushing my dress down to my waist and unsnapping my bra with one hand.
 
I’m naked from the hips up, and the cool air conditioning mixed with the licking saliva he leaves behind gives me hot and cold chills.
 
I moan with the suction he puts to my nipple again.
 
His other hand is busy massaging the one he’s already teased, and I’m beginning to feel like I’m going to have an orgasm before he’s even really started.
 
I never knew my breasts could be this sensitive.

“Tarin,” I gasp, quickly becoming overwhelmed by the sensations.
 
“I can’t … I can’t…”
 
I mean to say that I can’t handle the feelings, but he reacts like I mean I can’t be with him and he’s having none of that second-guessing crap.

He growls and pushes my dress the rest of the way down to my feet.

His pants are next; he somehow manages to get them off while never taking his lips off my body.
 
“Fuck that,” he says between kissing and sucking and licking, “this is on.
 
This is
so
on right now.
 
Don’t say no to me or it’ll fucking kill me.
 
I’m not kidding, Scarlett, I need you.”

He needs me.
 
I know he needs me.
 
But I also know he doesn’t need
this
from me.
 
I’m a selfish bitch though, because I put my hands on his cock and run my fingers along the length of it.
 
If I’m going to fuck this job up, I’m going to fuck it up all the way.

“I need you too, Tarin,” I say, sliding a leg up his thigh.
 
It’s been so, so long since I’ve had sex.
 
Years now.
 
I haven’t wanted to until this moment with this man.

He roars and picks me up by my hiked-up thigh, flipping me around to throw me down on my back on the couch.
 
He leans over and grabs the edge of my panties and yanks them down.
 
The thin wisp of fabric disappears over his shoulder as he lowers himself down to me.

He kneels on the edge of the cushions with one knee while he gets a condom out of his wallet from the ground.
 
It’s on and he’s ready so fast, I don’t have time to cool down at all before his cock is pressing against my opening.

“No more foreplay?” I say as a lame joke, trying to pretend this isn’t as serious as it is.

“Fuck foreplay.
 
I’ll give it to you after if you still want it.”
 
And then he’s inside me, buried to the hilt.

I arch up and shout with the shock and pressure.
 
It’s not unpleasant … anything but.
 
I’ve just never been taken so fully and so abruptly in all my life.
 
And I don’t ever want to go back to soft and meticulous lovemaking again. My other sexual experiences suddenly seem like fumbling in the dark compared to this.