Only for the Night (If Only Book 2) (26 page)

Chad swallowed back the last vestiges of his laughter. “It’s just…the bad-boy rocker and the baker. You’re dating Suzie Homemaker.” More laughter.

Hank rolled his eyes. If his friend only knew…

Sage reached up, her fingers going to the spot on her neck that she loved for him to kiss. To mark. No, she wasn’t Suzie Homemaker at all, and he liked her that way. A lot.

“Keep it up and you won’t be getting anything else, including bear claws,” Hank warned.

Chad shut up. He even did dishes. Hank wanted to ask what aliens were inhabiting his friend’s body, but it didn’t matter as long as they didn’t leave anytime soon.

After they finished dessert, Sage went to change out of her work clothes. Hank wandered over to the window where he usually sat and stared out at the night sky, midnight blue with a hint of yellow from the streetlights in what passed for downtown Citrus Pointe. Chad retrieved his luggage from the parking lot while Hank changed the sheets on his bed—not that he’d slept in it recently. Not since V.’s visit, anyway.

Chad returned to the kitchen after stowing his things. He came up behind Hank, his steps hesitant, still uncertain of his reception. Hank turned, his calf bumping his bass in the process.

Chad indicated the acoustic on the opposite side of the window seat. “May I?”

The words reminded Hank of when he was a kid playing “Mother, May I?” out on the cul-de-sac street with his brothers and the neighbors’ kids. The memory tightened his vocal cords, and his answer, when it came, was rough around the edges. “Sure.”

Chad dragged a kitchen chair over, sat, and pulled the acoustic onto his lap. A few taps of the strings brought out a melody. Chad always had a light touch with an instrument, in direct contrast to his hard-edged image onstage. Now he strummed the opening to “Hell To Pay,” the band’s first single chart topper. Hank picked up his bass and joined in.

They surfaced a while later when Sage wandered in. “That’s more like what I expected to hear from you,” she teased.

“I know; I’ve gone soft. Rub it in, why don’t ya?” She wore a loose T-shirt and yoga pants with her bare toes sneaking peeks from below the hem, a look he couldn’t resist. He snagged her around the waist and pulled her onto his lap. Her round ass against his groin took care of any possible softness there immediately.

“What do you mean, you’ve gone soft?” Chad asked.

For a minute Hank went blank, staring at his bandmate, and then he realized: Chad didn’t know about the solo project. He cleared his throat.

Sage didn’t suffer from the same hesitation. “His new songs. Not exactly Weekend Washout–worthy, I guess, though I love them.”

Chad raised an eyebrow in Hank’s direction. When Hank explained, Chad’s forehead creased. “But…you’re not leaving the band, right?”

“I formed the band, Chad. No, I’m not leaving it. Just trying something new.” Sage’s thigh relaxed beneath his kneading palm. “We’re considering an acoustic tour for me this fall.” If they could get him in the studio in time.

“Oh.” Chad took a breath as if needing the time to decide how he felt about that. When he let it out, he extended the guitar to Hank with a tentative smile. “Can I hear some of it?”

Once he got started and Chad realized where he was going with the new sound, a collaboration spilled over despite the wounds between them. Hank stayed up far later than he’d planned, and by the time he walked into Sage’s bedroom, only the hall light illuminated her body beneath the thin white sheet.

He closed the door quietly. Stripping at the end of the bed, he strained to see Sage’s face, any movement that might indicate she was awake, but she didn’t move. Not till he slid between the sheets and up against the curve of her body did she stir.

“Hank?”

He nuzzled the warm, sweet skin of her neck. “Yeah. Go back to sleep. You’ve got an early morning.”

The nightshirt she wore had ridden up. She turned onto her back, putting her naked hip against his groin. One leg lifted to lie across his legs, which he slid up toward her bare bottom, positioning her as if she was sitting on his bent knees. Sage squirmed, her folds going damp as the hair on his legs abraded her core.

“None of that,” he whispered. When he moved to add space between his legs and her pussy, she whined. A nip to her earlobe cut off the sound. “Work tomorrow,” he reminded her.

Sage nodded. His command didn’t stop her from snuggling closer, though. She fell asleep minutes later, leaving Hank and his overactive brain alone for another hour before he, too, managed to drift off.

“Relax.” Hank ran his hands up and down Sage’s bare shoulders, more than a little amused. She’d handled a visit from his estranged bandmate with no hint of nerves, but today, as she prepared for Jane and V. to arrive, her anxiety had built no matter what he did. He’d thought it would affect him more, especially considering what he’d agreed to try tonight—a scene in front of his best friend and, oh yeah, a flogger—but though the grill was set up out back, the menu set, and she’d baked everything but the kitchen sink, she still hadn’t settled.

Her response to his command was a snort.

“I’m pretty sure that’s not an acceptable ‘sub’ response,” he said and moved his hands from her arms to her lower belly. There was something so fascinating about that vee between her hip bones; he couldn’t get enough of touching her there. And as a plus, it was the perfect place to pull her back against him.

“I’m not a sub in the kitchen,” Sage said. She leaned over to grab a knife from the butcher block.

Is that so?
Hank had her wrist before she could remove the knife from its holder. One nice thing about this D/s stuff was he got to indulge himself whenever he liked, and that included anytime Sage needed stress relief—like now. He moved her hand to the countertop in front of her, placed the other hand next to it, just far enough away that she had to bend over to rest on them. When he stepped back—

Oh yeah, perfect.

The thin summer dress she wore was no barrier to his invasion. He slipped right underneath it, between her thighs, and beneath the silken panel of her underwear before she knew what was happening.

“Hank!” Irritation and arousal competed for equal time in her tone.

He made his voice deep, hard—the tone he’d used on rookie cops who were on the verge of screwing up. It worked just as well on Sage, he’d learned. “Yes?”

Liquid heat coated his fingers. Much better than rookies, actually.

A moment of silence, then a shiver down Sage’s spine. She angled herself slightly lower and opened her legs, giving him easier access. Surrendering.

Now the shiver was his, right down to his balls, which drew up in need.

“That’s it, baby.” He pushed two fingers from the back of her slit toward the front, wetting her with that first bit of arousal. When he got to her clit, he separated his fingers, slid up the sides, then back down. By the fourth trip Sage was more than wet.

He tucked himself close to her high, round ass. Her body suited him perfectly, unlike any other woman ever had. Just being near her, remembering how well they fit when his cock was deep inside her made him hard. Right now was no exception. His free hand went back to her pelvis, securing her against him. When he pushed his fingers inside her pussy, she surged forward, came up against his hold, and whined. He didn’t think it was an objection. The way she tilted her pelvis, allowing him to get deeper, agreed with him.

He set a fast rhythm, in and out. This wasn’t about emotion—he wanted to get her off and do it quick. Sage rocked against his hand. Her head hung between her arms, and within minutes it was on the counter and she was fully bent, open to him and whatever he chose to do. He chose to rub her clit. The thrust of his fingers inside her, the stimulation to that sensitive bundle of nerves, maybe even the knowledge that she couldn’t escape even if she wanted to, sent Sage careening toward an orgasm that made his cock more than jealous. He drew it out, taking every last ripple he could get, every shiver and moan, before he slid his fingers away.

Sage straightened with a shaky sigh. When she turned around, he had his fingers in his mouth, the taste of her sweet arousal on his tongue an aphrodisiac he refused to waste. Her eyes went electric blue at the sight.

“They’ll be here any minute,” she said huskily.

He searched her face for signs of tension. Found none. Leaned down to kiss her lips, pouty from biting them as he worked her to climax. “Yep.”

“Pleased with yourself, are you?” But she was smiling. He’d take that as a win.

“Yep.”

She shoved him away with a laugh and went back to preparations. He walked out on the deck to heat the grill. The sound of V.’s car parking below reached him a few minutes later. He met his friend at the top of the stairs, his own nerves starting a slow churn.

“V.” Their typical bro hug reassured him like nothing else could—not about the dinner, but about later. V. planned for them to “scene,” he called it. Hank still wasn’t sure he could flog or spank Sage, but he knew, whatever happened, that his friend would be right there to guide him, to protect Sage no matter what. The knowledge had loosened the knot in his gut anytime he saw the new flogger lying on his dresser.

When V. had suggested a talk about toys, he’d expected Sage to ask for a vibrator or something simple like that. Not his woman. She’d told him her absolute favorite was a flogger. Her excitement when she’d seen V.’s gift told Hank she hadn’t been pushing him just to push him—she really was looking forward to using it, to him using it on her, but his doubts hadn’t disappeared.

Pushing those thoughts aside, he glanced over V.’s shoulder and met the gaze of a pretty blonde. “This must be Jane.”

V. radiated pride as he held his hand out to the woman, drawing her up the last step and close to his side. Hank noticed Jane was just the right size to fit beneath V.’s shoulder, and she moved into his embrace easily. No signs of fear. A couple more strands released from the knot in his gut.

“I’ve heard a lot about you, Hank. It’s nice to finally meet someone V. cares about so much.”

“I can say the same,” he told her with a smile set to ease any worries she might have. People who didn’t know musicians personally tended to think they were wild and crazy, partiers, destructive even, but Jane had been with V. a little while now, so she knew the truth. They were just regular guys with a talent. Well, now they were. They’d had some adventures when they’d first started out. Thank God for experience and wisdom—he had no desire for the sexual antics they’d gotten into when the headiness of the music circuit was fresh. Or maybe he was just getting old.

He grinned at the thought. They were in their thirties now, he and V., but he didn’t feel old. Especially not with Sage.

And speaking of… He turned at the sound of the screen door creaking open. “Sage.”

Her name on his lips brought her eyes to his, and something soft in her gaze hit him like an arrow. He took the tray she carried and set it near the grill. “V., you know Sage.” He nodded to Jane. “This is V.’s…uh…girlfriend.”

Jane shrugged as she reached for Sage’s hand. “Girlfriend, sub, whatever,” she said with a grin. Not shy about their relationship, then. Good thing to know.

Sage wasn’t either. “Congratulations.” She didn’t elaborate on their own status, but he didn’t think it was because she was shy. Probably not wanting to make him uncomfortable. He cocked an eyebrow at her before putting the steaks on the grill. Sage ushered the couple into deck chairs and took drink orders to the sizzle of fresh meat over fire. Before long they were sipping beer and margaritas and chatting about the area. Jane worked as a librarian, a long-time friend of V.’s sister who’d had a crush on V. since she was a teenager. Kennedy’s sneaky reintroduction had resulted in their dating, and as Hank watched them together, he sent V.’s sister a mental thank-you. They fit together; there was no other way to describe it.

“So studio time is rescheduled,” V. said as he cut into a juicy steak a while later.

“But they’re making us wait for it, I bet.”

V.’s mouth twisted in a grimace. “Of course. I’ve made it crystal clear to Chad that he has a lot of sucking up to do before we can move past this.”

And Hank didn’t blame him. Chad hadn’t damaged only their business relationship; he’d damaged an eight-year friendship. That didn’t heal overnight, especially when they would be dealing with the business repercussions for a long time to come.

“Leon got us a session in four months, but you— He must like you, because he let me schedule some time in studio for the new music next month.”

Hank felt his eyes go wide. “Really?”

A chuckle went around the table. “Why is that so hard to believe?” Sage asked. “People like you.”

“You like me,” he said with a shrug. “I’m just a bassist.”

“Wrong, bro.” V. shook his head. “But that’s exactly why people like you.” To Sage he said, “Lack of ego is a rare thing in the music industry, especially for a musician/songwriter as talented as Hank. As the new stuff he’s writing can attest.”

“I have to agree,” Jane said. “LA is so full of ego it’s amazing the city doesn’t just float away. Too many big heads.”

“The culinary industry is the same,” Sage said. “Everyone competing with each other instead of with themselves. Nothing makes your food better than focusing on the food, not the personality.”