Shameless
Authors: Cheryl Douglas
Shameless
Book One in the Nashville Nights Series
Cheryl Douglas
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, including photocopying, graphic, electronic, mechanical, taping, recording, sharing, or by any information retrieval system without the express written permission of the author and / or publisher. Exceptions include brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
Persons, places and other entities represented in this book are deemed to be fictitious. They are not intended to represent actual places or entities currently or previously in existence or any person living or dead. This work is the product of the author’s imagination.
Any and all inquiries to the author of this book should be directed to:
Copyright © 2012 Cheryl Douglas
Dedication
To my mother,
who believed in me long before I learned to believe in myself.
Five Years Earlier
The sexy little waitress stretched to offer her neck as Trey Turner prepared to do another body shot at the urging of his inebriated friends. He licked the salt off her neck as he felt a small hand grip his shoulder.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
He turned to see his wife, Sierra, staring up at him, disgust darkening her bright blue eyes. He heard a few of his friends mutter curses as the crowd broke up and went back to drinking and dancing.
“Baby, I was just havin’ a little fun.” His words slurred and he wondered how many body shots he’d had before Sierra intervened.
The waitress slid her hand down his chest, hooking a finger through his belt loop. “That was fun. How ‘bout we pick up where we left off later?”
Sierra turned away, not waiting for his answer as she began weaving her way through the crowd.
“Sierra, baby, wait,” he called, trying to push his way through the throngs of people before she reached the door. He grabbed her wrist just as she was about to cross the threshold. “Wait. Please, don’t go.”
“It’s over, I’m done with this shit,” she said, trying to shake loose of his grip.
He had more than a foot and a hundred pounds on her. She wasn’t going anywhere until he decided he was ready to let her go, which wouldn’t happen in this lifetime. “What’s that supposed to mean? Where the hell do you think you’re going?”
“Home to pack.”
He felt the room begin to spin out of control. “What did you say?”
“I’m leaving you. Our marriage is over.”
His grip on her wrist tightened. “No, you can’t leave me.”
She pressed a hand to his chest. “It’s been over for a long time. I’m just making it official.”
“We’re not having this conversation out here in front of a hundred people,” he said, pulling her through the horde of friends he’d invited to his private party. He opened the door to the small dressing room usually occupied by the nightly entertainment that performed at Jimmy’s bar. “We’ll have some privacy in here.”
She was finally able to shake free of his tight grip. “I’ve already said everything I have to say to you.”
He gripped her waist. “Don’t do this, Sierra.” He bent to kiss her neck. “I love you, baby. God, I love you so much. I can’t live without you.” He backed her toward the couch as he lowered himself down on top of her.
“You’ve been living without me for the past year, Trey. You’ve spent your days on a tour bus and your nights in a stadium or bar.” Her voice broke. “We lost our baby girl and you don’t seem to care.”
“Don’t say that,” he whispered furiously. “Don’t ever say that I didn’t care about Callie. I loved her, Sierra. It damn near killed me when we lost her.”
She glared at him. “Really? Is that why you boarded that goddamn tour bus a week after her funeral?”
“I’m a musician; it’s what I do.” He knew the excuse was weak. Sierra was right. He’d been trying to run away from his grief and sadness instead of staying at home where he belonged, supporting his wife.
She shook her head, looking defeated. “It’s what you do—it’s who you are. Trey Turner, country music’s award-winning, platinum-selling mega-star. What about my husband? Callie’s father? Where is he?”
He closed his eyes, feeling disgusted with himself for letting her down again. “Baby, I’m sorry. Look, I know I’ve made mistakes, but let me make it up to you, okay?” His hand eased up her shirt to cup her breast.
Her head rolled back and she closed her eyes. “No, we can’t do this. It won’t fix the problem.” Making love to her may not solve all of their problems, but it would buy him some time to figure out a way to convince her to give him and their marriage another chance. “Just relax,” he whispered, licking her neck.
“Hmm, that feels so good.” She wrapped her denim-clad leg around his. “But then you had lots of practice with your girlfriend right before I got here, didn’t you?”
He cursed himself for indulging in the adolescent drinking game and giving his wife reason to question his fidelity yet again. “Sweetheart,” he whispered, flipping the button on her jeans. “You’re the only one I want; you know that.”
She squeezed her eyes shut as she shook her head. “No, I don’t.”
He hated that he had given her reason to doubt herself, to doubt them. “Let me prove it to you, then.”
His tongue traced the soft fullness of her lips until she finally parted for him. He groaned, taking her mouth with a savage intensity. His mind raced; fear warring with panic as he realized this may be the last time they made love, the last time he had the right to touch her. “God, I love you,” he whispered, reaching up to pull her shirt over her head. “You are so beautiful.” He pressed the sparkly closure at the front of her bra and bent his head. His tongue caressed her swollen, sensitive nipple until she was rubbing herself against his thigh.
“Trey,” she cried, thrusting her fingers into his hair. “I need to feel your hands on me, please.”
He eased off the leather couch and quickly shed his clothes before removing hers. “Sit up,” he said, his voice raspy. “I want to taste you.”
She sat up, levelling her feet on the coffee table behind him. “Like this?”
“No.” He grabbed her inner thighs to spread her legs as he settled on the floor in front of her. “Like this.”
He went down on her, his tongue tantalizing her swollen bud before dipping his tongue inside of her.
She lifted her hips, her fists pressed into the couch at her sides. “Oh…ah…that feels amazing. God, I’ve missed this.”
He moaned against her, creating an intense vibration. “Me too, baby.” He set out to devour her, making her scream and writhe and call his name before finally surrendering to her orgasm. “Now, I need to feel you do that while I’m buried deep inside of you.” He poised his body above her, holding onto the back of the couch as he slid inside of her. “Yesss,” he hissed, waiting until he was fully seated before thrusting into her furiously. There was no way he was going to let her leave him without a fight. She was the most important person in his life, whether she believed that or not, and he intended to prove it to her the only way he knew how.
She gripped his ass as he continued to drive into her relentlessly. “Yes, that’s it. Just like that...”
“Come for me, baby.” He leaned down to claim her mouth again. “God, you feel so good.”
