Someone to Watch Over Me (37 page)

“That’s what I said!” I didn’t mind Marshall
wanting to protect me, but I didn’t want him sent to prison because
he killed someone in my defense.

“Evan’s a step ahead of you. This was all
addressed before he hired Marshall.” Limping toward me, he looked
down over his high cheekbones. “How are you really?”

“Tired but wired.”

“Couldn’t sleep?”

“No.”

“Is there anything you can take?”

“I’d rather not.”

“What can I do to help you relax?”
Subconsciously, he leaned in, his chest thrusting out so that it
brushed mine in suggestion. My nerve endings began to stir and
tingle.

“Did you have something in mind?” My lips
curled into a slow smile. I stroked a hand down his chest and
settled at his waist. Normally, he showered in the facilities
provided, but his shirt was soaked with perspiration. Realizing,
Tate straightened, his back stiffening.

“I’m sorry. I was worried about you, and I
just wanted to get back.” Lifting his arm, he turned his head to
the side and stuffed his nose in his armpit. “Let me…oh yeah…let me
just take a quick shower.”

“Tease,” I accused. Tate ducked into the
bedroom for his towel. Quick was right. You had to be strictly
conservative showering on the bus. The tanks only held so much.
There was no standing under the hot stream for minutes on end. You
wet yourself, shut the water off, soaped, and then rinsed
sparingly. It sucked royally, especially with hair like mine.

“I’m rank,” Tate said in passing. Stepping
into the bathroom, he draped his towel on the sink and started the
shower. “Stage was scorching.” Tate shrugged out of his shirt. It
landed on the floor at my feet. His jeans landed beside them. My
mouth went dry. I hoped I never get over seeing him naked. The
thrill it gave me was like a drug. My chest fluttered to the point
of mild pain. I felt lightheaded and warm. “Coop.”

“Hmm?”

“You didn’t hear a word I said.”

“I can’t help it. When you’re standing there
like that—all naked and everything—I can’t think straight.” Busying
myself, I grabbed his jeans and began emptying the pockets. I came
out with a handful of guitar picks, aspirin, his cell and a
business card for one Matt Copeland.

Matt had come to see Tate for business, but
slipped away during the chaos. Whatever they had to discuss played
second fiddle to the unfolding drama of my life and Grant’s
demise.

“I asked if you ate anything.”

“I wasn’t hungry.” Honestly, I was afraid to
eat. The day’s events had left me nerve-racked and nauseous. When
Marshall offered to get me a bottle of Green Machine, I had
retreated to the bedroom to lie down.

“What do you want me to do with this card?”
I asked, changing the subject. “The one from Matt Copeland.”

“Don’t lose that. We’re supposed to meet
with him tomorrow.”

“Who is he?”

“Record producer. He wants to record
you.”

“Me?”

The shower door cracked open. Tate’s head
popped out, suds and bubbles rolling down his hair and neck. He
flashed me a smile. “You.”

“I think I’m going to be sick.” I had to
press a hand to my chest to restrain the butterflies bursting
forth. Someone wanted to record me.
Me
.

Laughing, Tate ducked back into the shower.
The water started with a hiss. “He’s the first of many, babe. Don’t
get worked up about it. Before long, you’ll be blasé over
auditions.”

I highly doubted that.

“Seriously. You’ve sang before. This’ll be a
piece of cake.”

“But this isn’t some Podunk bar. This is
professional.”

“Think of it this way. This guy’s nothing.
He’s small potatoes. Even if he was middle of the road, he’s still
the first, and you never accept the first. You shop around, chose
the label that suits you. It might not be the largest, but they’ll
have your best interests in mind.”

Ha!
I
didn’t even know what my best
interests were.

The hiss of pressure died down to a trickle.
Tate stepped out of the shower and wrapped the towel around his
waist. “I’ll walk you through it all, Cooper. Richard will look
through any proposals. I’m not going to let you sign anything
blindly.”

Taking his cell from my hand, he swiped the
screen and put it to his ear. “Hey, can you find someplace that
makes a decent chicken sandwich. …Ranch sauce and bacon. …Fries.
…And if you can find any of those Snowballs… Nothing for myself.
I’m good. Thanks.”

Tossing the phone on the bed, Tate turned to
look at me again.

“I’m really not hungry.” Especially now.
Food was the last thing on my mind.

“You’ll sleep better if you eat first.”

“That’s because I’ll be in a food induced
coma.”

“It’s all for a good cause.” It was then I
noticed Tate rubbing his palms along his hips. That combined with
his last statement and something clicked. He was worried, truly
worried.

“I’m fine. I’m stressed, yes, but otherwise
healthy.”

He seemed to cave in on himself, visibly
relaxing. I walked to him, letting him fold his arms around me. “I
almost lost you today, Cooper. This is the second fucking time
now.” Dropping his head, he rested his cheek on the crown of my
head, taking deep, steadying breaths. His muscles quaked with
suppressed anxiety. His pulse beat madly against my chest.

“I’m right here. I’m safe.”

“I was afraid I hurt you when I pushed you
down. I was too rough. Christ, I saw that gun and all I could think
of was keeping you safe. I just didn’t think. You’re pregnant, for
Christ’s sake. I should’ve been more careful.”

“Look at me, Tate.” Backing me to arms
length, Tate looked me in the eyes. The grimace he wore stretched
all the way to his forehead, which wrinkled with worry. “I’m ok.
Really. I’m strong, remember?”

Lowering his head, he rested his forehead
against mine, pressed a kiss to my lips. “I need you, strawberry
girl. You’re here in my arms, and it’s not enough. I need to be in
you.”

Looking up from under my lashes, I wet my
lips with a sweep of my tongue. Tate took that as consent. His
mouth met mine with ferocity, parting my lips and thrusting in with
his tongue. He moaned low in his throat, rolled his hips against
mine in a delicious circle.

My body responded in quivers from my head to
my toes.

Pressing into me, he leveraged my weight
against the wall and lifted my thighs over his hips. I looped my
arms around his neck, chafing my breasts against his chest. The
friction it created made my hips gyrate in a slow, seductive
circle. Heat pooled between my thighs.

In a brazen suggestion, I suckled at the tip
of his tongue. He responded in kind, indulging my whims. His hips
matched pace with his tongue, mimicking his thrusting
movements.

Pressing my palms to his chest, I pushed him
back. With much reluctance, Tate broke the kiss, pinned me with a
pouty glare. I dropped back to my feet, smirking triumphantly.

“Relax. I just want to get undressed.”
Slowly, I lifted my shirt over my head. Tate took a step toward me.
I held my hand up, my index finger pointed in warning. “Just
wait.”

“You’re killing me here.”

“I haven’t even started yet.” Hooking my
thumbs into my sweat pants, I tugged them down and stepped out of
them. Tate tugged his towel free. It fell to the floor. His
erection sprang free, bobbed at me in a wanton invitation.

I dropped to my knees at his feet. Watched
Tate’s eyes glaze over. We hadn’t gotten around to testing my
tongue ring yet. Tiny had said to give it a few weeks to heal, and
it had been a few weeks…

“Oh shit.” Tate’s voice came out strained,
hoarse.

I swept my tongue across my lips, moistened
them.

“Coop,” Tate rasped. Watching his face, I
cupped his sack in one hand and grasped the width of his cock with
my other. Slowly, I ran my tongue along the length, slid the round
ball of my tongue ring along the thick ridge. His testicles
tightened, rose in my hand.

Tate’s eyes rolled back. His head dropped
against the wall behind him. When I reached the satiny head of his
cock, I lollipopped it, swirled my tongue over it with a sucking
sweep.

His hips jutted forward. His hands found
their way to the crown of my head. “Holy fuck. Jesus. My God.”

Raveling his fingers through my hair, he
worked himself deeper into my throat and then withdrew again. I
suctioned on his head again, worked my tongue ring along the cleft.
Staring down at me, Tate bit down on his bottom lip, sucked a sharp
breath through his teeth.

I hollowed my cheeks, holding his gaze.

Tate hissed a few ardent expletives.

He seemed to have a grip on things, so I
dropped my hands, let him take his pleasure at will. This wasn’t
altruistic on my part. I slipped my fingers between my thighs and
worked myself in tandem. To my surprise, the more aroused I became,
the harder I worked Tate.

Before long, we were both in a frantic race
to the end. I won. Tate followed in a close second, impelled by my
garbled moans of pleasure.

What I wasn’t expecting was for Tate to pull
out and paint my chest with the results of our exertions. It caught
me off guard when the first hot lash struck my skin. Yet, there was
something erotic about it. He tugged my hair, tilted my head back
and arched my chest forward while he coaxed the last of his peak. I
felt wicked and wanton, and strangely desired.

“You’re going to put me in an early grave,
Tate accused, panting. His knees quaked. “Never have I felt
anything like that. Never. I think my heart stopped. Jesus. I’m
dying.”

Gasping for air, he picked his towel up from
the floor and began wiping down my chest. “I’d apologize, but you
look smug.”

“I feel robbed.”

“Robbed?”

“I thought it was girl’s choice.”

“What? Oh.” He grinned licentiously. “You
have to sing tomorrow. I didn’t know if it would make you
flemmy.”

Half embarrassed and appalled, I laughed.
“That’s really…um…thoughtful.”

Tate held out his hand, helped me up. “The
tongue ring stays. So stays. Jesus Christ. I think I’m really
dying.” Still gasping, he dropped on the edge of the bed and
flopped back. His hand rose to his chest, as if holding his heart
in place. “I didn’t even do anything. You’d think I rocked your
world and not the other way around.”

“Does the tongue ring get all the credit?” I
said indignantly. “A tool is only as good as the person wielding
it, after all.”

Reaching up, Tate grasped my hand, pulled me
down with him onto the bed. “I love you, Cooper. That’s what the
difference is. Everything with you is so much more intense.”

“So my blow job was mediocre.” Settling into
his side, I rested my cheek on his chest. He smelled of soap and
sex, or rather he smelled like soap and I smelled like sex.

Tate’s eye cracked open. One brown eye
rolled in my direction. “You’re amazing, Coop, but I hardly think
I’m the first person to tell you that.”

“Actually, you are.”

“What?”

“I’ve never given anyone a blow job before.
Call me a prude, but I always thought of it as more intimate than
sex.”

“You’re lying.”

“No.”

“How did I not know this?”

“You’re narrow-minded, remember.” I cracked
a smile, teasing.

“I don’t mean who or how many, Coop. I just
meant your feelings about giving head. Did you hate it?”

“Did I seem like I hated it?” I asked.
“Contrary, I find it empowering that I have that effect on you. I
must’ve done something right.”

“…must’ve done something right. That’s one
hell of an understatement.” Dragging a hand down his face, Tate
sighed. “Tell me about this Sean McCreary.”

Gasping, a wide smile spread across my face.
“You remembered his name! I can’t believe you remembered his
name!”

“We had this conversation only a few hours
ago.”

“It’s been eating at you, hasn’t it?”

“Terribly. You don’t have to take such
delight in it.”

“If you would’ve been more open-minded, you
wouldn’t have been jealous in the first place. The point I was
trying to make had nothing to do with sex.”

“Nothing?”

“Nada.”

“Fine, fine, I’m listening.”

“Oh, now you want to hear it?”

“Coop.”

“Ok, ok, I dated Sean through my senior
year. We were inseparable. We even made prom queen and king.”

“My God, how can I compete?” Tate drawled
facetiously.

“Just listen,” I chastised. “I broke up with
him before I left for college, but despite my suggestion to see
other people, he said he’d wait for me. He didn’t need to travel
the world to know I was the one for him. He swore that he was in
love with me, head over heels and all that crap.”

“You really are a romantic.”

“I’m a realist. We were eighteen and going
off to college. But don’t worry, I got my just deserts. When Sean
found out I was back, true to his word, he came to see me.”

“He obviously didn’t stick around.”

“No, he didn’t. I told him the same thing I
told you and everyone else that’s ever come on to me. I told him
the truth. He cut and run.”

“What a pussy.”

“No, I actually respect him for it. He could
have played the noble, but he didn’t lie to either of us by
staying. He would have resented me. It wouldn’t have ended
well.”

“I’m really confused, Coop. Wasn’t there
supposed to be a point to the story, something positive?”

“Yes, there is, actually. In hindsight, I’m
glad he bailed out, because I would never have met you.” Sliding my
leg over Tate’s waist, I straddled him and pressed a kiss to his
jaw.

“Me too,” Tate agreed, zeroing in on my
breasts. “Me fucking too.” Before he could act on the thought, a
knock came at the door. The spell had broken. Looking at me once
over, longingly, he said, “Hold that thought. That’s gotta be the
food I ordered.”