Fade Into You (Shaken Dirty 3)

They deserved that much from her.

With that thought in mind—and because she was more than

half an hour early for rehearsal and had time to kill—she fired off a quick email to Caleb, telling him for the third time in as many days why she didn’t like any of the bassists the label had brought forward to audition for Shaken Dirty. While Li was the only one they’d done a full set with, they’d jammed with two other bassists yesterday—including Owen Torres from Wisdom. Neither of them had fit any better than Li had, and while they still had other auditions set up, she could tell her father was growing impatient. She was afraid he’d start pressuring them to accept Li or Owen any second now and she didn’t want that to happen.

She’d fight her father on it herself if she had to, but she knew he’d take Caleb’s opinion much more seriously than he’d ever take hers—even though she was the one here in Austin with them. She could only hope her brother took her email seriously and could convince their father to give the search a little more time to yield results, no matter how tight their timetable was.

She hit send on the email, then texted Caleb a quick message to underscore her point before climbing out of her car and making her way to the recording studio. Wyatt was early, too—the only one of the guys who ever was, she’d come to notice—and he was hanging on the side patio of the recording studio with a clove cigarette dangling from his fingertips and a far off look in his eyes—a look that had become very familiar to her over the last couple of days.

Quick and easy, she reached out and grabbed the cigarette from between his fingers before he even knew it was happening. Then she dropped it on the ground and stomped on it with her rainbow flip-flops.

“Hey!” His eyes narrowed to slits. “I wasn’t done with that.”

“Haven’t you heard? Smoking will kill you and your voice.” She reached into her purse and pulled out one of the lollipops she’d picked up at Target earlier. Held it out to him. “Try this instead.”

He looked between her and the strawberry flavored candy. “Are you serious?”

“That lung cancer is a terrible way to die? Yes, I am.” When he still made no move to take the sucker, she tucked a few of them into the front pocket of his jeans and went to move past him into the studio.

She didn’t make it two steps before he was snaking his arm around her waist and pulling her against him.

Her back to his front.

His breath hot against her ear.

His hand soft against her breast as his thumb flicked back and forth across her suddenly hard nipple.

“If you’re serious about me quitting smoking, I can think of something a hell of a lot more enticing than a lollipop to keep my mouth busy.”

“Oh, really?” Her breath hitched in her throat before she could say any more, and for a second she feared she might actually strangle on her own desire. It had been three days since he’d gone down on her in that alley behind Antone’s, three days since he’d touched her in any but the most casual way.

She knew it was a good thing, knew the last thing she should be doing right now was sleeping with Wyatt Jennings. And yet she’d wanted him to touch her.

Had wanted him to press his mouth to her throat, her navel, her sex, just like he had that first night.

Had wanted to do the same—and more—to him.

Had wanted it all so badly that every look from him—no matter how innocuous—had lit her up like a concert stage and sent need thrumming through her.

She didn’t know what had made him reach for her today, and right now she didn’t care. All that mattered was that he was finally touching her again.

“Yeah, really.” His mouth skimmed slowly, slowly, slowly down her throat, lips soft and breath oh-so-warm, before fastening on the tender spot where her neck and shoulder met.

She gasped then, cried out, her body arching back into his, her ass pressing tight against his cock. He groaned in response, the sound sending little vibrations across her skin, which had her knees trembling and her body melting into his.

“Fuck,” he whispered, sliding his hand down to rest on her abdomen as his fingers pressed against her denim-covered sex. “I love the sounds you make.” He pressed harder and she cried out more loudly this time, her hand coming up to grab his arm for support even as she let herself rest more fully against him.

“That’s it,” he murmured as he continued to stroke her. His finger pressed right up against the seam of her jeans, while the seam pressed right up against her clit. And just that easily she was close, so very close.

A little desperate now, her body on fire, she rocked her hips up and used her own fingers to press his down more firmly against her sex. He gave in easily, his laugh dark and just a little bit dangerous as he followed her lead and gave her the friction she demanded. At the same time, though, he slid his free hand up her stomach to her breast. Found her nipple through the thin lace of her bra. Flicked his finger over it once, twice, before suddenly squeezing it between his thumb and forefinger hard enough to have light exploding behind her closed lids.

She bit her lip against the pleasure, tried her best to stifle her cries. But Wyatt was having none of it. Instead, he squeezed her nipple even harder as he blew a stream of warm, wet air against the sensitive skin behind her ear.

“Oh, God—” Her voice broke on a moan.

“I’ve got you, sweetheart,” he told her, his finger moving harder and faster against her clit. “I’ve got you.”

It was too much.