Tunes (Beekman Hills Book 2) Read online

  I slant my lips across hers and drink her in. The taste of her plump lips, the way she melts into the kiss, finally giving in, drives me, pushing me to push her.

  Moving my knee onto the bed, I lay Gracyn in the middle of the rumpled sheets. As soon as her back hits the mattress, she plants her palms, trying to prop herself back up. I wrap my hands around her wrists and bring them up, softly pinning them to the pillow above her head.

  “Gracyn, do you want me to stop? All you have to do is say the words. Tell me to stop if you don’t want this.” I breathe the words against her jaw as I trail kisses toward her ear, burying my face in her hair.

  She responds with a moan and a thrust of her hips. Her legs wrap around my waist, pulling me in closer.

  “I need words, need to hear you say them.”

  “Yes.”

  “Yes what? Yes, you want me to stop? Or yes, you want this?”

  She grinds against my cock, rubbing up and down my length, surrendering but still not answering the fucking question.

  Chapter 8

  Gavin

  I wake up with the sun doing everything it can to blind me. The golden rays stream in between the half-opened blinds and slash right across my face. But, for the first time in a long time, I am not complaining.

  Gracyn is lying on her stomach, wedged partly underneath me. My arm snaked around her waist, leg twined between hers, I’m completely wrapped around her, breathing in the warm vanilla scent of her hair, the strands tangled with mine.

  I don’t remember ever waking up like this with Sarah. Completely intertwined and undeniably comfortable. Other than our little hiccup—okay, it was a medium-sized hiccup at the very least—being with Gracyn is the easiest thing I’ve done in a long time.

  The way we move with each other, the way we fit together …

  The shit we’ve talked about …

  Never have I felt this kind of connection before.

  Her skin pebbles beneath my fingers as I trace her faint tan lines. The fact that they are so defined across her ass and tits and just barely visible on her back is hot as fuck.

  Gracyn starts to squirm, her ass sliding against my morning wood.

  And can we just acknowledge the fact that my dick’s perseverance should be commended?

  When Gracyn finally gave in last night and used her words—her dirty fucking words begging me to make her scream—we burned through every condom we had between the two of us. And he’s still willing and interested, and he has absolutely risen to the occasion.

  “Babe, you’re gonna start something we can’t finish.” I push the hair away from the back of her neck, placing soft kisses down the column of warm skin.

  She groans and pushes back even more, wiggling until she’s rolled over, facing me. “You should go get some more condoms,” she says while lazily tracing letters on the skin across my chest, spelling, S-A-F-E-T-Y F-I-R-S-T.

  I enclose her fingers in my hand, squeezing slightly before bringing them to my lips. “Not gonna happen, babe. Not unless you get your sweet ass out of bed and come with me.”

  God help me, Gracyn needs to stop rubbing up against me.

  “What guy goes on spring break with only two condoms?” she asks, trailing her hand from my lips to down my chest until it’s wrapped firmly around my cock. Stroking my length, she twists her wrist on each upstroke.

  A groan rumbles from the back of my throat as her lips follow the path her fingers just danced, her tongue darting out to swirl the tip of my cock.

  “Not on spring break, babe,” I rasp as she palms my balls, wrapping her pillow-soft lips around me, sliding over my head. Mercy. “Who brings a shit-ton of them on a business trip?”

  And, just like that, my joy and bliss, my thoughts of ecstasy, come to a screeching halt. The air shifts as Gracyn pulls back and pushes herself up off the bed, slamming the bathroom door behind her.

  I’m lost … like fucking lost on what just happened here.

  “Gracyn?” I rub my hand down my face as I roll off the bed and head for the en suite. “Babe, what … what’s going on?”

  The shower coming on is the only response I get.

  The knob turns easily, and I push my way into the small space that’s already filling with steam. I lean my bare ass against the countertop, ankles crossed, hands on the surface behind me, and I wait.

  And wait.

  And wait.

  “You can come in,” she says without much conviction.

  And wait.

  “I know you’re out there.”

  And wait.

  She whips the shower curtain back and glares at me. “What?”

  “I obviously struck a nerve,” I say. “I’m sorry.”

  Naked apologies. There is something to be said for naked apologies because, as the coiled tension starts to ease out, her shoulders droop, and her head bows.

  “No, I’m sorry. Just … just come take a shower. I don’t want to talk about it.” She steps back under the spray, making room for me in the shower.

  “Nah, I’ll wait and let you have some space. Just wanted to apologize.” I push off the counter and head back out to the bedroom. I pull on my shorts and use the other bathroom out in the hall to take a piss.

  The tension is palpable by the time we’re both cleaned up and ready for the day, and like any immature asshole out there, we grit our teeth and dance around each other until the tension dissipates, naturally misting off into the atmosphere.

  GRACYN

  Well, that sucks. Two steps forward and one step back. But really? What the fuck? It shouldn’t even matter.

  Blow jobs are not a right. They’re a fucking privilege, and sometimes, the shit that comes out of the other person’s mouth … sours the mood.

  It’s not like I owe him an explanation or anything. This is a fling … a spring fling and nothing more.

  It’s early, and the beach is pretty empty. Coffee cups in hand, we stroll along the water’s edge, watching little kids dance in and out of the water, waves chasing them, bright-colored pails swinging from their hands.

  The rolling tide of the beach demographics is fascinating. Families with young kiddos in the mornings, sprinkled with the occasional collegiate walk of shame from the night before. The hungover tend to come out later when the families are heading in for lunch and naptime.

  Back and forth, flood and recede … ebb and flow.

  Gavin gives a chin lift to a walker of shame. The guy looks vaguely familiar and veers toward us when Gavin lifts his coffee cup in the guy’s direction.

  “Nathaniel, you just getting in?”

  They do the guy-hug thing, and the guy shakes his head. “No, I just had to get out of the room. Kane had, uh … a lot of company?” He finishes like it’s a question but tries to laugh it off before smiling at me and thrusting his hand out to me. “Hey, I’m Nate.”

  “Gracyn.” I shake his hand “You’re in the band, right?” I ask, tilting my head so that the sun’s not blinding me.

  “Yeah, I’m the other guy on strings, but Gavin’s the one everyone loves.” He shrugs a little, like it’s no big deal.

  Gavin pulls his room key from his wallet and holds it out to Nate. “Here, we can switch up roommates. Kane’s too much to take for an entire week, man. Just move my shit and give me your key.”

  Nate swaps out keys with Gavin and looks absolutely relieved. “Thanks, man. I haven’t slept in days. And I’m fucking sick of his leftovers trying to crawl into bed with me.” His eyes go wide, and he looks over at me. “Sorry, I—”

  Popping my hand up between us, my palm out in surrender, I cut him off, “I probably don’t need to know.”

  “He’s the singer. It’s just …” Poor Nate is shuffling from one foot to the other, and his cheeks are flaming red.

  “Nuff said. I’ve seen him in action.”

  Both sets of eyebrows fly high at me.

  “Not like that. No. Nope. Hard pass.” I laugh at the idea of having firsthand knowledge of any
thing that has to do with their front man.

  He exudes sex and bad decisions. It rolls off of him, crashing into those around him like the waves hitting the sand. Beautiful and savage, shifting and destructive, and sometimes knocking you on your ass.

  Chapter 9

  Gracyn

  The great blow-job debacle seems to be in the past.

  Maybe.

  But I’m avoiding that shit hard right now, so that’s a win.

  “So … that was Nate. Aren’t bass players supposed to be a little off? Different?” I look over at Gavin as we walk down the beach with the white sand squeaking between our toes. “He seems so … normal. Almost buttoned up and uptight.”

  “Yeah. Nate’s not really like the rest of us.” Gavin hands me his coffee cup and pulls his hair back, securing it with the purple band I gave him.

  “How? Have you guys known each other for a while?”

  “We have. Went to school together as kids, and there was no doubt that Kane, Ian, and I would jam together. Nate’s the outlier. He wasn’t really part of our crew in high school, but we couldn’t do this without him. He’s fucking solid.”

  Gavin gets so animated when he talks music; it’s mesmerizing.

  “So … multiple instruments. Always wanted to play. Had your people lined up. What made you do the college thing first?” I dance around in front of him until I’m walking backward, letting him guide me around sand castles and kiddos. “Better yet, how did you make the leap to quit?”

  “Didn’t quit,” he states adamantly. “I chose to take a hiatus. I mean, when, if not now, would I ever do this? This is the time. No real responsibilities, nothing tying me down. Why wouldn’t I try? I can go back to school any-fucking-time I want. That opportunity is always there. But to have these guys, this chance now, and piss it away? That would be insanity.”

  “And your family? They’re okay with it? They aren’t pissed about you blowing off the adulting?” The thought of that kind of support is fascinating to me.

  Gavin stops dead in his tracks and rests his free hand on his hip, brows drawn and lip sneered at me. “God, no. Why would they be upset? I’m exploring possibilities, living my dream … seeing if this shit works out. Not committing murder or anything serious like that. Hell, my parents are our biggest supporters. They’ve encouraged the shit out of this.” His arms go wide as he turns and sweeps them toward the line of condos and beach bars up away from the water. “Don’t your parents support your career choice?”

  More like they’re holding a knife to my back.

  “They do. It’s just different, I guess.” I don’t want to get too deep into my family and our shit. We are the masters of illusion, the very best at maintaining facades.

  “How? You support your kids and their dreams, encourage them to explore their possibilities and find the things they love in life. To find themselves, right?”

  God, how I wish he were right.

  “Yeah, that’s not really how my family rolls. They tend to be more about appearances than actualization.” I laugh awkwardly as the words spill from my mouth. “My brother’s the only one who’s really real, so …”

  Turning, I try to move us along the hot sand—as much to move this conversation to safer ground as to keep my feet from burning. We’re getting too close to shit I would much rather avoid at all costs.

  “What does your brother do? Is he older? Younger?”

  “Older by three minutes, but he won’t let me forget that—ever.”

  Bryan has all the freedom I wish I had.

  “Twins. What’s that like? Do you have the twin thing? Share a brain?”

  I’m a maestro at explaining things without really explaining anything. Giving the feel of complete disclosure when I have the ugly truth of things on serious lockdown. It’s taken years to perfect, but since my parents have always insisted on flawless outward show, I’ve had tons of practice.

  “Bryan lives in California. The family business wasn’t … for him. But he and I share a ton of likes and dislikes. We’re interested in a lot of the same things,” I tell Gavin, fiddling with the straps of my beach bag.

  I’m not lying. It’s just not the whole truth.

  The blinding white sand scorches the soles of my feet, so I find a spot and set my bag down before pulling off my skirt and dropping it on the pile. It’s impossible to wear shoes in the sand; it’s more annoying than anything when the fine grains get trapped between my toes and flip-flops, rubbing the skin raw. Dancing through the heat, skipping across the sand, I don’t stop until the blue-green water crashes around my feet.

  Knees bent as the next wave comes, I drag my hands through the cool water, spinning as the sand swirls and rushes around my ankles. Gavin’s still standing by my bag, his lower lip tugged deliciously between his teeth, a smirk set firmly across his face. And he looks nothing short of yummy. Beach bum eye candy all the way.

  I step back into the waves as I hook my finger in his direction. We need a change of subject badly, something to get us off the topic of my family and any hints of longevity. This needs to stay a fling … a just-for-now thing.

  Reaching back, Gavin pulls his shirt off and tosses it to the ground by my skirt. Heads turn, lips are bitten, and I’m pretty sure the collective heart rate in the immediate vicinity just ramped up to thunderous levels. Broad shoulders with a deep golden tan, defined pecs, and abs that taste as amazing as they look lead to board shorts that hang precariously low on slim hips highlighting that ass and that V-cut that tends to make a girl’s mouth go dry.

  Time stops for a minute, an hour, the beat of my heart. And then, in the flash of an eye, he’s running full speed and straight at me. My scream catches in my throat as I start backpedaling, trying to put some space between us … but not really. A wave crashes into my back as Gavin lowers his shoulder and grabs me up around my ass, launching us both into the churning teal water.

  As the wave recedes, and another one takes its place, Gavin pushes up, his powerful thighs launching us through the swell of the next wave until we breach the surface. Water sluices down our faces, gathering in the valley of where our bodies are pressed together. We’re chest-to-chest, nose-to-nose. His hands palm my ass, pulling my legs around his waist. Gavin shifts slightly, somehow bringing us even closer together. The hard planes of his body, the press of his fingertips digging into my thighs, his whiskey-brown eyes shifting back and forth between mine—he captivates me and draws me in. When his lips are just a breath away, he throws me over his shoulder like I’m weightless.

  Laughter racks my body as I sputter and kick my way up out of the water.

  “Ass,” rolls off my lips as I dip my head back under to tame my wild hair from my face.

  Gavin’s big shit-eating grin greets me, and he grabs for my hand, pulling me through the water. I end up floating, bobbing in front of him, my toes just barely able to scrape the shifting sand beneath me. He pulls me closer, and my legs wind their way back around his waist.

  “You like it, don’t you?” he asks.

  We ride the rolling of the waves, Gavin carrying me with him as he bounces along.

  Digging my heels in where they sit, crossed on the upper swell of his ass, I laugh with a shrug of my shoulder. “Meh. It’s okay.”

  In reality, it’s fantastic. Even in my panic as he charged down the beach at me moments ago, I saw the soccer moms’ eyes slide down his back and land firmly on that particular region.

  With the next surge, he turns and kicks, propelling us back in toward shallow water, the wave rolling over his face.

  “Better,” he says as he stands, and my feet find purchase beneath me. “We were getting kind of deep. You, uh, didn’t seem to be real comfortable with that.”

  “I was fine. I knew you had me.” I chuckle, dancing to the music floating down from someone’s blanket.

  “Wasn’t talking about the water.” He nods toward the beach, toward my bag, where I practically ran away from a conversation that was definitely ge
tting more profound than I wanted. “But you’re right. I’ve got you … if you let me.”

  And, with that, my heart surges like the waves washing past us, crashing in a flurry of beauty and violence.

  It’s the crash that scares me to death.

  Chapter 10

  Gavin

  Gracyn’s gaze shoots straight up to mine, and she pulls that plump pink lip between her teeth.

  Yeah, that’s what I thought. I busted her bigger than shit; she thought she could just dance away from our discussion of her family. From what little she’s hinted at, her brother doesn’t seem to be an issue, just her parents. I won the fucking lottery with mine, and I thank God every day that I have them behind me. They are the only parents of the band that don’t rip this thing down.

  But Gracyn, she’s got some shit going on in her family. And, true to my nature, I want to fix it—or at the very least, be there for her.

  It happened fast, kind of snuck up on me, but I like her. A lot.

  Watching her, talking to her … listening and learning. This connection is beyond anything I’ve ever felt, and it’s the greatest and scariest thing. We hang out on the beach and in the water talking more about everything. I learn more and more about what makes this sexy, vivacious girl tick. I tease little details from her, the college she attends, the fact that she really does like her major but is less than thrilled with aspects of the job she has lined up for after graduation.

  “Why not look for a position with a different company?” I ask, brushing sand from my ass.

  Gracyn shrugs her tote bag higher on her shoulder and fights with the soft sand as she heads for the stairs over the dunes. “It’s with my family’s business. It’s kind of expected.”

  I reach for her hand and guide her across the street to a spot of shade. “Do you always do what your family expects? What about doing what you want?”