Consumed (Rockstar Romance) (Lost in Oblivion, 3.5) (20 page)

“We need you in five, Simon.”

She panted out another breath and shrugged her shirt up. He stole away under her shirt and palmed her breasts. “Simon.”

He squinted at her. “Helping,” he mouthed.

“Yeah. Helping.” She moaned as aftershocks from the quick and dirty orgasm quaked through her. “Unfair.”

He pulled her hand over the bulge in his pants. “Unfair,” he said silently.

She squeezed. “You started it. A little easier for me to hide, or in this instance, recover.”

He pushed himself into her hand. She looked over her shoulder. So many people everywhere. She dipped her fingers into his leathers and felt his smooth, hot shaft. “If there weren’t so many people everywhere, I could just kneel down and take you into my mouth. Swallow you down until you filled my throat.”

His breathing got heavier.

She circled her thumb around the head of his cock, paying extra attention to the sensitive tissue along the ridge. “But, you know…you have a job to do.” She drew her hand away and pushed him back a moment before Ellie stomped up the grass.

“We’re losing the light and the tide’s stealing half the beach.”

Simon took her phone out of her front pocket and typed quickly. He handed it to her and shifted his hips before following Ellie back down the beach. Margo looked down at her phone.

P
ayback will be endless
.

S
he laughed
and followed him back down into the crowd of people.

S
imon grabbed
the paintbrush out of the sand where he’d left it and scrawled:
sorry
on the beach before he waded his way to the chair. The surf had indeed come in, but the effect was pretty cool. It made the chair look even more like it had come from a wreckage.

They were slightly deeper in the water now so the rush of cooler water helped to diffuse the situation he was having in his leathers. Christ, the woman was going to drive him right back to the bottle. He shifted as far back into the chair as he could get and hoped one of the models wouldn’t be offended by the boner he was sporting. Even the cooler water wasn’t going to help it.

Roman was actually sitting in water up to his hips. The guy was fucking insane. He’d crawled all over the beach for shots, changing out four different cameras. For fuck’s sake, he even brought out an old camera that actually had film.

When he came up to the front of the chair, his wide angle went right up the middle of Simon. No hiding anything with that shot, but Roman seemed happy. Who the fuck cared if he had a real live trouser snake in this situation?

At least he could say it wasn’t a sock stuffed in his goddamn leathers.

The shoot went on another eternal hour. By then the sunset was well on its way with the added bonus of angry clouds. Roman decided he needed a few of those shots, so Simon and the female models ended up on the dock for a few atmospheric shots.

As the team dispersed, Simon stayed on the dock and looked out along the horizon line. He and Margo had plenty of sunsets under their belt, but the sense of accomplishment had been something he’d missed for a while now.

He’d actually earned a paycheck.

When Roman offered to double his usual model booking fee, Simon had swallowed a whole lot of reservations. Especially when he found out what caliber of model Roman was hiring. Maybe, just maybe…he’d be able to pay off all the debt for the Oblivion tab from his fuckups. One photoshoot wouldn’t do it, of course, but if his mug could sell shit…at least it would be useful.

Slim, cool fingers slipped around his waist and a familiar cheek pressed into his back. He smiled over his shoulder and drew her around to his front.

“We’re going to get a helluva storm tonight, but man it sure makes the sky look pretty.”

He nodded and pressed his lips to her forehead then to her mouth in a soft kiss.

“Roman wants to talk to you before he packs up. The have a redeye out tonight.”

He linked their fingers and returned to the end of the dock. He hopped down and lifted her down, past the water. He’d be happy to get out of the soggy leather. It was chafing in places he didn’t want to think about.

Roman met them halfway down the beach with an iPad in hand. “If I’d known you were so goddamn photogenic, I would have hit you up for pictures before today, fucker.”

Simon grinned.

“No, seriously.” He handed over the tablet. “And these aren’t even touched up in Photoshop. Fuck, I’ll barely need to touch them.”

Simon swiped through the pictures. They were definitely artsy and skewed to the modeling and fashion world, but they were pretty damn awesome.

“You have quite the eye, Roman. I thought you were just a designer.”

Roman shrugged. “I get bored and pick up skills. I spent the summer interning with a few fashion photographers after college. Shitty work, but I learned a lot.”

“Well, they’re gorgeous,” Margo said.

Simon pointed to Margo and did a thumbs up that he hoped translated to
ditto
.

“I’m not used to this whole silence thing. Usually you’ve said four rude things by now, man.”

Simon sighed.

“Believe us when I say, Simon not talking is weird all around.” Margo smiled. “Lots of texting and creative writing on all sorts of surfaces.”

Roman grinned. “I bet.”

Simon flipped the pictures out for the notes app. He typed:
My canvas, not yours.

R
oman took
the iPad back and laughed when he read it. “Well, you’ve got work if you want it. In fact, if I show some of these to my backers, I bet we could run a fairly extensive campaign. Would you be interested?”

Simon looked down at the sand. His future wasn’t supposed to include posing in front of a camera.

“Look, get yourself an agent and send me the details. If I can get the money scraped together, then we’ll talk.”

Simon met his gaze and nodded. He mouthed, “sounds good,” and held his hand out to Roman.

Roman’s grip was firm. “I’m serious. You’ve always had the look I was going for with my clothes. And seeing these pictures, I have a shit-ton of ideas for new stuff.”

Simon looked to Margo. She seemed to understand more than he could type.

“We’ve got a lot of stuff coming up with the vocal doctors, but definitely keep him in mind.”

Simon didn’t want to just be a pretty face. He wanted the music to go with it. He didn’t mind using his looks to get what he wanted and it definitely greased the wheel when it came to selling records.

People still wanted attractive people to match the sound.

But while he held his ass for the six months to get better, this was a viable option.

Simon held his hand out for the iPad and Roman passed it back. He typed:
I have six months of healing time. If you can get the campaign set up, I’m in.
He handed it back.

Roman read it and nodded. “I’ll make it happen.”

Simon made a
gimme
gesture for the iPad and held up a finger. He typed:
I want that chair.
And handed it back.

Roman laughed. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Simon waggled his eyebrows.

Margo gave Roman a questioning look.

“He wants the throne.”

Margo snorted. “Of course he does.”

Simon shrugged and slid an arm around her neck. “I am the king,” he mouthed.

“Oh, now it’s getting deep in here.”

“Thanks for helping me today, Simon. You saved my shoot. I spent way too much getting us out here. That model was beyond useless.”

And Roman padded his savings account. He was a helluva lot closer to getting the money together to payback his bandmates. Every single goddamn penny.

He held his free hand out for a fist bump.

“I’ll be in touch,” Roman said.

Simon steered Margo toward the path to the house. He stopped and wrote:
retribution
in the sand.

“Bring it, buddy.”

Simon stared at the ceiling fan that slowly rotated above their bed.

Last day.

It was hard to believe they’d been there for eight of the ten days of his vocal incarceration. He and Margo had gone through a few ups and downs, but she’d been a rock through it all. He saw how her worry for him weighed on her. She covered it up mostly, but at odd times he’d see her watching him.

He tried not to think about how important his appointment was. The tickle he’d lived with for months was gone, but he still felt off. He wasn’t sure if it was because he hadn’t made a sound in weeks, or if it was just part of the healing process. He’d deliberately stayed off the internet sites where he’d previously done research.

Miles of pages of conflicting information made his head spin. Some of it had been outdated, some just plain wrong, more of it terrifying. If that made him an expert in denial, then so be it. The waiting game was killing him. He just wanted a playbook to follow. He sucked at sticking to the rules, but in this, he’d make the exception.

He’d kept to the silence when every part of him wanted to scream. Surely he could do this too.

The other half of the bed dipped and he turned his head. Margo was kneeling on the mattress, her dark hair already tied up in deference to the heat. She wore a strappy tank top and her favorite cutoffs. When the hell had she gotten ready? He hadn’t even felt her get out of bed.

He rolled closer to her and rested his head on her thighs. She smelled of coconut and her honeysuckle scent.

She pushed his hair back and smiled down at him. “You, my friend, are a lazy bum.”

He frowned and peered around her to the clock. Wow, it was almost noon. Island time had skewed early for them because the stained glass windows usually let in the sun at the crack of dawn.

“It’s our last day in paradise. Any requests?”

He reached above the bed for the little marker board he stashed on a shelf. He scribbled:
NO SHOPPING
and flipped it around.

She laughed. “No, there will be no shopping. Besides, you always buy way more than I do anyway, buddy.”

He shrugged.

“Good thing we don’t have to check bags. You’d be in deep trouble.”

Simon grinned at her. Yeah, he officially had four bags now. Between the clothes and trinkets and more clothes, he’d filled up two bags. The others were paintings, textiles, and cool pottery from local artists.

“I’m not sure what you’re going to do with everything.”

The more he’d purchased, the more he thought about getting his own place. The little house full of his bandmates had been plenty when it was just him. Now that he had Margo in his life, he hated the thought of tripping over everyone.

But he wanted to actually ask her—with his damn voice—to move in with him. But he needed a place first. He’d have to get Lila’s help. She seemed to know everything.

He picked up the board and wrote:
I’ve never had stuff before. I’ll have to figure out something
. He flipped it around for her.

“Well, there’s no more buying here anyway. I have a little something planned later. But I’m yours for the day.”

He tugged at the hem of her shirt.

“No. That’s for later.”

He rolled onto his side. “Oh?” he mouthed.

“Yes.”

He slid his thumb over her tattoo. So small and fragile with the wild reds and yellows that matched his own. He laced his fingers with hers for a moment then picked up the board again and scribbled:
is there part of the island you want me to see that we haven’t gotten to?

She read over his shoulder. “Actually, there is.”

He rose up and pulled her down to his mouth. “Show me,” he said against her lips.

She smiled into his kiss and groaned when he sneaked under her shirt. “No way. Up and at ‘em.”

He flopped onto the bed and scrawled:
you suck
on the board.

“Maybe later.”

He rolled off the bed and scooped her up, dragging her into the bathroom with him. After a very wet, very satisfying shower that included a happy ending, they got dressed and hit the road. The day was gorgeous, the sun shining as it did almost every day, but the humidity was missing.

Well, not missing, because damn, he’d had enough. But there was a nice breeze off the water as they tore down the coastal road. Margo was driving in her usual NASCAR-style. Instead of going off into the vistas for the various views of the coves, she followed the signs for the National Park.

“So, I know it’s a little lame to go to the park like a kid, but there’s this one little part that I want to show you. I used to love it when I was a child.”

He lifted her hand to his mouth. He didn’t think it was lame. He’d never had family moments like this. The closest he’d ever had to a familial moment was when his dad bought him a six-pack for his sixteenth birthday.

A week late.

She parked at the far side of the lot and they paid their fare for the parking. She held his hand as they weaved their way up a trail and landed in a maze of ruins. Margo picked up her pace and drew him deeper into the maze until the stones crumbled and they somehow managed to end up on a hill that looked over the park.

The lush greenery was neverending and the water looked impossibly blue. She moved to stand in front of him. “
This.
No matter what kind of crap went on at home, when we came up here to the St. John house, we acted like a family.” She laughed. “Even Juliet was less her snarky wild child-self here.”

He pressed his cheek against her temple. She so rarely talked about her family. They were both similar in that vein, though he was sure his family life made hers look like the Bradys. But when you were in the situation, it felt far different.

His father’s ability to ignore was legendary. If he wanted to psychoanalyze it, it would explain why he loved being a singer in a band. But brain-picking never helped anyone. It was the here and now that mattered, not the past. The past didn’t define him. It was just a part of him.

“So, this was always my favorite place.” She turned around in his arms. “I’m glad you got to see it. I’m even more glad that it didn’t change in the ten years since I’ve been here.” She tucked her chin on his shoulder. “Maybe a few more bricks missing in the stone.” With a sidestep, she dragged him around to a short tree that was craggy with roots and a thick trunk. “And this was a lot smaller.”

She touched the bark above a knot in the tree. A faded M was carved into the tree. He pulled his Swiss Army knife out of his pocket. It was the first time all week that he’d worn something other than a bathing suit.

He pulled her in front of him and reached around her to make a plus sign and the letter, S.

She laughed and traced over her M, then his S. “No matter what happens, this tree will always be ours.”

He pressed his lips into her neck. He didn’t like the way she’d said that. But when she pulled him away and back down to the ruins, he pushed it to the back of his mind.

They spent a few hours backtracking through the maze and finding cool little pockets of old houses that had either been demolished in old battles or ravaged by time. Bells chimed out of her phone as they were walking the path back out to the park entrance.

He took out his phone and typed out:
surprise time?

She laughed. “Why yes it is.”