My Song for You: A Pushing Limits Novel (16 page)

You know how when you watch fireworks and the first few are breathtaking, but they’re just the warm-up to the main event? Well, even those fireworks are pretty damn fine.

I moaned. “Oh God, I want you inside me so badly.”

He smiled, his eyes dark. It wasn’t his usual smile, the one that set my heart off in a happy dance. It was a hungry smile that had an entirely different effect on my heart. My breathing picked up to a near pant.

He didn’t say anything. He just moved off me and hooked his fingers under the waistband of my white cotton panties. With the same hungry grin he peeled them slowly down my legs, his fingers burning a path in their wake.

He dropped them somewhere on the floor and nudged my thighs wide apart. “Relax, Callie.”

Easy for him to say. He wasn’t the one exposed and vulnerable in so many different ways.

Guiding my legs, he bent my knees and shifted his position so his head was between my legs. His tongue reached out and repeatedly flicked my clit, taking it closer to its happy place. I fisted the sheet with both hands.

Jared continued tormenting me in all kinds of delicious ways, alternating between sucking and licking. I bucked and wiggled against his talented tongue, even with his hands on my hips. That girl in the diner two weeks ago had been right, even if she hadn’t realized just how right she was.

“You taste amazing, Callie. I could spend the whole night just feasting on you.”

Usually when the hero in erotic romances said this, I would giggle because it sounded so corny in the book. I was wrong. Hearing Jared say this to me took erotic to a whole new level. I craved to do all kinds of things to him. Hot things. Things I’d only read about in my favorite books.

Things I had never attempted with my ex.

Jared slipped a finger inside me. His mouth left my clit, which was on the verge of singing hallelujah, and another finger plunged inside.

“You’re so fucking hot and wet,” he groaned. His skilled fingers alternated between scissoring and thrusting inside me.

“Jared,” I moaned. “I’m gonna come any second.”

He chuckled. “That’s the general idea.”

“I want you inside me. Now.” I couldn’t have made my voice any more pleading if I’d tried.

“We have plenty of time for that.”

That’s what he thinks…
I didn’t have a chance to finish that thought. An orgasm to rival all orgasms rocketed my body.

“Oh God, Jared,” I screamed out. Now
that
was a first. I’d never been considered a screamer before.

The orgasm hit me so hard—thanks to the incredibly long drought between the last time I’d had sex and now—that it took me a long moment to regain my senses.

My eyes closed, I was vaguely aware of Jared climbing off the bed. A second later, the mattress dipped again under his weight.

I opened my eyes to discover that not only was Jared now naked, but his cock was jutting out, proud and eager. He ripped open a square foil package and rolled on the condom. Then he positioned himself between my legs and slowly pushed his tip inside me.

“God, Callie, you’re so tight,” he groaned, and pushed deeper into me. Even though I’d just witnessed a fireworks show to surpass all others, my body was more than happy for an encore.

I wrapped my legs around his hips, seating him further into me. I couldn’t tell where I ended and he began; I only knew that it felt good. Better than good.

We rocked against each other, moaning and panting with each stroke of his cock. My body clenched around his wide length, and I called out his name combined with a groan.

The last waves of euphoria had just washed through me when Jared came. Between his guttural sound and my cries as I came, I was thankful Logan couldn’t hear us. I wasn’t so sure, though, if my neighbors were as lucky.

Jared left the bed and disposed of the condom, then looked back at me, uncertainty sitting square on his shoulders.

The moment of euphoria I had enjoyed became a distant memory. Shit, he was already regretting what could’ve easily been described as the best thing to have happened to me in a while.

I’d been fantasizing about sinking my cock inside of Callie since the day I first bumped into her at the grocery store. But fantasy was nothing like reality.

Not even close.

Only now that we had finally fucked, what did that mean?

We weren’t in love. We were seeing where things were going between us, before I went back on tour again. Before I returned to the emptiness that had become my life on the road—even with four bandmates to keep me from being alone.

I disposed of the condom in the trash can and returned to the bed. Callie was lying on her side, bent elbow propping up her head, teeth tugging on her lower lip. The sheet was wrapped around her breasts, low enough to reveal her cleavage. My tongue and hands itched to rip the sheet off her body and explore her again.

I sat next to her and ran my fingers down her naked arm. “You all right?”

She nodded, and I gently kissed her. With the groupies I had screwed, I couldn’t get away fast enough afterward. Not that they cared. They had gotten what they were after and were ready to move on. A few were looking for something more, but that didn’t matter in the end. Even with Tiffany, I’d never felt the urge to hang around for long after we fucked.

Not so with Callie.

I climbed under the sheets and we quickly became a tangle of limbs, her head on my shoulder. It felt good. Great, even. Like her body had been designed for this, with me.

Her fingers traced across my chest. “How come you don’t have any tattoos? Aren’t rock stars supposed to have tattoos?”

“I’m not exactly a rock star. I’m a musician who plays rock music.”

She smiled in the way that had always warmed me. I used to pretend that only I was the recipient of it. That I was somehow special.

“You
are
a rock star.” She brushed her lips against mine. “You’re my rock star.” Her words were soft yet determined. My heart swelled at hearing them.

This time when our lips met, the passion between us almost consumed me. Letting her go was no longer an option.

But as the moment became more heated, our tongues sliding against each other in their own seductive dance, she pulled back. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“Which question was that?”

“Why don’t you have any tattoos? The other guys in the band have them, right?”

Some more than others. “Do you have any?” I countered.

She nodded. “Just one. I got it when I moved to San Francisco, during my first week there.”

I scanned the perfect, unmarked skin not hidden by the sheet. I never figured Callie to be the type to get a tattoo, but it shouldn’t have surprised me. She was an artist, and the body was just another type of canvas. “Show me.”

She rolled onto her stomach. The sheet shifted, revealing six small musical notes floating around her lower back, near her right hip. They were beautiful, like the woman whose body they graced. I traced my finger over them.

“That’s how much I believed in you and your music,” she said.

Speechless, I could only stare at the tattoo. She had done that…for me.

Damn if that didn’t almost do me in—in a good way.

I pressed my lips against the musical notes and breathed in her lightly scented skin. Then I continued kissing her, moving up her back to her shoulder. “I haven’t gotten one because I believe you should only get a design that means something to you and will always mean something to you.”

“I agree,” she whispered before her lips found mine again.

Our kisses grew hungrier, more intense. That wasn’t the only thing to grow. My cock hardened, already missing Callie’s tight heat wrapped around it.

Callie shifted from under me and nudged me onto my back. She straddled my legs and leaned over, teasing my nipples with her silky copper hair. Damn, that was hot. Then she took my nipple into her hot, pretty mouth, sucking and swirling her tongue against it. My cock responded, imagining how it would feel with her perfect lips wrapped around it.

She rocked her wet, swollen pussy against the shaft of my cock. “Oh, God,” I groaned.

She chuckled. “Wow, that was fast.”

“For you, babe, always.” It wasn’t a line. It was me realizing how much I’d missed her all these past years, despite our four-year age difference. How much I cared for her—now even more than back then.

She wrapped her fingers around the shaft and caressed the swollen head, spreading pre-cum. “Please tell me you have another condom with you.”

“In my wallet.”

She grabbed my wallet from the night table and handed it to me. I removed the remaining foil square from it and tore open the package.

“I can do it.” She took the condom from me and carefully unrolled it down my hard length.

Which became even harder at her touch. I swear, if it took any longer before I was buried deep inside her, I’d die from a sudden case of blue balls.

Callie repositioned her body so my cock pressed against her entrance, and slowly lowered herself. A cross between a hiss and a groan escaped my throat. Fuck, she felt amazing.

She leaned back, seating me even further inside her. Her full tits offered themselves for my pleasure. I palmed one. God’s gift—for me.

Or so I would’ve liked to believe. I quickly pushed away the thought of someone else sampling Callie while I was on the road. We hadn’t made any promises to each other, and although I had no doubt I would remain faithful to her while touring, I couldn’t expect Callie to wait for me. A year was a very long time.

I pinched her pebbled nipple and was rewarded with an erotic moan. At the sound, my cock grew yet harder inside her.

Callie moved her hips, setting her own pace and rhythm, slow and teasing. She wasn’t the only one who could tease. My fingers found her clit and I stroked her, relishing each oh-God-I’m-going-to-come-soon noise that she made.

“That feels so good,” she moaned.

Agreed.

The pace continued, pushing me closer and closer to the edge—but not quite far enough. I removed my finger from her clit, grabbed her hips, and set a faster, rougher pace, taking care not to push myself over the edge before she was ready.

Just as I thought I couldn’t last any longer, Callie’s muscles clamped down on me. “Jared,” she groaned.

Her husky voice, the sight of her heated pussy devouring my length, and the strength of her muscles milking me for all their worth finally did me in. The powerful orgasm rocketed through me, intense enough to alter the trajectory of the earth around the sun. If the world suffered from a massive malfunction, I was to blame. “Fuck, Callie,” I grunted.

Once I regained enough of my senses, I shifted so she was under me and kissed her. Just a light touch of the lips. “Christ, that was amazing.” We were amazing together, but was it enough?

After disposing of the condom, I curled my body around hers and kissed her shoulder.

As I cuddled with her, a realization hit—I was fucked.

Purely and simply fucked.

And not necessarily in a good way, if my heart had anything to say about it.

Once Callie was asleep, I slipped out of her bed, careful not to wake her.

Ever since my relationship with Alexis, I’d pretty much kept my distance from the dating scene. Yes, there had been Lisa, a girl I’d dated for a month, who was responsible for Nolan and me becoming friends. And then there was Tiffany. But otherwise I hadn’t bothered.

I’d thought my heart was safe. The occasional screwing of random women didn’t put it at risk. Even with Tiffany, it had never been at risk. We were too different.

But somehow things felt the opposite with Callie, and I had no idea why. Sure, she was a friend. Sure, she was the one who had been looking after my son for all these years. Sure, she was sexy as hell and didn’t realize it. But bit by bit, Callie had become a major part of my life and I had no idea what to do about it.

I returned to my apartment, but for the first time since Nolan moved out to live with Hailey, the space felt lonely and unwelcoming.

I needed a pet.

Maybe a nice fish.

After watching TV for a while, I finally crashed in bed. The sun was streaming through the blinds when I woke up a few hours later. At first I had no idea where I was, as dreams of a naked Callie paraded through my head. With a morning wood to rival all others, I reached out to her side of the bed to discover that not only was it empty, the sheets were cool.

I opened my eyes and disappointment greeted me at the sight of my furniture. My queen-sized bed. The bookshelf. The nightstand. The dark green armchair Mom had given me after she and Dad bought a new one. My favorite guitar in the corner. Notebooks, pencils, blank sheet music spread out on the floor, waiting for my muse to strike.

Band practice wasn’t for four more hours. Even though I usually went for a run as soon as I got up in the morning, I had the sudden urge to play around with a song I’d been working on. I picked up my guitar, not bothering to take the time to shower first. I’d long since learned that when the creative urge hit, you didn’t ignore it to do something else first.

But instead of the song I’d been working on, lyrics for a different one seeped into my head. I didn’t doubt for a second who the inspiration was behind these words—I just didn’t get why I couldn’t get her out of my head.

I’d been working for two hours when the creative flow decided to pack it up for the morning, replaced by a restlessness I hadn’t experienced since bumping into Callie and Logan at the grocery store. I pulled on my running shorts and T-shirt and finally hit the road. I ran long and hard, but it still wasn’t enough. All I could think about was Callie, about the taste of her and how she responded to my touch. All I could think about was how much I missed her.

I returned home an hour later, panting and drenched with sweat—but with a plan. Callie and I were seeing where things were headed between us, and how we worked together when it came to Logan. There were no expectations, which I was more than fine with, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t cook her dinner. She and Logan had to eat. It was the least I could do.

I called Callie at work to tell her I wanted to spend the day with Logan. Sharon had returned to looking after him again while Callie was at the diner, but until I was back on tour, I wanted to spend more time with him.

“Do you want to pick him up from preschool?” she asked breathlessly. In the background, the clatter of dishes and someone calling out an order to the cook could be heard.

I told her yes, and she promised to call Sharon to tell her the new plan. “I’m sure she won’t complain,” she said. “Some of her friends attend a local aquacise class, and now she can join them.”

I had no idea what that meant, but as long as I got to spend more time with my son, I didn’t care.

“See you later” was all Callie had time for before she ended the call—and I was left missing the sound of her voice.

I arrived at Logan’s preschool. Tony showed up a minute later. “Just the guy I wanted to talk to,” he said. He didn’t have a chance, though, to tell me what he wanted to talk to me about, as just then the kids filed out of their classroom, and Logan rushed over to me and gave me a big hug.

“Hey, big guy,” I said. “You want to hang out with me until your mom gets off work?”

“Yes!”

“I have band practice, but Hailey’s going to bring Rocky to visit after we’re done.”

His face lit up, as it always did at the mention of the puppy.

Outside, Tony and I watched the boys climb the slide ladder, huge smiles on their faces.

“I mentioned Callie to a friend of mine and he’s interested in meeting her,” he said. “I can vouch for him. He’s a great guy. He’s widowed with a two-year-old daughter. His wife died more than a year ago from cancer.”

That explained why Tony had asked the other week about my relationship with Callie. He had planned to hook her up with his friend even back then.

Jealousy and anger gnawed at my stomach. Not just because he was trying to hook them up, but because I couldn’t tell the world that she was mine. We were keeping things secret for Logan’s sake, but damned if I would let Tony continue to think that she was available. “She just started dating someone. Sorry.”

“That’s too bad.”

Yeah, isn’t it?

Once we were finished at the playground, I drove Logan to a nearby mall. “Maybe it’s time to get you some new pajamas,” I said to him as we wandered through the outdoor space. The sun shone intensely, but a cool breeze kept the air from getting too hot. “Yours are too small now that you’re getting to be a big boy.” Callie had already tried to buy him new ones, but he hadn’t jumped at the idea. “Maybe we can find you new Spider-Man ones.”

He pouted. “I like my pajamas.”

“I know you do, but I bet we can find even better ones.”

He shrugged, clearly not convinced that a better pair could possibly exist. But after contemplating for a few seconds, he nodded. “Okay.”

A short time later, we left the kids’ clothing store with two pairs of pajamas. One had Spider-Man on them. The other pair had solid green pants and a brown cartoon dog on the top.

As we continued wandering through the mall, six teenage girls approached, giggling.

“Hi,” the tallest girl said. “You’re with Pushing Limits, right?”

“That’s right,” I replied.

“We love your music. When’s your next album coming out?”

I smiled because it never grew old hearing fans tell me they loved the band’s music. I hoped the day never came when they said the opposite. “In just over three weeks.”

“Are you playing any concerts in L.A.?”

“Concert dates will be announced soon,” I said, following the script our publicist had given us. The name of the band we were opening for was still locked in a wooden box buried twelve feet under LS Records. They were keeping it a secret on purpose. Something to do with generating buzz. Even we had no idea who we were opening for.

“Can we get your autograph?” she asked.

“Sure.”

The girls all magically produced the band’s debut CD from their purses.

“You carry the CD everywhere you go?” I asked. Never seen that before.

“No,” said a redheaded girl with freckles splattered on her nose, and my thoughts instantly went to Callie. I had always loved her freckles, even when she hated them as a kid. “We saw you walking through the mall. Joanne followed you so that we didn’t lose you while the rest of us rushed to the store to buy your album. We were hoping you’d sign them for us.” She removed an assortment of Sharpies from her purse.

I started signing them, chatting with the girls at the same time. At one point I glanced down to make sure Logan was still okay. He wasn’t there. I scanned the area, calling out his name, only to remember that he couldn’t hear me if he had wandered out of hearing range.
Fuck
.

Realizing I had lost Logan and he could be anywhere, fear snaked into my body and squeezed my vital organs hard. The mall was an outdoor shopping center, which meant Logan could easily leave. And if he tried to cross the street—

“What’s wrong?” the redhead asked.

“My…the boy who was with me, he’s missing.” I started to walk away but then stopped. There was no way I could cover the mall on my own.

“Can you help me find him?” I showed them his picture on my phone.

“Wow, he’s cute,” the tall girl said. “Is he your little brother?”

“Yes.” I gave them my phone number so they could text me if they found him. They ran off in different directions, including toward the mall exits.

Where the hell was mall security when you needed them?
I thought.

And what kind of asshole father loses his four-year-old son in a mall?

I ducked into another kids’ clothing store and searched between the racks and displays. One of Logan’s favorite games was hide-and-seek.

“Can I help you find something?” a woman in her early fifties asked.

“I’m looking for my four-year-old son.”

She didn’t belong in the band’s demographics, so chances were good she had no idea who I was. There would be no tweets going out that I had a son, nor would it go viral that I had lost said son.

I showed her the picture on my smartphone.

“Sorry, I haven’t seen him. Let me call mall security for you.”

“Okay, but I don’t have time to wait for them.” I gave her my number so they could call me, and rushed out of the store.

My phone pinged, and I read the message.
Found him!!!!! He’s in the toy store
.

The store was across the plaza from where I was standing. I sprinted across the beige stone and entered the small store. In the corner, next to a shelf full of stuffed animals, the redhead was kneeling next to Logan and talking to him.

“Thank you,” I said, working to catch my breath.

“You’re welcome.” She stood up.

Logan held up a stuffed dog that resembled Rocky. “Puppy.”

I squatted and hugged him hard. “It’s a very nice puppy. But Logan, you can’t just wander off like that. Next time, you need to tell me if you want to go somewhere.”

“You busy.” He hugged the toy.

“No matter what, you always come first.”

Because I owed the girl and her friends big-time, I asked for her address so I could send them signed posters of the band. It was the least I could do. Logan was still hugging the toy puppy by the time I had finished talking to her.

“I know he’s not a real dog,” I said, “but would you like him?”

He held the puppy tighter. “Yes.”

“Yes what?” I even managed to sign it as I said it. Although after I almost lost Logan, I doubt my growing signing ability would impress Callie.

Logan considered that for a second. “Thank you.”

We arrived at Mason’s loft a short time later. “How’s my little man?” Mas held up his hand to high-five Logan, who had to jump up to reach it. It had become a routine with those two. “Who’s this?” Mason asked, pretending to pat Logan’s toy.

“My dog,” Logan said proudly, and waited for the rest of the band to do the same as Mason. I grinned at the sight of four grown men fussing over a stuffed toy as if it were a real puppy.

Four grown men, one with green dye on his hands. “You wanna explain why you have green hands?” I asked Aaron, although I already had my suspicions.

They were confirmed when he glared pointedly at Mason.

Mas snickered. “Well, you did complain that house plants die at the sight of you. I just thought I’d help you out.”

Kirk snorted a laugh. “The term is ‘green thumb,’ drummer boy. Not ‘green hands.’ ”

“Hi, Jared,” a female voice said from the far side of the room, its owner already bored with the guys’ typical antics. The husky sound of it would’ve left most men sporting a hard-on—but for once, it did nothing for me. I hadn’t even noticed Tiffany when Logan and I entered the room.

Looking like she belonged in the sparsely yet expensively furnished loft, she sashayed her way over, wrapped her arms around my neck, and pressed her body against mine. “I’ve missed you, love.”

“How did you know I’d be here?” I unhooked her arms from around me and walked over to Mason’s fridge. Unlike mine, it wasn’t covered in Logan’s latest artwork. But it did have one of Logan’s pictures of what could’ve been Mason on the drums…if you used your imagination.

The guys continued to discuss Mason’s latest prank, much to the amusement of Logan. He was giggling so hard at Aaron’s brightly colored hands, I thought he might fall over.

Tiffany joined me by the fridge. She had called last week to tell me she was in town and couldn’t wait to see me, but this was the first time I’d actually seen her since our last breakup.

“I was nearby for a charity luncheon,” she explained, “and I knew you’d be practicing.”

“And so you just showed up?” I grabbed a can of soda and an apple juice from the fridge.

She smiled as I popped open the soda. “I was hoping to see Mason. He’s always good for the latest band gossip.”

That I did know. Mason had a bad habit of accidentally letting things slip. If you didn’t want something to go public, you avoided mentioning it to him. It was also why he wasn’t allowed on our social media sites. Aaron and I were the ones who had always done it, but at our last meeting with the label’s publicist, Jennifer had recommended we hire an assistant to maintain our social media updates. Now we just needed an assistant. Preferably one that Mason didn’t try to get inside of within the first five minutes of meeting her.

“And what band gossip did he tell you?” I gulped down some soda.

“That you have a son.”

Soda spewed from my mouth, narrowly missing her. It hit the fridge instead.

“Classy,” Mason said, laughing.

Fortunately Logan was on the couch, talking to Nolan, and didn’t hear her.

“Is it true?” she asked. “Is he your son?” She jerked her head in Logan’s direction.

“I haven’t made that public yet”—I glared at Mason—“but yeah, he’s my son.” I kept my voice low, the implication behind the tone clear.

“He is?” Mason asked, taken aback. I don’t think I could have shocked him more than if I had shoved an electric eel down his pants. “I was just kidding when I said he was your son the other day. But I guess that does explain why you two look so alike.”