Nashville SEAL: Jameson: Nashville SEALs (4 page)

Lizzie had never heard the song before. Thomas’ voice was more polished than she remembered. The love ballad was smooth and timeless. She watched the faces of their guests, some smiling at the two of them, others watching Thomas intently. Relaxed, dressed in white organza and in the arms of the man she loved more than life itself, time stood still.

Until Jameson stiffened after hearing Thomas’ first stanza and then the refrain. His hand pressed into her hip, pushing her away from him, which she took as his instruction to turn, but the cue was off and they were disconnected. He laced his arm around the back of her waist again and pulled her to him. She felt something inside him trembling, so arched back and asked him.

“It’s a song I wrote.”

“I love it. Really beautiful, Jameson. Did you write it for me?”

What came from his chest was a low growl. “I think every song I’ve written the past three years has been about you, or for you. But he’s changed it. Added new verses.”

“I like it. You must sing it for me sometime.”

He sighed, and she could tell he was trying to ignore the request. Jameson could hardly take his eyes off his Best Man. Lizzie saw tension between his eyebrows.

“What is it, Jameson?”

“It’s nothing.”

Lizzie knew that was the cue not to ask him again, just to trust that he’d tell her later. But something about the song upset him.

In my dreams I see your face

My heart racing wild and free

One more vision and by God’s grace,

You’ll come running back to me…

He went on singing beautiful words like pearls strung together in a precious necklace fit for a queen.

Soon the music stopped, but Jameson had not moved in some time, his arm still around Lizzie’s waist, his chest heaving, and his fingers gripping her right hand almost to the point of hurting her.

“And that, ladies and gentlemen, is a song my very best friend and the most talented singer-songwriter I know, our groom, Mr. Jameson Daniels, inspired.”

The audience clapped. Thomas and Jameson shared a look Lizzie couldn’t decipher.

Lizzie tried to stay positive, but something had blackened Jameson’s mood. He was even distracted when Charlotte came running to give him a report on Nick and Devon’s baby girl. The guests would not notice, but Lizzie felt a growing sense of doom rising, taking over the timbre of the party. He avoided Thomas’ rather long looks and seemed to awkwardly place himself at opposite sides of the room from his Best Man.

Guests were beginning to say their goodbyes, so Lizzie asked if they could head off for the Waterwheel Inn for the night. They had plans to go wine tasting with several others the next day. Now she worried something had buried itself in her wedding plans. She hoped the night would even out whatever had happened. She was hoping that in the intimacy of their bodies, their tangled legs and bed sheets, they’d find themselves and the miracle of their partnership.

The rest of the world could go to hell.

‡

J
ameson gripped the
steering wheel all the way to the Waterwheel Inn. His bride sat stoically at his side, no doubt thinking about him, about his dark mood. He didn’t know how to feel about Thomas taking his song, adding words and embellishing it. Yes, it was better than Jameson had written. He knew that was part of what got to his gut. But Thomas hadn’t asked. He publically played it, gave Jameson credit as
inspiring
it, but played the version he’d altered and added to, without asking him first.

Was this true betrayal or jealousy he felt towards Thomas? He’d worked so hard to get a contract. He now saw the song he’d written and then abandoned as being marketable. This was supposed to be the happiest day of his life, yet he couldn’t get it out of his mind. He should be focused on Lizzie and their wedding. And yet his irritation was eating a hole in his gut.

Was he making a mistake getting married? Would there be something like this that would set him off with the Teams? Would he see something, do something that would give him regrets, nightmares, or take him out of the real world and pull him back like a bungee cord to that familiar place of regret.

Why couldn’t he let Thomas have the glory? He knew it was the right thing to do. There was no logical reason he should feel off.

But there was no denying he was mad. It was like how he felt if he gave a bad performance. He’d wind up back at the motel room, alone and feeling sorry for himself, in a rotten mood until that knock on the door. Some angel would come and be his temporary lifeline, breathe the life back into him with her body, with her kisses, with all the magic and allure those groupie kittens could provide him. He needed that tonight.

Except tonight he was with his lovely new bride. His blushing bride. On the first night of their marriage. When he should be Prince Charming and end her Cinderella day with the bedding of a lifetime. With a night she’d remember her whole life. That’s what Lizzie deserved. Could he pretend enough to give that to her? What did that make him then? Did he deserve her?

He took a peek at her face in profile, her chest heaving, her lovely red lips and the errant strands of hair framing her face, one long curl brushing against the mounds of flesh that undulated like the waves in the ocean in San Diego. She had saved him in every way but one. She could not save him from himself.

She didn’t meet his gaze as he sneaked his looks. She remained focused on the bugs on the windshield like they were museum finds. She was letting him off the hook, dammit. His internal sense of justice pushed him out of the airplane without a parachute. He was freefalling.

Help me Lizzie. I don’t know how to ask. I’m broken.

It was just a song, after all. Not like he had stolen it. Jameson had willingly shared it with him. Given him permission. Never said, “This is mine, not yours.” He’d in fact said, “See what you can do to tighten this one up.”

Dammit. That’s what had happened. And it had nothing to do with Lizzie and her plans for the rest of her life. He was being an evil, self-centered son-of-a-bitch. Robbing her of the time she would remember forever. It was his job to lay all that aside and rock her world. The song, his past, the music business, and his relationship with Thomas—all that could go hang. This was Lizzie’s night.

“I’m sitting here thinking how you’re going to look as I peel that dress off you, layer by fucking layer.”

Her eyes were filled with tears when she returned his gaze. “Oh yeah?”

“Most definitely, yeah.” He faced the two lane road that wandered through vineyards, small country antique shops that sold quilts and milk paint, tasting rooms and tiny restaurants that were some of the most expensive in the whole USA. “I’m wondering if I should start with your underwear or unzip your back and nibble from the top down.”

“I don’t care.”

“Yes, you do. And if you don’t, I’m gonna kiss you until you do. And then I’m gonna kiss you until you don’t care again.”

She inhaled. “Jameson, do you know how hot I am right now?”

He felt her eyes on him just before he felt her hand travel over his thigh and find his cock buried in the black dress pants he couldn’t wait to get rid of.

“You’re hard as heck, Jameson.”

“I always am around you, Lizzie.”

“No, I mean, you gotta relieve that. Dangerous, and I am so hungry.”

He squirmed, adjusting his hips forward, widening his knees to the sides to give her more access to his cock. She squeezed him and then lovingly rubbed the length of him. If he weren’t careful he’d run off the road. Her touch was the perfect combination of sensual and firmness, telegraphing her need.

She moaned as she leaned into him. Damn the short bench seats in Nick’s Hummer. Her knee was already over his thigh. A few movements later and all that white organza would be the death of both of them, obscuring the windshield. He had to think quickly.

“I want to fuck you before we get to the Inn. Is that wrong, Lizzie? Tell me it’s what you want.”

“I want you to fuck me hard, Jameson, in my dress, I want you to find my pussy under all these skirts, rescue it from all this proper bridal bliss. I want you to fuck me senseless, dirty. Make me your slave. I’ll do anything you want.”

Geez. He was going to come, and maybe it would be a good thing. He could press against the fabric of the trousers and just spew. No taking these back without first going to the dry cleaner, and not the one they knew, someone who he could face when he told him he’d have to clean jiz off the pants. Probably wouldn’t be the first time either. But he’d need to be able to look this guy in the eye like a stranger.

“How long before we get there?” she whispered.

“Honey, you just unzip me, and we’re there.”

Her little tinkle of laughter made him start to buzz from his groin to his toes. He hoped he could get her to do that when he came inside her. He knew what that would feel like.

She took instruction well. His Lizzie was a quick study, and it was easy to play sex games with her, always had been. Her fingers unzipped his pants and he erupted into a stiff column of pink flesh of need. Her little inhale and moan just before she squeezed him, thumbing over his crown, spreading his precum way too slowly over his head.

“If I put my lips on it, will you promise to fuck me hard later?”

“I promise.”

“Will you eat my pussy too?”

“Not while I’m driving, but yes, sweet Lizzie, and goddammit, please suck me right now or I’m going to spew all over the windshield.”

That tinkle of laughter again nearly made him spill.

She placed her other hand around him, cupping him like a gourmet morsel, bent over, licked him with her hot tongue which forced a gasp from him involuntarily, and then her full lips were around him as she sucked, making those delicious noises. He didn’t want her to be delicate. He wanted to be devoured.

On cue, she went down on him, allowing him to feel the back of her throat as she pulled him deep. Her fingers fondled his balls, coaxing him. It was painful to hold back, but he was trying.

Up and down she slowly worked, her tongue wrapping around his shaft, long strokes that ended in a popping noise when she released him. She grabbed his hand from the steering wheel and licked his palm. With one hand firmly encircling his shaft, she leaned back, tossing that one leg over the back of his seat, pulling up her petticoats between her arched knees and showing him that she had no panties on. She grabbed his hand and guided him to her while he tried to concentrate on the road.

It was no use. The vision of her pink petals, glistening with her own arousal, made it impossible to continue. He pulled to the side of the highway, grateful for the huge oak tree they could hide the Hummer behind. That is, if it was green camo and not bright wine red.

“We’re almost there, Lizzie. Only a few miles up the road.”

“I’m gonna come before then. I want to come on your tongue, Jameson.”

“Baby,” he said as he turned off the ignition and pressed the parking brake. He dove into her petticoats as she arched back, raising her pelvis to him, with that tinkly laugh again.

He pulled the scratchy fabric away, so he could fully see her again. His fingers followed into her deep core, sliding in where she was wet and so ready for him. She arched back just before he descended upon her lovely lips, lapping her juices with his tongue, rimming her opening and then sucking on her bud, making her jump.

“You taste so good. Never tasted anything so sweet.”

“All for you, Jameson.”

He angled back and watched his fingers slip inside her again, reveling in her desperate moans as his two fingers went to the hilt. His thumb pressed her nub, rubbing and reveling in how her lower torso began to vibrate, her knees hugged his ears as she pulled his head into her crotch again.

He sucked at her petals, spreading her apart with his thumbs, stopping to watch and then partaking of her juices again and again.

Her hand had found the front of his pants, with his cock bobbing out in front. She pulled him to her opening, ringing her fingers around his shaft as he entered her, squeezing him, and then squeezing his balls as he began to move his hips against her to the same rhythm.

Grateful they had some cover, he didn’t worry about the bouncing cab or the noises they made. They were not visible to the two-lane highway or anything nearby. He was rooting deep, making her liquid with each thrust. She’d folded her bodice down and her breasts were available to him, bulging out of the brocade lined with seed pearls. He took her right nipple in his teeth, and then encircled it with his tongue, pulling as he sucked the areola stiff.

He couldn’t get deep enough, couldn’t get enough of her. His kisses up her neck, into her ear, then under her chin and finally on her lips drove him wild with need. His undulations began a fierce convulsion, holding as she spasmed around him. He found her butt cheeks under the layers of fabric, pulling her up to meet the angle of his hips as he held her firm against him and spilled.

He was still
chuckling to himself how messed up Lizzie looked, her face still flushed, sweat still on her brow, her upper lips, her red lipstick smeared halfway to her nose. He wouldn’t tell her, and hope he could grab her and kiss her until she stopped being mad at him when she looked at the mirror and discovered it. He loved making her mad.