Twisted(57)
She pulled her cell out of her boot and fired off a quick text to Gray.
Deak & Simon know about us. They’re cool.
His reply didn’t take long. For real?
Yes. I wouldn’t care if they weren’t. I’m all in with you. She bit her lip and started typing again. Okay, I would care, but not enough to stop.
Me either. No one could make me stop.
She typed a smiley and grinned when he sent back a kissy face.
Aww. She replied once she’d stopped making gooey eyes at her phone. I miss you.
That statement couldn’t have been truer. They’d been apart, what, an hour? Maybe a little longer? Surely not long enough to miss him. But already an ache was growing in the pit of her belly. She needed to see his smile. Hear his husky voice in her ear while he ranged his long, muscled body over hers and made her whole. She hoped she did the same for him.
I miss you more, sugar.
Her grin spread as her thumbs blurred over the buttons. No, me.
Doubt that. I’m writing your song. It’s super-hot. It’s making me hard.
Tell me more.
About your song or about being hard?
Laughing, she strolled to the bathroom. Both. Definitely both.
* § *
I have to go get beautified now. Time for pedis. I’ll be thinking about you.
A few hours later, Gray smiled at Jazz’s final text. God, he couldn’t wait to see her again. It felt like too fucking long already.
He looked up as the front door banged open and shut. Nick stalked inside and kicked off his boots.
“Good morning to you too,” Gray said, returning to the page of scribbling in front of him. He’d gotten into a groove since Jazz had left, no doubt because of last night. Now that Nick had arrived, he fully expected that to end.
The guy was like a thundercloud, pissing acid rain wherever he went.
“Good morning? It’s past noon. As you would know if you’d dragged your ass out hours ago.” Nick dropped into a wingback chair beside the fireplace and threw his feet up on the carved wood coffee table. He pulled out a crumpled pack of cigarettes and shook one out, lifting a brow at Gray’s stare. “Got something to say? Words are free.”
“Nah.” Gray set aside his guitar and went back to his notebook. “Not worth the breath.”
“Let me guess. You want to bitch about me smoking in here.”
“As if you’d listen to me. Besides, maybe I’m worried about your health.”
“Right. I’m sure you’re concerned that I’m eating my Wheaties and upping my cardio to maintain my heart.” Nick flicked his lighter and sucked in a breath of smoke, puffing it at the ceiling. “Since you’re so worried about healthy living, let’s talk about the smell coming out of your room this morning.”
Gray froze. Had he smelled Jazz’s perfume or something? Not that he particularly cared about hurting the guy’s feelings, but Nick wouldn’t hesitate to deliver the info to Lila just to be spiteful. Though he claimed to care about Jazz, Gray had his doubts.
Nick cared about one person and one person only—himself.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Gray crossed out a line of lyrics. He was already close to done with his song for Jazz, but that didn’t mean Nick would want the band to touch it with a ten-foot pole.
The song was private, but it had come out pretty damn good. Since he hadn’t written anything worth shit in months, he wasn’t about to tuck it away in a notebook to rot. He’d see what Nick had to say then explain to Jazz later. She probably wouldn’t be too mad. It’s not like he named her in it or anything. She’d seemed pleased at the idea that he was writing a song for her. And from the increasingly dirty texts they’d been sending each other all day, she wouldn’t exactly be surprised at the direction of his thoughts.
Damn, he couldn’t wait to get his mouth on her again. To sing her the song he’d come up with and watch that flush creep up her cheeks. So frigging beautiful, that was his Jazz.
“Oh really. Did someone break in to smoke pot last night?”
Gray broke the tip of his pencil. “Don’t start with me.”
“Should I also start with you about the sexy little screamer you snuck into your room?”
Jesus. The Oblivion playlist he’d had playing had only lasted a couple of hours and he’d been too distracted to start it again. So much for thinking they’d mostly been quiet enough not to attract Nick’s suspicion. He could only hope Nick hadn’t yet figured out that the woman was Jazz.
“I told you to lay off,” Gray said in an undertone.
Nick lazily blew out smoke. “Look, I know we’re supposed to play nicey-nice and use this time to bond for the sake of the band. I think a smarter move would be to cut the crap.”