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Twisted(89)

By:Cari Quinn


“Do you like it? Check out the streak of pink.” She ducked into the light beam from the truck and shook her head. “I cut a few inches off too.”

“I love all of your looks.”

“And here I thought you never noticed,” she teased.

“You’re always gorgeous.” He rubbed a hunk of her hair between his fingers. “I do have a particular preference though.”

For unknown reasons, her stomach sank. “Oh yeah? Which one?”

“The one where you have beautiful all dark hair without a hint of color in it but night. Because you trapped all the sunshine inside.” He skimmed his fingers over her chin and tipped her face up to his again, sealing the words with a kiss.

“Aww.” She framed his face between her hands and sighed into his mouth. “You say the sweetest things.”

His smile turned wicked. “Just buttering you up for the dirty.”

“Ha. Like you even need to.” She shivered at the cool wind that tinkled through the miles of trees around them. Uncharacteristically cold weather had settled into the area and she’d spent most of the day shivering and imagining snuggling with Gray under the duvet.

“Let’s get you inside.” He slid his arm around her shoulders and pulled her against his side. Then he let out a startled laugh, evidently noticing her cargo. “Dude, you brought your drums? You moving in with me or what?”

She cocked an eyebrow. “I already did, smartass. We share an apartment, remember?”

“Mmm-hmm. I’ve had the pleasure of living with you for a good portion of my life. But from now on it’ll be in the same bed.” He leaned in the back of the truck and grabbed her disassembled drum kit, hauling up the pieces with an easy strength that almost distracted her from what he’d said.

Almost.

It shouldn’t be that shocking to hear him talk about them being a real couple. She’d already said she wouldn’t settle for anything less, and he’d indicated the same. But it was still so amazing to imagine that it could be so.

“We can actually share the same bed now,” she said softly.

He turned back, his arms full of her kit, and grinned. “The minute we get back to our place, your stuff’s moving into my room.”

She picked up her drum stand and slammed the truck shut, then followed him across the lawn. “What if I want you to move into my room?”

“Mine’s bigger.”

“Is this some kind of gender stereotypical reference? Because my uterus can carry a baby. Unless your sword of destruction can do that, I win.”

“Point taken.” He choked out a laugh and shouldered open the front door. “I can’t wait to see that, by the way.”

Her breath caught. “See what?”

“You pregnant.” He tossed her another of those mind-erasing grins and shoved his way into the foyer.

“Hey Nick,” he called out. “Give us a hand.”

She stopped in the doorway, her arms going lax. First they were going to share a bed. Now he wanted to see her pregnant.

God, she was simply going to burst from happiness if he didn’t stop saying stuff like that. And best of all? He seemed like he was just talking off the top of his head.

Hell yeah, we’re living together.

Hell yeah, we’re going to have babies.

Hell yeah, I’m going to make you my princess bride and we’ll ride off on golden steers—

“Yo, gimme that.” Nick grabbed the stand out of her hands and headed into the living room. “You planning on being a permanent fixture here until we go back? Well, more than you already are?”

“Nah, I’m not camping out here.” She booty-bumped the door shut. “I just figured since you guys are collaborating, and the three of us are too, that I could kind of be the bridge between the two groups until we get our weekend all together before we head into the studio. Deak and Simon are fine with it. The club shows have been going well—” She broke off, thinking of the awkward show with Gray at Rave. But since that night, he’d seemed fine. Mostly. “Anyway, they want your input on the stuff we’ve been coming up with.”

“Yeah, Vapor and I have had a few breakthroughs too. Lo and fucking behold.” The doorbell rang and Nick’s smile turned lascivious as he strode past her to the door she’d just closed. “Hold that thought.”

“Well hello there—” Nick began, his voice low and suggestive.

After that tone, she definitely hadn’t expected to see a hulking bald tattooed man in the doorway. From Gray’s chuckle behind her, neither had he.

“Switching teams, man?”

“Shut the hell up.” Nick opened the door wider, allowing Jazz to get a better look at the visitor’s face.