Maybe it's because I have issues with the holiday myself. For a romantic who always has a love story in her head with a HEA ending, in reality, I've never been a Valentine's Day sort of gal. In fact, my man and I have for two decades have exchanged scratch offs on the 14th. My theory is it will be a great story when we do win that giant prize. Can you imagine smiling for the local television crew and explaining for more than twenty years we've had a glass of wine while scratching our valentine tickets?
In truth it's not as bad as all that. You see, my hubby is way more romantic than me. And most Valentine's Days I'm met with a giant bouquet of long stemmed roses--or lately some of the most beautiful exotic flowers I've ever seen. And then me, being he VDay bitch I am, inwardly add up the cost and wonder, why oh why while outwardly squealing in delight and saying thank you in all the ways men love. Win win. Because secretly I love he's that kind of guy ;)
Here I present to you my one time go at fictional Valentine's Day. I'll even give it away for free through the 14th. And if you haven't read the series yet, no biggie. It's pretty much a stand alone.
Excerpt #1
“Who is that lady with Daddy?”
She had heard that very sentence too many times, but even
now, nothing ever made her head swivel faster. Taking in Jack escorting the
buxom brunette that had earlier been out by the bus, Marissa carefully chose
her words. Words that she had said more than a few times, but the caution was
always in the tone of the words to their son. “Someone that likes his music.”
Jack’s gaze scanned the room stopping on her and Tristan.
The first few times this scenario had happened, he had looked like a kid with
his hand in the cookie jar. Their relationship had been new, and even though
they had trust between them, he had thrown up his defense shields. Lately
though, anytime this sort of thing happened, he always seemed relieved to see
her, and always wanted to foist his cookies off onto her.
He escorted the young woman toward the buffet and politely
got her started by passing her a plate. Bending, he spoke to her, and she
nodded with a smile.
Then, he crossed to her and Tristan. A chair scraped the
floor as he pulled it out.
“Another contest winner?” Usually, Marissa liked to torment
him, but tonight, for the last half hour, she had dawdled over her meal hoping
that he would show up to eat with her. And now that he had showed, some hot
chick was in tow.
Glancing at Tristan’s watchful gaze, he nodded.
The charade of a ‘Date With Jack Storm’ rarely bothered her.
She was the one who wore his ring.
A ring that had headlined stories of gossip sites and
tabloid magazines for more than a month after she had received it. The
exquisite black diamond screamed to the world that she belonged to Jack.
Maybe, what did bother her was that they had not screamed to
the world of their engagement. Sure, it had been unofficial and speculated
about since the day he had showed up in LA with Tristan and her. The week
paparazzi had noticed the ring on her finger, headlines had pretty much
confirmed the engagement to the public. However, Jack hadn’t publicly confirmed
it. The ring pictures in these magazines had come from telescopic lenses with
shutters as quiet as she and Jack had been about their private life.
“Eat supper with Jack Storm? Seriously?” The ridiculousness
of it hollowed her words with scorn toward whatever radio station or entity had
cooked this contest up. Normally, ‘Jack Storm Dates’ were a place side stage to
watch the show– with her and Tristan– and a drink or two after the show,
sometimes on the tour bus– with her and Tristan. Looking at these ‘dates’ from
the lucky woman’s point of view, she could see that they might be special. Yet,
there was nothing special that she could see about a buffet style dinner served
among folding chairs and tables– even if it was partaken with a rock star.
One of his shoulders lifted in a slight shrug, and he seemed
uneasy. Looking back at the girl, Marissa found her happily choosing between
the salads. Making the choice, the girl picked up a few napkins, and that is
when comprehension dawned. There in front of her own plate were her own extra
napkins. White with red hearts.
A Valentine’s date
with Jack Storm.
She knew it as surely as if it had been printed on those
napkins or on a ginormous banner stretching across a wall. She KNEW it. And she
couldn’t even get a Valentine’s date with him– her own fiancé.
Shoving her chair back, she stood. It was wrong to be this
angry with Jack. He didn’t create the contests and promotions. Hell, he hardly
ever knew of them until he was told where to be and what to do. If the event
did show up on some daily manifest, he usually didn’t see it because he was too
busy or too tired to read the papers that showed up daily in the bus.
Sometimes when she threw these fits, he was more sensitive
and sweet than she deserved. Calling her back, he would tenderly calm her down
with the reminder that it was a life that would soon be behind them. Tonight
was one of the nights that he looked too worn for confrontation. She knew it
when his wary shield slipped for a second revealing his fatigue and apathetic
acceptance of her upcoming tirade.
With another look beyond his head at the dark exotic beauty,
she paused. Bracing a hand on his shoulder, she bent laying a long, publicly
possessive kiss on his lips. “Have fun on your date, Jack Storm. Just remember,
I’m the one who's going to have your babies.” Unable to resist another barb,
she leaned again. “And I’m the one who will be–” With an X-rated whisper for
his ears alone, she moved away.
Wadding her napkins, she tossed them in the leftover food,
and stacked Tristan’s plate with hers as she let that image sink into his
skull.
Taking Tristan’s hand in one of hers, and their trash in her
other grasp, she crossed the room, making sure to smile at Jack’s date. It
wasn’t the girl’s fault either. Marissa knew Jack, as always, would be sweet
and courteous, making sure the fan was comfortable. That is who he was– the
gentleman beneath the Jack Storm exterior. It wasn’t Jack or his ‘date’ that
put her in pissy mode. It was the shitty situations that came from living in
the public eye.
More Lisa Gillis Rock Rom Books
Excerpt #2
“Mariss! You are sure taking your time, my honey.”
Jack’s voice rumbled pleasantly through her head. Real this time. Not imagined.
Crossing to the bunks, she shrugged out of her
shirt and pulled back the privacy curtain. “How long have you been awake?”
Dropping a knee to the bunk, she crawled in with him.
“Long enough to know you’ve had more than enough
time to take off all of your clothes.” His eyes were dark pools in the shadows,
but from experience, she knew that the playful tone was matched by a teasing
glimmer in their depths. “And yet…” A finger hooked in the strap of her bra.
Guided by his voice, her lips had no trouble
finding his in the dimness. Her tongue met his and mingled. Their lips brushed
over and over, and their breath became one.
“You want them off so bad, then–” Her mouth moved
against his as she spoke, and his nip to her lip cut her sentence short.
“Then what?” he goaded. Even through the denim of
her jeans, Jack’s touch tingled the skin below as he curved his fingers to her
back pockets and squeezed.
“Then take ‘em off…” She managed to infuse a
little sass although her motor skills were becoming muddled.
With expert movements, he unclipped the silky
triangles of fabric and let the bra fall somewhere in the grayness. She
whimpered into the kiss as his hands familiarly claimed their prizes.
The silence was broken only by the rustle of their
movements and their kisses– and the fan club just outside the bus. The soprano
shouts were barely discernible, but she heard them just the same.
“Is Jack in there?” … “I love you Jack!” … “I want
to have your babies!”
If this Valentine’s Day were only sex in a coffin
with a chorus of fan girls unknowingly cheering them on, she would happily
endure the rest of the evening.
She was lying fully on him and enjoyed the contact
of their bare skin anywhere it came together. Hard abs to softer. Pecs to
peaks. She curled her fingers to a bicep guiding her touch to his shoulder and
the mental image of colorful ink and skin melted into her mind.
Wanting to bare more important skin, she reached
down hooking a thumb into his briefs. Thinking about his package had her
craving it. Heaving a heady breath that was all Jack, she kissed a well frequented
trail to his waist. With a groan, he pulled her upward before she could drag
his briefs down.
“I wasn’t finished undressing you…” His kiss
landed in the cleavage where her necklace generally rested, and he seemed in no
rush to remove the remainder of her clothing. Closing her eyes, she drew in a
ragged breath, as he trailed his tongue to amazing places. When his teeth came
together in a nip, she saw stars on the backs of her eyelids.
Her ears were slower in picking up music. Once her
overloaded brain registered the sound for what it was, her moan was no longer
totally from the pleasure of the things his tongue was doing.
The melodic ringtone caused him to pause, and she
uttered a deprived sound as the air chilled the areas his mouth had been
warming. When the unanswered ring sent the call to voicemail, and the phone
went dark, his muscles relaxed. He savored another mouthful and his grip went
to her jeans, but he groaned with frustration when the tiny screen again lit up
and the same ringtone repeated. This time, she knew she was not seeing stars,
and she sighed along with him.
One of his thumbs circled the tip his teeth had
been teasing as he waited for the rings to stop again, and then pressed the
voicemail button. Her touch went back to his briefs, traveling familiarly over
him, before slipping beneath the waistband, determined to keep his body focused
as he tended to whatever ‘other business had come up.’
The phone was not on speaker, but she clearly
heard Chris’ freaked voice.
“Jack! I’m sorry dude. I know you’re– busy. But,
erm– you need to know this now. Some stupid roadie– not with us– totally fucked
up Shay.”
She and Jack had been together for almost a year,
and she had never experienced to this extent what happened beneath her touch.
Her fingers stilled. Jack may as well have been in a dead sleep. Strike
that—even when he was in a dead sleep, her touch would rouse his body before
his mind. Annoyed, she retracted her hand, and she wondered if they would pick
things back up, or if she should just give up on Valentine’s sex.
Even as she mused, he pushed to his elbows, and
she slid to the side.
Another jab at his phone, and the quiet purr of
rings filled the silence. Only two rings passed before Chris answered in
monotone. “Jack.”
“The fuck, Chris?” Jack growled.
She pushed her hair from her face and sat up. The
phone provided enough illumination for her to watch the expressions play over
his face. It was easy to hear Chris explaining that ‘Shay’ had been dropped a
half story and then rolled over by a tour case in that split second.
‘Shay’ was Jack’s Midnight Blue Metallic Frost ES.
“Fuck!” In a smooth arc, his legs swung over the
side of the bunk. “I’ll be right there.” A furious jab of his thumb ended the
call.
“Jack?”
“Oh, sorry,” he patiently explained. “It’s Shay.
Some wacko dropped and destroyed her.”
“I know. I heard.”
He nodded as if that were that. His feet hit the
floor, and he pulled a shirt from his storage area. Frowning, his fingers
fumbled through a search of the tiny closet before he moved away empty handed
and instead stood in the bathroom. Flushing the toilet, he turned as if feeling
her gaze, and his eyes impassively dropped to her bare chest as he gripped the
brush and ran it through his bed head.
This was insane!
“Are you seriously bailing?”
The brush strokes stilled, the bristles freezing
inches from his skull. “I have to take care of this. Fuck, I can’t believe it
happened.” He abandoned the brush, clearly wary of what he was seeing in her
face, and clearly not swayed by what was below her face.
“It’s a guitar…” Now, she swung from the bed and
expelled the aggravated exclamation. “It’s a damn guitar!”
Okay, she might have slid by with a disparaging
remark about one of his ‘girls,’ but in addition, she’d gone and cursed this
one.
“Yes!” Sparks ignited then shot from his dark gaze
as the furious words flew from his mouth. “A guitar that I need.” Moving toward
her and then beyond her, he searched again presumably for jeans. Her eyes ran
down his backside, lingering on the briefs she had been unsuccessful in
removing, and then the long muscled legs and large bare feet. “I can’t do this
show without that guitar!”
Cursing the guitar had been bad, but laughing at
that moment was not good. Not good at all. With a faded pair of black jeans in
hand, he spun around as soon as the sound left her lips, and his look was so
dark that she almost choked as she swallowed the snicker.
“Mariss! What do you want from me?”
“Some dick!” The screech felt as ugly coming from
her throat as it did echoing through the bus. “But you go– you go and take care
of Shay on Valentine’s Day!”
The jeans fell to his side, his grip on them
loosening some. His shoulders also dropped. In fact, his entire body seemed to
sag. The date was unknown to him. What had she expected? In the heat of the
tours, he usually did not even know what day of the week it was, much less,
what day of the month.
His faltering gaze fell to the floor, and he used
that moment to step into his pants. The earlier urgency vanished from his
movements. Still not meeting her eyes, he dragged them to his lean hips. His
fingers worked the fly but abandoned the buttons midway up the vee. Devoid of
the exasperation and anger of the previous minutes, he locked a beseeching gaze
to hers.
“I didn’t– I should’ve– I’m so sorry that I slept
all day.”
“It’s okay, Jack. You need the sleep.”
Regardless of how embittered she felt over their
interrupted tryst, nothing changed that fact. He was on the verge of
exhaustion.
“No,” he returned. “It doesn’t feel okay. Not at times
like this.”
No comments:
Post a Comment