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“Okay.”
He laughed a little. “Must be dreaming. My girl isn’t arguing with me.”
“Must be,” I teased sleepily. “Good night, Jags.”
“’Night, Dimples.”
Chapter 22
Jagger
My record label wanted to make sure Cannon and I were going to be able to hold up our ends of the contract we’d signed when we were sixteen. It was for a four-album deal, and we’d been in the process of working on the third of the four when he was shipped off to military school.
Ma had woven her magic at the time and gotten them to postpone our time in the studio to record the songs I’d been working on then. But Petrova wasn’t an idiot; he knew that Cannon being in another state wasn’t the real reason we couldn’t lay down tracks. I could have easily flown to Texas to do any recording, so he must have suspected our friendship was on the outs.
My mom tried to get me out of the contract when I told her I didn’t want to put up with Cannon’s shit anymore, but the deal was ironclad. Nothing short of death could get either Cannon or me out of it, so neither of us had any choice but to suffer through two more albums together. It didn’t matter to Petrova that the music was going to sound like shit since my animosity toward my ex-best friend would be thick in my voice. Knowing that prick, he probably figured it would only sell more albums.
At the meeting with Petrova’s people the next morning, I suffered through them droning on and on about how Cannon and I needed to be adults about working together. I had enough music written for three new albums, but some of those songs I didn’t want Cannon’s name associated with, so I told them I only had about half the material that I actually did.
But apparently, Cannon had some songs he’d been working on himself, so now we had to decide which songs we were going to record as a duo and which of them would be included on the next album. An album Petrova wanted released before fall.
The meeting I’d expected to last an hour or two at the most went through lunch and well into the afternoon. When three o’clock rolled around and we were still arguing over details, I was fed up and anxious to get to Santa Monica for my shopping date with Shaw.
Frustrated, I glanced at Ma as I got to my feet. “I’m done. Please handle this shit. I have somewhere I need to be.”
She knew my plans and gave me a nod, promising me with a look that she would take care of it. I kissed her cheek and left without a backward glance. Traffic was hell on the drive to Shaw’s, making me twenty minutes late.
When I rang the doorbell, it took nearly two full minutes before she answered. I’d tried to call her when I realized I was going to be late, but she hadn’t answered.
She opened the door, and I saw she was dressed in a pretty floral top and a pair of skinny jeans that molded to her thighs and made me ache for a rear view so I could see how hot her ass was in them. “Hey,” I choked out, trying not to swallow my tongue at how beautiful she looked. “I tried to call. Tra
ffic was pure hell.”
“I was in the shower,” she explained, her teeth nibbling on her glossy strawberry-colored bottom lip.
Groaning, I touched my thumb to her luscious mouth and tugged her tortured lip free. “You keep that up and I’m going to have to kiss it better,” I warned. “Are you ready?”
“Just let me get my purse.” She turned around and grabbed it off the table behind her. I held the door open, and she locked it before I took her hand and walked her to my car. “How was your meeting?” she asked as I opened the passenger door for her.
I couldn’t stop my grunt. “If Ma hadn’t been there, I probably would have put my fist through someone’s face. I’m not sure I’m glad she was present or not.”
“That bad, huh?” She brushed up against me as she moved to get into the car.
Her scent filled my nose, and I found myself grasping her hips before she could sit. All too willingly, she pressed the length of her body against mine and caressed her fingertips down my jaw. I touched my forehead to hers and let the tension that was holding my body prisoner release.
“I missed you,” I rasped. “All day, I kept counting down the minutes until I could see you.”
“I-I missed you too.”
We stood like that for a long while, simply enjoying being in each other’s atmosphere. This was all I needed to feel whole. This girl, this closeness. Shaw Cage was my everything. If I lost her, I would be nothing.
“You okay?” she murmured when I couldn’t hold back the harsh exhale of pain just the thought of losing her caused.
“I’ve got you in my arms. How could things get more perfect than that?” I lifted my head and touched my lips to her brow. Forcing myself to release her, I let her get into the car and then shut the door. “What kind of bed do we want?” I asked as I backed out of the driveway.
“It’s your bed, Jags,” she huffed.
Gritting my teeth, I reminded myself not to push her too fast. We’d come a long way since I’d fucked up so royally, but she was still skittish. I needed to stay patient and move at her pace. I needed to show her how much she meant to me and not just grab her and keep her locked in our apartment until she realized that we were forever.
