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The smell of coffee and the warm rays of sun hit me as I open my eyes. Rolling over, I find Jett sitting on the side of the bed smiling down at me, holding a coffee in one hand and a brown paper bag in the other.
“Morning, sweetheart,” he greets me.
“Morning.” My eyes drop to the coffee. “Is that a hazelnut - ”
His lips meet mine and he cuts me off with a kiss. “With vanilla, yes.” He passes me the coffee and then adds, “I have croissants if you want them.”
I sit up in the bed and put my free arm around his neck and kiss him again. “I think I might keep you around for a bit longer.”
The sheet has dropped, baring my naked breasts, and Jett can’t help himself. He cups one of my breasts and rolls the nipple between his fingers. It feels so damn good and I close my eyes. When a soft moan escapes my lips, he chuckles. “You might not have any say in that. When I decide I’m going to have something, I don’t let anything get in my way.”
I open my eyes and raise my brows. “Oh, really? And you’ve decided on this already?”
His eyes hold mine, his gaze so intense I feel it in my core. The playfulness has disappeared completely and while I love fun, playful Jett, I’ve decided I can’t get enough of intense, holy-fucking-hell-he-wants-me-bad Jett.
Leaning his face close to mine, he speaks in a tone that leaves no confusion, “Yes, I’ve already decided on this. I want you, Presley, and I’ll do anything in my power to have you.”
My entire body hums with desire. Hearing a man say those words to you is a heady trip. The independent side of me battles with the side that wants a man to desire me and make me his number one priority in life. Miss Independent loses out and I close the distance between our lips and kiss him with the passion he stirs in me. “I want you, too, Jett.”
His hand has left my breast and now cups my cheek. Rubbing his thumb over my lips, he says, “Thank fuck for that.” Then he stands and looks at me with what seems to be regret. “I have to head into the studio. What are your plans for today?”
“I think I might do something mindless today. Maybe catch up on some TV or read a book.” I take a sip of the coffee he brought me, and thank the heavens for sending me a man who makes it a point to know what I love.
“You free tonight? Tom’s organised a dinner for the band, and I’d love you to come.”
“Maybe you should go on your own if it’s for the band.”
“No, I want you there. Besides, Van seems to like you, so I’m hoping you’ll put him in a good mood.”
“Oh, so really you’re just using me,” I tease him.
He grins. “Baby, I’d use you twenty-four hours of the day if I could swing it.”
“I’ll be there. Now go, before I try to tackle you and make you have sex with me.”
“Fuck me, the things that come out of that pretty little mouth of yours,” he mutters with a shake of his head. He bends and rests his hands on the bed while he kisses me. “I’ll swing by and pick you up at eight for dinner. Yeah?”
“Yeah,” I say softly, happiness swirling through me. I’m beginning to really settle into this relationship with Jett and am already looking forward to spending time with him tonight. The only thing causing me concern is that I still haven’t talked with him about the job offer from Diesel. I decide to do it after dinner tonight. The sooner we get that conversation out of the way, the better.
Three hours later, I’m engrossed in an episode of Nashville. Best show on TV, in my opinion, and I almost miss the sound of my phone ringing. Pausing the TV, because I can’t miss one freaking moment of watching Deacon on that show, I reach for my phone and frown at the private number listed as calling. Usually I don’t answer calls if I don’t know who it is, but today I’m in a good mood and decide to give them a go. It’s probably some phone company trying to sell me something, but I answer in a friendly voice, “You’ve got thirty seconds to convince me not to hang up.”
A deep chuckle resonates through the phone and for a moment, I’m caught off guard and my tummy flutters. That’s one damn sexy chuckle. But it isn’t Jett so I get myself together as the guy speaks. “Darlin’, if you gave me thirty seconds of your time in person, I could do things that would blow your mind and convince you of a lot more than never wanting to hang up on me again.”
His voice slides through me like Kentucky Fire Bourbon – smooth, wicked and oh so hot. Whoa, I bet this man melts panties wherever he goes. “Keep talking, you’ve got twenty seconds left.”
The deep chuckle turns into one of the sexiest laughs I’ve ever heard. “No, I think you should keep talking. I’m lovin’ the hell out of your bossy words.”
“Who am I talking to?” This conversation has me intrigued, and for the life of me I can’t begin to imagine who he is. Probably a wrong number because I’m not expecting any calls from a man with a voice that causes all the best kinds of sensations in a woman.
“My apologies, darlin’, I should have introduced myself, but damn, you got me all kinds of distracted. My name’s Diesel.” Diesel, lead singer of the band that carries his name. The band that has offered me the job.
“How did you get my number?” I demand.
“I’m not sure I should tell you. Seems to me like you might do serious damage to the person who gave it to me.”
“Just tell me, otherwise I’m going to assume who it was and hunt him down anyway,” I snap, irritated that he got my number.
“It was Michael, but go easy on the poor bastard. I wore him down until he gave it to me.”
