Nashville Boxed Set #1-3 Read online

  I thought of Dex’s deep sexy voice saying my name and felt myself blushing all over again. “No.”

  Dillon gave me a small smile. “Well, whoever he is, if he made you blush, he’s a lucky guy.”

  Chapter Four

  I slammed the phone down and marked the name of another studio off my list.

  “Well, it’s official. I’m screwed.”

  Becca stopped applying her third coat of mascara and looked at me. “Really? Big Toad was booked, too? That place is a dump.”

  I stood up and got a glass of water from the tap. “Apparently this contest is big news and everybody and their brother has booked studio time to get a new CD together in time. Nobody has any space until after the contest deadline. Nobody I can afford, anyway.”

  “That sucks.”

  “Yeah.” I picked up the contest flyer and frowned at it. It was no wonder everyone in town was so jazzed about this thing. Half the battle was getting your stuff past the administrative assistants and into the earshot of someone who could actually do something if they liked your music. Getting to the semi-finals guaranteed you’d at least be heard by someone looking for talent. And if you made it to the top ten, there was a television special. A sort of on-air talent contest. Even the losers of that gig would come out winners. The exposure was golden, and a lot of times, just standing out from the crowd of others hoping to make it big in country music was half the battle.

  Of course not having a demo to submit to the open call wasn’t going to get me anywhere.

  “The guys don’t have any of the old ones?”

  “Already checked,” I said wadding up my list and tossing it in the garbage. The flyer I put on the beat up old fridge with the guitar-shaped magnet I’d bought at the first gas station I’d stopped at when I crossed the Tennessee state line. I thought it would be my good luck charm. What an idiot.

  Becca put down the make-up. “You could call Dex Wilder.”

  “No. Absolutely not.”

  “Why?” she came out of the bathroom and put a tube of lipstick in her purse. “He called you first. And he has your disc. Maybe he’ll mail it to you.” She grinned. “Or maybe he’s got a studio in his house. He could give you a little one-on-one time.”

  I gave her the look. “No way.” Even though it was an idea I had briefly entertained, I had banished it almost immediately. I knew Dex would probably help me out. And it wasn’t that I thought he’d be another Ron Lennart, wanting to trade studio time for bedroom time. It wasn’t Dex I didn’t trust. It was me.

  Plus, I hadn’t returned his message from the other night. What did you say to a guy you’d let chain you to his shower and do all sorts of delicious things to you, only to skip out when he turns his back? Emily Post didn’t cover that situation. I’d looked.

  “I can’t call him.”

  Becca shrugged. “If you want a shot at the recording contract, I don’t think you have another option.”

  I crossed my arms over my chest. “I hate it when you’re right.”

  Becca blew me a kiss and winked before heading to the door. She had a date and, from the care she’d taken in getting ready and the handful of condoms she’d stuffed into her purse, I knew I wouldn’t see her before morning.

  The apartment was relatively quiet for a Thursday night, and it was rare occasion when I didn’t have to work or sing. I flipped through our basic cable stations but nothing caught my attention.

  I got up and wandered to the fridge, but nothing caught my attention there, either. I considered working on my song, but my mind had not stopped turning over the problem with the demo and I knew my muse wouldn’t come out to play tonight. I didn’t see a way to get myself into the contest. Not without a CD.

  I grabbed a Diet Coke from the fridge and went to my bedroom. I’d listen to some music, get my mind off certain problems and certain people and maybe the muse would make an appearance. Road Kill and I usually covered well-known stuff, but they let me work in a few of my own songs every now and then. Dillon wrote with me sometimes, working out the guitar parts, while I was the lyric and melody half of the writing team.

  I turned on the radio and lay on my bed, closing my eyes. I listened idly for awhile, just drifting, trying to relax, maybe even on the verge of sleep, when an idea struck me.

  It was that first taste of passion, of connection, of chemistry. A passionate encounter that took two people by surprise with its strength, its unexpectedness. I pictured Dex kicking out that spotlight. I thought about how good his hands had felt on my body. How his kiss had been like a lifeline to me at that moment.

  A new melody began to stream through my head. Harder. High-energy. Driving. I sat up, switched off the radio and grabbed my notebook to write down what I heard in my head.

  I liked the harder edge to the chorus that kept running through my mind as well as the softer parts in between. It had a driving bass, the kind you feel in the pit of your stomach. The kind that mimics the act the song describes. I liked the long looks, the sensuality of it. An hour passed. Then two, and I was still scribbling, still hearing music in the silence of my bedroom. It was sexy and sweet, too. Sort of a look back, but also right in the moment.

  The problem was the ending. A song was like a story, and I didn’t yet know how my story ended. What happened when that hot glow was over? Did my lovers part ways and only know each other in memories from that point forward? Or did that one night stand turn into more? I didn’t know. I just didn’t know.

  Images of Dex nude and smiling over at me invaded my scattered thoughts. I was getting warm just thinking about how much I’d wanted him. How just hearing his voice on the message I hadn’t returned had made my gut clench and my body flush. His scent was still vivid in my mind. So were his taste and the way he’d held my head when he kissed me.

  The jingle of my cell jolted me out of my thoughts. Flustered, I grabbed for the phone and answered it before I looked at the caller ID.

  “Hello?”

  “What are you wearing?”

  My eyes flew open. I recognized the deep, rich voice immediately, of course. I’d just been fantasizing about it.

  “Dex.”

  He laughed. “Was it that obvious?”

  I smiled, too. “Yeah. It was. I don’t get many obscene phone calls these days.”

  “I guess I’ll have to call more, then.”

  I didn’t know how to answer. I knew he was a big-time flirt and probably had a blond on his lap right now.

  I decided to keep it light. “So what are you wearing?”

  “Right now?”

  “Yeah.” I rolled to my side and closed my eyes.

  “Sweatpants.”

  “Oooh. Sexy.”

  He laughed. “I just got out of the shower.”

  Now there was an image. Tingles raced up my spine and I knew he was remembering a certain shower we’d shared. “Did you have a show tonight?” I asked.

  I heard ice clink and what sounded like soda filling a glass. “Yeah. Houston. We’re getting ready to head back east. We have a stop in Memphis tomorrow night, then we’re home for a few days.”

  “Well, it must not have been much of a show.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t hear a party this time in the background. Unless it’s just a party for two tonight.”

  I bit my lip. I didn’t want to sound like I cared about what he did. It wasn’t as if we were anything more than a couple of people who had hooked up once or twice.

  I could hear the smile in his voice. “No, I’m flying solo tonight. You?”

  “Nobody home but me and the cockroaches.”

  “Damn, wish I was there.”

  This was so awkward, like high school all over again, only without the zits.

  “Why?” I sounded a little too breathy, even to my own ears.

  “I think you know.” His voice was huskier now, an octave deeper. It sounded like he was right there with me. Heat stirred low in my belly.

  “Oh yeah?�
�� I couldn’t resist. Working on that song about sex and passion and heat, well, it had gotten me a little hot.

  “Yeah.” The ice clinked again and I heard him swallow. “Are you sitting or standing?”

  I knew where this was leading, I knew it was a bad idea. I just couldn’t remember why.

  “I’m lying down on my bed.”

  He groaned. “You’re killing me. Are you naked?”

  “Not yet.” I rolled to my back and popped the button on my fly. “I’m unzipping my jeans.

  “Take them off.”

  I pushed the denim over my hips and kicked them to the floor.

  “What do your panties look like?”

  It was laundry day. I was wearing a pair of ratty old cotton granny panties. “Satin. Black g-string.”

  He grunted low in his throat.

  “Take off your top.”

  I set the phone down and turned off the bedside light before tugging my tank top off over my head. I put the phone back to my ear. “It’s off.”

  “I’m on my bed now, too. It’s dark and all I can hear is the hum of the bus’s engine and your voice.”

  I closed my eyes.

  “Why don’t you take off your sweats?” I said in a slow, deep whisper.

  “Ok.” There was a soft shuffling sound and my pulse went up a notch, just imagining him clean and damp from his shower, lying there in the dark in the middle of his bed wearing nothing but a pair of clinging boxer briefs.

  “Ok. I’m naked.”

  “No underwear?” I amended my mental image and my pulse went up another notch.

  “No.” I could hear the smile in his voice and warmth rushed straight to the pit of my stomach.

  “Your turn,” he said. “Take off your bra.”

  I smiled this time. “Not wearing one.”

  He groaned. “Panties, then. Take off your panties, Sydney.”

  My name on his lips sent a rush of heat straight to my sex. I was already lifting my hips to slide the granny panties over my hips and off.

  “Ok. They’re off.” I rubbed a hand over my torso, my skin already heating, wondering how far he would take this.

  I should have known by now that Dex was not the kind of guy to do anything halfway. It was all the way or nothing. And tonight, I was fine with that.

  “God, Sydney. I can just imagine you lying there, all that gorgeous blond hair spread out over your pillow.”

  I tugged out the band that had held my hair back into a messy ponytail and spread it out, just as Dex had described.

  “Yeah,” I said softly.

  “Touch yourself, Syd. Touch those gorgeous breasts for me.”

  My hand went to my breast and I cupped it briefly before moving my fingers over my nipples. I shuddered at the easy pleasure of it.

  “Are you doing it?”

  “Yeah,” I breathed.

  “Tell me what it feels like.”

  “I feel tingly all over. Especially when I pinch my nipple a little.”

  “I want to put my mouth on you. I want to feel that hard little peak on my tongue.”

  “Me too.”

  I was getting hot. My hips moved of their own volition and the sheet was getting all messed up. My skin burned where my hand teased my breast and in the dark, I could hear every intake of Dex’s breath. Every movement he made came through crystal clear.

  I pictured him lying there on his bed. “Now you,” I said, still massaging my breast. “Touch yourself.”

  “Where?”

  “Run your hand down your chest. Slowly.” I took a shaky breath. “Now down over your abs to your cock.”

  “God, Sydney.” He groaned and I knew he had that big, hard cock in his hand.

  “Now stroke yourself. Slowly.”

  I licked my lips, wishing my hands were on his body.

  “I’m so hard for you, baby.” His breath whistled through his teeth and I squirmed, imagining him pleasuring himself, thinking of me.

  “You. You, too.” He gasped. “Touch yourself.”

  I didn’t need to be told twice. I slid my hands over my soft belly to the damp curls between my thighs.

  “Are you wet for me?”

  “Oh yeah,” I said, rubbing the slickness over my opening. “Really wet. And hot.”

  “Oh, God. Put your fingers inside.”

  I slipped two fingers inside my swollen sex and couldn’t stifle the groan.

  “That’s right, baby. In and out.” He was out of breath and I imagined him stroking himself faster and faster, his movements matching mine.

  I bit my lip and squeezed my eyes shut. Pressure built inside me and I squeezed my legs together. Usually this wasn’t enough to get me off, but here, in the darkness, with Dex’s voice in my ear, knowing he was touching that big beautiful cock of his at the same time I was touching myself, well, it was more than enough.

  “Feel good, baby?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Faster now.”

  I squeezed my eyes shut as pressure built and built inside me. I wedged the phone between my shoulder and my ear and used my other hand to rub my clit. Pleasure spiked through me.

  “I’m…using both hands, now. God. It feels so good.”

  “I know, baby.” He was almost panting now.

  “I’m so wet for you Dex…I don’t think I can—”

  “I’m right with you, baby. Come on, Come with me.”

  My nipples tingled, my skin burned. Blood pumped through my body fast enough to make me dizzy. The friction of my fingers, the pressure on my sweet spot, the heat, the wetness, the sound of Dex stroking his cock right in my ear, it all coalesced in an instant in a blinding flash.

  I cried as the pleasure overtook me in hot waves and wanted to sob with the pure sensation of it.

  I heard Dex’s deep groan and gasp, too, and knew that he’d come. Thinking of all that juice squirting over his hot, hard abs made another twinge of pleasure reverberate through my sweaty body.

  “Are you Ok?” I asked after a moment.

  “Yeah. You?” He was still panting.

  “That was…I’ve never done that before.”

  “Never gotten yourself off?”

  “No. I mean, yes, but not…over the phone.”

  “Me neither.”

  I brushed a sweaty tendril of hair off my forehead and sat up.

  “Really?” It gave more sort of a perverse thrill to know that he wasn’t burning up the lines every night of the week talking dirty to a different girl. It made me feel a little less like a groupie.

  “Nope. Never.”

  “Huh.”

  “I think I’m going to need another shower. I’m a sticky mess again, thanks to you.”

  Yum. “You started it,” I said playfully.

  “Yeah. I did.” He didn’t sound the least bit sorry. I wasn’t either. “But that’s not why I called.”

  I swung my legs to the side of the bed and turned on the light. “Why did you call?”

  There was a long pause. “I just wanted to talk to you.” Another pause. “You left pretty suddenly the other night. I thought we were going to grab some dinner.”

  “Well, I…remembered something I had to do,” I said. It sounded like a lie, even to my ears.

  “Ok.” He said after a minute. “Fair enough.”

  I cleared my throat. “I’m glad you called, too.”

  “You are?” the smile was back in his voice.

  “Yeah. I left my demo in your dressing room and I kind of need it back.”

  “Oh.” Was that disappointment?

  “There’s this contest I want to enter and that was my last copy.”

  I heard him take a drink. “Did you write those songs on the demo?”

  “Yes.” I fidgeted. It was hard sharing your stuff with someone whose opinion you cared about. “Mostly.”

  “They’re good, Sydney. Really good.”

  My chest fluttered at his praise. “Thank you.”

  “Tell you what. I’ll
give you back your CD if you’ll have dinner with me, at my house on Saturday night.”

  A little thrill of anticipation shot through me.

  “At your house?”

  “Yeah.” He paused and I could tell he was uncomfortable. “Sometimes it’s hard to go out. Especially if you really want to talk to the person you’re eating with. Get to know them better.”

  I swallowed. This was dangerous territory and I was slipping fast.

  “What if I say no to dinner?”

  “I’ll still give you the disc.” He paused. “But I’d really like to see you again, Sydney. Show you my place.”

  “OK,” I said before I could over think things. “What time do you want me there?”

  “Eight.” Dex was smiling again. “And wear that black g-string.”

  Chapter Five

  Beyond the major interstates and the city blocks surrounding my apartment, I was hopelessly lost when it came to navigating Nashville. So many freeways crisscrossed, ran on top of each other and had signage that made no earthly sense, it usually rendered internet-produced directions completely useless. I had literally thrown them out the window on a couple of frustrating occasions before I got a phone with GPS. So after spending way too much time picking out a little black dress, doing my hair and applying make-up, I left my apartment plenty early for the dinner date at Dex’s house.

  Dex lived south of Nashville in an area where many wealthy music industry people lived, and passing all the mansions and gated communities and fancy shopping malls with store names I only saw on Sex and the City, I was feeling totally out of my element.

  What the hell was I doing? A hook up—ok, two—and a little phone sex was one thing. Going to his house for dinner—that was something else. A moment of weakness after an amazing phone-sex orgasm, maybe. Sure, I needed that demo back, but if I was honest with myself, I wanted to see him, too. Sex with him was becoming like a drug. The more I had, the more I wanted, even though I knew it was a very bad idea. I wasn’t the fuck-friend kind of girl and that was the only way I could see this thing going.

  GPS didn’t fail me and I headed west out of Brentwood. I passed multi-million dollar gated homes, beautiful mansions set high on hilltops peeking through trees and long, winding driveways with intricate landscaping that probably cost more than I made in a year just in up-keep.