Love definitely wasn't on the setlist.
Opening for their idols on their first tour, Oblivion is living the dream. Mostly. Frustrated at being shoved out of his mediator role by their new manager, Deacon McCoy loses himself in brutal workouts. He only comes up for air long enough to refuel—and to tease the deliciously cute chef who makes him crave a lot more than what she's offering on her serving plate.
As the child of roadie parents, Harper Pruitt has heard every pickup line twice. To her, musicians are one step above the scraps on her cutting board. All she wants is to get enough experience to run her own catering company, but Deacon and his bottomless stomach are too tempting to resist. He's far from the typical rock star and before long, she finds herself experimenting with him, inside and out of the kitchen.
Apron - and panties - optional.
When Harper sees that Deacon’s dream band with his best friends may be turning into a nightmare, she can't walk away. Deacon's so much more than just a peacemaker and the man behind the bass. But she has her own dreams to chase...even if she's starting to think what she's building with him might be the biggest one of all.
She pulled her all-access pass out of her shirt and slipped past the barricades. More people blocked her way. Fans with VIP access, concert promoters with clipboards, roadies pulling down one stage set up for another, bands of every fandom, all of them held her back.
Then she saw him. Head and shoulders over most people, he was easy to pluck from the crowd. A circle of reporters tightened around them with Simon and Jazz holding court. She bypassed all of them to get to the back of the pack. All the while, Deacon’s shoulders were in her sights.
She snaked through security until finally, his warm skin was under her hands. He didn’t immediately recognize her touch. How could he? Constantly pawed at by fans and security pushing him from section to section back stage, he had to be immune to skin on skin contact.
But then he stilled, and his wide palm covered hers. He laced his fingers through hers to hold her hand against his lower belly. She pressed her nose into his back and drew in the healthy scent of him. Warm, clean sweat and the ocean. God, she’d missed being near him.
He lifted his arm to pull her forward, but she tugged him backwards until every firm line of him was pressed up against her.
She slid their linked fingers along the loose waistband of his jeans. His groan of understanding was exactly what she was hoping for. She rose on her toes and got as close to his ear as possible. “Come with me.”
He looked around. She could taste the indecision on him. Responsibilities were such a large part of Deacon. Just as she was going to tell him no, not to leave his band right now, he hooked his arm around her waist and turned her into the backstage area.
Years of touring had netted her a few tips when it came to the inner workings of a festival. Wordlessly they circumvented the small backstage to the rockface that butted up to the back of the amphitheater.
She dragged him around the still sunbaked, nature-made wall until the sounds of people faded. He crowded into her back, his hand above her head on the rocks. His chin brushed along her neck. “I’ve missed you.”
Harper closed her eyes as his lips coasted up her neck, groaning when he nipped her earlobe before brushing his nose around the shell of her ear.
“I can’t wait, Deacon.”
He stilled behind her. “Here?”
She nodded. His music inside her and now his skin behind her. She didn’t want to think, didn’t want to pick apart the why they should, why they shouldn’t. She just wanted him to fill the ache. She rubbed her ass along the front of his jeans and stepped into one of the crevices in the boulder in front of her. She gained a few precious inches in height.
Cripes, she probably looked like a groupie in heat, but right now she didn’t care. She was a groupie in heat. She was his groupie. And she wanted him to use her, plunge inside her with all that raging energy from the stage.
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The Authors
TARYN ELLIOTT comes from the great state of New York—upstate, thank you very much. She’s usually busy making up stories with her best friend until the wee hours of the morning, or fangirling over her favorite TV show. She falls in love with each and every one of her leading men as she writes their book, and there’s always a soundtrack to match.She loves talking to readers, so if you’d like to reach her, please visit her website: tarynelliott.com and sign up for her newsletter.
USA TODAY BESTSELLING AUTHOR CARI QUINN saves the world one Photoshop file at a time in her job as a graphic designer. At night, she writes sexy romance, drinks a lot of coffee and plays her music way too loud. When she’s not scribbling furiously, she’s watching men’s college basketball, reading excellent books and causing trouble. Sometimes simultaneously.
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