Finale

When music legend Jonathan Levant dies in a motorcycle accident, no one is more stunned than his former lover Olivia Gray, a hedonistic ex-celebrity who learns she’s been inexplicably named the guardian of his children. Olivia’s reluctant acceptance of the new parental role obliterates her hope of resurrecting her songwriting career as she faces sarcastic teenagers, suicide attempts and séances. The upset to her self-indulgent life forces Olivia to finally face the truth about the cruel decisions of her wild past, her now uncertain future and her secret, turbulent relationship with a man who, even in death, continues to upend her world.

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Excerpt

I couldn’t tell you what time it was—all I knew was that the sky was dark when Jonathan and I scampered outside to have yet another cigarette break. We’d taken down the clock in the studio at Jonathan’s request, so we “wouldn’t feel the pressure of time” while writing.

If someone were to ask, I would’ve denied it, of course, but truth was I’d never had such a good time creating music before. Jonathan had a way of making the experience seem less like a chore, less like something I felt like I had to do and more like something I wanted to do. The music came easily to us, and we collaborated on every note, analyzed every poignant pause. At first it drove me crazy to have my authority and expertise questioned, debated, but he somehow made my irritation subside by never being pushy or arrogant, like he knew he had to tread carefully. One wrong word or badly phrased sentence could send me right out the door. To my great surprise, I remained in my seat, next to him on the bench. I found it—his body heat, his teasing, his presence, the moment—more comforting than I could admit to.

Jonathan was not actually on a smoke break, like I was, but an alcohol break. He’d disappeared into the liquor store across the street and retrieved for us a box of merlot. He came back, wielding it over his head triumphantly, and I laughed. “Boxed wine? Very classy.”

“Very classy wine for very classy people.”

He slung his arm around me like we were two teenagers heading to a bonfire, and I admittedly didn’t mind. “Creative juices for our creative juices. Shall we drink to it?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

We wandered back inside the studio, the halls nearly empty. Most people had already gone home, save for a bored-looking security guard listening to a radio and working on a logic puzzle. He was so old I doubted he could keep anything secure. Jonathan and I drifted past the guard, exchanging nods, and returned to our room, which had become our home during the past few hours.

Jonathan wrinkled his nose as he placed the boxed wine atop the piano. “I guess you don’t happen to have any wineglasses on you.”

“Sorry, must’ve left them in the other purse.”

“Smart ass. Be right back.” He disappeared down the hall, leaving me time to wonder about what had transpired during the evening. We were nearly done with the song, and I hated to admit it was one of the better songs I’d ever written. Was it because it was going to truly be mine? Or was it because it was part Jonathan’s? I couldn’t bear to think of him being better than me at anything, especially my livelihood. I didn’t want to imagine I was good only when I was with him.

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He returned with small paper cups, the kind stacked by water coolers. “This is all I could find.”

“How elegant.”

“It was this or suck it straight from the box.” He held one cup under the spigot, let the red stream flow into it then handed it to me. “Ladies first.”

“Thanks.” I took a sip and grimaced. There was an unspoken rule among the wealthy to never drink anything that came in a box. I understood why.

Jonathan swilled from his own cup as we both sat at the bench again. “From the top?”

“I heard it’s the best place to start.”

“This time let’s hear a little less from Jonathan and a little more from Olivia.” He slanted me a look.

“I can tell you’re holding back when you sing. Something’s not quite there yet.”

“No kidding.” I rolled my eyes, trying to suppress the sudden feelings of insecurity. “I’m not the singer here, Levant.”

“Bullshit, you’re just being shy.” He flashed me a grin. “Although I don’t know why. You’ve always been quite the extrovert from what I’ve seen.”

That was certainly true enough. I hardly felt the part now however. As if he could tell, he refilled my cup and passed it back to me. “Whenever you’re ready.”

His patience was too much. I didn’t know whether to hug him or kick him off the bench. Why wasn’t he yelling at me to get my act together? Instead, he humored me, babied me. The reminder caused me to swallow my wine in one gulp and I played a quick, complicated riff on the piano. “All right, let’s do this.”

“That’s what I like to hear.” The opening notes to the song sounded as Jonathan’s hands danced over the polished keys. I watched him in my peripheral vision, still so innocent and boyish looking, yet very much a man. It was an intensely sensual combination. I had to remind myself that he was the enemy. If I lost sight of that, I had a horrible suspicion I’d continue to lose much more.

I wouldn’t be afraid. If Jonathan could do it, so could I.

“There’s always someone who wants exactly what you want.” Jonathan’s eyes darted to me after he opened with the chorus.

“And, honey, I want to give you what you need,” I finished, pretending to have succumbed to the wine’s known effects sooner than I should have.

He looked so pleased. “We’ve been meshing, moving, fusing together…”

“I know for sure you’re important to me.”

We lapsed into the bridge together. “Can’t speak ‘cause I’m afraid of the ‘I love you’ on my tongue… Can’t speak, can’t speak…”

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When the song concluded, Jonathan turned to me. “That was so much better, Liv. I knew you had it in you.” His eyes, a warm brown, glowed with pride. “Need another shot of liquid courage?”

“Of course.” I passed him my empty cup, wishing his encouraging words weren’t exactly what I needed to hear.

He obliged. “So alcohol really is the answer?”

“As if that weren’t obvious enough.”

We continued mastering the song, each of us taking turns sharing the piano. With the help of borrowed bravery, I let my voice gain in volume and power. I wouldn’t be breaking champagne glasses with my range any time soon, but I was impressed with myself. I could pull off a deep, seductive voice, and all it took was boxed wine and Jonathan Levant forcing me into this situation. I felt tipsy enough to give him some credit.

“We’ll have to round up Dev and the gang to come back tomorrow so we can lay down the track.” Jonathan stood, swaying slightly, and stretched his palms to the florescent lighting with a strained groan of satisfaction.

Memories of the terrible, spoiled way I’d acted earlier came to mind. “They probably won’t want to after today.”

“Is that a hint of regret I hear?” Jonathan’s mouth fell open as he mocked me with his eyes. “Don’t worry. They’ll be back. After all, they like me.”

“Can’t imagine why.” I rose to my feet, mirroring his stretch with one of my own, my once again empty cup in my hand.

“You can’t?” He took a step closer and instinctively I took one back, the bench separating us. “Why not?”

I gave a snort, like I wouldn’t condescend answering his ridiculous question, but he’d thrown me for a loop. I was confused by the direction this conversation was very quickly heading, as well as any sound reasoning to back my side of the argument. I actually completely agreed with him. Why not, indeed?

I realized then my previous shyness had everything to do with not wanting to feel stupid in front of Jonathan Levant. But why? What was so great about him? He probably made a fool out of himself every day.

Like it’d been my intent all along, I circled the piano, stood in front of the wine and casually refilled my cup. I was all too aware of Jonathan standing far too close on my left. I’d no sooner taken a sip when he asked, “Am I making you nervous?”

I spun around, my back against the piano and my heart pounding. “Why would you say that, Mr. Levant?”

“Ah, answering a question with a question—a sure sign of nerves.” He gave me a rakish grin and took a step closer to me, an act that made my mouth dry. “You know, before it was always ‘kiddo’ or a sarcastic ‘Johnnie.’” He placed his palms on the piano, trapping me in from all sides as he leaned toward me, unapologetically self-assured and sexy. “Now I’m Mr. Levant. What’s changed?”

“Absolutely nothing.” Faced with the inevitable and desperate for control, I closed the paltry distance between us, pressing my lips against his. Plusher than I’d remembered. He groaned softly but responded accordingly in a way that made my mind cloud with want.

We slid to the floor, trading open-mouthed, end-of-the-world kisses. My eyes rolled to the back of my head as his fingers slid beneath my shirt to cup my breast, plucking my sensitive nipples to life. His tongue licked a path down my throat, and my breath hitched at the expertise of his touch and the surprising reaction it evoked in me.

This was not the Jonathan Levant I knew, yet it was, a reminder that further triggered my arousal.

“Isn’t this the part where you push me away?” he murmured in my ear as he tore the shirt from my body with an urgency that excited me. “Aren’t you supposed to make a dramatic exit after yelling at me for taking advantage of you?”

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I couldn’t believe he wanted to trade quips at a time like this, let alone had the ability to do so. I shook the fog of desire from my head and forced myself to be Olivia again—the Olivia capable of rational thought who did not allow good-looking boys to dictate her emotions for better or worse.

“Who says I’m the one being taken advantage of?” I asked, reaching between us to give his cock, still confined in his pants, a pointed squeeze.

“All right.” His body trembled with a shudder of pleasure, but he covered my hand with his and rolled us over so I was pinned to the floor, his body wedged between my open legs. “Have your way with me then.”

“That would sound more believable if you were on the bottom.” I was proud of myself for regaining a bit of self-control, but that small amount vanished once again when Jonathan reared back and tugged down my pants, taking my panties with them.

He didn’t even bother with his half of our witty repartee. Instead, I watched him simultaneously whimper and swallow hard, and then, like he’d had enough with wasting time, his head was between my legs, teasing my pussy with his lips.

I sucked in two deep lungfuls of air at the sudden sensation and rose on my elbows to watch, half of me so stunned this was really happening that it needed to be seen with my own eyes. The sight of his disheveled blond head between my splayed legs, moving from side to side as he alternated between light kisses, gentle sucks, hard flicks of his tongue and back again was nearly my undoing.

I squeezed my eyes shut and gritted my teeth in an effort to get it together, but it only resulted in intensifying the feeling of what his mouth was doing to me. I wondered how he became so good at eating pussy, who taught him and how many he’d reduced to screams like this. I’d never been the jealous type—there hadn’t ever been much to get jealous about—but even if I was the kind to be envious of past lovers, the thought of Jonathan doing the same to someone else was heady, erotic. I imagined him kneeling between the thighs of some blond, naked nymphette and licking her to high-pitched ecstasy with his talented tongue, and I felt close to that ecstasy myself.

A series of needy whimpers reached my ears, and it startled me after a moment to realize they were coming from me. Who’d ever expected this—wholesome Jonathan Levant, fresh from the land of milk and honey, making dark, jaded Olivia Gray insane with passion? Although, put like that, it didn’t sound so unlikely after all but rather the sexiest, most natural thing I’d ever heard.

His tongue dipped into me, tasting the hot liquid pooling in my cunt, as his thumb continued to manipulate my clit. The juxtaposition of the two dissimilar yet incredibly satisfying sensations sent me into overload. I grabbed two fistfuls of his golden mane, holding him to me as I came against his mouth, my teeth nearly severing my lower lip in an effort to fight against the howl that wanted to tear from my lips. It wasn’t possible that he should be able to make me come like that.

I maneuvered us so that I was on top, and as my lips trailed from his broad chest to his narrow waist to his trembling abdomen, I told myself that I was doing this to get back the upper hand I’d temporarily succumbed, not because I craved his cock in my mouth. My clit, still buzzing from my orgasm, insisted I wasn’t even fooling myself, let alone Jonathan. But going by the smoky look in his smoldering dark eyes and the way he sucked on his lower lip in expectation, he wasn’t in any mood to pass judgment on me.

I lowered the zipper on his pants and tugged his cock free to the sound of his shaky sigh. I took the tip in my mouth, sucking softly, then choked on a moan of surprise as he released a needy groan and pushed my head down, urging me to take him further between my lips. The take-charge, I-can’t-wait-anymore motion on his part sent a jolt to my aching cunt. I wrapped a hand around his cock, fisting it as my tongue laved his purpling head and teased his slit, lapping away drops of pre-cum. He tasted clean and boyish with a hint of rock and roll, and it crumbled my resolve to stay in control. It was impossible not to want more of him, a realization that drove me crazy for so many reasons.

His hands were on my shoulders, tugging me up, and again I was on my back with him between my legs, his pants midway down his thighs and the look in his eyes so hungry it unnerved me like nothing else ever had. Rattled, I tore my gaze from his and raised my knee, letting the heel of the cream-colored, open-toed shoe I still wore graze his lower back. The other had rolled somewhere beneath the piano. “You’re getting sloppy, Levant. In your haste to get me naked, you forgot a shoe.”

I heard him growl from the back of his throat. “Leave it.” Then, without further hesitation, he grabbed my raised leg behind my knee and slid inside me in one fluid stroke.

A strangled cry instantly exploded from me at the sensation, and every nerve in my body tensed as Jonathan fell into a timeless rhythm, his eyes squeezed shut as if in concentration and his lips pressed together in a thin, colorless line. He still gripped my leg, his grip growing tighter and the feeling only increasing the intensity of the moment for me.

I wanted so badly not to enjoy it—him—but my begging my own body not to betray me only intensified my pleasure tenfold. I reached for his face and stroked his cheek, my hand disappearing in his hair and capturing a handful of it at the nape of his neck. I tugged him toward me and his eyes opened, surprising me with the emotion found there. His mouth greedily devoured mine as his hand left my leg for my clit, circling it with intoxicating skill. My breath came in gasps with his every stroke, and I drew away from his kiss to release a scream of pleasure as my muscles clenched around him, a signal for him to follow suit. He tensed and shuddered over me, exhaling a quivering breath as he came, then bowed his damp forehead against my shoulder.

I lay beneath him, trying to catch my breath and decide if what happened was a mistake. To this day, the answer remains debatable.

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