Page 33 of Pretty When It Burns (When The Lights Go Down #1)

Chapter thirty

"Bad Habits" - Nerv

Grayson

By the time we get back on the bus, I’m barely holding it together by the thinnest goddamn thread and praising God that the rest of our group hasn’t returned from their day-off outings yet.

Mia has been torturing me all damn day with those long legs wrapped in her denim skirt that barely qualifies as legal, her breathy little laugh when she leans in close, the whispered promise of later. When I found out she didn’t put on panties again, I almost lost my goddamn mind.

I have no idea how the hell I made it through the brunch, the beach, or the fan encounter without dragging her off to the nearest semi-private space and making good on all the delicious tension that’s been brewing beneath the surface all day sooner.

Every second until now has been a countdown to this—us, alone, with no one around to stop me from taking what’s mine.

As soon as the door to the bus clicks shut behind us and I engage the lock, it’s game over.

I don’t give her time to say a word. I grab her by the waist and turn her around, pinning her to the nearest flat surface with just enough force to make her gasp.

I love that sound so much, it nearly shatters me every time.

“You’ve been testing my fucking limits all day,” I growl against her neck as I grind my hips against her ass, already tugging against her damn skirt that I needed gone hours ago. “This skirt’s a damn crime.”

“Good,” she hums, her hands pressed against the wall for stability as she moves her hips in rhythm with mine. “I wanted to.”

Then she twists around in my grip and brushes her mouth against mine, her hands wandering up my thin black t-shirt as she drags it up my chest. She tosses it to the side before reclaiming my mouth, taking my bottom lip between her teeth like she wants to taste my patience before she breaks it.

I’m unhinged now, and completely hers.

I lift her effortlessly, her legs wrapping around me like it’s second nature as I stumble my way onto our bunk. The curtain hasn’t even slid shut before I have her on her back with her legs spread open like an invitation, most of the rest of our clothes discarded messily beside the bed.

I don’t hesitate. I need her.

Right. Fucking. Now.

I drop to my knees on the edge of the mattress while finally yanking off that damn skirt, dragging her hips to the edge of the bed. Running my fingers along the ache between her thighs, I curse as I feel how undone, how ready for me she is.

“I’ve only ever gotten to taste you off my fingers,” I murmur against the inside of her upper thigh, my voice hoarse and uneven. “I can’t wait to taste you for real.”

She whimpers as I hover my mouth at her center, hips twitching, already aching for me as she feels the warmth of my breath against her.

When I finally bury my face in the sweet heat between her thighs, she releases a beautiful moan—raw and unfiltered—that nearly pushes me over the edge. I let my tongue explore her as I use my thumb to rub slow circles over her clit.

She tastes like salted honey and sunshine and every fucking thing I never knew I needed. I devour her with long, devastating licks that leave her begging for more, like I’ve been dying of thirst and she’s the only thing that will quench it.

“Fuck, Grayson,” she cries. “Don’t stop!”

I love that she thinks I can.

As I tease her clit with my tongue, I slide two fingers into her to stroke the spot that makes her hips buck and her breath catch when I hit it.

With one perfectly timed flick of my tongue combined with the pressure inside, she comes apart in my mouth, her fingers gripping my hair tightly, her body shaking below me.

I don’t stop licking her through it until her thighs clamp tightly around my face and she puts a hand over her mouth to stifle the scream I desperately want to hear.

I groan against her, pulling her hand away and pinning it to the bed.

“Don’t you dare keep me from hearing you scream my name,” I rasp. “If I could hear one sound for the rest of my life, that would be it.”

I lick her one more time, slow and possessive, then crawl up her body, trailing kisses over her skin—her hips, her stomach, her breasts—before crashing my mouth into hers, letting her taste herself on my tongue as I wrap a hand around her throat and feel her pulse rocketing beneath my fingertips.

“You’re not done yet, sweetheart,” I tell her darkly. “Not even fucking close.”

She whimpers again when I shove my jeans down and line myself up, my cock pulsating and ready to explode at her entrance. Her eyes meet mine—wide, desperate, and ready.

“Now, Grayson,” she breathes. “Please.”

I sink into her with one long, deep thrust. My forehead leans against hers, looking directly into her eyes, our breathing perfectly aligned.

Her nails dig into the skin of my back like she’s trying to brand me, screaming my name like it’s the only thing on her mind.

I can barely hold back as I wrap her legs around my shoulders and drive into her over and over again with everything I have.

Every move I make is deliberate, every thrust designed to make her feel exactly how much I want—how much I need—to be close to her.

She looks completely wrecked—and fucking perfect.

“You like it like this, sweetheart?”

“Yes—fuck—Grayson—”

“That’s my good girl,” I purr in her ear. “Taking my cock like the needy girl you are. No one else touches you like this. No one else ever will.”

“Only you,” she gasps. “Only ever you—”

I can feel her getting close again as she tightens around me, and fuck, the way she promises me there will never be anyone else? It makes me forget that anything else matters. I crash into her harder and deeper as I chase her release like I need it to survive.

“I’m right here, baby,” I tell her, my voice low and raw. “I’m always gonna be right here.”

When she comes again, her body convulses around me and her eyes roll backwards as she grips the sheets in an attempt to ground herself. I follow with a groan so deep it feels like it cracks me wide open. I’ve never felt a release so sweet with anyone before as I spill into her with no regrets.

I collapse on top of her, still pulsing, still inside her with no intention of pulling out, our bodies slick and tangled and completely spent in the best way.

Even now, even in the quiet afterward, I don’t let her go. I can’t stop touching her. I kiss her shoulder. Her neck. Next to her ear while I whisper her name like it’s the only word I know.

She looks up at me with a sweet, satisfied, seductive smile and kisses me softly. “Worth the wait?”

I chuckle and kiss her temple. “You were worth every agonizing second, Mia.”

I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of her. But we have somewhere to be.

And the night? It’s just getting started.

After showering and getting ready, I pack my father’s old acoustic guitar and Mia’s camera gear into the Jeep. We drive over the bridge to Folly Beach just as the sun starts to melt into the horizon.

As we pull up to the beach club, it feels like we’ve been transported into an entirely different world.

I haven’t played a show like this—small, intimate, meaningful—since the early days when we scrounged up any gig we could find, usually in Venice dive bars that paid in cheap beer.

But here, the chaos of touring and the invasive headlines don’t exist.

The club is small but full of beachy charm.

It looks exactly like you’d expect it to, with string lights across the driftwood beams and the surfboards lining the walls.

It’s all open-air and also has a pretty killer deck that stretches out towards the water.

There are a good amount of people around; it seems like this place is a popular spot for the locals to hang out.

Tony and Brandon are already on the outdoor stage when Mia and I arrive, tuning the guitars and checking mics.

Two leggy blondes hovered nearby, flipping their hair and giggling a little too theatrically, obviously trying to get the guys to notice them.

Tony is basically fighting for his life not to engage.

I spot Johanna sitting at the bar, her legs crossed, sipping a glass of wine like she owns the whole damn coastline, watching Brandon just a little too closely. Brandon absolutely knows it, too, judging by the way his jaw tenses every time he catches her glance.

Eric and Rylee are engaged in their usual banter as they set up the sound cables and media equipment with the club’s sound crew. Rylee, of course, is in her element, taking the lead in over-enthusiastically directing everyone around, and Eric is clearly enjoying the show. Some things never change.

“I can’t believe you’re here!” a voice says from behind me and Mia.

It’s the fan from this afternoon, Emily, whose father owns the club. She looks even more excited now than when we’d run into her earlier.

“Of course we are,” I grin. “We said we’d be here, didn’t we?”

She clasps her hands together and sighs happily as though I just promised her a new puppy for Christmas.

“Everyone’s freaking out. This is the coolest thing that’s ever happened at this place.”

“I promise we’ll make it a great night,” Mia smiles before I pull her towards the back part of the stage area to warm up.

“Alright, ten-minute warning guys!” Jake barks, waving his favorite clipboard around with one hand and grasping his hard lemonade for dear life with the other. “And Tony, I swear to God—if you even think about getting naked in the ocean tonight, I will end you.”

I roll my eyes and wonder once again why I’d even told Jake about this show in the first place.

I run my fingers across the strings of my father’s guitar while Mia and I quietly sing through a few verses of each of the songs we’d decided to play.

More excited fans come into the club—locals, tourists, the curious, more than a few decked out in our merch.

They’re all chittering with excitement about the Grayson Harris and that girl from the Philly video performing at their favorite spot.

Eric perches on his stool with his guitar, waiting for us to join him, the rest of our group waiting in the audience with anticipation.

“You ready, beautiful?” I ask Mia, my hand brushing against hers.

She bites her lip briefly and the look in her eyes, the way they glow, reminds me how incredibly lucky I am that she's standing next to me.

“It gets a little more surreal every time I go out there,” she admits. “But yes. Let’s go crush it.”

I wink at her and smile, and we approach our mic stands. I pick up my dad’s guitar and we take a seat at our stools. The crowd is bigger than I expected—so much for low-key—but it’s still relatively casual.

They’re spread out on beach blankets and all of the picnic tables are filled. The sunset casts a glow over the stage and we can hear the waves crashing behind us. I look over to Eric and he nods. We’re ready to completely ruin people for any other live performance they’d ever see.

I lean into my mic. “Hey, Folly Beach. We’re Catastrophically Charismatic—or, what’s left of us when we go acoustic. Thanks for letting us crash your Wednesday night.”

A cheer erupts from the crowd, someone yelling out a loud “WE LOVE YOU, ERIC!” which makes us all laugh.

“Oh, and big thanks to Emily and her dad for setting this up,” I add, tipping my imaginary hat.

More cheers and clapping. The vibe is easy, electric. My favorite kind.

I glance toward Mia and grin into the microphone. “Also joining us tonight is our beautiful and multi-talented photographer, Mia Alexander. You may recognize her from that viral video of her completely stealing the show in Philly.”

The crowd whoops.

“She’s also my girlfriend… and the reason why our next album will probably be exclusively love songs. But you probably knew all of that already unless you’ve been living under a rock.”

Mia leans over from her stool to kiss my cheek, which makes the crowd explode.

“Anyway,” I say, strumming the first few chords of our opening number. “We figured we’d start with something you might know. This one’s called Collapse Into You.”