Deacon McCoy stared at his phone. “C’mon. Light up. A text—something.”

“You’re just going to have to go kidnap her.”

Deacon glanced over at the couch where Jazz Edwards sat cross-legged tapping away on her laptop. The drummer for their band, Oblivion, was decidedly un-Jazz like tonight wearing old jeans and a simple black t-shirt. Her dark hair was minus the colorful doodads he was used to. Though that could be because they were all subsisting on three hours of sleep at night.

The new album was freaking killing them.

Deacon stepped over his body bag sized duffel by the door and sat beside her. The house they were renting was decidedly smaller than the penthouse they’d been living in for the last six months. First of all it was a house. They’d lived in the city for so long, the idea of a backyard—okay, so it was a small backyard, but it had grass—was the main reason they’d signed the lease. Like the rest of the place, it required a bit of sweat and creativity, but hey…look at that—it didn’t require their soul.

Evidently they were saving that for the studio. He was tired as hell, and the writing was going…not well. They were fighting over lyrics, fighting over chord progressions, fighting over damn near everything. And if he didn’t get away from the entire band for a few days, he was pretty sure there would be bloodshed.

And not his own.

Possibly Simon’s. At least as of noon that day. Yesterday had been Gray. When he’d started snapping at Jazz, Deacon had known it was time to get the hell away from everyone. Yelling at Jazz was like dropkicking a kitten. Not done. Ever. With Christmas just around the corner, it was a good time to take a break. An even better time to drag his wife away for an actual honeymoon.

Wife.

Shit, it still felt strange on his tongue. Strange in a good way. In the best way, actually.

But there had been no time to write a damn thank you card let alone enjoy being married. The band had dived into the studio practically the day after the ceremony. And Harper McCoy was officially starting a new business. In true Harper fashion, she’d hit the ground running. Donovan Lewis, the head of their new label, Ripper Records, had used her for a last minute dinner party, and that had snowballed into a fledgling roster of clients.

The fact that Donovan seemed to know everyone in the state of freaking California certainly helped. Harper had gone from stressing about finding a client to actually having to turn a few down. Something she’d been loath to do.

But tonight was the last job she had until Christmas Eve. Again, she would be working for Donovan for his big end of the year Christmas bash. So their first Christmas would be full of pastries and canapés and one tired chef that wouldn’t feel like celebrating.

They needed this time away. They’d been in high gear since they’d met. And getting their schedules to mesh took an act of Congress, for fuck’s sake.

They were going on this honeymoon.

No matter what.

He hauled ass off the couch when his phone’s face lit up.

“Stop grinning at the phone and go. You’re making me sick.”

Deacon leaned over and pressed a kiss to Jazz’s forehead. “What are you going to do around here without me, Pix?”

“If the rest of them are still breathing when you get back, let’s count that as a win.”

Deacon crouched in front of her. “Maybe you should get away for a while, too.”

“What? And leave all this?” She waved around the room. Purple and red Christmas lights framed the huge bay window that looked down on the Hollywood Hills, with its wild mixture of green and desert. Huge L-shaped couches framed the room, making the living room ideal for practice as much as it was for relaxation. Guitar cases littered every corner, as well as a keyboard, cowbell, drumsticks, and a half dozen amps that formed a semi-circle around the Christmas tree stuffed in the corner closest to the window. In the middle of it all were his kettlebell weights for workouts. Jazz was forever banging on them no matter how many times he took them away from her.

They’d downsized in a big way, yet this place felt far more like a home than the penthouse ever did.

Deacon tugged a lock of her hair. “We’re just getting our bearings, Pix.”

“Yeah, I know.” She sighed and flashed a bright smile his way. It wasn’t full Jazz wattage, but it was better. “Go.” She unfolded her leg and pushed him in the shoulder with her foot. “Have fun. Don’t think about us for a whole week. And if you call and check on me, I will ignore every call and text.”

Deacon grinned and stood. “I think I might be otherwise engaged.”

This time her grin was a little truer. “I just bet.”

He headed to the door. With one last look over his shoulder, he slung the huge duffel over his shoulder as well as the small overnight bag Harper had packed.

They needed this time away. He missed spending time with Harper. Between the late night sessions at the studio and her crack of dawn schedule, they’d done little more than reach for each other in the dark.

He tucked the bags into the beater of a truck they both shared, hopped in, and backed out of the circular driveway. He kept it in low gear as he made his descent onto Mulholland, which brought him back toward the city. Deacon liked living on the outskirts of Los Angeles. He could think, and he could run every day. Two of the things he’d thought were near impossible when they’d been in the heart of L.A. He dug under his seat for the GPS, tossing the bean bag base onto the dash. He’d helped bring supplies to the catering job so he had a good idea where he was going, but the hills were a damn maze.

Ten minutes later, he pulled into the side drive of a multi-million dollar house. Only in Hollywood could you have a servant’s entrance be as nice as a middle income home. He parked and waved at Annie. She was loading fat plastic bins into the back of the Sweet & Savory truck. He jumped out to help, but she waved him off.

“Please take her or I’m going to kill her.” Annie gave him a smile that was all teeth—mean ones.

Deacon pushed his hair out of his face and rubbed the back of his neck. “That good?”

“I don’t know what her problem is, but good luck on the honeymoon, dude.”

Deacon tipped his head back. Things will be fine. You just need to get her out of here and away from work. He rolled his shoulders and straightened. He went inside and found the kitchen.

Organized chaos greeted him. One of Harper’s minions was at the sink taking care of dishes, another organizing leftovers, and then there was his wife…she was slamming trays into the portable bin. The only sounds in the kitchen were of the packing variety.

Which was unusual in itself. Usually Harper had music going and people chattering away.

Oh, boy.

He went up behind her and when she jammed the tray for a third time to get it into the slot, he covered her hand and gently lifted it so I would fall into place. Instead of melting back into him like she usually did, she shrugged him off.

“I had it.”

“I’m sure you did, but let’s save the tray from annihilation.”

She whirled in his arms. “Are you here to pick at me, because I do not need this right now, big guy.”

Well, at least the ‘big guy’ had been in the middle of the snarl. That he could work with. He opened his mouth and she pointed at him.

“Do. Not. Handle. Me.”

He shut his mouth. He looked over her shoulder at her workers who were studiously pretending not to stare at them. He caught the girl’s gaze at the sink and jerked his head toward the back door. She turned off the sink and gestured to the other worker and they both lifted bins to take outside.

“You didn’t just send my people outside, did you?” She turned around. “Where are you going?”

The brunette froze.

Harper’s jaw clicked audibly. “Fine,” she said through gritted teeth. She turned back to him and drilled her finger into his chest. “You do not come in here and undermine—”

Deacon leaned down and covered her mouth. She jammed her fist into his gut, but he held on and was rewarded with her hot mouth devouring his. He smoothed his hand down her braid and cupped the back of her neck until she went up on her toes and allowed him to gentle the kiss.

She was strung tight and frustration radiated off of her like heat. He felt her shoulders ease, her spine melt, and then her sigh fill his mouth. Then he allowed himself to ease back and cup her face.

Her eyelids fluttered open and her wild blue eyes sparked with dampened temper. “You think you’re so smart.”

He shrugged and kissed the tip of her nose. “Normally I enjoy your temper, but we’re getting on a plane.”

She braceleted his wrists. “I can’t—I’ve got so much…” She looked around the room.

“Annie’s got it.”

“It’s not Annie’s responsibility. It’s mine.”

“Baby, you hired Annie on because she’s capable and can practically read your mind. If we don’t go now, she’s going to put you in the trunk and drive you off the bi-coastal.”

Her blonde brows snapped down. “She wouldn’t—” At his raised eyebrow, she shut up. “I haven’t been that bad.”

He kissed her forehead. “A week of recharging sex by the ocean. This is something we both need. Do you realize I haven’t been inside you in four days?”

“No, we…” she trailed off. “Wow, has it been that long? No wonder I’ve been a bitch,” she muttered.

Deacon laughed. “We’ve both been stressed and tired.”

She moved into him, looping her arms around his back. “I got a call to do a job.”

He stiffened. She really couldn’t turn jobs down unless she was already booked, but fuck. He juggled plans in his mind. Not that he’d made that many. He pretty much wanted Harper and a hammock for eight straight days.

She pulled back and looked up at him. Her lips bending into the brilliant smile that never stopped stealing his breath. “I turned it down.”

“I—”

Harper reached up and pressed a finger to his lips. “The fact that you were going to rearrange our honeymoon for me to work is pretty much all I could ever ask for. We need this, big guy. After Christmas it’s going to be insane with the studio and my schedule booked out through Valentine’s.”

“I don’t want you to ever feel like I’m putting my shit first again.”

She hooked her arm around his neck and dragged him down to cover his mouth with hers. The kiss was blazing hot and hard. The kind of kiss that usually left him naked in about three minutes flat.

Most of the time he could tell when she wanted comfort, when she wanted the long and slow burn of romance, and when she was placating him. But this kind of kiss usually came when they were alone. And it felt like it had been forever since he’d gotten a taste of this side of her.

He gripped a handful of her ass and pulled her tighter to him, hooking her knee up on his hip. They stumbled back against the wide island counter. It was enough to bring him back to the moment and the completely inappropriate timing. This was her freaking job. He tried to pull back, but she boosted herself up. Her strong thighs gripped his hips as she fisted his hair.

Surprise and lust tangled inside his chest and kicked hard. His fingers twisted into the apron strings at her back as he held onto her. His other hand supported her butt as she writhed against him. Eyes crossed and blood humming, he tore his mouth from hers. “Harper.”

Heavy lids lifted, leaving her blue eyes barely a sliver against the wide pupils. Her mouth was slick and berry red from their kisses. Instead of hopping down she leaned into him, her mouth hovering over his again.

“Lawless,” he whispered against her mouth. Chocolate and mint fanned along his lips. Already, her lids were lowering to take his mouth. “I’m going to kick myself from here to Texas for saying this,” he mumbled.

Her full lower lip went white from the pressure of her teeth.

“To hell and back,” he said again as her tongue swiped over the swollen flesh.

Harper tightened her legs around him. “There’s a pantry. Just five minutes.” She scraped her nails along the nape of his neck. Her breath came in a near pant. “Okay, seven. Ten tops.”

He wasn’t sure what had gotten into her, but he wanted every minute of those ten. Hell, he’d take the five. His cock was going show off the imprint of his zipper for the rest of the night. Things between them were always intense, but the light in her eyes was a little…more. He couldn’t explain it.

The reminder alert from his phone trilled. A moan traveled from her lips to his as she tried to drag him under once more. He rested his cheek against hers and hauled in a ragged breath. When she undulated against his belly, he had to gentle his grip on her ass. Fuck, he was going to leave bruises. She had him so goddamn wound.

“Baby. We have this amazing house waiting for us. Just one flight away, I promise.”

He could feel her heart racing. Her breaths all but a pant as she finally eased the tension of both arms and legs until she slid down to stand on her two feet again. She coasted her hand down his chest and belly, then cupped his erection.

“I had such plans.”

The nip of her nails through denim made him hiss. “Jesus.”

“I prefer when you moan my name. Tonight I’ll make sure it’s the only word you can say.”

He tipped his head back as her grip finally loosened and her body heat left him, along with her touch. Whatever had gotten into her, he was hoping for a double time repeat once they got to Galveston.

She untied her apron and dumped it into a white box that held place cards and discarded menus. She turned to him, holding out her hand. “I am so very ready to go on our honeymoon.”