Page 45 of Enjoying the Band in Lockdown

Sweet. My man was sweet, and kind, and loving and, mine.

Not that Chase and Devon hadn’t gone out of their way to make our date nights special. But I knew that Xavier wasn’t a romance or flowers kind of guy.

He’d broken his own boundaries in more ways than one, for me.

“Ready for our date, my beautiful blonde?” He kissed my hand, gentlemanly style. But his dirty eyes belied anything sweet or gentle. I felt his kiss down to my clit that was already ready and waiting.

“It’s not a date, it’s a competition.” Jax called out, trying to throw Xavier off his game. We still had three minutes before the clock would start.

“My man doesn’t need to worry about the competition, I should know.” I threw out confidently. Not exactly a woman in love but a woman confident in what her lover could deliver.

Xavier ignored them, his eyes never leaving my face nor his hands my body. By the time we made it to the bus, I was shivering and not from the early autumn chill. Then, Xavier opened the bus door to wafts of incense. I couldn’t work out where he’d found the time. The rose, and now the cleaned bus. Fresh sheets, the hooks removed, and my favorite champagne chilling in an ice bucket.

“Wow, this looks, amazing.” I turned into him, but he was filling the bus with music from his phone. Not just any playlist, I recognized the latest version of Dirty Blonde. A romantic gesture to beat all others, Xavier was playing my song, our album, for me.

“Are you ready, my dirty blonde?”

“Are you ready?” I gave as good as I got, clutching my hands together and hoping he couldn’t see my nerves. Seriously, I needed to get my shit together and relax. How was I gonna come on cue if I couldn’t even relax enough to kiss him?

“I was born ready, are you?”

All it took was for Xavier to flash me his sultry smile, and I was. Only, we’d gone from eager to awkward with the closing of the bus door. I felt the weight of expectation, that we’d walk in and fuck like animals before crowning Xavier the unassailable winner.

As Dirty Blonde turned into an unnamed ditty Devon had insisted be included, Xavier leant in for our first kiss and we both recoiled at the clash of teeth. I rubbed my mouth, trying to brush away what happened. Xavier, the master kisser, did not clash teeth. Never.

“I’m glad that didn’t happen on our first night, I might not have got a second,” he at least tried to joke.

“Oh, I think this would have changed my mind.” My hands went to his black jeans. Like Devon last night, Xavier’s date night outfit was the same as his stage uniform. Fitted black jeans with a white round-neck muscle shirt.

His usual ever-ready hard-on hadn’t risen to the occasion, yet. Returning back to kisses, I fought to reclaim our mojo. I knew his erection would only need a little encouragement.

“What?” I cried when he pulled away, mid-kiss. A good kiss. Not earthshattering, but one most mere mortals would have as their A-game.

“This doesn’t happen to me.”

“Nothing’s happened,” I said before realizing how it sounded.

“That’s the fucking point. Nothing’s happened.” Subconsciously, he shifted his weight, towards the exit, away from me and us and the competition.

“No, I didn’t mean it like that.” Wrapping my arms around his neck, I played with his dreads, slipping the long dreads between my fingers before twirling them into my fists. Wishing our pasts didn’t matter and the clock didn’t keep ticking over. “I mean, we’ve got all the time in the world.”

“No, we fucking don’t.”

“Xavier, we’ve got all the time in the world.”

This time we started slow kissing. A gentle exploration of worlds we already knew. Only once we got back our rhythm, I guided his hands over my body. My only contribution was grinding my hips against his groin. I knew this man and should have known the pressure of the concert and the bullshit Jax had served up ad finite was hitting him hard; but I trusted his body wouldn’t take long to get with the program.”

Patience. I needed patience. Trust in what we had.

“Sydney. Sydney.” My name became his cry of pain and shame.

“Babe, it’s fine.”

“No, it isn’t.” He wretched away. “I can’t fuck you to a clock.”

“Then don’t.” I didn’t give a damn about the competition, never had. “Ignore the clock.”

“It’s a competition, the whole fucking point is the clock.”

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