Page 77 of Hinder
She nods and her lips purse together.
“But this isn’t over. Us? We’re just beginning.”
I relish the way her lips pull into a brilliant smile. “I would really like that.”
“And fair warning.” I step back and grip the door handle. “I’m going to kiss you as much as I can. As often as possible. Preferably not always in this bathroom.
She giggles, and slaps her hand over her mouth to muffle the sound.
My face pulls with a smile that probably looks as stupid as it feels, but I don’t care. I pull open the door and slip outside, thankful no one is waiting or watching. While it’s not anyone’s business but mine and Opal’s, I get the distinct feeling what we’re doing would not be welcome. The guys treat her like family, and since I’m playing in the band, this all could get messy. Probably will, but we’ll figure it out. I can’t stay away from her anymore. I don’t want to. It might not be the most noble sentiment, but I’m going after whatIwant. As long as she’ll have me, I don’t see the problem.
25
Opal
The next weekpasses by in a blur of stolen kisses, writing music, PA work for Trent, and of course, a concert every night. There are press interviews and pre-parties. Endless emails and fan mail. It should be overwhelming. Exhausting even. But instead I feel more alive than ever. And it’s all thanks to one man.
Leighton.
Lord, do I have it bad. Each night we stay up talking for hours until everyone else calls it quits and retreats to their beds. It’s then, under the blur of city lights and endless road we make out and grind against each other like the sexually frustrated teenagers we are.
It’s thrilling and stupid and yet I can’t get enough. He can’t either.
Or at least I think he can’t. He never pushes for more than kissing. He keeps it all very PG, if you don’t count the fact I feel every inch of his hard length press against me while we rub our bodies together and lock lips for hours. There’s no pressure. Just maddening, wonderful kisses. Each one sparks awareness and desire to every molecule in my body.
It’s the first time I’ve been with a guy where it doesn’t feel like he’s counting down the moments until he can try to get in my pants. Maybe it’s because of the late night talks, or the fact he’s a damn good kisser, but for the first time in any of my extremely limited relationships, I’m the one who’s ready for more. To take our intimacy to the next level. Without a doubt in my mind, I want him to be my first.
I’m ready, if and when the opportunity presents itself.
Which is the real problem. There’s not much down time on a tour like this, and even more scarce is time alone. Sure, we make out on the bench seat or one of the reclining chairs each night, but anyone could catch us. I don’t want my first time to be rushed or walked in on. I don’t think he wants that either. Not to mention, private time will be even more challenging to carve out once my sister rejoins the tour.
So we wait. Or at least try.
Tonight, as Leighton thrusts his tongue inside my mouth and I rock my hips against his body, dragging him to the bathroom doesn’t sound so awful. My body is on fire with the sensation of his touch, and yearning courses so deeply I doubt I’ll feel satisfied until we’re naked and aligned. I’m seconds from suggesting the crazy idea when Leighton pulls back.
“We should get some rest.” He whispers in my ear but his lips come right back to mine. He’s good at this. So good, and as his lips descend, traveling down between my breasts, I can’t help but arch against him.
“I want you,” I practically moan in his ear.
He pulls back, nods and exhales in a rush. The abrupt loss of heat as he climbs off my body is nearly as frustrating as the need to find release. I’ve never been like this. Ever. But I can’t imagine falling asleep tonight without either of us getting off.
“I should . . .” He doesn’t finish the sentence but reaches out to pull me up off the seat. When I find my balance he runs his hand along the back of his neck and kneads the muscles there.
“Is everything okay?” I bite my lip, worried I’ve done something wrong. Maybe I’ve been too aggressive, too wanton in the way I pressed my body against his.
“Everything’s good. Too good.” He lets a rush of airwhooshfrom his lungs. “I have to stop. I’m sorry, Opal. It’s taking everything in my willpower not to strip you bare, eat you out, and fuck you until we both come.” He smiles, part mischief and pain. “But I can’t really do any of those things in this bus.”
His words border on crass and I should be offended, but I’m not. If anything, they make the pulsing between my legs worsen. I rub my thighs together to relieve some of the strain. “I’m sorry.”
“Oh, no you don’t.” He shakes his head and steps forward, his hands finding my waist and pressing our bodies together. His hard cock juts into my belly, a proud declaration of his desire. But it’s his gaze that captivates me. His molten brown irises swim with an emotion I can’t name. “Don’t you dare apologize. There will be no shame or guilt here. Got it?” He raises his brows and levels me with a flirty stare. I appreciate his effort to lighten the issue I struggle with and it only makes me like him more.
“Yes, sir.” I nod and let the goofy grin takeover my face.
“Well, then, until tomorrow . . .” He winks before strutting over to our bunks and climbing up into his.
With a reluctant sigh I head to the bathroom before turning in. I consider locking the door and trying to get myself off with just my fingers, but the action feels empty and meaningless without the man I’d be imagining. No. I’ll wait for the real thing.
In my bed, the miles roll by from beyond my privacy curtain. I try to relax into the sheets and let the steady hum of the engine pull me under, but I toss and turn in my bunk for at least an hour before giving up. It’s useless. I can’t sleep.
