Page 10 of The Fire and the Roar

I snatched my notebook and pen from the mattress and tossed them. “My notebook.”

He held my blurry gaze, his tongue circling my clit. “You had that kid on your bed?”

“W-what?” I held on tight to his messy head of hair. Messy from the wind and the dust on the road, he took to get here all night. Get to me. “No, no. I was on the b-bed, he was on the floor. Oh…Oh…” Thick, long fingers slid inside me, searching, finding their home. My head knocked back.

“That so?” I lost his mouth from my center, his absence a torture.

“Oh no, no…I mean…” His palm slapped my clit once. My eyes snapped open. Again, now in a thudding rhythm, a constant pressure from his heavy palm pressing up against me. I twisted, the wall of pleasure insurmountable, his fingers inside me urgent. Demanding.

I climbed, I flew. “Wreck!” I exploded, my fingernails digging into his scalp.

His one hand went to my ass and massaged a cheek as he planted kisses on my middle. The sound of our heavy breaths filled the humid air. He turned over, scanning the room as if for the first time. “Wow.”

“What?”

“This is quite a mess you got going on here.”

My fingers brushed his glistening lips, lips wet with me. “It is, isn’t it?”

“Not like you at all.”

“We were writing, working out a couple of songs all day before the show…and then we had to be at the bar, so we dropped everything and took off and…”

“Hmm.” That muscle along his jaw tightened again. I knew that him having to deal with me on the road, away from home, away from him for weeks at a time with five other men, took a lot of trust. But we had that. I also knew that it was a lot to ask of any man.

“Living that rock star life already.”

“No baby, really—”

He squeezed my ass gently. “I’m glad you’re getting work done.”

My fingers curled in his beard. “I love you, you know that?”

His grin met mine. A low, rumbling chuckle rose in his throat, and I reached up to kiss him, my hands in his gorgeous thick hair. “I know. Oh, I know.”

He took me in his arms. “I don’t want to let you go,” he murmured in my throat. “Don’t want to leave you again.”

I clasped him even tighter, his face buried in my neck, his chest expanding with a deep breath, a deep sigh.

I held him tightly. “Just a little bit longer.” I thought that every time. Said that every time. But how much longer?

“We keep telling ourselves that,” he whispered.

“Baby, I’m usually the one freaking out.”

“Seeing you in the middle of trouble set off a panic in me, and I’m having a rough time coming down.”

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I was only trying to create a distraction to save Teddy’s ass, and I…”

“I love you going to your compadre’s rescue, baby. Your sense of loyalty, you putting yourself out there to do the right thing. But I’m begging you, please be more careful.”

His voice carried the burden of a heavy weight, fatigue, dread. Me being out on the road with the band had been his idea, to begin with. His idea to keep me safe out of Meager and also happy doing what I loved, chasing my dream. My heart filled with warmth that bubbled and rose like hot caramel. Gratitude. Responsibility.

“You’re right. I couldn’t think of anything else. There wasn’t any time.”

His warm hand stroked my middle. “Never is.” He let out a short laugh.

“What’s so funny?”

---