Page 18 of To the Moon and Back

“Moon and Back. Yeah, it does.”

A silence stretched between us. I racked my brain to fill it but didn’t want to say anything that made me sound like a simpering fan.

“It’s a great song,” he said after a moment.

I looked up at him. There was a fizz of something between us. I liked it. A lot. “Thanks.”

“Is it…” He paused. “About anyone in particular?”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s a powerful song, Lacy. You wrote it from your soul.”

I smiled. “Yeah, it is.”

“Who then?” His voice was a low, husky whisper.

I swallowed, aware of his nearness, of his broad chest and the layer of dark stubble on his jawline.

“Who is it about?” he asked again. “Rich or Nial? I sense chemistry but I’m confused who with.”

I didn’t often reveal I was in a relationship with two guys. That information was for close friends. But would Jed understand? Would Chris? They seemed pretty open minded. Weren’t all rock stars?

Go for it.

“Both of them, actually.” I held his gaze. “I’m in love with Nial and Rich. They’re my boyfriends, in the plural.”

His eyes widened a fraction, only just enough for me to notice, and his mouth twitched. “I’m not totally surprised.”

“You’re not?”

With the tip of his index finger he stroked my upper right arm, over my new musical note tattoo. “No. People who have music in their soul, notes and lyrics their very lifeblood, have a lot of love to give.”

I trembled. His touch was like wildfire, each tiny stroke sending new waves of desire and excitement through me.

Here I was standing in a darkened room with gorgeous Jed from Scarlet Men and he was talking about love and lifeblood and souls…

“It’s why,” he went on, his tone deep and oh, so sexy, “so many of our sort are tortured souls. They just can’t handle the size of their hearts, the love that’s in there, the need to give.”

“Our sort?” I managed, my throat drying for the second time that evening.

“Yes.” He lowered his face to mine, the golden glow of the lamp reflecting in his dark eyes. “Our sort. Music lovers.”

Lord, give me strength. The way he’d said lovers had my belly clenching and heat pooling between my legs.

“So what do you think?” he asked, the tip of his nose touching mine now.

“About what?”

“Would your boyfriends be up for sharing you? With Chris and I?”

“Sharing?” I sounded like I’d never heard the damn word before. As though I had no idea what he meant. But I totally did. I wasn’t a dim girl. I understood exactly what he was getting at.

I just needed a moment to process.

“Yeah,” he murmured. “Sharing, having some fun—twosome, threesome, moresome.”

Fucking hell.

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