Rivers_The Crow Brothers

by S. L. Scott

  Fuck. I was hoping to spend more time with her. “I can take you home.” I start to pull back to get dressed.

  She moves back against me and winks. “I meant your place.”

  Oh.

  Fuck. Yes. I want to take her back to my place.

  14

  Rivers

  I’m not nervous.

  I’m not even worried about what will or won’t happen tonight. Being with her again confirms I made the right decision to come back here. Things are happening naturally with just a little help, but they are going in the right direction.

  And although I’m not sure her being “taken” would have stopped me from going after her, I’m so fucking glad she’s single.

  I pull off my shirt and slip on gym shorts while she’s in the shower. She was cold on the way back to Jet’s house since her clothes are wet. I tossed them into the dryer while she showered to warm up.

  The shower turns off, and shortly after, she comes into the living room wrapped in a towel. But when I automatically drag my sweaty palms down the front of my shorts like a fifteen-year-old standing in front of her again, I realize maybe I am a little nervous. I like what’s happening between us too much for it to end so soon.

  Standing across the room, I take her in. Hair messed from towel drying, face clear of makeup—she’s breathtaking. She rolls her eyes while laughing . . . probably at me, but I can handle it. “Stop staring. You’re making me self-conscious.”

  “I’ll never stop staring at you. You’re fucking beautiful.”

  “You keep saying that.” She moves into my arms and leans her head against my chest over the tattoo that’s solely hers. “You can have anyone.”

  “I don’t want anyone.” I kiss her head. When she closes her eyes and her arms tighten, I realize she is opening herself up to me. She’s beginning to put her trust in me. I can’t . . . I won’t screw this up again.

  She asks, “Do you have a shirt I can borrow and a spare pair of boxer shorts while my clothes dry?”

  “I got ya covered.” I want to cover her with my body, but I’ll get the next best thing.

  I go into the bedroom and scrounge around in my suitcase. With her standing behind me, she asks, “Guess you really aren’t staying long. You haven’t even unpacked.”

  The teasing fun is gone from her voice, which causes me to look back. With the shirt in hand, I stand, giving the clothes to her. I rub her bare shoulders, selfishly because I want to touch her soft skin, and because I want to make her feel good, comfort that change in her tone, and make her happy again. “Just because I’m leaving doesn’t mean I’ll be gone forever.”

  “What are your plans?” The sincerity shines in her eyes but is disturbed with the worry I hear in her voice.

  “We have practice for a few weeks to nail the new songs before we head back into the studio to record our next album.”

  “So you’ll be gone for a while?”

  “A few weeks, a little longer.” I hate to think about leaving, but the reality is, when I signed on the dotted line for these record deals, I also signed away some of my free time. “I have to be where the job requires me to be.”

  “And that’s LA?”

  “That’s LA.”

  “Job,” she repeats as she turns and goes into the bathroom. She shuts the door just enough for me not to see her changing, but leaves it open enough for us to hear each other. “What happened to playing because it was your passion?”

  “I still do. I can’t imagine doing anything else. What would I do with my business degree anyway? All I know is music. All I feel is the beat. I won’t ever be someone who finds a nine-to-five or wears a suit every day. And now I won’t ever have to.”

  “Would you leave if you could stay?”

  A lot has happened over the time I’ve been back, but she still doesn’t know where things will go between us. Neither do I. I just know I like being with her and that I still love her. “I’m living my dream, Stella. But there are times I have to do what’s needed to continue. It’s no different than when I was here except I’m paid more.”

  “We haven’t really talked about your life and how it’s chang—Oh my God! You’re kidding me with this, Riv. I swear you and Meadow are plotting together.” She comes out with the shirt outstretched in front of her. “Really? This is all you have?”

  “I quite like seeing you in my clothes again. And if I recall correctly, you used to steal my band shirts to wear. What has Meadow been up to?”

  “The shirt you saw me in this morning was her doing.”

  “I always did like your sister.”

  My pretty little mess stands there with wet, messy hair and her hands on her hips. I lean down and kiss her as her hands run over my ribs. When I return to my full height, I say, “I should shower.”

  She doesn’t release me, though. Instead she moves against me and rests her cheek on my chest. “How bad is it that I like smelling you again?”

  “The chlorinated version?”

  Laughing, she replies, “Yes, even the chlorinated version of you.”

  Wrapping my arms around her, I give her whatever access she wants. “We used to have the best sex after a gig. I was so fucking sweaty, and you were so turned on. You turned on turned me on.”

  “Your shows were aphrodisiacs.”

  “Well then, smell away.”

  She giggles but pushes off and climbs onto the middle of the bed, resting back on her elbows. “My favorite was when I could smell your scent on me.”

  Taking her in from her toes up to the top of her head, I rub my thumb over my bottom lip, visually enjoying every inch of this woman. “So what you’re saying is you don’t want me to shower?”

  Her finger summons me to come hither, and she replies, “That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

  I get my ass there and climb right over her. Settling between her legs, I hold my chest above hers. “You’re a dirty girl, you know that.”

  “I’m hoping to get a lot dirtier.” Fingers weave into my hair above my ears, and she nods.

  “I don’t even have to play a show?”

  “Nope. Though I want to hear you play again, you only had to feed me a bologna sandwich this time.”

  Chuckling, I lower a little more of my weight. My dick is hard and getting harder being with her like this. “Tell me what you want, Stella.”

  “I’m sorry I lied about dating someone else.”

  “Want to know the truth?” Her eyes widen, and I say, “I knew you were single.”

  “You did?” Her mouth drops open.

  “I overheard you talking to Meadow in the alley.”

  Her hands press to my chest, maintaining the distance. “And you let me carry on like that?”

  “I could have called you out on it, but I was still trying to figure why you were lying. Though the reason makes me feel shitty, I understand why you did it.”

  “I’m sorry. Really, it wasn’t even about you. It was about me and my issues.”

  “We both have our issues. Let’s not talk about them tonight. I lost myself years ago, and this is the first time I feel myself again. I want to bathe in the hours I get with you.” Lowering down, I kiss her cheek, then whisper, “Do you know how many times I thought of you and making love to you again?”

  She says, “Don’t tell me. Show me.” I lift enough to see her eyes—the desire and want, the need and . . . love. “We haven’t had a sip of alcohol tonight, but I feel tipsy around you.”

  “You just forgot how intoxicating I am.” God, I want to touch her under that shirt, kiss her neck, and lick that Crow tattoo like I used to. When she smiles, I kiss her until those lips embrace mine. I kiss her until her hands slide under my shirt, and I kiss her until her body begs mine for more.

  “Do you have protection, Rivers?”

  I’ve never had unprotected sex except with her, but life sure has a way of fucking things up. It’s sad that we fell apart enough to need a barrier between us now. “Let me get a co
ndom.”

  I hope me leaving her alone with her thoughts doesn’t change the heat building between us. I dig through my suitcase, promising God I’ll be a better man if he will grant me this one favor. Please let me find just one condom in this messy suitcase. I’ve fucked around on tour but don’t keep a replenished stock. I would just hit up Ridge or my brothers when I was in need and had run out.

  The familiar sound of a wrapper has me scrounging through dirty clothes and smelly sneakers only to discover it’s a coffee receipt. Fuck.

  “It’s okay if you don’t,” she says.

  My head whips around to see her propped up and watching me. “I don’t think—”

  “I mean, it’s okay if you don’t have a condom and we don’t have sex. We can do other stuff.” She’s sitting there looking perfect while waiting for me, and all I see are a million thoughts flashing through those beautiful greens.

  I get up and lie down on the bed next to her. Pulling her close, she rests her head on my chest and drapes a leg over mine. “It’s not what you think, Stella.”

  “What do I think?” The tips of her fingers drag the front of my shirt up and she traces the curves of the muscles in my stomach.

  “You’re thinking I’ve been fucking my way through three tours now and not thinking about you.”

  “I hope you weren’t thinking about me when you were with other women. Some might find it flattering, but I think it would be disrespectful to them.” She pushes up and looks me in the eyes. “I wouldn’t want you thinking about someone else when you’re with me.”

  When, not if.

  “I guess we need to talk about it. The reason there are no condoms in my bag is because I haven’t wanted to be with anyone in a long time. But—”

  “I know you’ve had sex with other women, Rivers. I’m not dumb, and I’ve seen the articles out there. I even know about the Victoria’s Secret model you dated for a while last year.”

  I’m already shaking my head. “It’s not true. She was a friend. She came to an event with me, and I escorted her to one of her events. That’s all.”

  “The Victoria’s Secret Fashion show airs on TV. The cameras flashed to you when she blew you a kiss with those huge angel wings on her back. I mean, does she eat? How did she hold those things up?” Anger slips into her tone.

  “She does eat, and believe it or not, she’s nice.” Taking her chin between my fingers, I angle her so her eyes meet mine again. “But we never dated. We went to those events as friends. She could have gone home with anyone she wanted.”

  “But she went home with you, right?”

  Man, I don’t want to answer that, but I have to. Full disclosure. Honesty. “Yes. But we only slept together two times because we really were good friends. It was . . . fun, not a relationship.”

  “I remember our fun being more than a little.”

  “I’ve never had what I had with you with anyone else. God’s honest truth.”

  A quick peck is placed on my chest. “She’s gorgeous, and her body is perfect. I can never compete with that. My body has changed.”

  Pulling her on top of me. I kiss her forehead and then her mouth before I say, “Don’t you see, Stella Lilith? You never had to compete. You had me all along.” I kiss her again. “I could never date anyone else seriously because they weren’t you.”

  “It’s okay that you slept with others. I don’t love it, but you were free to do so. I also hate thinking about it, but I won’t hold it against you.”

  I stroke her hair and push for what I want to know. “You dated others. You had a boyfriend, if not many.” I don’t ask a question because, like her, I hate the thought of her with anyone else. I feel rage inside just thinking about some asshole touching my girl.

  “I . . .” She stops and I hear a hard swallow. “I did a few years ago, but—” She stops abruptly.

  “Stella?”

  Exhaling a shaky breath, she whispers, “I was never good for anyone else. My heart was never in it.”

  “Where was your heart?”

  This time, she smiles before replying. “Touring with a sexy bassist for The Crow Brothers.”

  I grin, and it’s goddamn smug as fuck. “For the record, I didn’t have sex with as many women as you think I did. I left that for Tulsa.” I kiss the top of her head.

  “Oh Tulsa,” she says. I’m sure she’s rolling her eyes.

  “I’m not innocent, but most nights, I just wanted to be alone.”

  “I understand that too well.” She lifts her head, and says, “We really are a sad pair.”

  “I can’t say I’m sad right now.”

  That brings a smile back to her face. “I can’t either.”

  My guilt gets the best of me, so I lay my sins at her feet and let her be my judge and jury. “I only had sex after we broke up to try to satisfy a physical need. Emotionally, I was never satisfied. Fuck, the sex wasn’t even good.”

  Her hand caresses my cheek as if my sentence has been stayed for the time being. She kisses my chest. “I believe you.” Kissing my chin and then my jaw, her breath waves across my skin. “I believe you.” She tugs my earlobe gently between her teeth and then whispers again, “You know why?”

  “Why?”

  “Because I’m in your blood, and you’re in my blood. There’s no escaping what we had.”

  “Have,” I say, my eyes closing as I breathe her and her words deep inside so they reach the deep recesses of my being.

  Her lips press to mine, but she doesn’t kiss them. There are so many thoughts buzzing around my head, but the main one is, Shit. Too fast. Because in my head, there is no escaping what we had, and what I believe we still have. She’s here. With me. Allowing me to kiss her.

  And then she says one simple word, and my heart soars. “Have.”

  15

  Stella

  I can’t breathe.

  I’m going to die.

  I’m going to explode into a million little pieces.

  Rivers looks up, and asks, “Are you okay?”

  “No.”

  Sitting up in alarm, he eyes me. “No?”

  “This feels too good.”

  Then that gorgeous smile of his shines, and he chuckles. “Is too good a thing? Kissing you, touching you, making out with you is incredible and feels good, but I don’t want to stop. I mean, too good means too much, right?”

  “No.” Please don’t stop.

  “No?”

  We’ve been making out for at least an hour like teenagers, taking things slow. He rounds each base with deliberate care. More like deliberate torture for me, but it feels too good to rush this.

  I’m about to lose my mind, but I pull him to me again anyway, ready to lose my mind to the ecstasy. “Not too much. Perfect. Keep going.”

  He chuckles against my neck and starts kissing me again. A hand is up my shirt just below my bra, tentative, careful, taking things so slow that I’m going to burst. My eyes close, my head falls back against the wall, and I moan in delight. “God, yes. This so much. More of this.”

  If him kissing my neck feels this good, I might legit die under his magic mouth if he goes any lower. My memory still serves me well when it comes to that act. He says, “This shirt is big on you,” and then tugs the collar to the side exposing my shoulder and quickly staking claim to the bare skin with his mouth. “Do you know how good you taste?”

  “No,” I repeat the word, mindless of anything else to say because I’m feeling too much, the universe in every one of his delectable kisses.

  “Then you’re missing out.” He licks his lips and waggles his eyebrows before tracing my collarbone with the flat of his tongue and moaning as if I’m his favorite dessert.

  With his other hand, he finally attempts to go further, the tips of his fingers just under the wire of my bra. “Am I going too fast?” he asks. “Tell me if you want to slow down.”

  “Slow down? No way. I want to speed up.”

  “I’m starting to think you’re sex
starved.”

  “Famished.” I wiggle until my back is against the wall and he’s no longer over my chest. I touch the top of his head, driving my fingers into the thickness of his dark hair. Pushing enough to get him where I want him—his face to my vagina, I ask, “Ready for the second course?”

  “Famished.” He leans in, kisses me between the legs, then tugs the material back between his teeth. “Ready to take these off?”

  Oh yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. “So ready.”

  He pops the elastic waistband of the boxers he loaned me and chuckles lightly, then starts to slowly pull them down as if he’s savoring every new exposed inch of my skin. The shirt still hides my torso, but when the boxers go flying over his shoulder, he eyes me in a way that makes me want all my clothes off—deep umber-colored hungry eyes. His tongue drags over the fullness of his bottom lip, and then he says, “I want to see my tattoo.”

  His tattoo.

  Not mine. His.

  Just like me.

  With him still positioned between my legs, I take the hem of the shirt in hand. Why is my heart beating so fast? “Don’t look, okay?”

  “We don’t have to do anything.”

  “I want to. I do. It’s just . . .” I look away from him. “I feel like I’ll disappoint you.”

  “Never. You could never, Stella. You’re better than any memory I had. You. Here now. You’re . . . I don’t feel deserving to be here.”

  Sitting forward, I run my nails through his hair to the back of his neck and pull just enough for him to know I want him to come to me. Moving against my body with ease, the muscles in his shoulders flex as he kisses me. He leans back enough for me to hold him lightly under the jaw. How can he still love me so much? After all this time, after all the hurt and pain? I lost myself years ago, and this is the first time I feel myself again. I want to bathe in the hours I get with you. God, I want that too. “How does someone who has the world at his feet miss someone who only held him back from his greatness?”

  He was always mine. He was my reward at the end of all my long days in student teaching and hard work at school. Though his muscles were firm and strong, his soul was my soul’s soft place to land.