Live Your Dream

by BB Miller

  Tess’s round ass is poured into black yoga pants and she’s swaying in front of the dryer. She arches her back and grinds away to the sexually charged beat playing in her headphones, obliterating every thought in my head.

  Her long, dark hair is wet and piled up into a messy bun on top of her head, revealing the erotic curve of her neck and the wings of the butterfly tattoo on her shoulder that peek out of my vintage Harley shirt. She’s still got it on. My heart stutters at the visual.

  She’s unfiltered and perfect. This is the Tess I want to get to know in every and any way I can. And if that makes me a weaker man, then so be it.

  I can’t stop looking her over; lust and a predatory fire burn through me. She bends over to open the dryer and the rhythmic sound of the machine stops abruptly as she guides the clothes into the hamper on the floor.

  My mouth goes dry, my voice sounding raw and needy even though she can’t hear me. “Tess.”

  I close the distance between us in the small space, wrapping my arm around her waist from behind, and tugging her back against me. I hear her take a sharp breath in, and I pull one of her earbuds out, sliding my palm up over her mouth, whispering in her ear. “Shh … It’s me. Matt.”

  Panicked, dark eyes meet mine as she turns her head to glare at me, struggling against my hold. I loosen my grip around her waist, lifting my palm from her perfect mouth, and she turns, pushing against my chest, sending me stumbling back. “What the fuck are you doing?” she screeches. “Are you crazy?”

  “Starting to look that way, isn’t it?”

  I let my eyes fall over my shirt stretched taut across the round swells of her heaving breasts. Sweet Christ, she’s not wearing a bra. “You nearly gave me a heart attack! What the hell are you doing here?” Her hands are balled into fists at her hips.

  Her eyes light with that addictive heat I’ve been craving since I put her in the cab, fear morphing quickly to desire as she waits. “Well?”

  I take a step forward, desperate to touch her, and she doesn’t stop me. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

  “Yeah?” She looks shocked. Maybe pleased? I can’t really tell. “Well, there’s this thing called a phone. You could’ve called, texted.”

  “I wanted to see you. I don’t want to wait until you’re back from your trip. Time isn’t a luxury I have.” It’s a harsh realization. She could turn me away right now, and this would be over. I know how rare it is to find a person who is willing to put up with the demands of a musician’s lifestyle. I’m willing to put it all out there to find out because she’s worth it. She’s worth the humiliation of sneaking around in the middle of the night and the risk of being told to go to hell. She could easily become my addiction; hell, I’m already halfway there.

  Her lips part in surprise at my words, and I wonder if they taste like cherry almond again, or something equally mind blowing. She blinks as if she can’t quite believe I’m here.

  “We’re not having sex.” She lifts her chin.

  “You feel better getting that out there for everyone to hear?” She bites back a grin, and I gently cup her face, watching as her eyes close to my touch, her dark lashes brushing her creamy skin only for a moment. This is her: real, soft, and supple in my arms, not an ounce of makeup on her, and, fuck, she slays me. “I didn’t come here just to have sex,” I whisper once her eyes meet mine again.

  “You didn’t?” she breathes out on a sigh, her tongue darting out to wet her bottom lip.

  “Let me in, Tess. Show me who you really are.”

  Tessa

  “What if you don’t like it?”

  The words escape me before I realize it and my cheeks heat. I can’t believe he’s standing here, in the flesh. He’s rattled me so thoroughly falling asleep was impossible. So I’d decided to get a few things washed for my trip while I knew I’d have the laundry room to myself. Even then, I couldn’t stop thinking about him, so I scrolled down to one of my favorite Redfall playlists, just so I could listen to Matt’s distinctive basslines. The man is as talented as he is gorgeous.

  A gentle smile curls his lips, and I feel the featherlight touch of his rough fingertips across my face as he traces my blush. “I can’t see how that would be possible,” he murmurs. “You’re the most fascinating person I’ve met in a long, long time.”

  His sincerity strikes a chord, and my shoulders relax marginally despite the ridiculousness of his claim. The guy knows a million people—major league musicians, for crying out loud. “I find that hard to believe.”

  While still holding my face, he leans down to give me a soft, sweet kiss. His lips are warm and firm, and they move gently with mine, making my heart race. I expect him to deepen the kiss, but instead he pulls away and gives me three pecks before straightening. “Believe it.”

  He releases me but doesn’t move far. Between the heat from the dryer and his own natural furnace, the room is suddenly stifling. “Matt, what are you doing here, really? It’s almost midnight.” I ask again, frowning. “And how on earth did you get in the building?”

  Embarrassment tinges his low chuckle. “It wasn’t hard to get inside. I used the side door,” he says, ignoring my first question. Then his expression turns severe. “And you should complain to the property manager about the lack of security. Any-fucking-body could get in here. It’s pathetic.”

  I stick out my chin. “This building is perfectly safe. I’ve lived here for a year and never had a problem with people breaking and entering until now.”

  “You’ve just been lucky, apparently,” he shoots back.

  “Hey,” I say softly, reaching out to touch his hand in a conciliatory gesture. “Since you came all this way, let me wrap this up and we can talk inside. Okay?”

  He nods stiffly, and I turn quickly to bend and scoop out my remaining clothes from the dryer. I hear a weird strangled groan behind me, and glance over my shoulder. He’s staring at the ceiling and muttering fervently to himself. No doubt second-guessing whatever he had planned, I’m sure.

  My task completed, I lift my full basket and try to step past him. He takes the basket from me, his eyebrow raised as if daring me to contradict him. “Thanks,” I murmur and lead him down the hall. See? I can be cooperative.

  “Be quiet.” I shoot him a look as I let us in. “Jada is asleep. She gets up at an ungodly hour.”

  “Who’s Jada?”

  “My roommate. It’s her condo.” I roll my eyes at his satisfied grunt and lock the door behind us.

  “What’s she do?” he whispers.

  “She’s an IT guru for SFSU.” I look around the darkened condo nervously. Jada and I aren’t slobs, but I’ve been helping her sort through some boxes of stuff her grandmother sent her and things are stacked all over the living room. There really isn’t anywhere to sit.

  I quickly lead him down the hall past Jada’s door to my bedroom at the end. I’m not sure why, but it feels like I’m back in high school and sneaking my boyfriend in past my parents’ room. I flick on my bedside light and close the door before taking the basket from him and placing it on the floor next to my closet.

  “I’m sorry, but things are a bit of a mess in the living room right now.” I shrug self-consciously and gesture to the one chair I have in my bedroom. “I’m afraid this will have to do.”

  He holds back a grin and watches me shift from foot to foot. “Works for me,” he drawls. He drags his leather jacket off and, before I can ask him what he’s doing, he kicks off his boots and stretches out on my bed. I glare at him as he puts his arms casually behind his head and grins up at me.

  “I said that we weren’t having sex.”

  His grin grows. “I remember. As you can see, I’m still fully dressed,” he says, low and sultry. “But I’m not having a conversation with you sitting in that hard chair when there’s this nice soft bed right here.”

  “A conversation?” I look at him with trepidation, feeling that now-familiar push and pull between us. He looks disturbingly at home stretched
out on my bed.

  He exhales deeply, looking a little lost. “Tessa, I meant what I said. I just wanted to see you and maybe talk a little. I didn’t want to wait until you got back.”

  God, he’s been nothing but sweet and I can’t turn off my inner bitch. Taking my hair down swiftly—I hate lying down with a bun on the back of my head—I move to sit on the edge of the bed, but he quickly reaches out and grabs my wrist. With a gentle tug, he pulls me down beside him, slipping an arm around my waist to hold me loosely against him. “Okay?” he asks, playing with my hair that’s draped over my bicep.

  I answer by placing my head on his shoulder. It feels both odd and wonderfully natural to be with him like this. The frightening truth is that everything with him has felt that way. A man has never gotten under my skin like Matt has, and the speed with which it’s happened is even scarier. I’ve only known him a few weeks, since the crunch time before Parker’s benefit concert began, but it’s made no difference.

  I let myself melt into his warmth. “Sorry I’m being such a bit—”

  “Stop right there. I’ve known more than my share of bitches and believe me, you are nothing like them.” He looks down at his feet. “You just don’t trust me yet.”

  I wish I could contradict him, but I can’t. As right as it feels to lie here with him, there’s something in me that won’t let me relax completely.

  “When I told you about Paula, I left a few things out,” I begin, and I can feel his attention on me. “What happened to her was as awful as awful can get, but I was so young. I didn’t understand the science of it or the financial hardships my parents went through until I was older. What I did understand was the emotion. The feeling of losing something that was so very important with nothing I could do about it.”

  He hums in encouragement and I continue, “Paula was engaged to a sweet guy named Erik. They’d dated forever, and he was part of the family. When she was diagnosed, it was a shock to all of us, but Erik was amazing. He wanted to marry her immediately, but he didn’t have insurance, and the VA wouldn’t let Dad put her back on his policy unless she was a dependent.” I shake my head bitterly, hating how cold and impersonal bureaucracy can be.

  “So, what, did he leave her?” Matt asks, bringing me back.

  I shake my head. “God, no. He was always with her, taking her to appointments and staying with her during chemo. He was her rock. In one way, it was almost too much for Paula; she was so independent, but she needed him to get through all of it. She hated leaning on him but also loved that she could. I think now that it made her hate the disease even more, because of how it affected everyone around her. She hated that it made him have to be strong for her, that it put him in that position. Do you know what I mean?”

  “I think so.” He lets out a deep breath. “And I think I have an inkling as to how she felt.”

  “Erik was strong right up until the day she left us, and then he crumpled like a lost little boy.” I swallow back the emotion that always bubbles up when I think of Paula and Erik’s tragic love story. “He made it through the funeral, and then a few weeks later, he disappeared. He quit his job, moved out of the apartment he and Paula had shared, and drove off without a word, not even to his own parents. They were devastated. It was as if he couldn’t bear to see any of us anymore. Losing him made everything about that awful situation twice as bad. It’s like I lost a sister and a brother at the same time.”

  “Have you ever heard from him again?” he asks, with a puzzled frown.

  “No. It made a huge impact on me.” I pull at a loose thread on my sleeve. “That someone who was so in love, so committed, could just disappear without a word.”

  This is why the pull I feel toward Matt is scaring the hell out of me. As much as I try to tell myself that history doesn’t have to repeat itself, I’d be a liar if I said Paula and Erik’s story doesn’t play into my current attitudes toward dating. Why open yourself up to that type of pain when you can have a few months or nights of fun with no expectations? Most guys are relieved when they realize I’m not dreaming of rings and shared bank accounts. When the occasional guy does get clingy, I usually send him off with my well wishes and a spectacular blowjob.

  I’ve discovered that good head tends to soften the blow.

  Matt pulls me closer, and I feel his lips against my hair. “Thank you for sharing that with me. That would’ve been hard for anyone to go through, much less a twelve-year-old.”

  “I wonder whatever happened to him sometimes. My brother thought he saw him a few years ago getting into a cab in Chicago, but he was gone before he could make sure.”

  “Your brother? I thought you had a sister.”

  “I do. Rachel is my sister, and I have twin brothers who are the oldest, now that Paula is gone.”

  “Big family,” he grunts, and I can’t tell if that’s approval or not. He runs his hand down my arm. “Do you have to go to San Diego?” he asks wistfully.

  “Yes, I do. Especially since Abby isn’t going.”

  “Why isn’t she going?” He sounds puzzled and I prop myself up on an elbow to look at him incredulously.

  “Don’t you actually talk to your bandmates?” I ask with a touch of exasperation. “Kennedy is spiriting her off to some remote romantic location for a few days before he meets you guys in Australia. Didn’t he tell you?”

  His eyes light up with understanding. “Um, he may have mentioned it,” he mumbles. “I’ve been a little distracted lately.”

  “It’s a big surprise. I can’t wait to see her face.” I grin, thinking of her expression. She does so much for everyone else; it’s about time someone does something special for her. “Anyway, I’ve only had this job for two days, and it’s important to me. I want to do well, to show her that she made the right decision. I mean, how did you feel the first time you took the stage with Kennedy?”

  Surprise flickers across his handsome face, and then his eyes become thoughtful. “Like I was on top of the world, and I wanted to prove I deserved to be there.” He places a kiss at my temple. “Tess, you’re going to be great. Not just because you know the job, but because you care. That’s the key, I think.”

  “Thanks.” I glance up at him. “So, um, do you want me to call you when I get back?”

  He huffs a laugh. “What do you think? Of course I do. I drove all the way over here, broke in even, because I didn’t want to waste a minute with you.”

  A thrill runs through me. “When’s the last time you spent the night simply sleeping with a woman?”

  “No comment,” he growls dryly and tightens his arm around me. I let him be, and after a few minutes, I realize that his breathing has become deep and regular. Risking a look at him, I see he’s indeed asleep, his face relaxed and peaceful. His long eyelashes brush his high cheekbones, and my heart skips a beat. Good God, he’s pretty.

  I tug my fleece bedspread, flip it over our fully clothed bodies, and snuggle in beside him. Tomorrow should be interesting.

  Matt

  WAKING UP WITH layers of thick, black hair draped over me like a blanket does things to me that I wasn’t expecting. A few fitful hours of restless sleep are normal for me. Normal however, seems to have gone out the window since Tess blazed into my life.

  Even though it’s still dark outside, I’ve slept like a rock. Uninterrupted and nightmare free. I could get used to this feeling, despite it being a bit of a foreign concept to me. I’m surrounded by a warm, sleepy woman, her scent permanently planted in my brain. Something uniquely Tess that I can’t quite put my finger on, but it’s snuck under my skin.

  Her cheek is pressed to my chest like she’s done it a thousand times before. My heart pounds faster, my hand seeming to have a mind of its own as my palm gently glides into her hair, the strands silky against my fingers. I can’t stop running a circuit over the generous curve of her hip. My palm fits like it was made to be there, and I feel her burrow impossibly closer against my side.

  I can feel her heart beating a slow
and rhythmic bassline against me, stirring something deep inside to the surface. Contentment isn’t something I’m used to. I don’t remember falling asleep last night, and it pisses me off because I had plans. Plans that involved getting to know Tess and what makes her tick. Passing out before I even got started was not part of the plan.

  Her hand drifts lazily and seriously low across my hips, setting every nerve ending on fire, and I’m still fully clothed. The taunting memory of just how good skin on skin feels with Tess is torture. It would be easy. So damn easy to strip the barriers of our clothes away, sink into her, and hear those sultry little groans I’m not even sure she knows she makes.

  Breathing her in is dangerous, but I do it anyway as the muted light from the street lamp peeks through the sheer curtains in her bedroom. It’s predawn and unnaturally quiet, another first. My life is lived loud and to the extreme on most days. I exist in a constant state of noise and chaos: interviews, meetings, rehearsals, concerts, screaming, diehard fans, the electric buzz of backstage before and after we’ve played. Even my dreams are loud and abrasive.

  But, here, surrounded by the cloud-like softness of her sheets, and her body curled around mine, everything is different. It’s still and calm. I know I’m flying blind here, and if I’m not careful, I’ll crash and burn. We both might.

  The realization does nothing for my racing thoughts. The truth is life would be a hell of a lot easier if I just left Tess alone. If I had never come here tonight, if I hadn’t sought her out in her office, shared my past with her.

  As if she can sense my mind working overtime, she mumbles something against my chest and shifts away, turning her back to me. Maybe that says it all.

  “I must be dreaming.” It’s a groggy statement that makes me grin as I flip the pancakes.

  Even leaning against the stool as if she doesn’t trust her legs to hold her, I can tell Tess’s roommate is tall. Tall and exhausted as she blinks the sleep out of her eyes. She’s in quite a state, looking like she just rolled out of bed, with puffy brown eyes and a rumpled, oversized SFSU hoodie hanging off her shoulders.