“Where do you wanna eat?” I asked, taking her hand again.
“I don’t eat out much. Why don’t you pick?”
She bit down on her lip, and my cock reacted as usual. It was going to be a long night waiting for her to get done with her shift.
“I want to please you,” I told her. “Giving you pleasure gives me pleasure, yeah?”
Her expression softening, she smiled.
My chest burned. Her happiness was an arrow straight through the center of my heart.
“How about South Beach Bar and Grill?” she asked. “We can catch the sunset if we hurry, and their fish tacos are killer.”
“That’s by the pier, right?”
“Yeah. Let’s take the stairs down to the water and cut through to downtown. It’ll be faster.”
“Good plan,” I said.
Threading my fingers with hers, I escorted her down the stairs at the apartment first. Then I swung our arms together as we hit the sidewalk, heading toward the beach stairs.
“Our first official date.” I peered over at her to see what she thought of that.
“I guess it is.” She glanced at me. “It certainly is starting right.”
As the breeze tossed her hair around, I was happy to see that her eyes danced, as brilliantly animated as she was.
“We haven’t done things the traditional way,” I said, and she gave me a grin.
“I’m not a traditional girl.”
“You are my girl.” That was the important thing.
I squeezed her fingers. I loved that her expression softened, and she nodded to confirm.
“Handrail, babe.” I released her to let her safely precede me down the steep narrow stairs.
At the bottom, she reached for my hand again, and I felt a surge of satisfaction. It was so strong, my feet felt as if they floated inches off the sandstone as we made our way toward downtown. Along the route, I peppered her with questions.
“What’s your favorite color?”
“That.” She pointed with her chin.
“Blue?” I asked, glancing at the water.
“The color of the ocean. Yeah,” she said with a nod. Apparently, that hadn’t changed since we were kids.
“I noticed you have an acoustic guitar in your room. Do you play?”
“I used to. Plucking a tune helps me with my poetry.” Her lips twitched. “I’m not very good at it. My main reason for picking it up was to have an excuse to have Storm’s arms around me.”
Holy hell. I grinned.
“You’re not jealous of the connection I have to him?” she asked, zinging me with an unexpectedly pointed question.
“You remain connected to him.” To me. I gave her a long, searching look. “Even though he hurt you.”
There was enough of a question in my voice that she elaborated.
“Yes, the love I feel for him is bigger than the pain of losing him.”
She never lost me.
My fingers tightened around hers. “Storm’s a lucky guy to have any part of your beautiful heart.”
“He’s the reason my heart is the way it is. That it didn’t break completely as a child. And you’re the reason it’s mended now. Life did a number on it after Storm left. It was in pieces before you came along.”
“Li—Lotus.” I stopped, placing my hands on her shoulders. She always gave more than she received. “Thank you. You’ve certainly mended mine. Not a detour, a blazing comet streaking through the night.”
“I’m glad.” She lifted onto her toes and pressed her lips to mine. “That’s beautiful. You have a way of saying things that is so lyrical.”
It was because she inspired me. She always had. That line would get added to her song.
For now, I savored just being with her.
• • •
Lotus
Storm gazed at the view from our table on the second-story dining porch at the restaurant, empty plates on the bar, the public parking lot below us. The building where Ash lived and the studios for Outside were on the left, and the pier was stretched out in front of us.
My stomach was full, my heart nearly bursting.
The sun was setting. Oranges, pinks, a little powder blue, it was a pastel explosion over a sparkling sea. But it was Storm that truly captivated me. He was so handsome with the sun sparkling in his eyes and in his wavy light brown hair. I sighed.
“You okay?” He turned his head to look at me.
“I am,” I said, and it was true. Even with his secret not yet revealed, I was okay. My love for him was bigger than my fear. “I was just enjoying the view.”
“You weren’t looking at the view.”
Busted. “But I was.” I so was.
He grinned, reaching over to trace my curved mouth with his thumb. My stomach fluttered.
“It’s getting late. Walk me to work?” I asked.
“I’d love to.”
It was just a short walk past a few businesses and then a jog across the street. But he made use of the time, asking me about my plans for the future and listening intently.
“Before Cork joined the band, I didn’t think much beyond the day to day and what needed to be done.”
“Would you ever consider going to college?” Storm asked. “You could study horticulture, literature, or both. Poetry seems to interest you as much as gardening.”
“Maybe.” I tilted my head. “But I don’t know if I’d really be happy inside a classroom. I’m more hands-on. I like spending time outdoors. Searching for treasures in alleyways. Getting my hands deep in soil. Seeing seeds I planted growing. I like bartending and being around people, and I like writing my poems when I’m inspired. But what I most enjoy is spending time with the people I love.”
“Me too,” he said, staring deeply into my eyes.
I read a lot into that. And later that evening, I read a lot into his actions.
He arrived at Chill midway through my shift. Moving to a table in the corner, he watched me with a proprietary eye, and stayed until I clocked out. After he walked me home, he made love to me, slowly and tenderly.
And when I woke up the next morning, it was more of the same.
• • •
Over the next week, Storm and I fell into a pattern, one I loved as much as I loved him.
Mornings, he played his guitar, insisting that I sit between his legs while he plucked chords. He seemed to want to replace the memory I’d shared about Storm, him, or maybe he only wanted to embellish and enrich it. I started scribbling down alliterative phrases into a journal he bought for me while he played my heartstrings as effortlessly as he played his guitar.
Midmornings, I worked with my plants under the stairs, and he often helped me. Then we showered, and he inevitably fucked me quick and hard against the tiles, muffling my cries with his mouth.
Before lunchtime, he and Cork went into the studio. Things seemed to be going well with the band. Storm included me in all of it, recounting conversations from his time in the studio with his brothers and mine. He even asked for my advice when he got stuck on a lyric and needed a rhyme.
We ate dinner together every day. Sometimes just the two of us, and sometimes with Cork. Storm always arrived just before the end of my shift to walk me home. We went straight to my bed or his, where he made love to me.
His secret remained between us, a potential downburst. A howling wind in the distance.
But I wasn’t afraid. Not with him with me.
He was my calm in the storm, no matter his name.
Storm
I WOKE BEFORE Lotus, on my side of my bed with her behind me.
Her slender arms around me. Her delicate hands rested low, just above the waistband of my boxer briefs. Her tits and all the rest of her warm sexy body was plastered to me.
My lips curved. Even in sleep, she gravitated toward me. She wanted me as much as I needed her.
Sunlight streaming in the slats between the metal blinds, I noted her stamp on everything in the room, not onl
y me.
Plants were everywhere. The ones I’d bought from her were on the dresser, the nightstand, the windowsill, and on a shelving unit I’d installed.
My boxes were gone. My clothes were put away in the closet and in the drawers, a few of her things alongside them. Not as many as I wanted, but that would come. Soon, I hoped, in a new location.
I had a dream. She was my dream. Without Lotus, there was no hope, no choice but to journey alone.
One hand slid along my skin, the tips of her fingers dipping into my waistband. My rock-hard cock jumped inside my briefs.
“You’re awake,” I said low, capturing and squeezing her hands.
“Yes,” she whispered.
“Move your arms, babe.”
“Okay.”
She sounded sad. I flipped over and saw she looked that way too.
“Not because I didn’t want them where they were.” I broke into her thoughts before she could break into mine and run away with them. “I was just thinking about how much I love having you here.”
The past week had been almost perfect, except for my secret that remained between us. Soon, I would tell her. Everything was almost ready.
“Then why?” Her white teeth sank into her rosy bottom lip.
“I’m just worried about your circulation.”
“Oh,” she said.
“Right.” I recaptured her hands, brought them to my mouth, and pressed my lips to her skin. “Do you have any sensation left in them?”
Her mouth slowly curved. “A little.”
“Pins and needles?”
“Yes.” Her eyes simmered with heat. “But worth it.”
“Don’t look at me like that.”
“Like what?’ She slipped her hands free, placing them on my abs. Low on my abs.
I inhaled sharply. “Like you want me to fuck you hard.”
“That’s exactly what I want.”
“You know I’m gonna want to fuck you again after we garden together under the stairs.” I loved getting dirty with her, then cleaning up together in the shower after.
The curve of her lips deepened. “I’m counting on it.”
Hell fucking yeah.
How could I deny her anything she wanted? Especially when what she wanted, I wanted too.
I came up, pressed her back into the mattress, and glided my hands down her body. Grasping the thigh-skimming hem of her nightgown, I flipped it up.
“No panties,” I hissed, staring raptly at her pretty pussy.
“I’m running low on them,” she said. “My favorite pink pair is missing.”
“Those are mine now.” My gaze lifted and my nostrils flared. My lungs were full of the sultry scent of her arousal.
“Guess I’ll have to conserve what I have left.” Her eyes danced. “Go without when I can. Like when I’m in bed with you.”
“Definitely.” I made a mental note to hide every pair I could find.
I took her in slowly, retracing curves I would never tire of. She watched me, arching into my caresses. Her beautiful body bloomed beneath my hands.
Reaching the neatly trimmed triangle of her pussy, I stroked her. Her lids lowered, and her mouth parted. The soft sigh that escaped her sexy lips almost snapped the precarious leash of my control.
I swept my thumb through her folds. Finding her dewy nub, I slowly swirled around it.
“Journey . . .” She moaned, lifting her gaze. “Yes.”
I brought my thumb to my mouth to taste her. “Babe.” I groaned as our eyes connected. The slick, salty essence of her reminded me of the sea we both loved. “I have to be inside you.”
Ripping off my boxers, I spread her thighs apart.
“Come then.” She reached for me as I positioned.
In one smooth stroke, I slid inside her. I groaned from the bliss of her sweet cunt tightening around me. My gaze on fire like the rest of me, I stared down at her.
“My Lotus,” I rasped and began to move.
Grabbing my ass and lifting her hips, she moved with me. Our bodies undulated to a rhythm as ancient and essential as the moon and the tide.
Slow and languid built to urgent fast.
Her dark hair shivered on the white sheets. Straining for the peak, she tightened her sleek muscles. Mine were tighter as I drove my cock into her. Deep and hard, I possessed her, again and again. Her nightgown rode up higher, giving me irresistible glimpses of her perfect breasts.
“Look at me, Lotus,” I demanded roughly.
My spine burning and my balls drawn tight, it was coming for me. She opened her eyes, bright umber like a brilliant sunset. I wanted to tell her how much I loved her. But I couldn’t, not yet. So I showed her. Stroke by stroke, I drove her to the edge with me.
“I love you.” she said, and I saw it and felt it, her going over.
Stiffening, I went over the edge with her. Each of her spasms drew me closer to her soul and lifted us higher. Joined together, our eyes, our bodies, our spirits, we flew.
• • •
Lotus
After my shower, I followed the music and my heart that was tethered to his into the living room.
His head down, Storm was on the leather couch with his acoustic guitar in his lap.
I paused in the doorway to look at him. He wore only board shorts, black ones, and all his colorful ink. His long, wavy light brown hair curtained his gaze until he glanced up. Without that shield, only the warmth of his affection remained.
I swallowed to loosen my tight throat. “What song is that? It’s pretty.”
“Just a little something I’m playing around with.”
“It’s the same tune you were playing at Outside when you closed the door on me.” My brow furrowed. “So, not just playing around. Not any more than what we just did in your bedroom was.”
His gaze narrowed. “It’s never been just playing around between us, Lotus.”
My heart took flight from his words, much like the rest of me had in his arms only moments ago. “So the song is—”
“Not quite ready to debut yet.” Cutting me off, he shook his head. “Sorry.”
Translation, he wasn’t ready to say the words I had. But I felt it, especially in the way he made love to me. I saw it in his eyes right now, and heard it in the music. He was close.
“How can I help you?” I asked. “Whatever I can do, I want to do.”
“How do you not already help me, you mean.”
“I don’t understand.”
“It’s who you are. Who I am with you. Even my flaws turn to strengths. I’ve been angry many times since I came to OB. With Ted. With Saber. With his father. But I can control it with you. I can almost be the man you need me to be.”
“You are exactly the man I need.”
“If I am, it’s because of you. Sit with me.” His expression soft, Storm pushed the coffee table away, and gestured.
I sat on the floor between his legs like I usually did when he played his guitar. Grabbing my journal, I sketched badly and played around with a poem for a new card. He hummed under his breath.
We didn’t turn on the television. We didn’t talk. But it was like all the years apart had vanished, and I had a place where I belonged again.
“On the lyrics, if it were me, I’d change I’m to up on a razor’s edge.”
His fingers slipped on the strings. “You’re right.”
“Either way, it’s beautiful. It just seems a little better to me.”
“Thank you. I can’t wait to share the completed piece with you.” He swept my hair forward.
I shivered as he pressed his warm lips to my skin. I was in a bikini top and overalls, anticipating doing some gardening before he went upstairs to get Cork. They would go into the studio for band practice afterward.
“Ready to get your hands in some dirt?” he asked.
“Absolutely.” I placed the pretty journal with the lotus cover on the coffee table and stood.
“Are we going to transplant the new seedlin
gs to bigger containers today?”
He placed his guitar in a nearby stand and stood. When he stretched his arms over his head, I got lost in the display of all the muscles of his chiseled upper torso flexing.
“Focus, babe.” There was a ghost of a smile on his lips as he took my hand.
We moved toward the door together, and I had a déjà vu moment to when we’d been kids and he’d clasped my hand the first time.
Focusing, I remembered his question. “Yes, the seedlings are ready to expand their horizons.”
“It’s time for more than just your plants to try new things.”
He opened the door, and I stepped outside.
“What do you mean?” I watched him as he closed the door and locked it.
Is he ready to expand his horizons? To stay in OB? To share his secret with me?
“Ash is putting together a tour for OB Hardy and the Dirt Dogs.”
“Oh.” I stumbled, but Storm steadied me before we walked down the stairs. “You’ll be leaving?”
“Not right away.”
“Good.” I let out the breath I’d been holding.
Beneath the stairs, I handed him his gardening gloves, a pair that had once belonged to my dad. Storm glanced up to see me watching him.
“Are you okay?” He tilted his head, and tears misted my eyes.
“They fit you perfectly.”
“Your dad’s gloves?” He shook his head. “Those are far too big for me to ever fill properly. But I’m honored that you lend them to me to wear,” he said, his expression reverent as he tugged them on. “I’m certainly no master gardener like he was.”
“I’m not either. But I think he would like seeing us working together using the techniques he taught me.”
“You feel close to him when you garden, but it makes you sad too.”
“Yes.” I didn’t shy away from that truth. “But less sad when I’m with you. And I know he wouldn’t just like me with you, he’d love it.”
“Thank you.” His eyes flared, the green in them as full of promise as the seedlings.
Storm had loved my father, and my father had loved him. He knew how big my making that statement was.
As we transferred the delicate plants from temporary cardboard holders, Storm’s fingers brushed mine inside the soil. I had the idea that the roots for what we could be to each other had been established when we were kids, and my father had been around. Had he seen it?
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