by Sarah Grimm
That explained why she felt like she had sand in her eyes. If it was seven in the morning, they had all managed maybe four hours of sleep. Emma blinked a few more times and pushed her hand through her short hair. Wait a second, why was the stove farther away than last night? She glanced around once more then realized the couch she and Gary shared was part of a slide out someone had opened while she slept, making more room in the lounge.
The volume of Joe’s voice increased and the man next to him matched it. The man crossed his arms and turned a cold stare at her.
“That’s Marvin,” Gary supplied, slipping his phone into the thigh pocket of his pants.
Ah, the manager. “What are they arguing about?”
Gary returned the man’s stare, forcing him to glance away. “You.”
“Me?”
“Marvin strolled on the bus this morning, discovered you in what he likes to consider his spot and started up with his typical theatrics.”
“I’m awake now, I’ll move.”
“Ignore him.” Gary shot the ‘him’ he was referring to a look that spoke volumes. Emma wondered about the details, as there was obviously some bad blood between them. “The boys have an interview this morning. We’ll be leaving in a few.”
She wasn’t lazing about in her panties and tee while everyone else was dressed and ready for the day. Especially if she was already the topic of conversation. Tossing off the blanket, she stood, turned her back to the arguing pair, and pulled her jeans on. The fact that the room went quiet was impossible to miss. Emma ignored it. She folded her blanket and set it atop the pillow, then slipped her satchel over her shoulder and grabbed up her Chucks just in time to hear Marvin mutter, “Jesus, your piece of ass isn’t shy, is she, Joe?”
“Shut the fuck up, Marvin,” Joe growled. A warning.
Kirk cursed softly.
Gary rose to his feet. “Marv…”
Joe’s shirt hung to mid-thigh on her. Women showed more skin at the beach than she’d just flashed so she knew Marvin was trying to rile her. She refused to give him the satisfaction.
Emma curled her hand around Gary’s bicep—as much of it as she could—and gave tense muscles a squeeze. When he glanced down, she winked.
Every eye in the room was on her as she crossed to Joe, but she only had eyes for him. His free hand still fisted at his side, he appeared only seconds away from using it to pound his manager’s face. Not good. She flashed him a smile meant to reassure. It didn’t appear to work.
She stepped closer, close enough she could slide her left hand down his arm and work her fingers into his clenched fist, while curling her other around his mug. The look on his face was a cross between anger and concern, as if he wasn’t sure how she would handle the situation. Did he think she would dump the contents of his cup on Marvin’s head? Tempting, but under no circumstances was she wasting caffeine. Even if she wasn’t much of a coffee drinker.
Staring into his eyes, Emma lifted the mug to her lips as the fingers of her left hand drew patterns on his palm, encouraging him to relax. The too hot liquid hit her tongue, causing her to wince. Not coffee. Tea. She made a face then noticed the mug itself—white and blue with the word ‘wanker’ painted on the side in big cursive letters.
Emma laughed as she handed the tea back to him. “Nice. A gift from the band?”
Joe flashed her a smile, albeit a small one.
“Good morning, Marvin.” She faced the man, her voice giving no hint to her irritation. “My name is Emma Travers, which you should know since you arranged a delivery for me just the other day.” He had beady eyes, a bit too much around the middle and a sour expression on his face. Emma didn’t like him, and it wasn’t because of the insult he’d flung her way. No, there was something else; a negative energy that emanated from him. It was uncomfortable enough she nearly stepped away. “Remember it. Use it. Derogatory comments are unprofessional and unnecessary. Perhaps if you learned some decorum, you too, could have a piece of ass accompany you on this tour.” You nasty sniveling bastard.
Laughter followed her down the hall until she stepped into the back bath and closed the door. Dropping her satchel and shoes, she stared at her reflection in the mirror. “Well, that was fun.” Not.
The man didn’t warrant a second thought. With her habit of saying the first thing that popped into her head, she’d been called much worse than a piece of ass. But, damn it, he’d bothered her just enough she’d forgotten to find her luggage and dig out her toiletries.
A quick check assured her there was shampoo and soap. With a sigh, she turned on the shower, stripped off her clothes and stepped beneath the spray. Hot water beat down on her shoulders and back, soothing tense muscles, calming her nerves. She smiled when she squirted soap into her hands and discovered it wasn’t too masculine a scent. Soaping herself down, she squeezed out shampoo and washed her hair. Absently, she wondered if everyone had left for the interview. It would be nice not to have to face anyone else when she went in search of clothes. Because, yeah, she’d forgotten those, too, in her rush to escape.
With a shake of her head, she turned off the water, ran her hands through her hair and turned, startling at the sight of Joe leaning against the closed door. Eyes ablaze, he tossed a towel at her, large smile in place.
She caught the towel and snapped it open. “I won’t apologize.”
He shifted and drew in a deep breath, his gaze on her hands as she dried herself. “I won’t ask you to. That smart mouth of yours is one of the things I like most about you.”
“Yeah? Even when it’s you I’m telling off?” Done with her arms and chest, she moved the towel lower. His gaze followed. Her pulse fluttered.
“Especially then.” Still leaning against the door, he watched her every move. “I meet a lot of fakes in my line of work.” Immediately his eyes homed in on her mound. “You, on the other hand, are genuine.”
She let out a shaky breath. Although he was staring at the pale blonde curls that matched her hair, she was certain he wasn’t talking about people whose carpet didn’t match their drapes. “Fakes?”
He shifted, flexing every muscle in his back like he was trying to shake something loose. “It doesn’t matter.” His gaze never left her mound. “I brought your luggage.”
She gave the bag at his feet a quick glance as she secured the towel around herself. “Thanks.”
He grunted and pushed off the door. Removing his shirt, he dropped it atop her bag, then started working the buttons on his jeans. “I have an interview this morning. We’re leaving in five.”
Her stomach leapt. Her body grew wet. “Yet you’re removing your clothes.”
“I am.” The timbre of his voice made her shiver.
“Have something on your mind?”
His eyes filled with so much fire she nearly had an orgasm on the spot. “Giving you a proper ‘good morning’.”
He wasted no time backing her against the vanity. Tugging the knot between her breasts, he watched the towel drop to the floor before lifting her and sliding her butt onto the countertop. Desperate to touch him, she helped him shove his jeans down his thighs. As his cock sprang free, she curled her hand around it, stroking the long, smooth length. Tightening and releasing, her every caress ratcheted her excitement as much as his. It was crazy, how much she wanted him. They’d had each other so many times last night, she’d lost count. How could she still want him like this?
He let out a groan, then leaned in and kissed her. Hard. Hard enough he had to grab her hips to steady her as she lost her balance and nearly slid into the sink.
She pressed her face to his throat and laughed. “We can’t do this. They’re all out there.”
“Who cares?”
His mouth fastened on her neck and sucked on her skin. Her hand squeezed reflexively. “You’re going to substantiate Marvin’s opinion of me.”
Pressing a condom into her palm, he cupped her jaw, tilting it up to his. “You’re more than a piece of ass to me, Emma.” He ki
ssed her lips and she slid her fingers around his biceps. She held on, tightening her hold as his hands left her face to stroke down the front of her body and close over her breasts. He massaged her, teased and tormented her until she was panting, her pulse throbbing.
She lifted her right leg until her thigh pressed against his hip, opening for him. The move brought his gaze to her lower half, then his hands. He brushed his fingers over her wet flesh, a light touch of skin to skin. “Tell me you know. Say it. I need to hear the words.”
“I’m more than a piece of ass,” she whispered.
His thumb slipped inside her, slow at first, then insistent. He let out a low sound as if touching her suffused him with pleasure. “You’re wet.”
“Pavlovian response to you…” Her mouth fell open as his thumb brushed just the right spot and she lost her breath.
“To me what? Taking off my clothes? Playing with your breasts?”
He dragged his thumb across that magical spot again and she couldn’t suppress her whimper. “Saying my name.”
His grip on her hip tightened. His thumb stopped moving. “You’re shitting me,” he said, voice husky.
“You like my sass,” she gasped, tilting her pelvis, rocking against his hand. “I like my name on your lips.”
His mouth came down on hers at the same time his finger joined his thumb, twisting, stretching her opening. He swallowed her moan as she pressed closer, urging him deeper. No amount of coaxing sped him along. He held her in place, controlling the depth and angle of penetration. In complete control of her pleasure, he worked her body, driving her desire higher and higher. She lifted her hips off the counter and he slowed.
Emma slid her hands into his hair. “Joe.”
Her voice, full of frustration, brought his gaze off his hand to her face. His arousal mirrored her own. He curled his finger and the assault on her senses was enough to wring a cry from her lips. She fisted his hair, tugging.
“Sunshine, you’re the one holding the condom.”
“Shit.”
A smile tipped the corner of his mouth. He pulled the condom from the death grip of her fist and rolled in on. Then he was there, right where she needed him to be. He pushed inside her, slow and even, stopping as her inner muscles began pulsing. “Are you?”
“God, yes.” She clutched his shoulders and kissed him as her orgasm began, triggered by the pleasure of his body joining with hers.
“Fuck,” he ground out. Then his hand was back on her breast while the other grasped her hip. “Hold on.” He pushed deeper, lifting her ass off the counter. The change in penetration ratcheted her orgasm up a notch and she came in a flash of blinding light, bucking, grinding against him and chanting his name.
His grasp on her hips tightened, dug into her flesh. He withdrew then thrust, once, twice, again and again, his rhythm hard and fast. God, the way he moved, like her release had pushed him beyond reason, leaving him struggling for control as he raced to find his own. He hammered into her, pulling her closer, holding her as tight against him as he could get her. Suddenly his muscles went rigid and he released a growl, watching her as he pulsed inside of her, always watching, letting her see what she did to him, allowing her to experience the pleasure she brought him.
It was the most erotic thing she had ever witnessed.
Those eyes. She’d never get tired of looking at those eyes. She traced the tips of her fingers around them, down his cheeks, over his lips. “I like the way you say good morning.”
“Yeah,” he whispered, then kissed her, leisurely this time, kissed her until she was grasping his shoulders again. “Good morning, Emma.”
At her name on his lips, her body clenched hard, making him groan. “Christ.”
She kissed his throat, his collar bone, trailing her tongue over the shell of his ear as he withdrew. “You’re going to be late.”
“You’re not helping.” Voice full of frustration, he disposed of the condom and pulled his pants up, fumbling with the buttons.
With a soft laugh, she trailed her fingers across his abs, along the smooth stretch of skin just below his navel and above his waistband. “Everyone will know what you’ve been up to. You smell like sex.”
He reached down and snagged her wrist, removing her hands from his body. “No one will get close enough to notice. Besides, I’m pretty sure it’s the room more than me.”
“Fantastic.”
His mouth curved into a slow smile. Snagging his shirt off her luggage, he pushed his arms into the sleeves, this time buttoning it and tucking it into his jeans. “Don’t worry, everyone’s going with me. You’re okay with being alone? We shouldn’t be gone long.”
“I’m fine. Don’t worry about me.”
He tipped his head, backing toward the door. “Don’t forget to charge your mobile.”
Shit, she’d forgotten all about that. Alison was probably trying to call her.
“You forgot again, didn’t you?” He grinned, not waiting for an answer. Hand on the doorknob, he raked his gaze over her body. “I don’t suppose there’s any chance I can convince you to stay just like that until I get back?”
“Sorry.”
“Can’t fault me for trying.” Then he was gone, closing the door behind him.
April 18
The Monster is alive. Clawing against the inside of my skull. Scratching and snarling; doing everything he can to break me down, just break me. I won’t let him win. I can’t. There’s still too much to do, too much life left to live. I finally did it. I booked my European vacation today. All of the places I’ve yearned to go: Scotland, England, France, Germany, Italy. They’re all on the agenda. My tickets are purchased, my bag packed. I’m ready to catch the first of many flights tomorrow and begin my adventure. It’s what I’ve always wanted, and yet…there is a sadness inside of me knowing I’m doing this alone.
Always alone.
I should be used to it. After all, I was the only child of absentee parents. Lately, however, alone is a pain-filled thing to be. He changed that for me. Joe. Only after meeting him did I truly understand how much I was missing.
How very lonely I am.
My motto is to live in the moment. Forget the past, don’t worry about the future, and enjoy the day I’m in. I do my best to live by this dictum but sometimes, sometimes it’s difficult. Today, it’s impossible.
I came home to flowers. Sunflowers. From Joe.
After the way our conversation ended last night, the last thing I expected as I walked through my door was a room filled with vases upon vases of the happiest flower on the planet. I told him goodbye and I meant it. Then I spent a restless night mourning his loss, only to decide it was for the best. There is no future for us. I can only bring him pain.
It’s advantageous that I go now, before he becomes even more important to me. The irony of it is impossible to miss. I’m finally setting out on the trip of my dreams, and the man of my dreams sends me the sweetest apology ever – a room filled with sunshine.
Sunshine. He’s called me that from the beginning. As if I have a light that somehow makes his life brighter.
Sunshine…my stomach summersaults every time he says it.
Here I go again, breaking my rule, worrying about tomorrow and wishing for something more. More time. Time I could spend with Joe.
I hate this. The doubt. The fear.
The Monster.
The way it forces me away, to move faster, run farther. To see everything I can before it wins.
I leave for Europe tomorrow – a sunflower pressed between the pages of my journal, my only companion.
I no longer fear the end.
I fear being alone when it comes.
Number of days since I decided to live: 58
Number of days since I met Joe: 15
Current level of panic: 9/10
TEN
April 20
After the steamy dampness of an overheated bathroom, the warm spring air that greeted Joe as he stepped off the bus was exh
ilarating. Or maybe it was the flood of endorphins swimming through his system. Either way, he stood there with a ridiculous grin on his face and enjoyed the rush.
Emma.
She got wet when he said her name.
Fuck, that bit of information was going to wreck him.
The blare of a horn drew his attention to the black SUV idling a few feet away. One SUV, where there were supposed to be two.
“Hurry the fuck up!” The back window was down and Steve’s head popped out of it at an odd angle, indicating he was sitting in the third row, leaning over the seat before him in order to holler out the window.
“Where’s the other SUV?” They always had two for this exact reason, so no one had to climb all the way into the back.
“Marvin took it.”
“Bastard.” Joe should have fired him long ago, but he was a damn good manager.
Slipping his sunglasses on, Joe opened the door closest to him, palmed Steve’s face and pushed him away. He took the seat behind the driver and next to Kirk, closing the door with a snap.
“’Bout bloody time,” Bobby groused from the back seat. “What the hell you been doing?”
“His girlfriend if the just-been-thoroughly-fucked look on his face is any indicator.” Steve said, cracking Zach up.
Joe smiled. Turning so his back was to the door allowed him to see everyone in the vehicle. And they were all there: Gary in the front passenger seat, Kirk and Zach on the middle bench seat with him, Bobby and Steve in the back. Everyone except for Marvin, who’d taken it upon himself to leave without them.
Bobby looked at Joe for a long moment then shook his head. “Wanker.”
“No, actually, that would be you,” Joe corrected.
“Pfft. I prefer the hands wrapped around my dick to be my girl’s.”
“You don’t have a girl, Bobby.” Zach pointed out.
“Au contraire, I have many, many girls.”
Steve shook his head and smirked. “Yet you’re not the one wearing a just-been-thoroughly-fucked grin, are you?”
Bobby shrugged and flipped him the bird. Steve smiled unapologetically.