“Thanks for the chat, Felicity,” she says, gathering her things to go.
“Wait. Come for dinner on Saturday? I still want you to meet Conor and the babies.”
“Eh, Saturday?”
“Are you busy?”
I can see her thinking, trying to come up with an excuse.
“No, I’m free,” she says at last. “It’ll be just us?”
“Yes. I promise I won’t try to set you up with anyone. Not yet, anyway.”
She laughs again, and I tell her I’ll text her with the time and address.
23
Once home, I check in with Lizzy, nurse the babies, and head upstairs for a nap. But what I see stops me in my tracks. It’s Conor’s mobile phone, cracked and busted to pieces on the floor. I can see the mark on the wall where he’d thrown it.
He’s left it for me to find. No doubt, wanting me to see how upset he was by our phone call earlier.
Sitting on the side of the bed, I gaze at the mess and regret all I’ve done to push him away. My talk with Amelia has been clarifying. I don’t want to make him feel like he’s in the wrong. I’ve still got things to sort out for myself, but I don’t want to further damage our marriage while I do so.
“Right,” I say out loud. I stand and quickly make a plan.
After taking a shower, I carefully put myself together, including doing my makeup and pouring myself into the sexiest lingerie I have. I put on a black dress that dips low enough in front that the upper part of the pink lace bra I’m wearing peaks through. Putting on high heels, I turn to face the full-length mirror and have to admit that I look a whole lot better than I thought I have. My legs are slim, and my waist looks narrow, if only in comparison with my large breasts.
I just hope it’s enough for him to forgive the surprise appearance I’m about to make at the studio.
* * *
When I get there, the whole band is in the Wood Room. I say hi to James, the band’s manager, the sound engineers and Danny Boy, who is sitting right alongside them.
Danny Boy lets out a whistle. “Don’t you look a sight,” he says.
“Thanks. What are they working on?” I ask with a nod toward the boys. I, of course, don’t recognize the song. Conor hasn’t shared anything with me so far. And I realize I haven’t asked to hear any of the new music—another failing of mine.
“‘The Point of No Return’,” he tells me.
Christian's song. The song that I am aware enough to know has been troubling Conor for quite some time. He’s said they can’t quite seem to get over the hump with it, struggling with the right feel.
“They came to some sort of epiphany today,” Danny Boy says. “It’s bloody magnificent.”
Danny Boy works one of the sliders on the soundboard to raise the volume even higher. Roscoe, his dog, stirs in his sleep but doesn’t wake.
I keep my eyes on Conor, watching the way he’s playing the guitar. The instrument is slung low against his hips and he fingers it with such command, his talent undeniable. He’s got his eyes on Gavin who has an acoustic guitar, and it’s clear they are communicating somehow without speaking, urging each other on with the tempo they’re manipulating.
Then Gavin leans into the microphone and sings, and the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.
Why did you have to care so much?
You answered my call but I did nothing at all
You’ve left an imprint and this touch
Won’t fade away, you’re more than your pall
When Conor joins him as backup for the chorus, I feel a burn in my chest. Both men are using the song to expose their broken hearts.
When you ca-a-ame to the point of no return
The point of no return
Did you know you weren’t alone?
You’re never alone, never a-lone
Because I’ll be searching for you on the dawn patrol,
The dawn patrol
And we’ll ride the crest
The never-ending crest, my friend
It all clicks. They sound raw and powerful and amazing. It’s exactly the right combination of music and lyrics to express the pain and love they feel for the song’s subject—Christian Hale, the friend they lost too soon, too suddenly.
When the song concludes, it’s eerily still and silent. No one moves. Each man is frozen at their instrument, and everyone at the soundboard is just as motionless. Then, I see Gavin go to Conor and wrap an arm around his neck. He whispers something to him that we can’t hear out here and Conor nods, his eyes closed. It’s an intimate interaction, somehow, between the two men.
James clicks a remote control-like button so he can be heard in the Wood Room and claps loudly. “That’s it, boys. That’s it.”
That’s when Conor looks up and sees me. He’s justifiably surprised and his brows come together in confusion.
As soon as I see that Shay has gotten up from his drum kit and is stretching and that Martin has taken his bass off from around his neck, I make my way into the room. I go straight to Conor and throw my arms around his neck, not caring about the lads in the room or even that his guitar is between us. I step up on my toes and kiss him full on the mouth.
Though I’ve surprised him, he puts one arm around me and kisses me back before asking, “What’s this?”
“I need you, Conor,” I whisper urgently. “I need you so much.”
“Time for a break, yeah?” I hear Gavin ask. He and the others quickly file out.
“Hang on,” Conor tells me, pulling away so he can take his guitar and put it in a nearby stand.
“Can we go somewhere?” I ask.
“Somewhere?”
I pull on his waistband. “Somewhere private, love.”
That’s all it takes to get him to spring into action. He grabs my hand and pulls me out of the recording space, down a hallway, and into the empty toilet. It’s spare and purely functional, but has a lock on the door, which is all we need.
“You’re all right?” he asks.
But I don’t want to talk. I just want to show him how much I want him. How much I need him. Instead of pushing him away like I’ve done for so long, I pull him to me hard. He takes this as the sign I had intended and stops talking. Instead, he matches my desire by kissing me and pulling the shoulder straps of my dress down, exposing my breasts.
All those months of feeling numb, of not having any sexual desire disappear in this moment and are replaced by such an intense need to have him that I can barely contain myself. My body is warm and aching for his touch. His hands are on my breasts and down along my sides and gripping my ass and between my legs. But it’s not enough. I’m practically panting from the need I feel.
I pull off my G-string and hop up on the sink counter. I fumble to try to help him open his jeans, but he’s got it under control and is soon fisting his hard, dripping cock. If I didn’t want him inside me so much, I’d drop to my knees to lick, tease, and suck him dry.
Next time.
This time, he pushes himself deep inside of me and I gasp and moan at the same time. He fills me so completely that I dig my nails into his back with the sheer pleasure of it. As anxious as I am, he’s the opposite, content to go slow with measured thrusts that go deep before pulling almost all the way out.
Holding his face in my hands, I kiss him, my tongue exploring his in time to his thrusts, over and over again. I’m lost in the overwhelming sensation of his body joined with mine when he surprises me by grabbing me and pulling me up, turning us so he’s got my back against the wall. He can fuck me harder this way and I hold onto him tightly as I feel my orgasm building.
“Yes,” I moan.
I can tell he knows I’m close because he keeps at the rhythm that’s working so well for me, grinding and pushing up against me at just the right angle until I cry out, incapable of being quiet. In the next moment, he’s found his own orgasm and has buried his face into my neck, breathing hard.
I don’t know how long we stay that way, b
ut it feels like a while. Stroking his hair, I can feel his breath slowly return to normal. When we finally separate, he smiles at me.
“Hi, honey.”
I smile back. “Hi.”
“It’s good to see you.”
“Hope you don’t mind the interruption,” I say with a poor attempt at an apologetic smile.
“Never,” he says emphatically, and kisses me.
It’s not a kiss of burning passion anymore, but one of sweetness and tenderness. Both kinds of kisses make me realize they’re everything I’ve been missing. He’s everything I’ve been missing.
We each take a minute to cleanup, but I don’t want to leave the bathroom yet.
“I heard the song,” I tell him.
“Yeah?”
“It’s incredible.”
“Thanks.”
“No, I mean it. It does him justice, Conor.”
He takes a deep breath and exhales slowly before nodding. “That’s all we wanted.”
“What did Gavin say to you afterward?”
“Hmm?”
“He hugged you and said something?”
“Oh, I, dunno.”
My brows come together as I try to sort out why he won’t tell me what Gavin said. I try to convince myself he’s allowed to keep some things to himself, but it still gnaws at me.
“What made you come, Fee?”
I smile and glance down at his crotch suggestively. “You know perfectly well what made me come.”
He laughs. “Yes, I’m glad for that. Really fucking glad, in fact. But you know what I mean.”
“I, em, I went home after seeing Amelia. And I found your phone all smashed up.”
“Oh, right. I’ve got Teddy getting me a new one.”
Teddy is his assistant, but I don’t care about the replacement efforts.
“Seeing that made me realize the effect I’ve been having on us” I say. “I don’t want to smash up our relationship—”
“You’re not—”
“Con, I’ve been mixed up and having a hard time. But you’re not to blame. I’m sorry for taking things out on you. I love you so much.”
“I know you do. And I love you, honey. I’m not going anywhere, no matter how you push me, okay?”
He’s bent at the knees slightly so as to look me in the eyes and I smile. I wrap my arms around his neck and press myself to him. He holds me close and his strong arms feel so good, so reassuring.
“How embarrassed will I be when we go out there?” I ask into his shoulder.
“Hmm?”
“You think they heard all that?”
“Nah,” he says dismissively. “Anyway, you’re my wife. There’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”
It’s a nice sentiment, but when we go out to the little seating area in front of the sound boards, all the guys are there, and they burst into a round of applause and wolf whistles. I bury my head into Conor’s bicep, my cheeks on fire from blushing.
“Yeah, yeah,” Conor says. “Fuck you very much.”
I look up at him and see him smiling broadly. I take comfort in the fact that I’ve, at last, made him happy.
24
Conor
It takes some time to get my focus back after Felicity leaves. The guys give me hassle over it, but I don’t care. For the first time in what feels like forever, I’ve got my wife seeming like my wife again. I wonder if I’ve got Amelia and her sneaky therapy sessions to thank for it.
It’s with this in mind that I manage to find time to query Danny Boy later in the day. He’s usually the one that runs out to get us lunch, but I volunteer to go with him with the excuse that I want to see if the restaurant can make the special smoothie I want.
He and I walk along with Roscoe at our heels. I let Danny Boy go on, in his typical excited way, about Christian’s song. He’s hyped by it, declaring that it will be an instant hit. I don’t think he’s necessarily got his pulse on such matters, but don’t dismiss his enthusiasm out of hand either. There does feel like something special in this song. I just know I’m too close to it to be objective.
“We’ll have to see, man,” I tell him.
“Yeah, you’ll see. I’m telling you, it’s going to be a fucking blockbuster,” he says quickly. As usual, he’s always got more energy than he knows what to do with. This time, he’s funneling it into his enthusiasm for this song. “I mean, it’s balls-to-the-walls rock ‘n’ roll but with all that soul. And it’s not just Gavin’s voice. I mean, fuck, where’d you come up with that voice, anyway? Been hiding it away all these years?”
“Okay, got it. You like the song,” I say with a laugh.
“No, really—”
“Anyway, I wanted to ask you something.” We’ve got just two more blocks until we’ll be surrounded by people in the restaurant, so I want to get to this. “Em, Shay mentioned you’re seeing a therapist, is that right?”
“Ms. Patterson? Yeah, I was. But not anymore. Why?”
“Oh. Why’d you stop?”
“You want a referral? Got some head shrinking that needs to be done?” he says with a laugh.
“Fuck’s sake, Danny Boy. I just meant it as a compliment. That I could see you’ve found some kind of peace lately. Thought it was good that you had someone who seemed to help.”
He considers this for a minute and I feel like I’m going to lose him into his own thoughts, but then he speaks again, saying, “She’s something special, that’s for sure. And yeah, she definitely helped me figure some shit out.”
“But?”
“But what?”
I sigh with impatience. Danny Boy can be so painfully obtuse. “What made you stop seeing her?” I ask slowly, elaborately enunciating every syllable just to fuck with him.
“I was done with therapy,” he replies in the same manner I had used. He throws in bullshit sign language moves with his hands. Just to fuck with me.
“Ay, you may be better, but you’re a long way from fixed, I can tell that much.”
“Fuck off, Mr. Perfect,” he grumbles.
We get to the restaurant and as Danny Boy deals with the food, I sign some autographs and take selfies with the crowd of fans who seem to have sprung up out of nowhere. It’s one of the reasons why Danny Boy is usually the one to do these errands. I can’t remember the last time I went out and wasn’t recognized, even if it’s only from a gawking distance.
On the way back, I realize I don’t need to dissect what kind of therapist Amelia is. She’s proven herself with Danny Boy. And she’s already proven herself with Felicity.
“I actually phoned her earlier today,” Danny Boy says.
“Phoned who?”
Now it’s he who treats me as if I’m being obtuse. “Ms. Patterson, my former therapist,” he says with exasperation. As if we had never stopped talking about her. As if we hadn’t had the interruption of getting the food and the rush of the fans to deal with.
“Oh. So, you’re still in touch? Friends, then?”
“Something like that. I keep her updated on how I’m doing, that sort of thing. Call her fairly often.”
It’s then that I remember Amelia requesting that I don’t tell Danny Boy about her seeing Felicity. In fact, she seemed quite concerned that he not know anything about her. It makes me wonder about his evasive answer.
“Danny Boy, does she actually think you’re friends?”
“What? Of course,” he says quickly.
I stop walking and after a few steps he does, too. “For fuck’s sake. Tell me you’re not stalking her.”
“Stalking her?”
“Jesus, man, does she answer the phone when you call her?”
“Well, no.”
“You fucking idiot. You’re going to get yourself in trouble with that.”
“No, she’s good with it, I swear. I mean, the thing is, we have a connection. It’s just with me having been a client, she can’t really give in to it, is all.”
“What is wrong with you?”
; “Nothing. You said yourself I’m good now.”
“Wake up, wanker.” I flick his forehead and he steps back. “If she wanted to hear from you, she’d answer the fucking phone. You’re harassing her and she’s too kind to tell you. Don’t you know a single thing about women?”
He blinks, considering this. But then he shakes his head. “No. You don’t understand. You don’t know how it is.”
I roll my eyes. “First you fuck up with Julia. Then you go and set your sights way too high with Amelia.”
His eyes widen. “Amelia? How’d you know her name is Amelia?”
Fuck. That was a misstep. “You said it. I dunno.”
“I don’t call her that. She’s my ‘dear Ms. Patterson’.”
“You sound like a loony person. She’s not your ‘dear’ anything. She’s the one you’re stalking.”
“I’m not. And you can fuck off, already. It’s none of your business. I don’t need to stand here and convince you of anything.”
He’s abandoned the issue of how I knew his therapist’s first name, and I realize it’s the right time to end this conversation.
“You’re right,” I say. “I don’t know. And I don’t need to know.”
“That’s more like it.”
We start walking again, but then he stops abruptly and looks at me. I worry he’s about to question me again, but in typical Danny Boy fashion, he’s moved on.
“Who’s the idiot now?” he asks.
“What are you on about?”
“You didn’t even remember to get that smoothie you wanted.”
I laugh and then try to feign frustration. “I completely forgot, damn it.”
“You want me to run back?”
I slap him on the back. “No, I’m good. But thanks for the offer, man.”
As has become the case in recent months, it’s hard not to enjoy Danny Boy. He and his dog Roscoe are a perfect mirror of each other. They’ve both been abused and lost. But now they’ve found their home—together and with us, and there’s no turning back.
Felicity Found (Rogue Series Book 6) Page 13