by Jessa James
Kissing my forehead, he turned and went into the bathroom. When I heard the water turn on, I knew I had to go. Now. If he walked out with nothing but a towel around his hips, all of my willpower would evaporate in an instant.
Grabbing my clothes, I tossed them on, found my purse. I couldn't leave without telling him something. While I knew I didn’t have the courage to tell him to his face—he'd just grab me and get me beneath him—a note would work. He couldn’t argue with a note on his pillow.
I found a hotel notepad and pen on the desk, scribbled out a few lines.
There. Done. Closure.
With one last look at the closed bathroom door, thinking about the man who was most likely soaping up his gorgeous body hidden behind it, I walked out the door. Out of Kit's life. Out of his way.
Kit
My cock was so fucking hard. Again. I was like a fifteen year old who couldn't control it. Hell, I'd fucked her three times and I still wasn't done. I doubted I'd ever be. I gripped my cock, stroked it once, then let go. No, I wouldn't waste it in the shower. All my pleasure, all my cum would be for her. I wanted fill her up, to go in her bare, to fuck her raw. Nothing between us.
I groaned as my balls ached. Grabbing the soap, I got clean. Fast. Wrapping one towel around my waist, I grabbed another and rubbed my hair.
“Lean back on the bed and spread those gorgeous thighs nice and wide. I want pussy for breakfast,” I called.
When I opened the door, I expected to see a very compliant and very eager Crystal. The bed was empty.
“Crys?” I called, but I already knew. She was gone. Her clothes weren't strewn on the floor.
I saw the note.
Last night was amazing. Thank you. It was really great to see you. I have to go. Signing at two. Good luck with the tour. – Yours, C
“Shit,” I muttered, crumpling the paper in my fist.
Leave it to a fucking writer to leave a note. I should be angry, pissed at her. I wasn't. I loved her all the more. The way I felt right now with her gone, not knowing where she was, out there somewhere hurting. I felt like I'd been eviscerated with a fucking butter knife. I could only imagine what she felt, walking away from me, from us. Again. This time with no lies between us. She knew I loved her. She knew I’d walked away for her, and she’d agreed that it was the right choice for both of us.
But as I stared at the empty bed, I realized I’d made a huge fucking mistake. Colossal. I only talked about the past.
I loved her now, and I hadn’t told her. I’d been so busy drowning in her that I hadn’t said the words. I kissed her, and I fucked her, and I forgot to tell her what I wanted.
Her. Forever. A gold ring on her finger and her in my bed every night for the rest of my life.
Fuck this. I wasn't letting her get away. My band? Yeah, they'd been my life, but they could fucking deal. Crystal was my life now. Always had been, but I'd put my music first for long enough. I had money. Fame. I could take care of her now. It was time to put her first. It was time to live. Really live. And I couldn’t do that without her. I had to show her we could make this work. Following our dreams and having each other weren't mutually exclusive anymore. We weren't eighteen any longer. We weren't starving artists, or at the mercy of our miserable parents.
We could be whatever we wanted. We could do whatever we wanted. Together.
Dropping the towel, I went over to my phone and called the one person I knew could help me figure this out.
“Tia, I need your help.”
Chapter 9
Crystal
Vi’s hand was like a vice around my wrist but I couldn’t work up the energy to pull away. A sense of déjà vu flooded me as we walked into the crowded arena. Thousands of people were flooding the venue like a river of faces moving in a constant stream around me. Up the escalators. Down. Moving in solid streams through the corridors, everyone excited and smiling, laughing and happily standing in line to pay way too much for a t-shirt with Nightbird’s album cover plastered on the front and a list of tour cities on the back. Or Kit’s face.
That face. It hurt to see it on posters all around.
Everyone wanted a piece of him.
“What are we doing here? You said we were going out with some of your friends in the city.” We’d made these plans two weeks ago. This was Vi’s town, and she’d squealed when she saw the three-day end of the publicity tour. I was exhausted, mentally at least. And the more I tried to forget the last twenty-four hours, the more my body rebelled. I could still remember Kit inside me, kissing me, making me feel.
“Trust me.” Vi tugged and I stumbled forward into the masses, trying to blend in. Vi had insisted we dress up tonight. No jeans. I’d been expecting a dance club with loud music, lots of alcohol and no painful memories and dressed accordingly. A tight black miniskirt hugged every curve. My heels were too high, the black straps crisscrossed over my ankle in a sexy twist that made me feel like I wasn’t a total loss. My hair was down and I’d taken my time with my makeup, the armor I needed to hide my current misery from the rest of the world.
A little wine and dancing and maybe I'd forget Kit. But here? It wasn't going to happen. I might feel like shit, but at least I looked good.
I shook my head and let her pull me along behind her. I breathed a sigh of relief when we passed the security guard who admitted us into the backstage area last night. I did not need a repeat of the Kit Kaswell show. The man was burned into my soul already.
I didn’t know what Vi was up to, but I didn’t care much. I’d been walking around in a fog since I left Kit this morning. So, yes, I didn’t see a future for us. But that didn’t mean that fact didn’t hurt.
A loud booming rock song started in the main arena and Vi jumped, then walked twice as fast. “Come on! We’re going to miss it.”
“Miss what? Vi, I know you like this band, but one concert was enough.”
Would I be able to hear their songs on the radio without getting upset?
I was so not up to see Nightbird again. I should have told her about the night before, about how I'd walked away from Kit. We weren't a couple. We weren't anything. But if I explained, I'd start to cry and I'd cried enough over what could've been with him.
“You’ll see.” She grinned and I yanked backward to free my hand as Kit’s band manager, Tia, came into view. She was wearing pants and blouse that made her like more like the CEO of a bank than the manager of a rock band. But, whatever. She was tiny, but tough as nails and I respected that.
“Vi. Crystal. About damn time. You’re late.”
Late?
Vi shrugged. “Sorry. I tried.”
Tia looked me up and down, gave an approving nod, and used a security keycard to open the door directly behind her. I looked past her to see an empty hallway lined with doors. “What’s going on? Vi, I swear, if you're doing some weird publicity stunt, I'm going to kill you.”
Tia lifted her hands and scooted around behind us, ushering us through the door like a dog herding sheep. I felt like I was being handled, but I didn’t know what to do about it. And, in all honesty, deep down, my curiosity was at an all time high. “Go. Go. Go.”
Vi stepped into the corridor and I followed her. The music was loud here, too, but oddly muffled, the bass beat thumping through the walls and ceiling, muffled enough that I couldn’t make out which song the band was playing.
“Right. To the right.” Tia followed us and closed the door behind her, double-checked that it was locked, and lifted her chin to nod at a giant of a security guard I hadn’t noticed before. He stepped forward to stand in front of the door like we were prisoners here instead of guests.
Tia took off down the corridor, our heels a staccato burst of sound on the hard floor as Vi and I followed her.
“Vi,” I complained. “Look, let's just go to a bar or something.” And forget… everything.
She ignored me. Damn her.
It felt like we walked forever, the curved corridor stretching on in an endless loop,
the end always just out of sight around the bend.
Tia walked to another closed door and used the electronic key on the security pad. When the door swung open, two large men stood on the other side. Tia greeted them and then turned, pointing in my direction. “Gentleman, this is Crystal. Can you please escort her to her place?”
One of the men held out his arm to indicate I should walk with him. What the hell was all this about?
With one last glance at Vi, whose face, for once, gave away nothing, I followed the man down the hall. Vi and Tia both fell into step behind me. With every step, the volume of the music increased to near painful levels.
Three more steps and we rounded a corner. The man opened a small door and nodded as I walked past him… onto the stage.
Holy. Shit.
With one gentle yet solid push, I stumbled out far enough that the entire audience could see me. Glancing over my shoulder, I saw the door close behind me. I was alone. Well, as alone as I could be standing just steps from Kit with a few thousand fans screaming at the stage.
God, he looked good wearing his usual rocker uniform of worn jeans and black t-shirt.
The giant screen behind the band flickered and changed as Kit signaled the band to stop playing. The twisting psychedelic colors faded and all at once I saw myself on that screen. Me. About twenty feet tall.
Kit held up his hand and the crowd quieted, waiting expectantly. Like they were in on a great big secret and collectively holding their breath.
Kit’s grin made my heart skip a beat but he didn’t look at me as he addressed the crowd. “You all remember that story I told you a few minutes ago?”
Screams ripped through the arena and my hands clenched and unclenched at my sides. What story?
Voices shouted randomly from the crowd.
Marry him!
Lucky bitch!
If you don’t want him, I’ll take him!
Don’t do it, Kit! I love you!
Before I could process, the band started playing our song softly, more like background music than a performance. Our song. The song we’d been listening to the first time we made love. The song he used to sing to me when I was lying naked in his arms. The song that still broke my heart every time I heard it on the radio. How did they know? Oh, god, Kit had told them. They knew. No, they were in on this.
Oh. My. God. What was he doing? I began to tremble. Kit loved to be on stage, showing off to thousands of fans. I didn't. I hated the spotlight.
Kit walked over and dropped to one knee at my feet. My mouth fell open.
“Crystal, I know you’re scared. I know this is crazy, but I love you. I don’t want to live another day without you. I can’t.”
The screaming escalated in the crowd, encouraging me to do everything from kiss him to kick him in the balls. Some, begged him not to do it. It was crazy. This moment was crazy.
Looking down into Kit’s upturned face, my gaze found his and everything else faded. This was him and me. Us. And I saw everything in his eyes. Love. Devotion. Desperation. Need.
“The band? It might be my dream, but you're my life. Please, just say yes.” He said that softly so the microphone didn't pick it up. Just for me. “We don't have to choose. We can figure this out. Give me a chance. We can have it all. Together.”
The ring sparkled with an internal fire as Kit slid it onto my finger. I looked from the ring to him, realized I hadn’t answered him yet. I'd thought it had to be one or the other. Our dreams or our love. He was right. We could have both. I could have both. I was a writer. I could write from anywhere. And where I wanted to be was with him.
“Crys? I love you. I’ve always loved you. Please, marry me.” The band stopped playing and the lights faded until everything was dark but a spotlight shining on us like we were the only two people in the world.
Heat streaked down my cheeks and I realized I was crying. Everything ached inside me, the pain fierce and powerful and so damn good. I nodded, but held up my hand. “As long as I never have to be on stage again.”
He grinned then, and he was beautiful. He had everything he'd wanted, just as I did. It took ten years, but it was time for us to have everything our hearts desired. We'd worked hard for it. Earned it. Deserved it.
“Deal. Wife.”
I leaned over to kiss him, needing to share everything I was feeling with him, with the whole world watching. Suddenly, I didn’t care. Let them watch. He was mine.
The crowd went crazy, but I tuned them out. All I cared about was the man who leapt to his feet and wrapped his arms around me. His lips crashed down on mine again and I was consumed by him, by this love that exploded like a bomb inside my chest, ripping me to shreds.
I had no defense against him. I never had.
Epilogue
Two months later…
Crystal
London. Amsterdam. Berlin, last week.
I sighed and curled up on the couch in Kit’s dressing room on the lower floors of the big stadium. We were in London for the third concert. We’d already visited all the tourist traps. He’d bent me over the couch in our hotel room last night and blown my mind, all the while talking dirty in a British accent that drove me wild. He had a knack for adapting his voice to wherever we happened to be. I teased him that he should have been some kind of CIA language expert or spy instead of a rock star. Tomorrow, we were flying to Dublin. Irish whiskey, green everywhere and Kit promising to get me naked and talk to me with a sexy Irish accent.
That might be interesting.
The loud bass beat of the concert speakers thrummed through the floor and the walls and I tapped my foot with a smile, knowing my man was doing his thing. Sharing his passion with the world.
Laptop open, I typed. So close to finished. A few more pages and I’d be done, ready to send this baby in to my editor and take a break.
Kit was ready for a break, too. Eight weeks on tour. I’d seen some amazing places, loved every minute. But all I really wanted was Kit, a warm bed, and lazy days with nowhere to go and nothing to do. He agreed, forcing Tia to space out the dates for recording the next album. Because of me—or our newfound love—the whole band had decided to slow down. They'd been chasing their dream for so long, they'd missed the fact that they had it. It was time to live a little, too.
Especially now. Especially for me and Kit. I got the go ahead from my doc to ditch the condoms. I’d been on the pill long enough to be safe from pregnancy. I could finally give Kit what he wanted, me, with nothing between us. The next time he took me, there would be no latex between us. Nothing but skin on skin. He said he wanted to fill me with his cum, mark me. Those dirty words just made me hot and eager for him.
I was going to wait two weeks until we’d be on a beach saying our wedding vows, for our wedding night. Yeah, right. I wanted Kit in me bare just as much. I ached to know we were skin to skin. And Kit would be mine forever.
I tapped the volume on my headphones and turned them up, drowning out the concert so I could focus. This book deadline was not going to ruin our wedding, or the two weeks we were going to lay around on the beach fucking like bunnies on our honeymoon.
An hour later, I slipped my laptop back into its bag, done. The great thing about this job, being a writer, was I could literally do it anywhere in the world as long as I had internet. Which meant, I could travel with the band and still make a living, still do what I loved. Neither of us had to give up our dreams to be together. Vi had been thrilled for me to work and be with Kit. Hell, she just wanted permanent access to her favorite band and the hottest guys—besides Kit.
The door opened and there he was.
A rock god.
My rock god.
“Hi.”
I leaned back on the couch and smiled as I spread my legs in blatant invitation. I’d just spent two hours writing one of the hottest sex scenes ever. Waiting for him. “Hi.”
The skintight tube dress I wore was like a second skin and I was bare beneath, just as he liked. It was blue, the e
xact same color of my eyes, and I’d been saving the outfit for tonight, our last night in London, just to blow his mind.
He closed the door behind him and flipped the lock, the sound making me shiver with anticipation. He had no interest in the after parties, the groupies, even the rest of the band. When the concert was over, he only wanted me.
“Did you just flash me with naked pussy?”
“Yes.” I raised a brow and did it again. “What are you going to do about it?”
He stalked to me, never breaking eye contact. By the time he knelt in front of me, his big hands running up and down my thighs, I could barely breathe. This moment was what I’d been waiting for all day. When the work was done and it was just us. Like this.
Up on his knees, he leaned forward and kissed me as he used his hands to push the stretchy material of my skirt up over my thighs. I was naked from the waist down, shoes on, top in place, hair and make-up perfect. The cool air hitting my wet core made me feel naughty and I loved it. Loved the way Kit couldn’t keep his hands off me.
He kissed me like I was his air and I melted into him, ready to give him anything he wanted, be anything he needed me to be. Kit nibbled his way down the side of my neck and wedged his shoulders between my open thighs. “What do you want me to do about it?”
I laughed and lifted my heels to the backs of his thighs, locking my legs around him. “Rock my world.”
He groaned and lowered his head, finding my nipple through the fabric of my dress. He didn’t waste time. In one strong move, he pulled my hips forward to the edge of the couch and claimed my pussy with his mouth. He owned me, two fingers sliding inside to fill me up as his mouth worked my clit.
I exploded in record time, his name still on my lips as he dropped his pants and pulled out his thick, hard cock. He reached for a condom and I stopped him. “Don’t need that.”