by B. B. Miller
He crawls up my body while I’m still coming down from my high and kisses me deeply.
“You’re next,” I promise, my voice still breathy, and he smiles. Over the next few hours, we move from the sofa, to the floor, and finally make our way upstairs to claim the bed. I’ve never been so insatiable, but he meets me every step of the way. When I finally collapse against his firm thighs, every inch of me feels spent. Jesus.
“Holy fuck,” he pants from behind me. “I think you’ve broken me, woman.”
A giggle bubbles up as I rest my forehead on his knee. “I think you’ll recover.” I feel his hands gliding over my ass.
“What a view, though.” He still sounds winded. Maybe I did break him.
“Speak for yourself,” I tease. “I’m staring at your knobby knees.” I give one of the knees in question a playful nip and he laughs, slapping my ass in return.
“Turn around, wench, so I can kiss those sassy lips.”
I lift and let him slip out of me, and roll off to the side before I scramble into his arms. I snuggle in and give him a sweet kiss. Humming contentedly against my lips, he lets me settle with my head resting on his shoulder.
“Jesus. I have no fucking control around you.” He sighs happily, but chuckles when his belly rumbles again. “I think I’d better order something. Unless you’d rather get dressed and go out?”
I shake my head, perfectly content where I am. “Ordering in is great.” We untangle ourselves, and he pulls on some jeans while I wander into the bathroom for a few moments. When I emerge, I hear a few notes from the piano drift up to me, and a grin blossoms on my face. The notes become a line, and then a flowing torrent. I don’t recognize the song, but I don’t want to interrupt him by going downstairs to ask. Whatever it is, it’s beautiful and complex, just like him.
I lie back down and drift for a few minutes, the music lulling me, and my eyes wander to the terrace outside the French doors. A sudden urge has me rising to my feet. I wrap the blue coverlet from the bed around my shoulders to protect me from the chill and go outside. The large terrace has a lovely view of the city, and I wander past the outdoor dining set to sink down onto one of the large chaises that dot the space. I can see the famous Eye as it turns, the lights winking at me in the darkness.
I take a deep breath, letting the early autumn air fill my lungs. A cloud floats in front of the moon, making it look like cotton candy, lit from within. It looks like I feel—every inch of me feels alight and alive in a way I’ve never felt before. And it’s not just because of the amazing sex. It’s him, in all his multi-layered, brilliantly-talented glory.
A sound distracts me, and I look over to see him depositing a tray of food on the table before he walks over to join me. “Hey, baby,” he whispers, looking at me with concern. “Are you okay?” I nod and give him a reassuring smile before pressing my lips to his. Our kiss quickly becomes heated, and I open my wrap to allow him to snuggle against me. He manages to rid himself of his jeans and leans me back against the cushions, whispering sweet encouragement in my ear. I know I’ll be sore in the morning, but I can’t bring myself to care.
As he slowly fills me, the clouds disappear, unveiling a blanket of stars above us, and I beam. Because I am safe in his arms. Just like his song.
Relentless pounding on the door and muttered voices in the hall show no signs of letting up despite Kennedy’s insistence we just ignore the racket. Having made our way down to the main floor the next morning, he spent some more time trying to find Cameron while I got caught up on email. I was surprised how comfortable it was to just be together, an easy companionship I wasn’t expecting as we both worked away. Well, no longer. Kennedy is up and hauling the door open, his jaw rigid.
“Do you have nothing better to do?” Kennedy scowls and I can’t help but laugh as his bandmates and Tucker push past him and into the suite.
“I tried to stop him,” Tucker says. “You know how he gets.”
“Fuck’s sake,” Kennedy mutters, letting the door shut behind the group.
“Bloody hell! Look at him blush!” a British voice bellows. “She really must have a MP!”
Kennedy glares, and I see the drummer, Sean, grinning at me maniacally. His dyed hair is wild and unruly. It’s disconcerting. “Come on, mate, aren’t you going to finally introduce me?”
“Abby, this is Sean.” Kennedy’s voice is a warning growl, but it’s not directed at me.
Sean ignores him and slips a conspiratorial arm around my shoulders. “Come with me, my beautiful MP, and tell me all your secrets,” he sings, while I smile at him in confusion. “You can meet my sister, Sydney. She’s gracing us with her presence today.” He waves over at a tall redhead standing near the door who simply laughs at him before he ducks back down close to my ear. “I’m the better-looking twin, but don’t tell her that.”
“Twin?” I say. Kennedy tries to take hold of my hand, despite Sean tugging me toward the seating area near the piano. “And sorry, but I don’t have any secrets.” I playing along. At least, none that I’m going to share with him.
He waves a hand dismissively. “I’ll tell you my secrets, then. Mine are probably more interesting anyway.” He stops in front of our destination and throws his free hand in the air victoriously before sinking to one of the couches. “Boys! Behold, the MP!”
“Oh, fuck,” Kennedy groans softly, and pulls me from Sean’s grasp, securing me to his side. “Keep your fucking paws off her, asshole.” He shoots me an apologetic smile, and I lean closer.
“MP?” I ask quietly. The only MPs I’ve heard of are Members of Parliament or Military Police. Embarrassment flashes on his face for an instant.
“Never mind. He doesn’t even know what the hell he’s talking about most of the time.”
“Sit, HRH. Tell us all about the lady who has managed to tame the savage beast,” Sean coaxes gleefully, patting the cushion beside him. The bass player with the ridiculous Mohawk, Matt, leans against the side of the couch, but Cameron is nowhere to be seen.
Kennedy sandwiches himself between Sean and me, pushing him out of the way with a frustrated huff. “Jesus you’re a pain in the ass.” Sean just laughs as his sister Sydney drifts in to join the fold.
I smile when Kennedy leans in for a soft kiss that I can feel down to my toes. It’s like he’s my anchor to reality amongst these larger-than-life characters, and I take comfort in the feel of his arm slung around my shoulders and his steady gaze. But when I look back to the group, I see them examining me with a mixture of curiosity, shock, and wariness.
Alrighty, then . . . Here we go.
Kennedy
“AND THAT’S WHEN our man here stood right up to the guy and told him to step aside,” Sean explains as he perches on the back of the couch across from us. He’s holding court as only he can. The presence of Sean’s twin sister, Sydney, doesn’t seem to have had any impact on his behavior, and nothing he says or does seem to faze her. I think she’s just accepted the fact that her brother is who is. Something tells me he’s given her a lifetime’s worth of ammunition to tease him with.
Sean and Sydney are polar opposites. Syd with her short, always perfectly styled red hair, dressed like she’s just got off a J.Crew photoshoot, and Sean with a new color of hair every week and a personality that needs its own zip code. If they didn’t finish each other’s sentences half the time you’d never know they were related.
We’ve been indulging on takeout from a Chinese restaurant Sean claims is the best in London. The table is strewn with just about every dish on the menu. I pass Abby another fortune cookie before trailing the pad of my thumb over the back of her hand. She offers me a hesitant smile. It’s probably been a bit like an episode of the Twilight Zone for her. Sean alone is a trip at the best of times; couple that with the incident with Brodie, and she must feel like she’s stepped to the other side of the looking glass.
Sean continues on, and I shake my head at him and his ridiculous telling of yet another embarrassing momen
t. At least I remember this one. “Thought the brute was going to level him right then and there. He was a badass. The size of a Redwood.” He flails his arms, almost toppling off the back of the couch.
Matt steadies him with a laugh. “But no. Kennedy here wasn’t having it. Wanted the kids to get their swag and autographs first. Almost a saint your man here is, MP.”
“Stop calling her that,” I growl.
Sean gives me a smirk and a salute as Abby’s hand tightens against my thigh. “I like that story,” she whispers under my ear, leaning into my side. I can feel her breath against my neck and smell her warm, inviting scent, her tight little body pressed up against mine, making me just want to kick my annoying bandmates out.
“Yeah?” My fingers find their way to the back of her neck and into her hair, and I feel her shiver slightly. It’s good to know I’m not the only one affected.
“Then there was that time in Singapore when were at that bathhouse,” Sean starts.
I almost spit my mouthful of water across the table. “And that’s your cue. Time to for you all to go.”
“They’re leaving?” Abby asks, those big hazel eyes blinking up at me, making my heart clench.
“Please tell me you’re not enjoying listening to this idiot’s ramblings.”
“Actually, it’s very revealing,” she teases.
“Lies. It’s all lies. Don’t believe a thing any of them tell you.” A balled-up napkin clocks me in the back of the head, and I level a glare at Sean.
“Every word is true and you know it, mate. Actually, you might not remember some of it, and I may have embellished that bit ‘bout the bet with the roadies that landed us in questioning at the border crossing in Vancouver, but everything else? True.” Sean opens up another fortune cookie from the bag. “Kind of.”
“See?” I wrap my arm around her shoulder, bringing her into my side right where she belongs. “Here’s an example of those reliable sources close to the action you always read about. Believe nothing unless you hear it from me, baby.”
“Grasshopper!” Sean shouts. “Time for us to go—.”
“Just no,” Sydney starts, hitting him on the shoulder. Sean pouts at her. “You’re only here for a few days, and I’ve hardly seen you. No more clubs or groupies.”
Abby leans against my shoulder, whispering under my ear. “I really like her.”
“You’re no fun at all,” Sean complains, nudging her in the shoulder.
Sydney shakes her head at him. “You’ll thank me in the morning.”
“No word from Cam yet?” Matt asks, putting the elephant in the room front and center. Cameron’s MIA stunt is starting to worry all of us. None of us have ever gone this long without at least checking in.
Sean shakes his head. “I’ve checked the usual haunts . . . No one’s seen him, man. It’s like he’s up and vanished.” He reaches for another takeout box, collecting the noodles with his chopsticks.
“I know. Fucker hasn’t returned any of my texts or calls either,” Tucker adds as he looks up from his phone, a familiar look of concern firmly in place.
“He’ll turn up. You know that. He lives for touring.” Sean’s trying to sound convincing.
“Think he might have been living for something else lately.” Matt’s voice echoes through the room. I feel my jaw tense, and both Sean and I turn to face him.
“What are you on about now, Matty?” There’s a strain in Sean’s voice, a concern we don’t hear very often.
Matt rubs the back of his neck before leaning back against the leather chair. “Ah, fuck, man. Ignore me. I’m exhausted.” He stretches his legs out in front of him, settling in.
“You don’t get to say shit like that and then brush it off. Not with us. What do you know?” I bite out.
“It’s probably nothing.” He tries to wave us off, but Sean pushes off the couch, moving to get in his face. Sydney tries unsuccessfully to hold him back.
He plants his hands on either side of the chair, his brow furrowed. “This is Cameron we’re talking about. He’s saved your ass more times than I can count. He’s like our fucking brother. If you know something, you damn well better spit it out.”
“He’s been drinking,” Matt starts after a long beat, causing Sean to scoff. He pushes away from the chair, and the pacing starts.
“Tell me something I don’t know.”
“A lot,” Matt adds, looking between us.
“Define a lot.” My words are clipped, and the dark unease that’s been lingering around us seems to close in. I feel Abby squeeze my hand in silent support.
“I guess I started noticing before we left the States. And then after the show at the O2, it was just different.” He shrugs and pauses before he continues, “I mean, we always party, but, you were both MIA, along with Brodie, and he seemed pissed about where everyone was. Got it in his head that we had to go to one of the late night clubs in Soho.” I hear a muttered curse from Tucker as he moves closer. “It was like he was on a mission or something. Started doing rounds of the Seven Deadly Sins and chasing them with fishbowl martinis that just kept showing up. I practically had to drag him back to the hotel. He’s usually a happy drunk, you know? This was something else.”
I frown as I listen to Matt. It’s rare when he shares anything, and it’s a bit of jolt to hear the worry in his voice. “He didn’t seem that wrecked when we met the next day at the W,” Tucker remarks. I’ve partied enough with Cam to know that he recovers like I do. We’re always able to function after a blowout—it’s a blessing and, I’m starting to realize, a curse.
I rake my hand through my hair in frustration. This entire situation is, in Sean’s words, a cluster fuck. “Fucking hell.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?” Sean barks out, turning back to Matt.
“Why didn’t you say anything a few weeks back when you decided to snort whatever he put in front of you?” Matt fires back at him, pushing out of the chair. “Why don’t any of us say anything about half the shit we do? We just take a few days and figure it out. That’s probably what he’s doing.”
“And what if it’s not, hmm? What if he’s dead in a ditch somewhere?” Sean rants, his arms flailing wildly.
Tucker grips Sean’s shoulder, steering him back a few paces. “Everybody just calm down. He’s not dead in a ditch.” Tucker’s voice rises as he levels us all with a knowing look. “I’ll make some calls. See if Brodie has heard from him too.”
“Fuck. I don’t want you to get him involved.”
“Kennedy.” Tucker cuts me off before I can finish my violent objection. “We need to find him, and Brodie might know where he is. I wouldn’t be doing my job if I didn’t check it out.”
The tension riots through me, but I know he’s right. “All right. I’ll get in touch with a few more people, too. Let’s regroup in the morning. Text if you hear anything. I don’t care what time it is.”
Abigail
Time hasn’t stopped, no matter how much I wish it could. I secure my hair into a ponytail as our butler carries my luggage to the main floor of the suite. I cast one last look at the opulent bedroom swathed in blue silk and the lovely terrace that witnessed some of the most passionate moments of my life. I wonder if I’ll ever be back.
I find Kennedy at the piano downstairs, his eyes troubled as his fingers float effortlessly over the keys. I don’t recognize the tune, but it’s sweet and sad, and makes me want to curl up on one of the sofas to listen to him all afternoon. Unfortunately, that’s not to be.
“So, you have everything?” he asks quietly, stopping to swing his legs over the bench and stand.
“Not everything.”
He returns my sad gaze and walks over to pull me into his arms. “I know,” he whispers. “How am I going to make it through this fucking tour without you?”
I chuckle weakly. “I was asking myself the same thing—how I was going to make it through the next few weeks.”
“You’ll be fine,” he says with a wistful sigh. �
��You’ve got all those kids whose dreams you’re making come true. You’re strong like that, baby. I’ve seen it.”
“You’ll be fine, too. Stick close to Tucker.” My whisper is garbled against his chest, but he seems to hear me anyway. “I’m going to miss you so much.”
“Oh, fuck, me, too,” he blurts, his breath coming rougher. “You have no fucking idea.” His arms are like steel bands around me, and I cling to him just as strongly. Burying his face in my hair, he inhales deeply, as if I’m the very air he breathes.
There’s a discreet cough behind us at the door, and I suddenly remember that Tucker is waiting with Colin and the butler. I force myself to release him and step back a pace, his arms still loosely holding my shoulders. “We’ve got to go, or I’ll miss my flight.”
He smiles sadly. “I’m not going to the airport.” My protest dies on my lips as he explains, “If I go to see you off, I’ll end up on that plane with you back to San Francisco, and then I’ll really be in the shit with the guys.”
“Well, I wouldn’t want to be responsible for that,” I try to joke, but it falls a little flat. Oh, this is ridiculous—it’s only for a few weeks. I nod to myself, and manage to smile a bit brighter. “I’ll call or text you when I land.”
“Call me. I’ll want to hear your voice.” My eyes dart back to his, but he doesn’t meet my gaze. Instead, he steers me toward the door and our waiting entourage with his hand at my waist. “Guys, can you wait outside for a second?”
Tucker’s concerned eyes belie his impassive expression as he escorts the other two out to the hallway. “I’ll take your luggage downstairs, Miss,” the butler informs us crisply, as the door closes. Before it even latches, Kennedy swings me around, his lips descending for one last, devastating kiss. I’m panting and blinking away tears when he finally pulls away, because—this is it.
“I love you, Abigail Walker. Never forget it.” His eyes bore into mine with an intensity that takes my breath away.