Risk Worth Taking: Music For The Heart - Book Three

by Faith Starr

  “Hello.”

  Fuck, Camilla sounded pissed.

  24

  Drew

  Nervously, I watched and listened to Logan engage in a conversation with his manager, tapping my foot nonstop. But I couldn’t sit tight any longer. I had to move. I paced back and forth in front of our chairs. It did nothing to calm me.

  Pictures of me were posted online. It made me realize how different Logan’s life had become. I bet he dealt with this type of thing daily. Well, I wanted no part of it. I didn’t relish the spotlight.

  I guess the two of us being at that ranch together gave me a false sense of security that things could remain the same between us, the two of us in our own private world. But reality set in fast. We wouldn’t experience that kind of privacy again unless isolated on a deserted island.

  Where was the bathroom? I needed to splash some cold water on my face. My hands were clammy, my head dizzy. It didn’t help that I hadn’t eaten anything prior to leaving the ranch. I figured I’d eat on the plane, but now I had no appetite, even though my stomach gurgled for food.

  I whispered to Logan, informing him I had to use the restroom. He nodded and continued talking on the phone with his manager.

  The cold water on my cheeks did me good; the dizziness fading.

  I dried my face and took some deep breaths. I had no clue what news Logan would give me next.

  A bubbly teenage girl approached me at the vanity in the bathroom. “Hey, you’re the girl dating Logan Trimble of Steam, aren’t you?”

  She had to be kidding. I already got recognized? Better yet, at an airport in the middle of the boonies? What the hell? I tried to stifle my angst.

  “Sorry. You must have me confused with someone else.” I played it off as best I could, on the outside. On the inside, my heart was racing, I had a pounding sensation in my forehead, and my legs felt weak. So much for trying to relax. I was in a worse state now than when I’d entered the bathroom.

  “Oh, I’m sorry.”

  My lips twitched with my fake smile. I dashed out of the bathroom, almost crashing into Logan outside the exit. He steadied me, assessing me, his lashes fluttering with worry.

  “I wanted to make sure you were okay. You rushed off.”

  “I’m fine.” I shuffled from foot to foot, too full of anxiety to keep still.

  “Oh my God, you’re Logan Trimble!”

  The same teenage girl I’d met in the restroom appeared, bouncing up and down. Her enthusiasm took a hike south along with her brows when she caught sight of me, pointing at me accusingly. “Then that means you are the girl in the picture who’s dating him.”

  Logan looked at me with question marks. I couldn’t deal with this shit, so I raced back to the terminal where I planted my butt on an uncomfortable chair. Logan joined me not a second later, taking my hand in his, tugging it to get my attention.

  “What did your manager say?” I blurted out, dying to know the next scene in the soap opera presently called my life.

  He rubbed the back of his neck, his outward level of anxiety now matching mine.

  Shit.

  I closed my eyes, leaning back in my chair. I took slow, deep breaths.

  “She’s on it.”

  My eyes flicked open. I put my hand out, palm up. “What does that mean, she’s on it?”

  “Camilla’s a guru at spinning stories in the band’s favor.”

  Sitting up, I crossed my arms over my chest. “The band’s favor? What about me?”

  “I told her you’re important to me, that you’re not the same as the other women she’s seen me in pictures with online or after shows.”

  He rubbed his neck more vigorously. I found his comment endearing but still, I didn’t want my reputation tarnished. For him, it didn’t matter what people said, he’d still sell records and as a result, become more popular from all the free publicity. Not me. I had a lot more to lose, most importantly my integrity.

  The flight attendant called for first-class passengers to board. Logan had tried to upgrade my ticket when I checked my baggage, but the flight had been completely sold out, being there were only a limited number of flights arriving and departing each day from this small city.

  He sat tight, not budging, his feet remaining glued to the floor. He kept my hand in his, swiping his thumb over my knuckles.

  “Go on.” I shooed him off with the back of my hand.

  “I don’t understand why you’re mad at me. I didn’t post the damn pictures. I did nothing wrong.”

  “I know.” I closed my eyes for a second in an effort to collect my thoughts. “It’s not your fault. I’m sorry if I’m making you feel that way. It’s just a lot to take in. This is only the beginning of the media circus I’m sure will ensue. What happens when we get home?” I studied him, waiting for and wanting an honest reply.

  “What do you mean? We’re going to spend quality time together until I leave for New York and then again when I get back. I don’t hit the road for a while yet.”

  He sounded so optimistic about the possibility.

  “I don’t want to be followed around by reporters. Is that what your life has become?”

  “No. When the guys and I do band performances, yes, a lot of pictures are taken by fans and photographers. But when we’re living our lives, doing our thing, we’re pretty much left alone unless a fan happens to spot us like the girls did back at the ranch or the one outside the bathroom a few minutes ago.”

  “Maybe I’m overreacting.” I prayed desperately for that to be the case.

  “Please, don’t let this ruin the great week we’ve spent together.” He tilted my chin up to meet my gaze. “Please?”

  How could I resist the sadness in his eyes?

  “Fine,” I agreed, not sure how convincing my affirmation sounded.

  He leaned forward, brushing his lips against mine, then whispered in my ear. “I’m assuming you’re not a member of the Mile High Club yet, since this trip was your first plane ride. Am I correct?”

  My jaw fell slightly open in surprise by his question, which had come out of nowhere. Leave it to Logan to think about sex in any situation.

  “No, I’m not. You are in fact correct.”

  “How about you let me initiate you into it, baby?”

  The warmth in my cheeks spread to the rest of my limbs. Sure, I had heard about the Mile High Club but never imagined myself being a member, until now. Damn Logan and his bad influence over me.

  “I’m assuming you’re already a member.” A tinge of jealousy flowed through me because I knew what his answer would be. His expression said it all.

  “It’ll be different this time, though.”

  Yeah, right.

  “Are you playing me right now?”

  “The only thing I want to play with right now is you in the bathroom of that 737.” He nodded toward the floor-to-ceiling window, the jet parked outside.

  “I don’t know. I haven’t seen the bathrooms but I’m sure they’re tiny. Would both of us fit inside one?”

  “Trust me. I’ll fit inside you perfectly.”

  My cheeks burned, for sure red to match the heat in them. I covered my mouth in embarrassment.

  “I’ll take that as a yes.” His lips curled up devilishly.

  “But I’m not in first class. How would it possibly work?”

  “Not to worry. I’ll take you in back.”

  Logan worded things so sexually. My entire body seared with shyness, naivety, and more importantly, desire.

  “I can’t believe you just said that.” I stifled a laugh.

  “If your body has anything to say about it, you’re basking in the glory of it. Don’t think I can’t read the please fuck me vibe you’re giving me.”

  “Oh my God. Please go board the plane before I die of humiliation.”

  He planted a soft kiss on my lips. “I have to give you a quick rundown first on how this little scheme of ours will play out.”

  “Are you telling me there’s
actually a right and wrong way to do this?” I couldn’t believe I actually considered going through with his request. Screwing in an airplane bathroom? Holy shit. Heat pooled between my thighs.

  “It’s all about timing. I have to be honest and say I’ve never done it in coach nor have I done it during daylight hours. It’s best at night, when people are asleep, but it’s not to say we can’t pull it off. Here’s what I want you to do…”

  He contemplated for a minute.

  “Wait until the attendants finish serving drinks, because their carts will block the aisles. When the coast is clear, come up to first class. A flight attendant will most likely say something to you about being up there, but it’s crucial that I see you to make this work. After I do, turn around and head toward the bathrooms in the back of the plane. Use the one on the left. Once inside, lock the door behind you. I’ll be on your tail. I’ll give you a heads-up with a one, two, three, knock when I get there. Unlock the door, leave it slightly open. Whatever you do, don’t undress until both of us are locked inside in case someone else enters the bathroom. Trust me, I don’t want anyone else seeing your smoking-hot body. We have to be quick. When we’re done, we’ll make a prompt exit and return to our seats. Usually after beverage service, passengers use the restroom which means we can’t occupy it for long. That’s all there is to it.”

  That’s all there is to it?

  He made it sound much easier said than done. My palms became damp because of the precise order of steps he’d instructed me to follow. I didn’t want to screw anything up.

  “I don’t know. It sounds kind of dangerous.”

  “Danger can be fun. Think of the story we’ll have to tell.”

  “To who? I’ll be too embarrassed to tell anyone.”

  “But you and I will have a really good secret. Won’t we?”

  “I can’t believe I’m agreeing to do this. I don’t want to get in trouble.”

  “You’re with me now, babe. I’m all about getting in trouble.”

  “I know. That’s what I’m afraid of.”

  “See you in the bathroom.” He winked, satisfaction written all over him. He headed toward the line for boarding, leaving me in his dust with an abundance of nervous energy.

  What in the heck was I thinking by giving in to such an asinine request? What if I lost my nerve? Things like this put me on edge. I could already see it, a picture of me and Logan posted on the net, the two of us coming out of the same bathroom, our hair disheveled, our clothes a mess. Holy moly.

  Most of the others sitting around me were engaged with their electronic devices. No one paid me any mind. My hope was they’d be as intently engaged with their tablets and phones when Logan and I pulled off our little stunt in the bathroom.

  Seeing people mesmerized by their phones made me think of mine. I retrieved it from out of my purse to check for any urgent or important messages I might have missed over the course of the week.

  Surprisingly, the only texts I got were from Eric, my best friend. I scanned through them, most of them I miss you and I can’t wait for you to come home messages. I loved that man. He made me so happy. When he found out who I’d spent my week with, he would shit. I’d have to tread those waters carefully. Eric still held a grudge against Logan for the way he’d hurt me all those years ago.

  My lower lip got ample attention from my teeth as I chewed on it, my mind pondering how I’d break the news to him and convince him Logan had changed. Maybe I would ask him about his relationship status first. He loved to feed me details about his dates. I often tried to reiterate how he could share his enthusiasm without a play–by-play but God bless Eric, he continued to feed me specifics in all of their juicy explicitness.

  When my section was called I boarded the plane, in somewhat of a daze. The cool air hit me, but not enough to bring down my body temperature, which had elevated for multiple reasons.

  Luckily, I had an aisle seat. A couple sat in the two seats next to me, too busy with their tablets to acknowledge my presence. Sweet relief. It meant they wouldn’t notice my absence either.

  I twiddled my thumbs nervously until the beverage carts came and went.

  I surveyed my surroundings to discover passengers napping, reading, or watching the small television screens in front of them.

  Okay, it was time to set our plan into action. Lord help me.

  Talk about walking to the guillotine. With each step I took toward first class, both feet felt heavier, making the task of walking a conscious effort on my mind’s part. I took deliberate and steady breaths, but it did nothing to slow my pounding heart. I should’ve brought my club soda along with me on this excursion. I could barely swallow due to the dryness in my mouth.

  When I got to the curtain which led to the first-class area, I stopped, second thoughts having a field day in my mind, begging me not to go through with this absurdity.

  I glanced at the passengers sitting in the aisle seats to my left and right. Neither of them paid me any mind, the one to my left sound asleep and the one to my right engrossed in a movie.

  I can do this. It’ll be fun.

  I gave myself a quick pep talk, the thrill of getting away with something like this insanely enticing.

  I reached for the soft gray curtain in front of me and slid it partially open, leaving enough room for me to get on the other side of it.

  Adrenaline rushed through me, my eyes not knowing what to focus on first.

  Logan’s messy hair couldn’t be missed. He sat in an aisle seat with earbuds plugged in. He watched a movie on a larger screen than those we had in coach.

  Now my feet felt light. I speed walked to the bathroom when an attendant stopped me in my tracks, informing me to use the restrooms in the back of the plane. With a snooty attitude, I might add. Talk about feeling demeaned.

  While strolling back down the aisle, I purposely bumped into Logan’s arm, not that he didn’t see me. He sported a big stupid grin.

  What am I doing? This is ridiculous.

  Positive self-talk drowned out the negative as I went to the back of the plane. One passenger stood in front of me, waiting to use the restroom.

  My fingernail would need fresh polish. I chewed on it, my thoughts too scattered to remember which bathroom he’d told me to use.

  Shit!

  Is it the right one?

  No, it’s the one on the left.

  Which bathroom was I supposed to go into? I had been so nervous when he gave me the instructions, my thoughts had gone into overdrive. I’d obviously missed some of the finer details.

  The lady ahead of me took the vacant restroom on the right. I tried to replay Logan’s exact words in my mind.

  Oh yeah. I had it now. Enter the bathroom on the left.

  Once the passenger who occupied it exited, I stepped inside the small space but not before glancing down the aisle to see if Logan was coming. I rolled my eyes at the sight of him waltzing in my direction, as if his energetic strut wouldn’t give us away. Be real.

  Hesitantly, I locked the door behind me, doubting whether I could go through with this. I stared at the door and rocked back and forth, waiting impatiently for his knock.

  He did his one, two, three, thing. I opened the door slightly. He stepped inside, locking it behind him.

  “Hi, stranger. Fancy meeting you here.”

  The man had hunger in his eyes. If he wanted or expected mine to reveal the same amount of desire as his, he’d better start touching me with those magic hands of his. I just about shitted bricks over the fear someone would catch us. Good thing we stood in the bathroom.

  “Calm down, babe. You’re going to love this.”

  My stiff posture and shell-shocked pose must’ve given him insight into my nervous state. His attempt at trying to relax me didn’t work either. It also didn’t help that I felt cramped and boxed in a urinal, one which smelled equally offensive to put it mildly.

  He and I faced each other. I stood still. I wanted him to take the lead, since much t
o my dismay, he had experience with this sort of thing.

  Fortunately, I didn’t have to wait long. He wrapped me in his arms, his lips getting friendly with mine, his tongue slipping inside with a sense of urgency.

  My mind kept drifting toward the other passengers who might be waiting outside to use the bathroom.

  As crazy as it sounded, these thoughts were arousing, a fantasy about me and Logan pulling off our very own Mission: Impossible caper, this one sexual in nature, in an airplane bathroom nonetheless. Combine that with the sneakiness we had going on with Logan’s hands exploring my thighs, my ass, my waist, my breasts. My entire body.

  Our kiss had primal need in it. I took off on my own flight. Destination: the vivid imagery playing in my mind.

  One of my hands went into his hair, the other down to his firm, gorgeous ass. He brought his hand forward to the waistband of my joggers. I had intentionally dressed comfortably for a long day of travel. Glad I had thought ahead for reasons other than this one—easy removal.

  He grazed the skin slightly under my belly button, down to the waistband of my undies, then lower. I melted into his touch, his manner of rubbing causing me to writhe against him. Nirvana.

  A moan slipped out.

  Wanting to make sure we both had the same heat index going on, I cupped his erection over his jeans, finding him to be equally reactive and ready for action. Yay!

  He yanked my joggers down. I, in turn, scanned the space, confirming in my mind that my ass and the toilet seat positioned a foot in front of me would never meet in this lifetime. I had to set limits and boundaries somewhere.

  He unfastened his jeans, jerking them down and letting them drop to his ankles. I was still trying to figure out how we were going to get this feat accomplished. There were only so many options I could come up with to get this task underway, but I had run out of creative ideas. He had other things on his mind such as wrestling my pants down to my ankles.

  “Put your hands on the wall.”

  He flipped me around so I faced it. I cringed at the thought of touching anything but took him up on his request, telling myself I could wash my hands afterward.