by Anna Edwards
“I’ve got no plans to go anywhere else. You don’t have to worry about that. I meant what I said earlier, Zoey. You’ve captured my heart.”
“And you mine.”
Our mouths join together again as Tate increases his pace, and I lose myself in the rhythm of his body joined with mine, moving together as one. I know I’m making a noise. I hope it rivals Cameron and his two women so Tate can be congratulated in the morning.
The fiery relief of an orgasm builds deep in my core and thunders through my body at an almighty pace. I can’t control it. I can’t stop what’s happening within my body.
“I’m going to come,” I warn Tate a second before I explode, my whole body undulating as the orgasmic waves hit me, one after another.
I feel Tate bury himself deep inside me. He freezes, and his cock pulsates as he also finds his release. We’re definitely going to have a talk about other forms of protection tomorrow—I need to feel him bare. Eventually, our bodies both still. Tate withdraws from me, checks the condom, and disposes of it in a trash can by the nightstand. He then covers us both in the bed sheets, which we hadn’t bothered to pull back earlier, and tucks me in beside him.
“Thank you,” I whisper as he turns the lights out and wraps himself around me.
“For what?”
“For everything…for showing me a way of life I never knew existed. I won’t let you down when it comes to protecting you and Saving Tate. I’ll be there always at your side, showing the world what wonderful people you all are.”
“I know.” Tate kisses my forehead, and I shut my eyes.
For the first time ever, I fall asleep not worrying about the future and simply living in the moment. I allow myself to believe life can be different, and I’m worthy of it being so. Whatever is around the corner, I’ll face it like a warrior…like the strong woman Tate has made me believe I can be. I cling to the dream, knowing deep down my life will never be easy—I’m not that lucky a person, and no matter how resolute I feel, there’s still a nagging doubt, leaving me wondering.
Chapter 18
Tate
#IsItWrongToKillYourBandmatesInTheMiddleOf AWorldTour
Sliding from the gigantic hotel bed, I leave Zoey sleeping peacefully, her hair fanned out over the pillow, and pull on a pair of my pants I’d left discarded on the floor. I head into the living area of the suite, making sure to shut the bedroom door quietly behind me. I think she needs the rest after last night, despite the fact we have a meet and greet with fans in less than an hour.
I took her twice more before I finally let her fall into a deep sleep. I can’t get enough of her body—the way she cries out when she comes, and the way her body clamps down on my dick like it’s never going to release me. Love or lust, I don’t know, but all I want is more and more of Zoey.
“Someone looks like they’ve had a good night.” Liam winks at me from where he’s eating a bowl of cereal at the dining room table, and Cameron and Austin look up from their food to smirk at me.
Here comes the third degree. I need coffee before I can cope with this.
As if by magic, the butler assigned to the suite appears with the nectar I need, meaning I won’t kill my bandmates in the middle of a world tour…at least, not yet.
“Is Zoey still sleeping?” It’s Cameron’s turn to wink at me as he pushes a chair out with his foot for me to sit on. “She was quite vocal last night. I wondered what you were doing to her.”
“How do you know I was doing anything?” I grunt, and the butler places a couple of slices of toast in front of me. Our preferences were sent to the hotel in advance, so he knows exactly what we want for breakfast.
“No woman makes that much noise if they are doing it to themselves, Tate,” Cameron retorts.
“Maybe you were dreaming. It sounded like the twins gave you a good workout.”
“Touché. They certainly did, but none of us want to discuss my bedroom activities. We’re all far more interested in what is going on with you and our babysitter.” Cameron leans back in his chair, coffee in hand.
“All right, you don’t get intimate details, because that isn’t fair to Zoey, but yeah, something happened between us last night.”
“Knew it.” Liam and Austin high five each other. “You’ve been hot for her since she walked on the bus.”
“I guess I have.” I smile with my mouth full of toast. “She’s different, and she challenges me.”
“Is it serious, then? We need to know because it could affect the tour.” Cameron asks, looking concerned.
I hadn’t thought about how Zoey and I dating would impact on the band. I was selfish in my need for her, but it will affect them too. Zoey travels with us. She manages us, in effect, while we‘re touring. I won’t be able to monopolize all her time, because it wouldn’t be fair to the others. She needs to work for them as well.
“Yeah, it’s serious. I really like her. I don’t know about the future. I’m not able to see that far ahead, but she could be the one.” I hesitate, the potency of those words, slamming into my chest. “I’ll try not to let it affect you guys. I know Zoey is traveling with us, but she’s here to work, and I think she’ll be even more determined to be there for us than before. It’s not my place to tell you the details, but stuff has happened to her, and it’s made her a fighter. She’s not going to let a relationship with me destroy her ability to do her job, and she’ll ensure she does the right thing for all of us. It’s in her nature.”
“You certain on that?” Liam questions as he tilts his head toward me. “It’s going to be hard for her when the press finds out.”
“I’m not thinking about it at the moment. I can’t.”
“You think Fred will let her continue working for us when you tell him?” Austin adds, polishing off the remains of his donut.
Fuck.
I hadn’t thought about that.
“I don’t like to ask, but can we keep it a secret for a little longer? We’re both trying to figure everything out. It’s happened quickly and…” I can’t find the words I want to say. Everything is so confusing at the moment. “Maybe we should have put it on hold until the tour finishes, but I don’t think either of us can anymore. Life is too short. We’ve both learned that the hard way.” I know it more than anyone.
My coffee is halfway to my mouth, but I suddenly can’t stomach anything. I put it down and let out a loud sigh.
“Tate.” Cameron reaches out and takes my hand. We’re tactile as friends when it’s needed. “You said she has issues. I’m not going to ask you what they are. Zoey will tell us when she feels the time is right, but I have to ask, have you told her about yours, about Heidi?”
Tugging on my ear with my free hand, I consider how to reply to Cameron’s question.
“She knows my sister died. I wrote a song last night about her. It’s Heidi’s birthday soon, and she’s been on my mind a lot. It doesn’t mention how she died, though, just that she went very young.”
“But does Zoey know how she died?” Cameron continues.
I shake my head,
“No, I didn’t tell her. I’m scared to at the moment in case she hates me for it.”
“Why would she hate you?”
“Reasons…I don’t know. Please, Cameron, give me more time on this. There are too many painful memories at the moment. I’m meeting my parents in a few days to commemorate what would have been my sister’s thirtieth birthday. I want to get through that first.”
“Okay, but don’t keep secrets from her if you truly feel something for her. It’s not the way to start a relationship.”
“I won’t. I need just a few days more, and I’ll tell her everything.”
“Okay.”
We all fall silent at the table, each of us lost in our memories of the day my sister died and the painful period after. It affected us all in some way because we’re so close as friends. As far as the outside world’s concerned, my sister died at a young age, but no cause of death is listed unless you
dig deep. My parents were able to bury the details of Heidi’s death, and we never properly addressed what happened. I doubt we ever will.
“Oh my God, we’re going to be late.” Zoey appears in the doorway. She’s thrown some clothes on and pulled her hair up in a high ponytail. “Jesus, none of you are dressed.” She stares at us horrified. “Come on move! We can’t be late for this interview. You’re the rock band who arrives early for meetings under my watch.”
I look at the rest of my bandmates, and we all reluctantly get up from our seats.
“Miss Danson, we’re guys—we’ll be dressed and ready in two minutes. Three if we need a shit as well,” Liam informs Zoey, and she screws her face up.
“Too much information, Liam.”
“It’s a natural human phenomenon, darling,” Austin teases and wiggles his ass. “Yep, I think I’ll be three minutes.”
Zoey pretends to gag.
“Please, just hurry. I’ll call down and get the car brought around to the front. I want you all down in reception in ten minutes. No excuses.”
Cameron smirks at me and then winks. I know the teasing is about to start when he strides confidently over to Zoey and puts his arm around her shoulders.
“You don’t have to worry, Miss Danson. We’ll be there. I think you need to be more concerned about yourself. If you will stay up all night fucking Tate, then it’s more than likely you’ll be late, especially as you’ll need to cover up the love bites on your neck.”
Zoey’s eyes go wide, and she glares at me before slipping out of Cameron’s grip and running to the nearest mirror to check her neck. I know already she won’t find anything there. My best friend’s teasing her.
“You, jerk!” Zoey sees her neck is clear and picks up the nearest cushion from one of the chairs and throws it at Cameron. “You’ve got five minutes now.”
My bandmates disappear into their respective rooms to get ready, laughing out loud as they go. Zoey stares at me and bites her lip.
“I guess a quickie is impossible, then?” I ask, shrugging my shoulders.
She picks up another cushion and throws it at me.
“Dangerous game, beautiful,” I warn her, and chasing her into the bedroom, I make sure we’re both late for her deadline.
Chapter 19
Zoey
#ImDoingTouristStuffWithMyBoyfriendHellYes
Another day—another hotel.
After leaving London, we went to Dublin before traveling to Spain and the city of Barcelona where the band is playing two sold out concerts at the Olympic Stadium.
We’re staying at the ‘W Hotel’ on the seafront, and the presidential suite I’m sharing with Tate is amazing. The circular bed looks directly out over the ocean. I could stay in it all day, watching life go by, but I have a more urgent need to travel into Barcelona city itself and see some of the sights, especially the architecture.
Donning a pair of comfortable jeans and t-shirt along with a well-worn pair of trainers, I travel in a taxi with Tate. The rest of the band members are resting after a heavy night in Dublin with Austin’s relatives where a lot of Guinness had been consumed. They’re all taking advantage of a night off to catch up on some sleep. Unfortunately for Tate, as my now boyfriend, he’s been recruited by me to be my tour guide. He doesn’t seem bothered, though, in his tatty jeans and black t-shirt with a baseball cap and shades to disguise him.
“What do you want to do?” Tate asks after paying the taxi driver who drops us off in Plaça Du Gaudi.
“Everything! Definitely the Sagrada Família. I’ve always wanted to see it for myself.”
“I think it’s just around the corner. We’ll go there first and then work our way down to La Rambla for dinner.”
“La Rambla?” I question not too sure of where he means.
“It’s the most famous street in Spain. There’s lots of great places to eat.”
“Sounds amazing. I want to get some tapas if we can. It’s always fascinated me.”
“I know just the place.”
I can barely stand still with the excitement. In Dublin, even though we were really busy, Austin took me on a tour of the Guinness factory. I’m finding myself completely submerged in the different cultures of Europe. I can’t get enough of them all.
A short walk through a park takes us to the place I’ve been desperate to see, the Sagrada Família. The construction of the stunning Gothic church started in the 1880’s, but it’s taken so long to build the architect never got to see the finished article. In fact, building work is still going on to complete it. There are currently only eight spires—there should be eighteen. It takes my breath away. It’s like nothing I’ve seen before, and the twisting spires topped with religious symbols dominate the skyline.
“You want to go inside?” Tate asks and holds my hand.
“Can we?”
“Of course. The monies raised from ticket sales go toward finishing the construction and looking after the place.”
Tate leads us into the building and buys two tickets. I’ve given up offering to pay for things. He won’t let me. I’m keeping a mental tally of everything, though. I will return his generosity either in chores or real money when I have a chance. I won’t be a kept woman. I’m too used to paying for my own things.
The inside of the church is even more stunning than the external façade. It’s like a fantasy—an enchanted forest of different colors. I’m lost for words as I look around trying to take everything in. It’s definitely like nothing I’ve seen before. Churches in America are boring compared to this.
“I don’t know how one person could have the imagination to complete the designs for this, especially in a time when everything was formal and strictly controlled. The church we visited in England of a similar period had nothing of the surrealism of this building.”
“He was a visionary in a strange world, that’s for certain.”
“Is that sometimes how you see yourself?” I turn to face Tate, and he looks down at me, appearing confused.
“The lyrics you write are different to those of a lot of bands out there. They’re more from the heart. Like the song you showed me the other day about your sister. I think it’s one of the reasons you’ve become so popular. People see vision and truth in what you’re singing about.”
“I’ve never thought about it that way. To me the words just flow. Inspiration hits, and I go with it.”
“I hope it always hits you like that.”
“So do I.”
Tate leans forward and presses a kiss to my lips. It’s the first display of affection he’s shown me in public, and I like it. I melt into his arms as we both stand for a few moments more and take in the beauty of the church.
Eventually, we make our way back outside and head toward La Rambla. It’s a long walk, but I enjoy taking in the sights and smells of another city. Everything seems to run at a slower pace here. It’s not as hectic as Seattle or London. People are more relaxed, probably because a lot of them are tourists exploring all the wonders the city has to offer.
After a few stops to take in more tourist sights, we reach La Rambla. Tate finds the tapas restaurant he was talking about, and taking a seat outside, we survey the menus. It’s all very continental, and as I take a sip of the sangria we ordered, another alcoholic drink I decided to sample, I feel relaxed and happy.
“Excuse me, sorry to disturb you. Are you Tate Gordon?”
A couple of young music fans, no doubt in the city for the concert, come up to us. Tate looks at me as if to apologize, but I wave it away and get up from the table to give him a chance to talk to his fans. He takes his cap and glasses off, and I pull my phone out of my pocket to take a couple of pictures as he signs autographs for them. He’s so happy when he’s interacting with his fans. It’s fabulous to see.
Many bands get jaded after a while with the constant pressure of fame, but it doesn’t seem to have happened with Saving Tate. They love the adoration because it means so much to them. The fans are wh
at made them famous, and they want to give back to them as much as possible. It’s one of the things I make sure comes out in all the publicity I’ve been doing for them. It’s going to keep them at the top of their game for years to come. Appreciation and respect in this world is important.
A few more fans arrive to join the original ones, and Tate signs autographs for all of them before politely requesting to be allowed to eat. Everyone instantly accepts his request and leaves us in peace. I resume my seat at the table, and the waiter appears again. He takes our orders for various different little dishes including meatballs and potato bravas.
“Sorry about that. Occupational hazard.” Tate looks at me guiltily.
“Don’t be. It’s good to see you’re happy when interacting with the fans. I like it.”
“Good, because I doubt it’ll go away anytime soon.”
“I hope not.” I laugh and take another sip of my sangria.
“You like it?” Tate asks.
“I do. It’s very fruity.”
“Are you all right with the alcohol in it?” He looks at me concerned.
“I thought I was a teetotaler, but I guess not. I know I’m not going to develop an addiction like my mother. But trying this is part of me wanting to experience everything. Sangria is traditionally Spanish in the same way Guinness is Irish. I want to know how they taste, just like I want to try the food. It certainly doesn’t make me desperate to repeat the process again. I can have one glass, and I’m happy. Plus, I think I’m too much of a hot chocolate and coffee girl to want to drink much else.”
“I can understand that. If you get worried about it at all, just talk to me. I’ll warn you now, though, when we get to Greece, I’d avoid the Ouzo. Man, that stuff is a killer, even just one glass.”
“Noted.”
Tate reaches across the table and takes my hand.
“I’m glad we’ve got this time alone. I love the guys, but the constant teasing can be grating.”