Her muscles clamp down on my cock, triggering my own orgasm.
I’m pretty sure I lose consciousness for a moment; it’s that powerful. I fall forward onto her, unable to keep myself upright, catching my weight with my arm, pumping my dick in and out of her, riding out my orgasm.
My mouth seeks her, and I kiss her. Our bodies shuddering, still moving together, slowing.
We’re sweaty, our skin sliding against each other, like our tongues are doing.
And I can’t get enough of her.
I’ve just come harder than I ever have before in my life, and I don’t feel done. And neither does she by the way her hands are still moving all over my body.
I’m inside her, and I still want her so fucking badly.
I’ve wanted her since the moment I met her.
I can’t imagine not ever wanting her.
And I can’t see how I’m going to be able to drive away from her tomorrow.
I don’t want to.
I really don’t fucking want to.
I pull back and stare into her eyes. “Come with me,” I blurt out. “Come to LA with me. Move there with me. Live with me.”
I stare back at him, shocked.
Of all the things I expected him to say, it wasn’t that.
Move to LA with him? God, I want to.
My heart really wants to. She’s over the fucking moon, elated and beating wildly.
But my head … my stupid, practical head says no.
The B&B. Gran. Dad. Beck. Penny.
I can’t leave them.
Especially not Gran. She needs me here to help run the B&B. And I owe her everything. She paused her life to help Dad raise me and Beck, and not once has she ever asked for anything in return.
I know she would encourage me to go.
But I can’t. I can’t leave her.
He must see it in my eyes because his expression dims.
I place my hands on his cheeks, loving the feel of the bristles of his stubble against my palm. “I … can’t. I’m sorry.”
“I shouldn’t have asked. It was too much.” He moves his eyes from mine.
I can feel him pulling away from me. I’m not ready for him to leave me yet. He’s still inside of me, for God’s sake, and I’m not ready for it to end yet.
I just need a little more time.
“No,” I tell him, pulling him back to me. “It was everything.”
His eyes move back to mine. I press my thumb to his lips, tracing the contour of them.
“I just … I can’t leave Dad, Beck, and Gran … the B&B. I would come with you to LA in a heartbeat if I could.”
An absolute heartbeat. Christ, I’d be packed in under ten minutes and waiting at the door for him.
His fingers move over my face, the gentlest of touches, his eyes following his movements, like he’s memorizing it.
Maybe he is.
I know I’ve memorized every inch of him. Every moment we’ve spent together. And this moment … the sex we just had … the feel of him still inside me … the way I can feel his heart beating against mine … even the music playing in the background, which couldn’t be more fitting if I’d picked the song myself—Whitesnake’s “Is This Love.”
All of it is forever etched into my brain.
His fingers drift down my neck to the hollow of my throat. His hand slides behind my nape, fingers pushing into my hair. “Would you consider”—he pauses and swallows—“long-distance?” His eyes meet mine. “I’m just not ready … for this to be over yet.”
It’s my turn to swallow. My eyes start to burn.
Because I know my answer. Long-distance never works.
“I …”
“Don’t say long-distance doesn’t work,” he cuts me off, reading my damn mind, like he always does. “Because we’d make it work.”
“For how long? And then what? We’d both still live in different states.”
“You don’t know the future, Stevie. Things could change.”
“Are you planning on leaving your band at any point?”
His eyes hold mine. He shakes his head.
“And I’ll never leave here. It won’t be long before Gran is too old to do anything around here, and then I’ll take over the B&B fully. My life is here, Storm. God, do I want to say yes to long-distance and be with you for however long we can. Of course I do. But I also know we’d be delaying the inevitable. I know me, and I know I’d be unhappy because I wouldn’t be with you. I’d have half of you and even less of your time. And I don’t want to be unhappy. I want to be happy. Do I want a relationship with you? Yes. But I want a proper relationship. Not half of one. I’m sorry …”
“Don’t,” he stops me. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”
“Neither do you,” I tell him, knowing what he’s thinking. He blames himself because he’s the one leaving when the truth is, it’s neither of our faults.
It just fucking sucks. And I hate that it does.
I want him so badly, and I can’t have him.
Life is cruel sometimes.
He presses his forehead to mine, staring into my eyes. “I don’t want us to be over.”
Tears fill my eyes again. “I don’t either. But—”
“Don’t,” he stops me, closing his eyes. “Just … don’t say it. Please.”
I press my lips together, keeping in the truth we both know. A tear runs from the corner of my eye. Another quickly following, soaking into the pillow.
“Stay with me tonight,” he whispers.
His mouth moves down to mine, lips brushing lightly against mine.
“Okay,” I whisper.
Our hips are moving against each other. His cock, hard again, is slowly sliding in and out of me.
“I need to take this condom off. Get another,” he says, still kissing me. “But …”
“I’m on the pill,” I whisper.
His eyes open on mine, bright with lust. “Are you sure?” He’s still slowly fucking me.
“Yes.”
He reaches down between us, briefly pulling out of me. I hate the loss of him, even for just these few seconds. He removes the condom and rids himself of it.
Then, eyes on mine, he slowly slides back inside me.
He’s hot and hard and perfect.
“I … I’ve never done this before. I’ve never gone without a condom before.”
My chest squeezes, as I know that he’s doing this with me. That I’m his first.
He closes his eyes. “Jesus … you feel … I just … fuck, Stevie.” He captures my lips with his and kisses me deeply. As deeply as he’s fucking me.
He grabs my hands and pins them to the bed above my head, and then he starts fucking me with reckless abandon. Almost frantically. And I meet each frenzied thrust. Because I feel the exact same.
This sex is different from the last time.
It’s wilder. Hotter. Inflamed.
It’s like we’re on fire.
My nails rake down his back.
He bites and licks and sucks my skin.
He makes me scream.
And I drive him crazy.
And this is how we spend the rest of our last night together. With Storm bare and deep inside me, fucking me and making love to me, until dawn shows up. And she comes way too quickly.
He pulls me to him, my back to his front. He wraps his strong arms around me. His chin on my shoulder, his mouth against my ear. “When I started driving that day, I thought I was running away from all the stuff I couldn’t deal with,” he says quietly to me. “Turns out, I knew jack shit. I was driving straight toward you, Stevie. And even if I never see you again after today, I’ll never regret it. Never. You’re the best fucking thing that’s ever happened to me.”
My eyes fill with tears again. I feel like I’m going to be doing a lot of crying for the foreseeable future. I swallow down, getting control of my emotions.
“I’ll never regret it either,” I tell him on a whisper. “Even if you do have the shittiest taste in
music.” Of course, I had to go with humor. It’s either that or burst into gut-wrenching tears.
He laughs deep. I feel it vibrate against my back, hum in my ear, and wrap around my heart.
He pulls me tighter up against him. I slide my fingers between his, holding his hand.
I close my eyes at the feel of him around me.
When I open my eyes a few hours later, he’s gone.
The closet empty of his clothes.
His car gone from the driveway.
Gone like he was never here.
And, finally, I break down and cry.
Welcome to Los Angeles, the sign says.
Fuck LA. And fuck my life.
I have never wanted to be here less than I do right now.
The drive back from Arizona has been fucking horrendous.
I almost turned around a hundred times and drove back to Lake Havasu. Back to Stevie. The only thing stopping me was the thought of Raze, Cash, and Levi. Letting them down.
I can’t let them down. They’re my best friends.
And I need to see Jake, Tom, and Denny too. Speak to them. Apologize for what I said and hash this shit out. Get back to where we were before it all happened.
But if it had never happened, I’d have never met Stevie.
And if there’s one thing in my life I’ll never regret, it’s her.
I’ll just always regret leaving her.
Getting out of that bed and walking out that door and climbing in my car was the hardest thing I’ve ever done.
And I’ve done some hard things in my time. Watching my mother being buried is one of them.
I’ve been listening to an eighties station the whole drive. I’m that hooked on her. I’m listening to shitty music, so I can be close to her in some way.
Hooked. And pathetic.
Clearly, because I’m currently singing along to “Glory of Love” and agreeing with every damn word Peter Cetera sings.
God, if the guys could see me right now, they would give me shit for the rest of my life.
So would Stevie.
Jesus. How am I going to get over her when she’s in every other thought I have?
Although I bet Peter Cetera would never leave the girl he’s singing about. I bet he wouldn’t slip out of bed and leave like a coward while she was sleeping because he didn’t know how to say good-bye to her.
Just like I left Stevie.
And then it hits me.
I snuck out on Stevie just like I used to with all those girls I’d screwed and not wanted to have the morning-after conversation with.
I treated her exactly like I had those girls.
And she deserved so much better.
Fuck.
Fuck my shitty fucking life.
I drive to TMS Records and park my car in the building’s parking lot.
I don’t get nervous often, but I’m nervous now, walking up to the building.
I’m seeing Jake, Tom, and Denny first before I go to the studio to meet with Zane and the guys.
I’m definitely in a different place than I was the last time I was here. Funny how much can change in a few weeks.
In a few hours.
A handful of hours ago, I was in bed with Stevie. She was in my arms.
And now, I’m here. In LA. Alone. Without her.
I pull open the door to the building and walk inside. I wave to Patty as I walk through reception, heading for the elevator.
I take the elevator up to the top floor where Jake’s office is.
The door pings my arrival, and I step out into the foyer.
There’s only Jake’s and Zane’s offices up here.
There’s an empty office up here too. It was Jonny’s office.
They’ve never reused it.
It’s been sitting there empty for nineteen fucking years.
I glance down the hall in the direction of it.
My feet are moving toward Jonny’s office before I even realize I’m moving. But when I do realize, I don’t stop walking. I keep going.
I push the door open and walk inside.
It doesn’t smell stale in here, like some offices do when left for a while. Jake probably has it cleaned regularly.
It still looks the same as I remember. Just less stuff.
I came in here once years ago when I first moved to LA. Jake brought me in to show me where Jonny had spent his days when he wasn’t in the studio or on the road, touring.
There’s nothing particularly special about it. It’s just an office.
All that’s in here now is an empty desk and a chair. Some discs hanging on the wall and pictures of Jonny, Jake, Tom, and Denny. And a couple of other pictures of him with famous people.
The only other thing still in here is his guitar, sitting on its stand.
That guitar would be worth a lot of money to people.
But not to me. To me, it’s just another thing that Jonny left behind when he died.
I remember running my fingers over the strings that day when I was a kid and wishing I could have met him. Wishing I could be a great guitarist like him.
How fucking laughable.
Because I am a great guitarist.
I know I am. It’s just a shame no one else fucking sees it.
Well, except Raze, Cash, and Levi, that is.
And probably Stevie if she ever heard me play. Although she’d probably give me shit about it first.
I wonder if Jonny would have thought I was good.
He was coming for me that night. He wanted me. He wanted to know me.
That’s the first time I’ve let that actually sink in.
All this anger I’ve felt toward him over the years for dying, for getting in his car when he was high. And he did that because he wanted to meet me.
I don’t feel responsible for his death. Rationally, I knew I never was.
I just feel … sad.
Movement behind me has me turning around.
It’s Jake, Tom, and Denny.
“Hey,” I say to them, moving to rest my ass against the desk. “I was just coming to see you. I got … sidetracked. How’d you know I was in here?”
Jake smiles. “The room’s alarmed, and there’s a camera.” He tips his head up to the far corner, where I notice the security camera for the first time. “I get a notification when anyone comes in here. And the only people who come in here are the cleaners, every second Monday, and us sad fuckers when we’re drunk.” He refers to himself, Tom, and Denny.
“It’s true,” Tom says, grinning. “I haven’t been in this room sober since Jon died. Actually, I probably wasn’t even sober when I came in here when he was still alive.”
I laugh at that.
Then, my laughter dies, and we’re all just kind of standing here, saying nothing.
And since I texted them, asking to talk, I should probably be the first to speak.
“So …” I say. “I just wanted to apologize for what I said the other week—about you being as dead to me as Jonny is …” I feel weird, saying it in here, in Jonny’s office. “I didn’t mean it. I should never have said it. It was shitty and wrong of me. And I’m sorry for that. But I’m not sorry for the other stuff. You all lied to me, and you were wrong.”
“You’re right. We were.” Tom steps forward, coming a little closer to me.
“In our defense, we thought we were doing the right thing at the time,” Den says. “In the space of a few short months, you’d just found out that Jonny was your father, and your mother passed away. We didn’t want to give you more to deal with.”
“But,” Jake interjects, “we should have told you after things settled. We messed up. Really fucking messed up, and we’re sorry as all hell.”
“We are,” Tom adds. “And it’s no excuse, but as time went on, it just got harder and harder to tell you. We knew you’d be pissed that we’d kept the truth from you. And … I guess … we didn’t want to lose you.”
Fuck. I didn’t expect that.
&nb
sp; My throat is burning.
And I know this isn’t anything they didn’t say to me two weeks ago, without the addition of them not wanting to lose me. But the difference now to then is, I’m not mad anymore.
“Okay.” I nod.
“So … we’re good?” Tom checks.
“We’re good.” I smile because, sometimes, it’s just that easy.
“Thank fuck for that.” Tom bounds over and bear-hugs me. “Missed you, kid.” He thumps me on the back with his fist.
“Missed you too,” I tell him, and I have. I just didn’t realize how much until now.
Den comes over and ruffles my hair. “Hasn’t been the same around here without you,” he tells me. “It’s good to have you back.”
“It’s good to be back,” I say, only half-meaning it. Because there’s a Stevie-shaped hole in my chest.
Tom finally releases me. I turn to Jake.
“You’re okay?” Jake asks.
“Yeah.” I smile. “I’m okay.”
He puts his arm around my neck and pulls me in for a hug. “We fucking love you, son. No matter what happens, don’t ever forget that, okay?”
“Okay,” I choke out.
I’m nearly in fucking tears.
Jesus. Christ.
I pull out of Jake’s hold and turn away, walking over to the window, giving myself a moment to sort my shit out and stop acting like a pussy.
When I hear the strumming of strings, I turn to see Tom standing in front of Jonny’s guitar, his fingers running over the strings.
“Why is this still in here?” Tom turns to Jake and Den. “Actually, why the fuck is any of this stuff still in here? I thought we had it cleaned out years ago?”
“We did,” Jake answers him. “I just left a few things in here. I guess I didn’t want it gone of Jon completely. But you’re right; we should get rid of the rest of it. Donate it to charity or something.” Jake glances at me. “Unless you want anything out of here?”
In the past, I always refused anything of Jonny’s that Jake offered to me. I didn’t want anything of Jonny’s back then. I guess I was an angry kid, who turned into an angry adult.
I don’t feel so angry anymore.
And that’s because of Stevie.
She made everything so much simpler.
She made me happy.
And I walked away from that happiness.
I walk over to the guitar and pick it up. “I’ll take this, if that’s okay,” I say to Jake.
Finding Storm Page 20