“Look at me, Trey,” she said.
He buried his face in her neck. “I need to concentrate.”
She grabbed two handfuls of hair and jerked his head back. “Look at me,” she demanded.
He opened his eyes and then his mouth to tell her she didn’t have a right to treat him so harshly, but before the words even formed he got lost in her loving gaze.
“There you are, lover,” she murmured. “That’s what I want.”
They stared at each other as their bodies moved together with an increasing tempo. Reagan’s cries of ecstasy started as a soft coo and soon escalated to screams of enthusiasm. Trey got caught up her vocalizations and started answering them with shouts of his own.
“Come with me,” she chanted. “Come with me. Come with me.”
“Yes, yes, yes,” he answered.
Her hips buckled and her fingers dug into his scalp as she cried out in ecstasy. He pumped into her vigorously and let go. He forced himself not to close his eyes as his body claimed release and was rewarded with the look of pure bliss that settled over her lovely face. “Oh God, Trey, I’m coming so hard.” He almost dropped her when her entire body went taut.
“That’s it, baby. Get off.”
If he hadn’t already come, the sounds she made as she found release would have sent him over the edge. After a long intense moment, she sagged back against the wall, wrapping her arms around his body to draw him against her. “Fuck,” she gasped in his ear. “That was amazing.”
He murmured something against her throat in agreement, so glad she’d made him look at her and hadn’t allowed him to treat her like a meaningless sex partner.
Trey released her begrudgingly, and she did her best to clean up in the tiny sink while he looked for the best place to dispose of his condom.
“Trey?”
He glanced up to look at her.
“Is there something more between you and Brian than friendship?”
Trey hoped she took his shock for denial instead of acceptance. “No. Why would you think that?”
“Just a few things you’ve said. And the way you look at him.”
“What way is that?”
“Like you love him.”
“I do,” he said. “I love all the members of my band. They’re like my family.”
While she pulled her T-shirt over her head, he turned to face the wall and mouthed, Shit, shit, shit repeatedly. How had she picked up on that so easily? And if he was that transparent, how come Brian never recognized it?
“Do you think he heard us?” She bumped into him as she struggled to put on her panties.
“I don’t know if he heard me, but I’m sure he heard you. You were screaming like a horror picture bimbo.”
She slapped him on the arm. “Was not.”
“How about I ask him?”
“Don’t,” she pleaded. She grabbed his arm and spun him to face her. “I didn’t mean to get that loud. You got me carried away. I forgot where I was.”
Three points for the Trey-ster.
He waited for her to squirm into her pants before he opened the door. He took the seat across from Brian, stretched his legs out in front of himself, and crossed them at the ankles. He folded his arms behind his head and sighed in contentment. Brian, who had been staring out the window, turned his head to look at him.
“Done already?” Brian asked.
“Had to hurry. We’ll be landing soon.”
Brian shook his head. “I couldn’t tell if you were killing her or screwing her. There isn’t a dead body in the bathroom, is there?”
Before Trey could assure Brian that he hadn’t murdered Reagan, she exited the bathroom and sat on the far end of the sofa. Her face was beet red.
“I didn’t hear anything,” Brian told her. “But if you scream like that on the tour bus, Eric will tease you and Sed will cuss you out for making him horny. You might want to borrow a gag from Jace.”
“I thought you didn’t hear anything,” Reagan said.
“I didn’t. Just sayin’.”
Reagan grinned at Brian. “Can I get my guitar out now? I brought one acoustic with me.”
Trey wasn’t sure how the woman could think about working. He wanted to take a nap.
Brian perked up, his gloomy expression replaced with one of interest. “Yeah. Let’s hear what you’ve got.”
Reagan found the thickest of her guitar cases and opened it to reveal a black lacquered acoustic guitar. “This baby sings,” Reagan said, strumming the strings lightly. “Max did a great job breaking her in.”
She carried the guitar over to the sofa and sat with the instrument on one thigh.
“Good. You’re right-handed,” Brian said, leaving his seat to sit beside her. “Not a lefty like Trey. He does everything ass-backwards.”
“I think that’s part of the reason why you two complement each other so well,” Reagan said, smiling first at Trey then Brian.
“Takes him twice as long to learn a riff.”
“You’re just a freak of nature,” Trey told Brian.
“So I’ve watched all sorts of videos of you playing solos, but they never really catch your finger movements in the upper register. I sort of made up my own technique, but the notes never sound as crisp as yours. They all run together at that speed.”
“Show me,” Brian said.
Reagan played the triplet repeats of the solo to their newest single, “Betrayed.” She had to strum incredibly fast, because an acoustic sounded nothing like an electric guitar and wasn’t ideal for soloing. Brian watched the fingers of her left hand as they moved over the fret board.
“Don’t squeeze,” he said. “Tap.” He tapped the tops of her fingernails. “Short taps.”
She followed his instruction but still didn’t get the same quality of note that Brian got. He extended a hand. “Here, I’ll show you.”
She handed him the guitar and watched his fingers in rapt attention as he played the solo several times in a row. He didn’t bother strumming more than he would his electric guitar, so it didn’t sound much like a solo as most of the notes were almost silent with no pickups to amplify them. “I’ll show you on an electric tonight,” he said.
“I see what you’re doing.” She took his hand in hers and flipped it over to inspect his fingertips and then her own. “I need to work on some new callouses. Yours are more off-center than mine. I’m not hitting the strings in the same spot.”
“Instead of trying to copy me, maybe you should work on your own sound.”
She grinned at him. “But I like yours. Wish I would have come up with it first.”
“Why don’t you play some of the stuff you wrote?” Trey suggested. He still remembered the mesmeric riff she’d been playing in Dare’s studio when he’d taken her up on her challenge to duel. He’d watched her for several minutes before he found the sense to interrupt.
She flushed. “I’ll just embarrass myself.”
Most guitarists started out copying the guitarists they admired, and that would serve her fine as she took over for Max, but when she pushed to the next level in her career, she’d need to find her own sound. And be confident that she owned it.
Brian patted her knee. “You’ve got the talent. You’ll get there.” He climbed to his feet and found his seat. He reclined it. “I’m going to catch a little nap. Didn’t get much sleep at the hospital last night. I’d appreciate it if you two would keep the orgasmic screaming to a minimum.”
Trey stood and reached into an overhead bin. He pulled out a pillow and blanket and tossed them at Brian, hitting him dead in the face. If Reagan hadn’t already expressed her suspicions about Trey’s feelings for Brian, Trey would have chosen a less violent delivery, but he had to be careful not to show her how much he cared about him.