I watch him as he takes pictures with the girls who won backstage passes on the radio. Each of the five winners and three of their friends won a ten minute meet and greet with the band.
“I can take it for you,” I offer as one of the winners struggles to take her selfie with the “hottest bass player in the world,” as she calls him. She isn’t wrong—he is—but right now, I’m the only one under him.
“You good?” he asks between greetings when he goes out for a smoke and I follow.
“Yep,” I answer, rubbing the back of my neck.
He exhales. “You’re so full of shit.”
“She looked at you like she wanted to lick you. Now don’t get me wrong, that girl is so into herself that the pictures will be all over the World Wide Web in minutes, which is the point in these meet and greets, but I really, really want to lick you right now.”
“Well, step up; I’m right here,” he says with a cocky arrogance that makes me tingle from thinking of the first night together when I actually did lick him.
“You’re smoking.”
He tosses his cigarette, crushing it with his black, size thirteen boots. “You jealous of the cigarette and the girls, Sonya?” His eyes seem to dance a bit. He likes this. He likes that I’m jealous.
“No.” My voice squeaks at my lie … always a giveaway with me.
He wraps his hand around the back of my neck and pulls me in for a nice, hard kiss. “I like it.”
“You like my—”
“Jealousy, yes. But there is no reason for it.” He dips down, sucking on my neck a little.
“But necessary,” I say in a raspy voice he causes.
“Mmm.” His hands are on my hips now, his fingers gently digging into my flesh. “Let’s get the fuck out of here.”
“Three more winners, Finn.” I step toward him instead of away like I should. “Go make me jealous.”
“If you say so, but you’re the only one licking me.” He leans in again before his tongue traces my lips slowly.
“Mmm,” I moan, and he echoes it.
After an hour more of snapping pictures of the guys with their new fans, the guys with Hoopla, and the guys with the twins, it’s time to head out.
We are on our way to The Rosewood Mansion at Turtle Creek, just outside of Dallas for the next show, which will be the next time I get to see the complete sexiness and extreme focus he shows only when he plays music … and when he is over me. Thinking of him either way works me into a frenzy. It is not a good time for that, though. Deciding to force myself to sleep, I close my eyes and lean back, trying my best not to think of Finn.
I wake up with my head on Tally’s shoulder, and Finn’s head is on mine. His hair is covering his eyes, and my fingers ache to touch it.
I glance around. Everyone in the limo is asleep.
I look over at Finn again, and he seems to be fighting to stay asleep. His eyes shift under his lids, and then his nostrils flare a bit. He inhales before I hear him sigh slightly.
He is beautiful, stunning, handsome, and perfect. He doesn’t look like your typical rocker. The way he dresses isn’t flashy; it’s actually classy with a hint of edge.
Tonight, his grey T-shirt is covered with a black, lightweight jacket. His faded denim jeans rest casually against his black leather, biker-style boots, and he smells clean and masculine like always. He is long, lean, and cut. His clothes don’t hide his amazing build; they enhance it, and my eyes are ever appreciative.
“Hey,” he whispers when his eyes open.
“Hey,” I whisper back.
He closes his eyes again, and his lip curls up ever so slightly. That smirk, smile—whatever he’s doing with his mouth—warms my heart, calms my unease, and almost blankets me.
I feel his hand on mine, his pinky linking around my own, and a feeling other than physical seeps in. It’s a feeling like when he held me while I felt vulnerable about my past or when he helped color my hair. I like this feeling. A lot.
I think I’m happy, and happiness has never come easily. Happiness was found inside the pages of fairytales, tiny hugs, and watching sleeping babies.
Babies. Noah. God, how could I even think of being happy when he needs me? Everyone needs me.
As I look down at Finn again, my chest tightens.
This will not end well.
***
“Sonya. Sonya, wake up. The rooms are ready.”
I open my eyes to see Taelyn Steel.
“When did you get here?” I ask, shocked to see her.
“Long story. We were supposed to be in Houston, but something came up at Steel.”
“Oh, I hope everything is okay.”
She laughs. “Everything is great, actually. Those boys are just very protective of family, and something came up at the last minute. Their poor mother”—she laughs—“has been alone for years. Then she finds a man who loves her, and they act like they’re her father.”
I step out of the limo and stand in front of the place, or should I say palace, that we will stay at for the next three days. It’s nearly three in the morning, but as tired as I am, its beauty is not lost on me.
“Amazing,” I whisper.
“You look exhausted. It’s almost four in the morning. Let’s get in and get some sleep.”
“Where is everyone else?” I ask.
“Memphis carried Tally in. She was sleeping, and he didn’t want to wake her. New love, you know,” she says, walking quickly toward her husband.
“Morning, Sonya.” Xavier nods at me in greeting. “We’ll walk with you. We’re all in poolside suites.”
I nod, following them to the rooms.
Xavier hands me the key card. “This is your room. 168.”
“Thank you,” I say.
“Goodnight, Sonya.”
“Goodnight, Mrs. Steel.”
“Taelyn is fine,” she corrects me with a smile. Xavier takes her hand, and I hear her whisper, “What’s so funny?” to him.
“Sixty eight,” he says with a smile in his voice.
“That’s funny? You need some sleep,” she whispers back.
“Like a sixty-nine, but you blow me, and I’ll owe you one.” He laughs.
“You’re ridiculous.”
“We’ve never left Patrick. We’re alone for two days, Mrs. Steel.”
She giggles. “Porn sex.”
“Fuck yes.” He holds up his fist, grinning like a mad man.
She bumps it with hers, and then they mock an explosion.
“We are so hot,” he says.
“Fuck yes.” She slides the key through the lock five doors down.
I turn away from them, smiling.
“They’re something, huh?”
I jump when I hear him.
He looks amused before his smile fades. “Oh, shit, did I scare you?” He tosses down his cigarette and walks quickly toward me.
“No,” I try to regain my composure. “You just shouldn’t hide in the bushes and—” I stop as I feel my hand shake while trying to open the door.
I feel all out of sorts, so I hurriedly try to slide the key again as he gets closer.
“Jesus,” he says, taking it from me, sliding it, and then opening the door. “Get in there. Fuck, I’m sorry.”
I look at him. “Pft, it’s really no big deal.”
“It is, dammit.”
“No,” I say. “No, it’s not. It’s stupid. It’s just … stupid. And you know what? It will never, ever change. Ever.” Overwhelmed and still shaking, I feel like I’m going to cry. Who am I trying to kid? How will I ever be normal again outside of those gates surrounding my home? “It’s me, uncut and unedited. Broken and—”
“Stop,” Finn says softly as he walks closer. “I wasn’t thinking. I know better. You’ve been through hell—” I shake my head, and he stops before slowly grabbing my hands. “Tell me what I can do to put you at ease, then.”
I pull my hands back gently. “I just really want to go to sleep. I’m tired.”
His once mucky, now so very clear, eyes look confused. I feel my lip quiver as I turn away. I did that to him.