Didn’t mean he didn’t want to bend her over the bed, flip up that tight skirt and get in a quickie.
Her lips had curved into a full-blown smile now. “It’s not a bad thing, Bastian.” She stepped closer to the bed and reached down to trail her fingers from the center of his chest to the top of the sheet that barely covered his groin.
His cock tented the sheet and his breath caught and held as she swirled her fingertips in the darker, curlier hair just peeking above the sheet.
“I guess only time will tell if you’re a one-hit wonder or fall prey to the sophomore slump.”
“I love it when you talk all businessy and shit.”
Her head fell back and she laughed, which had his hands curling into the sheets so he didn’t grab her and throw her on the bed.
When she finally stopped, she shook her head as she leaned down and pressed her lips against his for a chaste, too-quick kiss.
“I’ll text you when I have an idea of how long I’ll be.”
“Don’t work too hard, babe. It’s Sunday.”
She wiggled her fingers over her shoulder at him and disappeared out the door.
Loss swept through him, so sharp he could barely breathe for a few seconds, especially when he heard the front door open and close a minute or so later.
How fucking stupid was that? Seriously? He must be losing it.
And how the fuck had his life taken this left turn so fast?
Shaking his head, he ran his hands through his hair and sat up. He considered going back to sleep but he wanted to be awake when she got back. And he’d promised her breakfast.
What the hell time was it anyway?
Rolling out of bed, he gathered his clothes and dressed, checking his cell for calls. He’d put it on silent last night before the concert and he’d never turned the sound back on.
The phone symbol was overlaid with the number twenty and a plus symbol. Which probably meant he had just as many voice messages.
His Twitter app had given up at one hundred. Same for Facebook.
Fuck. He needed coffee before he tackled this. Sticking the phone in his back pocket, he headed for the kitchen. Tru drank coffee so he was betting on there being a machine somewhere. Otherwise, he would need to head out and find some.
Would she give him a key if he asked?
Getting ahead of yourself, aren’t you, buddy?
Just because he was ready to move in and take over her life didn’t mean she wanted him to.
Besides, last night had proved he wasn’t ready to throw in the towel on his music career. He’d rediscovered his love of performing, and even now he had the itch to grab a guitar and play something. Anything.
He wanted to call Nic . . .
Which made him think about that kiss Nic had laid on him last night.
What the fuck had happened? Why the hell had Nic kissed him like that? Way too much had happened last night for him to focus on those few seconds of time but now . . .
What the hell did he do? Did he call Nic and ignore the fact that the guy had almost but not quite stuck his tongue down his throat?
Did he want to know why the hell he’d done it?
Maybe the question he should be asking was why the hell wasn’t he freaked out about it.
“Shit.”
He needed a guitar. He thought better when he had one in his hands. Of course, he didn’t have one with him. He could head over to the ManDown office but then he wouldn’t be here when she got back. He didn’t want to disappear on her. Yeah, he could text her and tell her where he’d be but he’d told her he’d be here so here is where he’d stay.
But he really needed coffee before he got to his messages.
She had a Keurig so he had coffee in under two minutes. If he didn’t already worship her, he would now.
Since he didn’t want to think too closely about the implications of that, he sat at the small table in her bright, spotless kitchen, turned on speakerphone and started going through his messages.
The first were from friends from high school, two guys he’d kept in touch with who hadn’t had a lick of musical talent but had always been supportive of Baseline Sins. The messages had been almost identical. They’d seen videos from last night and were psyched that the band would be getting back together.
The next was from Tom Aioli, the Sins’ manager. Baz expected to get reamed a new one from Tom but the guy actually sounded teary. Their short, round, and bald shark of a manager sounded like he was gonna cry. Probably because he figured he’d finally be making some money off them after a year of nothing.
Shit, that wasn’t fair. Tommy had become part of their family. Baz’s parents had had Tommy and his wife over for dinner more times than Baz could remember. He made a note to call the guy when he finished with the rest of the messages.
The next few were from crew the band had worked with and a few other musicians from other bands. Xander was pissed he hadn’t known ahead of time or he would’ve been there.
More musicians from other bands.
Then he heard Zach’s voice. Sebastian didn’t realize he was holding his breath until he released it on a sigh when Zach sounded genuinely psyched about him and Nic playing together.
Trev, on the other hand, tore him a new one. The amount of fucks he used in one minute would’ve made any sailor proud. Baz knew him well enough to know Trev was pissed only because he hadn’t known.
But Jase . . .
Fuck. Jase was upset. Even more than Nikky, Jase was the most sensitive of them all. He’d also been the first to try to visit Baz in the hospital and he’d been the one who continued to keep in contact, even when Baz would’ve rather not.
“Hey. Saw you and Nik playing with Johnny and Mac. Nice to see you back onstage, man. Wish I could have been there to see it in person. Give me a call. Soon.”
It was way past time to give the guys a call.
The last message was from Nik forty-five minutes ago. Just before Tru had left.
“So you wanna talk? I’m gonna be in the city ’til tomorrow. Gimme a call.”
What? You thought he wouldn’t call? After that kiss?
Christ, his best friend had kissed him like he wanted to do more than fucking kiss.
And Baz hadn’t been repulsed. He’d been shocked, yeah. But repulsed . . . No.
Fuck. Don’t be a pussy. Just call him. What the hell are you worried about?
He wasn’t worried. At least not about that kiss. Not that he was thinking about that kiss. That had just been Nik fucking with his head.
Before he thought about it anymore, he pressed the button to call.
Nik picked up on the second ring.
“Hey.”
“Hey.” An awkward pause fell, but Baz was determined to push past it. “So, you wanna meet later today?”
“Sure. Where?”
“You wanna come to my room at Haven or you wanna see the studio where I think we should record our next album?”
Nik went silent and Baz wasn’t sure he was going to answer. After several seconds, Nik sighed so loud, Baz heard him clearly.
“Sure. Let’s see this magical studio.”
The level of sarcasm in Nik’s tone made Baz want to kick something. Christ, he fucking hated this.
Instead of rising to Nik’s bait, which he would’ve done any other time before, he took a deep breath.
“Great. Two o’clock okay with you?”
“Yeah, that’s fine.”
“Okay, good. That’s good. I’ll see you then.”
“Will anyone else be there?”
“Does it matter?”
“Kind of, yeah. I just . . . I’d rather do this without an audience.”
“I get it. It should just be us.”
Nik released a huge breath. “Okay. I’ll see you at two.”
Then he hung up without another word. Obviously Nik knew what studio he was talking about. Just in case, Baz texted him the address.
Then he put everything out of his head, except for what the hell he was going to make Tru for breakfast.