He forced himself to meet her phenomenal hazel eyes and opened his mouth to tell her to get lost for her own damned good, but his tongue was in total disagreement with his common sense.
“Nothing would make me happier than to be with you, Dawn O’Reilly.”
Her eyes lit up with hope. “Nothing?”
It was a loaded question, and he took a moment to contemplate it. Was there anything or anyone—living or dead—that made him happier than he was in this woman’s arms? The answer was surprisingly easy. He didn’t have to compare his time with Dawn to anything in his past, he just had to let himself enjoy her in the here and now. That was what was important. There was nothing wrong with loving Sara forever as long as he made a little room for someone new in his heart. With time, that little room might accommodate more, until he could let Dawn be his everything. But for now, at least they had someplace to start. Kellen’s emotional doom clouds scattered before Dawn’s radiance, his defenses crumbled, and he smiled at her. Really smiled. So wide it made his face hurt.
“Nothing,” he said in all sincerity.
“Good,” she said, “because I’m not above tying you to my bed until you come to your senses, Kellen Jamison.”
Lord, how he admired the fire in her.
He laughed, and it didn’t feel forced. It felt good.
“I could teach you a thing or two about tying a person to your bed,” he teased.
“I don’t want a person tied to my bed,” she said, stepping close, so that only inches separated their bodies. “Just you. And I’d rather not have to resort to restraining you. I prefer you free.”
He preferred that as well. Even if it proved a very slow process to free him of the bonds that held him back, he was ready to be untied.
Kellen wrapped his arms around Dawn and drew her against him, claiming her mouth in a slow, deep kiss. A part of him still struggled with finding intimacy with a woman who wasn’t Sara. Another part of him was shouting that kissing Dawn O’Reilly, adoring her, was wrong. But the best part of him told those other two parts to fuck off.
When they separated, he cupped her lovely face in both hands and just stared. He was so glad she’d had the courage to fight for this because he’d needed that little push to help see what was right in front of him.
“Say, Rockstar,” she asked, “what are you doing after the show?”
“Hopefully just one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“You.”
She nodded. “Yeah, I could go for that. And what are you doing tomorrow?”
“Going to New Orleans.”
“Are you planning to run away from me again?”
“No. I thought maybe you’d like to come with me.”
She smiled and kissed his lips gently. “Yeah, I could go for that too, Kellen.”
“You can call me Kelly.”
She tilted her head and stared straight into his soul, which always seemed to warm under her attention. “Yeah, you do look like a Kelly.”
Good, because he felt like one.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
I’d like to thank Wendy Christy for being the most faithful of beta readers, and the amazing Beth Hill for her fabulous editing skills. Thanks ladies for helping me make this a better story. And I’d like to thank my devoted fans, who make all the long hours toiling at the keyboard worth it.
WHAT’S NEXT
Next up is Gabe in Tell Me. He hasn’t been able to get Melanie out of his head since their first encounter, but he’s not sure if she’s ready to see what he has hidden in his bedroom. Will she be able to handle everything he has planned for her? And what is up with her best friend, Nikki? Is she off her meds or something?
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Combining her love for romantic fiction and rock 'n roll, Olivia Cunning writes erotic romance centered around rock musicians. Raised on hard rock music from the cradle, she attended her first Styx concert at age six and fell instantly in love with live music. She's been known to travel over a thousand miles just to see a favorite band in concert. As a teen, she discovered her second love, romantic fiction -- first, voraciously reading steamy romance novels and then penning her own. She recently sold her snow shovel and moved from Nebraska to Galveston, Texas. She loves to spend time on the beach with her feet in the surf writing about naughty rock stars.