“Like you?”
“Like me.”
She laughs. “I don’t know if I agree with all of that, but I see your point.”
“You have a thing for Oliver now?”
“Maybe.”
I hold both of her hands with one of mine and tickle the crook of her hip with my free one. She shrieks, squirming in my arms and sashaying her ass into my cock.
“Be careful,” I whisper in her ear as I stop tickling her. “I might get a fourth wind.”
She gives her ass one final shake but relents.
We lay quietly. I wonder what Bellamy is thinking, but I don’t dare ask. Her head is a scary place.
But, then again, so is her life.
Instinctively, I hug her tighter.
She smells like amber and feels like silk, and I’m not sure how I’m ever going to crawl out of his bed and be the person I was when I climbed in. This feeling is every love song I’ve ever sang, every emotion I’ve tried to elicit with a constructed lyric. It’s calm in the midst of an unpredictable world. It’s safe when nothing else feels solid. It’s like the last piece of the puzzle that you find under the rug snapped into place, and the hours of searching for that one tiny piece finally pays off.
Now that I’ve experienced it, I’m not sure how I’ll ever be with someone who doesn’t evoke this kind of reaction.
But no one else ever has.
I’m not sure anyone else ever will.
I press a soft kiss to the top of Bellamy’s head.
Her phone buzzes on the nightstand in front of her. I release my grip on her so she can reach it.
She looks at the screen and laughs. Her fingers fly over the keypad.
I’m curious, but I don’t want to ask. It’s not my business.
But I can’t take it either.
“Is that Riss?” I prod.
“Nope.”
“Boone?”
“Nuh-uh.”
My lips twist in frustration as she looks at me over her shoulder. Her hair hits the middle of her back. I wind it around my fist and tug her head backward.
She grins. “What?”
“Who is it?” I ask, pretending to grumble.
“Suit.”
The words are crisp and cheery. This mischief in Bellamy’s eyes tells me that Suit and I aren’t going to be friends.
“Suit, huh?” I snatch the phone out of her hands.
She gasps and reaches for it. I roll over and look at the screen.
Suit: You didn’t get back with me.
Me: Sorry. Got busy.
Suit: Want to meet up tonight?
Me: Sorry. Busy.
Suit: Tomorrow?
“What the fuck is this?” I ask as she tries to climb over my side and grab the phone. “What kind of name is Suit, anyway?”
“It’s what I call him.”
I look at her in suppressed amusement. “Let me guess—he wears a suit.”
She nods, laughing.
“So, what am I saved under? Stud?”
“You are not saved under anything.”
“I’m not in here? At all?”
She shakes her head. “I didn’t save your number.”
I pout.
“I hate you, remember?”
I snort. “I think we’ve established that is untrue.”
“I don’t hate your cock.”
“Facts.”
My thumbs swipe across the keypad. Bells tries her best to see what I’m doing, but I block her with my shoulder.
“Coy …”
“I’m adding my number.”
“That better be all you’re doing.”
I finish my little project and hand her phone back to her with a smug grin of satisfaction.
She scrolls through her address book and sees my number saved as Stud. She rolls her eyes.
“It fits,” I say, shrugging.
She opens her mouth to respond when her phone dings again. I bite my lip as she looks at the reply and brace myself for the punch that hits me in record time.
“Ouch!” I chuckle, rubbing my shoulder where she blasted me with her fist.
She looks at her screen and reads the text I sent from her phone to Suit out loud.
“I’m fucking someone else now. Don’t text me again. Coy!” She hits me again. “Why did you do that?”
I don’t know.
It was a huge overstep on my part, and I’m aware of that. But at the same time, it doesn’t feel wrong. Not even a little bit.
I reach for her slowly, carefully, and take her in my arms. And then I hold her against me again.
“You’re much more cooperative when you’re in my arms,” I tell her.
She hums with her cheek pressed against my arm.
“Was I out of line doing that?” I ask her.
“Probably.”
“Huh.”
She turns her head so she can see me. “Aren’t you going to apologize?”
“No. Why would I do that? I’m not sorry.”
She rolls her eyes and turns her head again. “Just because we had this night together doesn’t mean I’m never having sex with anyone ever again.”
Her body stills against mine as I let that simple sentence resonate in my brain.
She’s right, of course. She’ll end up in bed with another man, and it’ll probably be some asshole like Suit who doesn’t give a flying fuck about her.
That pisses me off.
I hold her tighter.
I try to construct a response that fits the situation but also isn’t a lie. But no matter how I phrase it, it fails.
“It’s okay,” she says quietly.
“What’s okay?”
“I know you have to leave.” She looks at me over her shoulder again. “That’s what you’re thinking about, aren’t you? That you have to leave, and you’re afraid I’ll be mad again.”
“Kind of.”
She smiles sadly. “I won’t be. Unlike before, I feel like we’ve laid everything on the table. And …” She turns away and presses a soft kiss to my forearm. “I have a lot going on here to worry too much about it. You know?”
My heart breaks at the pain in her voice. You can hear the scab being ripped off her wound. Being together allowed her to escape it for the past few hours. But now that an end is in sight again, her reality festers again.
I have a reality too—one with multi-million-dollar contracts and agreements and tour dates and recording schedules. Or at least, I will have all of that. All of those things aren’t possible in Savannah.
We both know that.
I can sense her pulling away from me emotionally. I hate it, but I don’t have an answer or a solution to offer her.
“You know what?” I ask.
“What?”
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. You have a lot on your plate, and so do I,” I say, even though my shit feels a whole lot less important than hers. “You might wake up in the morning and decide you hate me again, too. Then none of this stuff will matter.”
She nods. “Except that you’ve ruined my booty call with Suit. I’ll have to find someone else to service me quickly.”
Her words hit a spark deep inside me. I roll her over on her back.
Hovering over her, I stare into the blues of her eyes.