Chuckling, I nip her neck again before I spin her around. Sliding one of my hands up her spine, I twist it in her soft as fuck hair as I look into her green eyes.
“I’ll bug bomb the whole house if I need to. Don’t give a fuck, darlin’. What I do give a fuck about is you.”
“Me?” she asks, her brows furrowing as she looks so cute and confused by my words.
“What happened? Don’t lie to me anymore, I want to know what dulled the shine in your eyes, Hutton.”
“Beaumont,” she says, shaking her head. “Let’s just enjoy tonight.”
I snort. “We will, thoroughly. But I want to know.”
Hutton turns her head to the side, her gaze shifting to the floor before she eventually brings it back over to meet mine. “You regret starting anything with me right now. You wish you would have waited until your tour was done. I can only guess why,” she mutters.
My lips twitch, but I don’t smile. “You shouldn’t listen to just half of a conversation, you may get the wrong impression,” I grind out.
“You said those words, Beaumont. I didn’t make them up,” she snaps.
Laughing humorlessly, I tug her even closer to me as I nod. Dipping my chin, I run my nose alongside hers. “I did say them and I meant them, but not for the reasons you’re thinking.”
“Then why?” she exhales.
“Because it’s too hard leaving you, Hutton. We are rocky at best. I don’t want to go because of shit like this. We aren’t stable and you’ve admitted that you don’t trust me yet, why would I want to leave for four months?” I ask.
She blinks, her lips parting in what can only be described as awe. “Beaumont,” she whispers.
Leaning forward, I touch my mouth to hers, slipping my tongue inside of her, I kiss her with everything that I have. I need her to know that this is real.
We are real.
As much as I am questioning everything, I am not questioning her or my decision to keep her as my own. I just wish that the timing was different, but Rylan was right. We can’t decide the timing when it comes to finding the person we were meant to be with.
Hutton is that too. She was meant to be mine and I’m never letting her go, never pushing her away, and never allowing her to walk away from me. Whatever I have to do to earn her trust, to make her believe, I’ll do it.
Every fucking thing she needs from me. She’s got it.
Chapter Twenty-One
HUTTON
I feel his fingertips skim my spine. Slowly, my eyelids flutter open and I’m extremely disappointed to see that he’s dressed and sitting next to me. Unlike the other day, I don’t think that he’ll undress again, not when I see a small bag on the floor next to him.
“I have to leave, but I wanted to tell you goodbye first,” he murmurs.
Biting my bottom lip, I have a fleeting thought that this might be the last time that I set my eyes on him. I don’t know when I became this needy, insecure woman, but here I am. I want to ask him when he’s going to call me, when I’ll hear from him again, but I don’t, instead I just bite my bottom lip a little harder.
His fingers leave my back, traveling up my arm, tucking a piece of hair behind my ear. “The first show you marked isn’t for another month,” he rasps.
“I know.”
“Fuck,” he hisses. “How am I going to survive an entire month without the sight of you naked and in my bed?” he asks.
My lips twitch into a small smile. “I don’t know,” I exhale.
He hums, leaning down slightly as his lips touch mine in just a hint of a kiss. It leaves me wanting, no craving, more of him. Though don’t I always? It surely seems that way lately.
“You’ll have your phone with you so that we can FaceTime?” he asks.
Pushing up to sitting, I tug the sheet up to cover my breasts. His eyes dip down, his tongue peeks out and he wets his lips before he lifts his gaze to meet mine.
“I will. I’m going to my PawPaw’s this weekend, but I’ll have it with me, always.”
I try not to sound as desperate as I feel, but I’m not sure that it’s working. I’m sure that he can see right through me, down to the core of my desperation.
His eyes roam over my face and he grins, it’s cocky but so damn sexy all at the same time. His hair hangs down over his forehead, already needing another trim.
“I’ll call you when I can. I’m going to be working on some new music while I’m on the bus, but when I take a break, you’re my first call.”
“Beaumont?” I call as he starts to shift.
I scoot closer to him, my hip touching his, feeling the rough fabric of his jeans through the sheet. He hums, lifting his hand and cupping my jaw. His fingers grip me lightly. He’s so close that I can smell the peppermint of his toothpaste and the woodsy scent of his natural deodorant.
“Yeah,” he breathes.
“I’m going to miss you,” I admit.
I want to tell him that I love him, but I know that it’s too early, that it would make all of this extra awkward. So, instead, I settle for telling him that I’ll miss him, and I will.
I’ll miss him stopping by my shop to deliver coffee, his presence after work and the way that he makes me feel. I’m going to miss everything and I hope against all hopes that this isn’t the end of us. I don’t want any of this to end before it’s really begun.
Beaumont dips his chin, his lips brushing mine again, hovering for a brief moment before he lifts his head and slowly stands, his hand falling from my jawline. My heart aches when he bends his knees slightly and reaches for the small bag on the floor.
“Be good, Hutton,” he murmurs.
“I always am.” My words cause his lips to turn up into a genuine smile. “You too, Beaumont. Be good.”
His smile fades and something ugly, a shadow, crosses over his eyes. “I will, Hutton.”
Without another word, he turns and I watch him walk away from me. Every single thing inside of me begs and pleads for him to stay. I just know that something is going to happen, something that is going to possibly break me, him, or completely obliterate us both.
As soon as I hear the front door close from across the house, I can’t help it. My eyes fill with tears and the stupid things fall down my cheeks. I cry. I don’t cry just because he’s gone and I’m going to miss him, I cry with the certainty that this will be the end of us.
I don’t know why I’ve suddenly become the poster woman for gloom and doom for insecurities, but here I am, killing it.
My phone dances across the nightstand, so I quickly wipe my face as I slide my thumb across the screen, my vision too blurry to even see the name flashing across it.
“Darlin’ girl,” Beaumont’s voice murmurs.
“Beaumont,” I breathe.
He chuckles, but it’s strained. “Missin’ you more than words can say. Sure you don’t want to close your shop for sixteen weeks, live on a tour bus and travel the country?” he asks, his voice hopeful but I know that he’s only halfway serious.
“I wish,” I sigh.
“If you said yes, I’d make the driver slam on the brakes and turn around, and then I’d carry you on board.”