“I have a better idea.”
In the next second, he lifts me up, back into his arms and presses me into the tile wall.
“Yes,” he gasps into my mouth as I grind against his hardening length. “This is much better.”
“Show me how much better it can be.”
Lining himself up, he enters my body, a swift, fluid motion that robs me of my senses and steals my breath. His eyes hold mine as he moves slowly in and out of me with deep, powerful strokes. His hand cups my face, his other on my ass guiding my movements, controlling me completely as he imprisons my body, taking me as his.
This isn’t fucking.
It’s hardly making love.
It’s something else altogether. Based on need and instinct.
Some moments surpass love. They surpass words. They’re terrifying and raw and real.
I look into this man’s eyes and I see a love that has no limits and does not surrender to time. It’s the love I’ve been searching for my entire life. The one that grounds me. Makes me feel whole and connected and complete.
Gus continues to pound into me, his eyes my magnet. Our souls collide as pleasure binds us together piece by piece. His wet fingers glide in between us, rubbing at my sensitive clit and I shatter, coming to life as he explodes in me with a harsh growl and a loud groan.
We stand here for a moment in our suspended silence, breathing heavily.
“Tell me again,” he demands.
“I love you.”
“Tell me back.” I nudge him.
He takes my hand, pressing my palm to his lips. Then he leans down and takes my lips for his own. Whispering, “I love you more,” against them.
We wash ourselves off, change into something dry and snuggle on my outdoor couch, eating pizza and drinking wine. The gas fire burns and hissing in the hearth, creating a warm comforting glow and I never, ever, want to move again.
“Tell me about her?” I ask as I wiggle my body deeper into Gus’ chest. The sky is dark, and the waves are still angry against the shore, but everything from earlier today seems to drift farther and farther away with each passing moment.
Gus is silent for a very long moment, watching the orange, blue, and red flames dancing across the furniture and sky. “She was more like me than Jasper. Jasper is like our dad. Serious and kind of broody. But Mom used to try to make homemade crème eggs and marshmallow fluff and cotton candy. She would read us bedtime stories for over an hour because reading was her favorite pastime. I remember my father doting on her. Buying her flowers for her birthday and special cards that would make her blush for Valentine’s day. But most of all, I remember the day she and dad handed Jasper and I guitars and told us to explore them.”
“Did she play an instrument?”
“No.” He laughs. “Honestly, I think they were hoping it would keep us occupied for longer than ten minutes.”
“Did it?”
He laughs louder, the sound rumbling through my back. “Jas and I would play for hours.” His fingers run through my hair, his words trailing off in a way that tells me he’s deep in thought once again.
“The first time I stood on a surfboard, I was five. I remember being terrified, but so excited I literally peed in the water.” I laugh before I can stop it and he does too.
“Was your mother the surfer or your father?”
“My father. He used to take me out on the waves and drive my mother crazy. But they never argued about it. At least, not in front of me. The only time I ever heard them argue was whenever my mom would bring me out on stage to sing with her. My father never liked putting me out there like that at such a young age, but then, like he secretly couldn’t resist, he was always standing on stage with me, holding my hand or playing piano, every time I was singing with her.”
“Why didn’t he like it?”
“I don’t know. Maybe he was afraid I’d want to be like them. He never told me, and by the time I was old enough to think about it, he was my biggest supporter.”
I grin, rubbing at my lips as if the sensation of it will die the second I let the thought go. I miss them. Insanely so. What would they have thought of Gus? Of where I am and what has happened to me. My father would have liked Gus. Of that, I have no question.
“My earliest memory is walking out onto stage and singing with my mother. I can’t even remember what it was, I was that little. It didn’t matter, I loved it. I thought it was the most amazing thing ever. The crowd. The cheers. The heady vibe.”
“I would love to see that.”
I stare at the flames and swallow my heart. “Me too,” I sigh wistfully. “But obviously, that’s not a possibility.”
His hand runs up and down my abdomen in silky soft swipes, dragging my shirt up higher with every pass. His fingers bring me to life, each touch makes me tremble and feel hot all at once.
“I’m going to miss you this week,” he hums in my ear. “Being in the studio sucks when you’re not there.”
I smile, twisting on the sofa to face him. His hand slides up my back, tickling my skin. Reaching up, I run my fingers along his stubbled jaw. “I’m going to miss you too, but I can’t work there while you’re working. All I want to do is watch and listen to you guys play, and record and that means I get nothing done for myself.”
It’s been nearly two weeks since Gus decided we’re no longer doing the duet together. At first, I was disappointed, but the more I work on my own music—something that once I sat down and started writing has flowed from me—I haven’t wanted to stop. I already have six or seven songs pretty much written and the deeper I get into this, the more excited I become about turning it into an album.
My album.
Something just for me, about me, and no one else.
“I know and I love that you’re working so hard. I’m not asking to record on your album because this album your writing is going to be so incredible and it needs to be all you on that, but maybe after it’s all done and the guys and I are all done, we can write something together. Not an album, just something to sing together.”
“I’d love that, actually. Singing with you is something pretty special.”
“You’re something pretty special, and I have no idea what I’m going to do without my fix all week.”
I grin, leaning in and brushing my nose against his, licking the seam of his lips. “Maybe you’ll come home one night to find a strange woman naked in your bed.”
He smiles against me, nipping at my bottom lip. “Is that right? A strange woman? Will she have long dark hair and the most beautiful blue eyes I’ve ever seen and curves that drive me insane?” His hand reaches around, squeezing my breast under my blouse to prove his point. “Because I gotta tell you, if not, I’m not interested.”
I bite back a smile. “I’ll be sure to let the escort service know your specific requirements.”
Gus laughs, rolling over onto his back and taking me with him, my cheek on his chest over his heart, his hands running down my hair.
“Are you seeing Florian this week?” he asks after a long silence.
I stiffen against him and his hand freezes in my hair for a moment before resuming its ministrations.
After Florian showed up at my door, I have seen him a couple of times. Once he came here again and I told him to go. Once I was out having a quick lunch and he just happened to be in the same place I was. Another time was with Casper, and that was all business. Me looking over their new songs and listening to what they have because I told Casper I would.