I nod my head. “Tomorrow, we move on,” I pant out between labored breaths.
“Fuck, this feels so good.”
I push against his chest and roll us over so I’m on top. I move up and down his length with his hands holding on to my hips. “Better make it count.”
He chuckles as he watches me move up and down. “Oh, this is going to fucking count, baby.” He lifts his hips and my head falls back as a moan escapes. He sits up and catches a nipple in his mouth, sucking and flicking his tongue against it, pushing me over the edge. My release takes me, and the moment it ends, he’s changing positions, pushing into me from behind. When his release explodes, he falls to my side and pulls me against his chest.
We cuddle and kiss. We talk and laugh. And when the sun starts to rise, he brushes a hair away from my face and says, “Stay awake. Our time is almost up.”
My eyes flutter open and I lean in, kissing him. “I’m not sleeping. Just resting and enjoying the moment.” I give him a sleepy smile.
I can feel his eyes on my face as he slowly kisses my forehead, eyelids, cheeks, nose, lips, and chin—all of them feather-soft touches. They relax me and make me melt into him. He keeps them going along my neck, collarbone, chest, the swell of my breast, between my breasts, my ribs, my belly button, my hip bone, and finally, the place where he belongs. My legs spread wide for him as he runs his tongue between my folds. My whole body shudders with the release that’s building.
I’m sitting at the studio the next day as we play all our songs for the label to decide which ones will be going on the album. I’m listening to a song being played back when a big yawn escapes.
Van leans closer. “Didn’t sleep well last night?”
I roll my eyes. “Didn’t sleep at all is more like it.”
“It’ll get easier.”
I’m too big of a chicken to tell him that Daniel showed up last night and we spent the entire night in many different positions—none of them being the position I was supposed to be in. I’m so tired that I can’t pay attention. My mind keeps going back to why I’m so tired to begin with.
Daniel.
I think it’s easy to see that if this keeps up, I’m going to be head over heels in love with him . . . and that cannot happen. I mean, in the few short weeks we’ve known each other, we’ve gone from a one-time thing to an every-night thing and not being able to stay away. I’ve never in my life been happier in a relationship, but I’ve also never hid so much of myself before.
When it was time for him to leave in the morning, we spent at least 20 minutes at the door, kissing and saying goodbye. Neither of us wanted him to go, because the moment he stepped out my door was the moment we were over for good. For real this time. We’re both adults and we both know what we’re doing. We can’t keep giving in to these urges. It’s time to get serious and put things back where they belong.
The next week passes by quickly with everything going on at the label, the store, and the lessons I’m still doing, but my time alone at night passes by unusually slowly. I just want to call him, see him, and feel him against me, but I won’t allow it. I’ll soon be going off to do something great, and he’ll be left here alone. This way’s better for him. This isn’t about me anymore. It’s all for him.
When I’m home alone at night, I work on my song.
* * *
I was lost,
lonely,
broken when I met you, met you.
I was cold,
scared,
broken when I met you, met you.
You walked into that smoky bar
and sucked the air from the room.
You lit my world on fire
and suddenly
there was nothing but you, but you.
* * *
I used to think I was better off alone.
I didn’t need anyone holding me back or keeping me on the phone.
I was born to be free and left to roam,
stumbling through this empty world all alone.
* * *
I was lost,
lonely,
broken when I met you, met you.
I was cold,
scared,
broken when I met you, met you.
You walked into that smoky bar
and sucked the air from the room.
You lit my world on fire
and suddenly
there was nothing but you, but you.
* * *
Now I’m left living on my own again
and I don’t know where to go from here.
I thought I could always count on you.
Now I’m lost,
lonely,
broken again, again.
Now I’m cold,
scared,
broken again, again.
And I don’t know where to go from here.
I don’t know how we got here.
I don’t know how you expect me to make it on my own . . . again.
* * *
Now I’m lost,
lonely,
broken again.
Now I’m cold,
scared,
broken without you.
* * *
I strum the last chords and fall back against the couch, listening to the dead air around me. I’m feeling more lost, alone, and broken than I ever have. It’s only now that I realize the feelings I’d tried to avoid are the ones overwhelming me at this moment. It’s more than just an addiction; I’ve fallen for Daniel.
Weeks pass and it’s a hard and busy month. I’m more and more occupied with recording the album, listening and approving edits, adding in background vocals, autotuning the occasional off-key note, and fixing anything the record company doesn’t approve of. I’m actually surprised by the liberty they’re giving us considering this is our first album, but they think it’s important that we remain true to the sound our original fan base has come to love. I couldn’t agree more.
In our downtime, we still play gigs, wanting to stay in front of as many eyes as we can, but it doesn’t feel the same. Each and every show, I still search through the crowd for his face even though I know he isn’t there. The energy I once used to absorb from the crowd isn’t there either. Now it’s like there’s a sheet of glass between us and it blocks me from receiving the energy I need. Everything feels broken—my senses dulled, emotions diluted. I do my best to shake it off and put on a brave face, but I think Van is starting to catch on—especially when I opt to leave after a gig instead of sticking around to mingle and drink.
I grab my coat after the show, ready to leave, but Van grabs ahold of my arm, stopping me. “We’re having a drink tonight. We’re in serious need of a talk.”
My shoulders fall because I know exactly what he’s going to want to talk about, and it’s not something I want to talk about in front of the guys so I hope they don’t show up and try to have an intervention or whatever the hell Van’s thinking. Van, sure. He’s my best friend. But Ridge and Lane, not so much.
Van grabs us a table and I get drinks for the two of us. I make my way over and have a seat. “So, what’s up?”
He narrows his eyes on me. “I think you know what’s up. What I want to know is what’s up with you? Something’s off. You’re not feeling the music. You’re acting like you’re not even having fun up there. What gives?”