“I know you’re angry,” I say. She’ll probably be that way for a long time—months, maybe even years. “And I know that it’ll take work, but I just want you to try. To give getting through my fuck-ups together a chance. I need to know that you can give a shit about me again.”
For the longest minute of my entire life, her face is an emotionless mask. A hundred thoughts—each shittier than the last—roll through my brain before she moves her head to each side incredulously and mumbles something that sounds like “dumbass.” She lays her head on my shoulder, and her tears seep through my tee shirt.
“A lot can happen in the two days I owe you,” she whispers. “But you’re right. You are an idiot if you thought I ever stopped loving you.”
“I love you too, Sienna,” I growl. Then my hands are all over her as I bring her close to me. Her lips part willingly and her tongue darts into my mouth. She tastes sweet, and I make myself a promise that I’ll never lose the taste of her again.
I’ll fight to keep this woman beside me.
Her eyes are still squeezed together when she pulls away, but when I press her hand up against my cock, they open and she glances between our bodies before clearing her throat. “If we weren’t at your Gram’s house,” I say, and she leans back, rubbing her hand across her chest.
“She’s not—” But then she shakes her head and runs her palms nervously down the front of her shorts. “There are hotels just a couple of miles away from—”
“Come with me.”
“What?”
I gesture to my parked car. “Two days. I want those two days now.” It’s a bold ass move, but she doesn’t immediately shoot it down.
She chews on her bottom lip. “Right now?”
“Yeah,” I say, stroking my thumb across her lips to stop her from nibbling them. Keeping her eyes focused on mine, she bites the tip of my finger instead, and I groan in frustration. Why does she have to do shit like that? “I’m sorry, Si, and I need a chance to prove it.”
She backs into the house, motioning for me to follow her, but I remain in the doorway. “I’ll have to go pack my things.” She jabs her thumb over her shoulder at the staircase. “And I’ve got to call Gram—she’s not here.” Her face is flushed, and I can tell she’s mentally making a list of what all needs to be done before she can come with me. “Lucas, you’re not going to—”
And there goes the pain in my chest again. She doesn’t trust me, and it about destroys me. But what can I expect?
“Nothing will happen to you while you’re with me,” I promise. Then I lift my eyebrows and add, “Nothing bad. I’m going to do what I should have done before. I need you with me because there’s no music without you.”
It is that promise that completely wins her over.
She tugs me to her by the collar of my shirt and cups my face in between her hands. Her lips are rough and demanding, making me reconsider what she’d started to say earlier about the hotels. I drag myself away from her, putting a good amount of space between us.
“No more of that or I’ll fuck you right here in this doorway.”
“Give me an hour to get ready,” Sienna whispers, walking backward into the house. “I promise I won’t be long.”
It only takes her half the time. After I load her luggage into the trunk of my car, which I’ve driven closer to the cabin while waiting, she slips into the passenger seat next to me. Dragging in a shaky breath, she lays her head back against the leather headrest and then turns to look at me as I put the car into drive. “I love you, Lucas.”
“I love you too.”
She frowns when I slam on the brakes near the top of the driveway, but then I produce a wide red strip of fabric from the center console. The corners of her mouth slide into a smile. “Another one of your attention exercises, Lucas?” she questions as I cover her eyes with the fabric.
“No, but surprises are your new best friend.”
For once, she doesn’t protest.
Sienna
Lucas’s car comes to a slow stop and he cuts the engine, stopping Cavo mid-song. At the sound of his door opening and closing, the air flies out of my lungs. I embrace this moment of breathlessness, the sudden burst of uncertain excitement that hums through me.
Where are we, and what have I gotten myself into?
Grasping the hem of my shorts, I run through a list of places he might have brought me. I rule out hotel or airport. We’ve been on the road for what seems like hours, and Gram’s house is only a stone’s throw from Nashville’s airport.
Exasperation kicks in, and I bring my hands up to my blindfolded eyes, but the passenger door swings open. Lucas clears his throat. Though I can’t see him, I swear I can feel his hazel eyes burning against the side of my face.
“We’re here,” he announces.
“I figured as much. Where exactly is here?”
His calloused fingers close around my wrists, and he tugs me out of the car toward him. I stumble a little, the front of one of my flip-flops bending enough that the warm pavement brushes the tips of my toes. Lucas steadies me, placing his other hand on the curve of my hip. We’re chest to chest. Late night breeze whispers against our skin, but I’m not cold. Not when he’s so close I can practically taste the spearmint on his tongue as I breathe him in.
And no matter how many times I’ve attempted to convince myself otherwise, I have missed breathing this man in.
“Lucas.” My voice is strained. “Where are we?”
Letting go of my wrist, he moves both of his hands up my body, not stopping until he touches either side of my face. “You ask so many fucking questions, Sienna.” He works his fingers beneath the silky blindfold and dips his mouth to my ear. “Just enjoy the moment.”
“Hard to when I can’t see a damn—” I begin, but he lowers the fabric from my eyes.
“You look stunned.”
What did he expect after everything that’s happened between us just in the last several hours? “I doubt that’ll go away any time soon.”
A new emotion passes over his features—one that makes me uncomfortable—and I look away. Beneath the pale glow of moonlight, there’s nothing but mountains and lush trees as far as I can see. The only house around is the one we’re parked in front of, a massive three-story cabin—twice as large as my grandmother’s place in Nashville—with floor to ceiling windows on the second level.
“We’re still in Tennessee?” I ask.
“Gatlinburg. I needed you all to myself, Si. I needed these two days without interruption, to win you back and make-up for my fuck-ups the right way.”
“All to yourself, huh?”
A few locks of messy, dark hair fall over his hazel eyes when he nods. “The way I should have done months ago.” Spinning me around so that I’m by his side, he runs his palm down the inside of my arm, lacing our fingertips together.
I hold on to him tightly, not wanting him to release my hand, to release me.
While Lucas takes our luggage out of his car, I explore the cabin’s main floor. Other than the ceiling-height stone fireplace in the center of the living room, the house has none of the usual rustic charm. From the black sectional couch that surrounds the fireplace, to the equally dark furnishings, and even to the gleaming black countertops in the kitchen, something moody and sexy pulsates through the atmosphere.
It’s definitely familiar.
I rest my back against the stainless steel refrigerator, my eyes scanning the open, state-of-the-art kitchen.
Then it hits me: this house reminds me of Lucas’s place in Los Angeles. I’ve only been there once, more than two years ago when he took me there for what had been a catastrophe of a date, but it’s impossible to forget.
I return to the living room but stop short as the front door closes. Running my fingertips across the blindfold still hanging around my neck, I look at Lucas, who’s standing in the foyer. His back is turned to me, but even under the dim lights, I’m able to admire him—too-long, too-messy dark hair; olive skin and muscles that any sane person would envy; and the intricate tattoos that cover more of his body than not.