After dinner we go for a walk along the water and sit on the rocks. We kiss with the sun setting and the sound of the water lapping the shore behind us.
“We should get a puppy together,” he suggests, pulling me between his legs so my back rests against his chest. “We can go to the shelter and adopt the one with the saddest eyes and do whatever we can to make him the happiest.”
My heart clenches at the sweetness and pure empathy of that idea.
“I’ve been thinking about a puppy. Lyric has been asking if we can get one.”
“Then we should.”
He puts his arms around me from behind and hugs me close. Hundreds of times I’ve read in romance books about feeling love pouring out of someone, and now, in his arms, I feel exactly that. It’s even better than I fantasized it would be.
“I wish we could but that would be really hard with all the traveling you do, and me living back in New Hampshire....”
“Maybe we could sorta live together.”
He says the word sorta like he’s tap dancing around how I might react to the idea. Or maybe he’s still getting used to such thoughts living in his own head, like new tenants who might either trash or cherish his space.
“Where?” I ask.
“I don’t know...you could live here, or I could stay at your place sometimes. If you want me to.”
In the past forty-eight hours he’s brought up marriage, living together, and adopting a puppy.
I want all of that with him. It’s everything I’ve always dreamed of and wished we could have together.
It’s also everything he’s always been scared of and avoided. Things I let go of, to give him the space and freedom he needed.
Now I don’t know what to believe... or what feelings to trust.
Is he finally ready to move forward with our relationship? Has the absence of drugs and alcohol cleared his mind and made room for love and happiness with me?
Or is he mourning the loss of his other chemical loves and filling the void left by them?
I feel like we’re walking a very fine line between what could be recovery and distraction for him, and I’m petrified of getting caught on the wrong side. My biggest fear is him making all these promises to me now, when he’s at the very beginning of a sober life, only to realize later he doesn’t really want those things.
That would completely crush and devastate me. My heart would be broken beyond repair.
He nudges his face behind my hair and touches his warm lips to my neck, inhaling deeply as he does so. “Think about it. That’s all I’m asking,” he says. “I love you, Piper. I promised you someday I’d make you the happiest woman alive. I’m not gonna give up until I make it happen.”
I lean back against the comfort of his body, close my eyes, and try to believe in happiness.
Chapter Forty-One
“Stay another week.”
He wraps his arm around me under the blanket, buries his face into the curve of my neck, and pulls me closer. Like magnets, our bodies are drawn together, his hard cock pressing against my ass.
“I wish I could.” I close my eyes against the morning sun shining through his bedroom windows. I want to slip back into that sleepy dreamy place with him and avoid flying back home later today.
“You can.” His voice is sleepy, his skin warm, his lips wet. Waking up to him is like waking up to Christmas morning every day. He’s full of kisses, teasing touches, and sweet, sexy words.
“I have to go back to work. And I’ve never been away from Lyric for this long. I miss her, and she misses me.”
He slides his hand slowly to my hip and grinds his cock harder against my ass. “You can work for me.” He moves his lips to my shoulder, dragging the ball of his metal piercing across my skin. “Go get Lyric and Archie and bring them back here.”
His kisses send shivers racing up my spine. “Mmmm….” I moan, arching into him, loving how his bare chest feels against my back, so warm and solid.
“I’m serious.”
“I know you are, hon. I don’t want to leave you. Ever.”
Just the thought of not seeing him every day brings a lump into my throat. Everything has been so good between us. So perfect and even and normal.
Except for yesterday when he suddenly said he had to go out for a while and then disappeared for a few hours. After being practically glued at the hip all week, it upset me that he took off with zero explanation and didn’t ask me to join him.
He took the car, so he wasn’t doing one of his walks.
I worried he went out to get high, but he came back clear-eyed. He wasn’t stumbling or slurring. He wasn’t jumpy or moody. I wondered if he had just had enough of me and needed a break.
After Blue left, Reece watched me pace in front of the wall of glass in the living room, all while texting madly on his phone and telling me to chill out and not worry.
I wasn’t chilled and I did worry.
It was hard to not interrogate him when he returned, but I kept all my questions inside. Not just because I didn’t want to be a nosy, demanding, clingy girlfriend, but because I didn’t want him to think he couldn’t leave the house alone without me thinking he was going on a drug run.
My trust and faith in him is vital—not just for his recovery, but for our relationship and our future together.
And for me. I can’t have an anxiety attack every time he leaves the house alone.
“Maybe I can convince you to stay….”
He rolls me onto my back , climbs on top of me, and kisses my mouth, deep and lazy. The kind of kiss that’s made for mornings that don’t have to end.
“What if I promise you amazing sex every day?” He moves his lips to my chin, then down to the hollow of my throat, pausing to suck my flesh between his lips. “Would that make you stay?”
I wrap my hands in his hair and arch my neck back. “That’s very tempting.”
He licks a trail down between my breasts, his hair tickling me as he descends. “And pancakes every day, too.”
“Mmm…pancakes.”
He looks up with a wicked grin on his face, his chin resting on my chest. “I think maybe pancakes turn you on more than I do.”
Laughing, I pull his face up to mine, my hands still tangled in his thick hair, and plant a kiss on his lips.
“Your pancakes are amazing, but they don’t come close to what you do to me.”
“Show me.”
It drives me wild how when we’re intimate his voice changes to a tone used just for me. It’s not the same voice he uses on stage—the voice millions have heard and love. This deep, husky, sensual version of his voice is mine only.
I reach down between us and slip his hard cock into my hand, palming the slippery tip. Groaning, he slides one hand under my body, cupping my ass and pulling my body up to his. My thighs are spread wide around him, and I guide him between my slick lips.
“Fuck me, baby. Take all of it.”
I move my hands down to his hips and ride his cock from below, thrusting up to take him deep, then sliding myself down to the tip. He’s completely still, eyes closed, his tongue at the edge of his parted lips, his hair hanging down over my breasts. He’s breathtaking, so lost in us. The sight of him drives me wild, makes me even wetter with desire for him.
Sitting back on his heels, he pulls me up to straddle his lap and holds me up in his arms, rocking me back and forth on him. I hang onto his shoulders and kiss him hungrily. I love our size and strength difference; the way he can lift and move me with his arms like I’m a doll turns me on like mad.
He thrusts deep inside me and catches my whimper with his lips. Slowing, he gently grinds my body into his. My clit rubs against him in just the right place, my body clenches around him, and we explode together, our bodies slippery with sweat, our mouths never parting.
“That was definitely better than pancakes,” I say breathlessly.