He chuckled and shook his head. “Sorry.” His voice was groggy, like he’d just woken up.
My body was blazing with need, but Kellan was still slumped against the door; he didn’t seem to be in any shape to help me with my situation. And I didn’t really want him to. I loved the fact that I’d completely overwhelmed him, and I wanted this moment to just be about him. Reaching down, I slowly zipped up my pants, then moved my fingers over to zip up his. Still breathing deeply, Kellan pulled back and glanced down when he felt me fastening his jeans.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
Giving him a soft kiss, a kiss that a part of me really wanted to deepen, I told him, “I’m making you presentable, so we can finish celebrating with our friends.”
Kellan seemed even more confused by my answer. “But you didn’t . . . don’t you want me to satisfy you?”
Just the inquiring angle of his head made me want to tear off his jeans and beg him to take me against the wall. But smiling at him, I shook my head. “You did satisfy me.”
Kellan cocked his eyebrow. “I did? Are you sure? Because you’re usually more vocal when you’re satisfied.” He gave me a provocative grin.
Biting my lip and rubbing my legs together, I debated changing my mind. Pushing him back a smidge, I told him, “I may not have . . . finished . . . but you definitely made me happy.” I swept a strand of hair away from his eyes. “I want to give you this.” Grabbing the doorknob behind him, I muttered, “You can return the favor later.” I could hear him chuckling as I stepped into the hallway.
With the tour with Avoiding Redemption starting soon, the D-Bags dropped off of the face of the earth as they hid away with their significant others. I didn’t see or hear from my sister for the next five days. When I wasn’t visiting with old friends in the area—mainly Denny and Cheyenne—Kellan and I spent most of our dwindling free time tangled up in our sheets. I was very happy for my laptop; I could get some much needed work done while spooning with Kellan. And what greater writing inspiration could there be than that?
Needing a break from the drama of my past, I closed my manuscript file and started surfing the Internet. Kellan lifted his head from the pillow and kissed my shoulder. “You finally done with that?”
“No, I’m just taking a break. And no, you can’t read it yet.” Smiling, I typed in the name of his song with Sienna—“Regretfully.” Maybe I was crazy for wanting to watch it, but the curiosity had been eating away at me ever since Denny had called it “convincing.” Sienna wasn’t why I wanted to watch it anyway. I wanted to support Kellan. He’d released his very first video, and I still hadn’t seen it. That didn’t sit right with me.
Kellan sat up, the sheet over his chest sliding to his waist. “Well, good, because I didn’t want to read it right now anyway.” I gave him a hard look, and he threw on an innocent smile. “I was finding the ceaseless typing relaxing, though.” He glanced at the screen and frowned when he noticed what I was about to watch. “You sure you want to see that?”
There were dozens of titles on the screen that were close matches to what I’d typed in, but a still shot of Kellan’s face was staring at me on the very top of the list. “No, not really . . . but it’s your first official video. I feel like we should watch it. Maybe it won’t be so bad if we do it together?”
Kellan nodded and grabbed my hand. He tenderly kissed my wedding ring, an apology already on his face. I reached up to stroke his cheek, then turned back to the laptop. It felt hotter as it rested on my legs, like it was slowly burning a hole through the thin sheet covering me.
After I clicked on the link for the video, a short ad for perfume started playing. I read some of the comments below the video while I waited. “Kellan and Sienna are so hot together!” “OMG, I love these two!” “They need to be together! Are they getting married?” “I heard they already were!” “OMG, Kell-Sex forever!”
I frowned. Kell-Sex? The fans had already combined their names. Fabulous. And the moniker they’d given them was downright God-awful. Couldn’t they think of something a little more . . . poetic?