As he brushes past, I catch a whiff of whiskey on his breath.
The smell of whiskey on Tom somehow makes him even hotter.
I’ve barely gotten the door closed when his body is pressing mine up against it.
“I didn’t like seeing that dickhead’s hands on you.” His voice is a low growl.
The force of his words shudders a breath from me.
I guess that answers my plaguing question. He was jealous.
“I didn’t like his hands on me either, but it was just acting, Tom. You of all people know how it is. I’ve seen your music videos, remember?”
He rests his forehead against mine, breathing heavy. “I just—fuck, I don’t get jealous, Firecracker. I’m not that guy. But seeing him with you…” His eyes meet mine, burning with an intensity, the likes I’ve never known. “Today, I am that guy.” Then, his mouth comes crashing down on mine.
I wind my fingers into his hair, opening up for him.
I’m desperate for him. I was so scared that he was mad at me, and things have been so different between us since Kentucky, so to have him here, saying this to me, I couldn’t be happier.
Yes, it scares me that I’m relying on Tom for my happiness.
But right now, I’m brushing that aside, and just focusing on the now and how I feel when I’m with him.
We’re tearing at each other’s clothes, like we’re in a race to see who can undress the other the quickest.
Tom wins.
He picks me up, kicks off his jeans from around his ankles, and carries me to bed.
He brings us both down to the mattress, supporting his weight with his hand.
“You’re mine,” he says low. “For this tour, you belong to me.”
“Yes,” I whisper. “Yours.” I cup his face in my hands and bring my lips up to his.
Rough fingers climb my thigh. I lift my leg, hooking it around his hip, my heel digging into his ass.
His fingers find me wet and waiting.
“So fucking wet…always ready for me.” He slants his mouth over mine at the exact moment that he pushes a finger inside me.
My back arches up, pushing my breasts into his chest.
He lowers his head, taking my nipple into his mouth, and he teases it with his tongue. “I need inside you so fucking bad.” His deep voice rumbles through me. I feel it everywhere.
“What are you waiting for?” I give him a sexy, sassy smile.
Burning jades meet my blues. “Firecracker, you know I’m a greedy man. I need my starters first. Then, I’ll dine in your *…and for dessert, I’ll have you sitting on my face.”
Holy fuck.
Tom moves off me, reaching for his jeans, he gets his wallet from the pocket.
“Shit,” he groans.
“What’s wrong?” I sit up.
He drives a hand through his hair. “I’m out of condoms.”
He’s out of condoms?
How is that possible?
Tom always has condoms on him. And yes, the knowledge that the guy sack carries condoms around with him is a mental challenge I battle every day.
“I knew I’d run out. I meant to go to the store to get some, but I forgot. I was eager to get back to you.”
He was eager to get back to me. My heart sprouts wings and flutters out of my chest.
“Well, you know I haven’t got any.” I blow stray hairs off my face.
Tom sits down beside me. “Are you on the pill?”
“Yes…”
“Okay, so why don’t we just go without this time?”
My eyebrows hit my hairline. “Are you drunk?”
“No, I’m not drunk. And even if I were, what’s that got to do with it?”
“Well, I just know that sober you wouldn’t suggest going bareback.”
Leaning close, he hovers his lips over mine. “I’ve been drinking tonight, sure, but I’m far from drunk. I can hold my liquor, Firecracker. Point is, I’m not a patient man. I don’t want to have to wait to be inside you.”
“Tom…” I press my hands against his chest, putting some distance between us. Having him this close is starting to cloud my judgment. “I’m not sure. I mean, it’s just…you’ve slept with a lot of women.”
He gives me a less than amused look. “And you’ve slept with other guys, one who used to bang dudes, but I’m not asking for your sexual history sheet.”
I suck in a sharp breath, my face prickling with hurt, as I turn away from him. “Jesus, Tom. That was low.”
“Fuck.” He grabs my chin, forcing my eyes back to his. “I’m sorry, babe, that came out wrong. I just mean…I trust you.” Climbing up on the bed, he positions himself between my legs, pressing me back into the mattress. Arms either side of my head, he stares down at me. “I trust you, and I want you to trust me, too. I’m clean, I promise. I have regular checkups. And I never go bareback. I’ve singlehandedly kept Trojan in business for the last fifteen years. You have nothing to worry about.”
Fifteen years? He started having sex when he was fourteen?