“Every fucking second that I spend with you beats the one before it. I look forward to those seconds, every damn one of them. I miss you when you’re not in my arms. I long to kiss you, to touch you, and to show you how much you mean to me.”
I’m glad he’s sitting behind me because I couldn’t stop the tears if I tried. Somehow, he’s found a way into my heart and is expressing everything that’s there, right beside the big neon sign with his name on it.
He wraps both arms around my chest and hugs me close. “I should get out and get dried off. The food should be here soon.” He kisses my cheek and climbs out of the tub.
I wait until he leaves the room before I climb out on shaking legs. I release the drain on the tub and hop in the shower to wash my hair. It gives me the time I need to get my emotions in check before facing him again.
This damn strep throat kept me from kissing the hell out of him. I wanted to tell him that he has all of me, that I’ve fallen in love with him, but I refuse to do that if I can’t kiss him. If I can’t follow my declaration with actions to show him what he means to me.
My sweet Cole.
We leave Ohio today and head for Indiana. It’s been three days of illness, laughs, hugs, cuddling and “sexy times,” as my girl likes to call them. I love what I do; music is a part of me. It’s just that Stacy . . . well, she’s my heart. I can’t live without her. I’m not ready to leave this hotel room, this bubble we’ve been in for the past three days. I want to stay here, wrapped up in us.
“Okay, I think I’ve got everything.”
I watch as she walks around the room, making sure we won’t be leaving anything behind. It’s very . . . domestic, and I’m digging it.
“Did you get your medicine?” I ask. I know she’s feeling better, but the doctor said she had to take them all. I won’t let her forget. I don’t want to see her sick again, at least not any time soon. Breaks my fucking heart.
“Got it.” She looks in her purse just to make sure she really does have it.
“Tristan just sent me a text saying they’re here. The bus is parked in the back lot. It’s our best bet to avoid the crowds.”
“I still can’t believe people have been hanging around here since we checked in just to get a glimpse of us.”
“Welcome to my world.”
“It’s kind of my world now too, you know?”
“You’re damn right it is.” I pull her into a kiss. She finally let me kiss her yesterday. Fuck you, strep throat!
“Yeah, I mean, I’m the band’s assistant to the assistant, or whatever you want to call me.”
No, you’re mine. “You’re more than that,” I correct her as I kiss her again.
“Hmmm, you’re right. I’m the lead singer’s wife’s best friend.”
She’s baiting me. That’s fine—I’ll tell her a thousand times a day, if that’s what it takes.
“You’re that too, but there’s still more. The most important.”
“Let’s see.” She taps her index finger against her chin. “You’re right! I completely forgot about Tristan, Gavin and Kacen. Those guys are like brothers to me.”
What? She brings my boys into this before me? “You’re mine,” I growl before crashing my lips against hers. Thankfully, my cell beeps, reminding me that we need to go.
“That’s Tristan. We should head out.” I kiss her one more time. Our privacy is gone again, at least for the next four weeks. After that, I’m locking us both in my place for a week, maybe longer. I don’t know that I’ll ever be okay with sharing her.
She steps back, but I grab her and pull her close again. “I need to hear you say it, sweets.”
Smiling up at me, she crooks her finger, beckoning me closer. I bend down until her lips are next to my ear. “There’s this guy. His name is Cole Hampton, and he’s this big-time rock star, but it’s more than that. He makes my heart skip a beat every time he tells me I’m his.”
I crush her to my chest. “Always,” I breathe against her neck.
My phone goes off again. Fucking Tristan. I’m having a moment with my girl.
“Sweets, we have to go.”
“I know. If my boyfriend, Cole, finds me with you, he’s going to be pissed.”
I smack her ass and she runs toward the door, laughing.
“Come on, slow poke, Tristan’s waiting.”
When we walk on the bus, they all stop and stare at us. This is the first time we’ve seen them during the break.
“How are you feeling?” Logan asks Stacy.
“So much better. I’m no longer contagious, I’ve been fever-free for over forty-eight hours, and I’m still taking my medicine.” She crouches down in front of Logan, who is sitting on the couch. “How’s this little guy? You been feeling okay? I didn’t get you sick, did I?”
Logan laughs. “No, I feel great. This one,”—she pats her ever-growing belly—“he likes to pretend he’s playing soccer, and there really isn’t that much room.”
“How long, eight weeks left?” Stacy asks.