He takes the guitar back and plays the song through the way I showed him. “Brilliant,” he mutters again as he grabs a paper off the table and jots some notes.
I pull the guitar away and lean it against the coffee table, then climb on, straddling him. “You want to know what’s brilliant?” I ask, my fingers trailing over his body, still skinnier than it was when we met, but so fucking hot. “This.”
His mouth pulls into that lopsided cocky smile that I used to hate. Now, it lights desire like a slow-burning fuse in my heart that works its way to my belly and sets me on fire. I kiss it off his mouth, then kiss him some more. When he lifts my T-shirt over my head, I break this kiss and find the same fire in his eyes as they gaze into mine. I free his cock and he pulls my panties aside, and when I sink down his length, he grabs me and flips us so I’m under him on the couch. He fucks me again, so slow, so deep, unlocking every sensation and making me wonder for the hundredth time what I did to deserve something so perfect in my life. I come twice before he does, and I know that’s on purpose. He definitely knows what he’s doing.
“Why was that so scary to you?” he asks, trailing a fingertip over my cheekbone as we catch our breath.
I open my eyes and look at him, still on top of me. Still inside me. “Nothing you do to me scares me, Tro. You should know that by now.”
He lifts a skeptical eyebrow. “When I carried you over the threshold, you were scared.”
At the mention of it, I freeze. I guess I’d blocked that out. “I wasn’t scared.”
It’s not a lie. What I feel lodge in my heart at the thought of marriage…or anything permanent, isn’t fear. It’s cold, raw terror.
He sees it in my eyes, apparently. “Talk to me,” he says, rolling on his side and propping himself on an elbow.
But I can’t find words. Panic builds in my chest like a lightning storm, short-circuiting my thoughts.
He leans in and kisses me, and just that begins to calm the storm. “I will never ask you for anything you’re not willing or able to give, Lucky. But just know, there’s nothing I won’t give if you ask.”
“So, what are you saying? That I have to ask you to marry me?”
He nods. “Down the road, whenever you’re ready.”
“What if I’m never ready?”
“Then we’ll just keep doing what we’re doing.”
I smile, some of the tension softening out of my shoulders, and roll to face him. “Fucking on the couch?”
He smiles back and the devil flashes in his eyes. “And on the kitchen counter, and in the shower, and on the porch, and in the woods, and on my bike. Wherever the fuck I can have you.”
I tug him closer. “You can have me anywhere, anytime.”
So he does. We start on the couch, but end up on the floor. And again on the kitchen table. And again in the shower. And in between we talk, and write, and sing, and belong. We give a little more of ourselves to each other with every touch, every word. And at dawn, we finally fall asleep in each other’s arms.
#
“Let’s take Shiloh’s part from the bridge,” the sound guy Ricky says from the booth.
Tro backs away from his mic and nods at me as the guitar line starts in my earpiece.
He’s been in the studio for the last month, working on his first solo album. I told him he needed to focus on his own music for this one, but he never listens to me. He wants the lead single to be the one we wrote together the last few weeks on tour, which is why I’m here today recording.
As I belt out his lyrics, he watches me with eyes that tug at every level of my being all at the same time. I want him. I need him. And, God, I love him so fucking much. My heart swells, then overflows with everything I’m feeling for him, making my voice a little scratchy with emotion. He comes up behind me, wraps me in his arms as I sing, and all of a sudden, I’m more.
That’s what we do for each other—make each other something bigger than we are when we’re apart.
In the three months since Tro asked the question, I’ve been thinking more about why I’m so scared of anything permanent. I haven’t come up with an answer. But what I know is, with each passing day, I’m a little less scared of something permanent with Tro. He’s not the same person I met over a year ago. And I’m not the same person he met back then either. We each cancel out the other’s insecurities and doubts. We make each other whole.
When we’re not working, we spend most of our time the same way we spent our first day together at his place. We stay up until dawn most nights, writing music, talking, fucking, then sleep until afternoon. We only get dressed when we have to leave the house.