“How very brotherly of you. But, Gavin, today, outside the warehouse, that wasn’t brotherly. At all.” My skin begins to tingle as a pulsating ache throbs between my thighs at the memory.
His hand reaches up to cup the back of his neck. I wait for him to call it a mistake again and crush every ounce of hope that his kiss gave life to.
“I’ll agree to your one night on one condition. Tell me why, Dixie. Why are you pushing all of this now?”
Because if we find our way into the spotlight, I’m afraid everyone will see what I’ve tried so hard to hide.
My hearts trips over itself and lapses into an erratic rhythm. “Because . . . I need us to . . . to address this thing before I implode and destroy everything. I won’t always be able to get my own hotel room.”
I can tell by the way he’s pressing his lips together he still doesn’t completely understand. I have the fleeting thought of just being honest, of telling him I want one night of him giving me everything, one night where I can pretend we have a future together as more than bandmates, so that I can put it in my internal memory box along with the few cherished moments I have left of my parents. If I can’t make him see that he is both capable and worthy of love, that memory will have to be enough for me, even if it’s all I’ll ever have.
“Okay,” he says, finally relenting, causing my heart to give a little squeeze. “But maybe we should just keep our distance for the next few days, okay?”
My mouth forms an involuntarily pout when he pulls out of reach and he smirks down at me.
“Friday night I’ll tell your brother I met someone, because, technically, that isn’t a lie. We did meet at some point. I’ll crash in your room if that’s really what you want. Not sure it’ll solve any problems, though.”
It will solve one. Because if everything goes according to plan, after Friday night I will know exactly how Gavin feels about me. And how it feels to have him inside of me.
He couldn’t hold anything back when we kissed. I’m betting my whole heart on the hope that making love will be as powerful in releasing his emotions as that kiss was, if not more so.
The sound of meaty fists slamming into bone interrupts our moment just as it begins to rain. Two sweat-slick guys beside us trade punches, startling me and sending several people careening into us.
“Let’s get you back to the hotel and safely tucked into bed,” he says, draping an arm indulgently around me. “Alone,” Gavin clarifies, ruining my hopeful mood as he steers me away from the circle forming around the brawl. “Before your brother sees us and does something that makes that look like a friendly handshake.”
When we get to my room, Gavin takes a step backward and shoves his hands into his pockets, making it clear that he won’t be coming inside. He doesn’t give me another earth-shattering, spine-jolting, tingle-inducing kiss, either, but he does rest his chin on my head and say, “Sweet dreams, Bluebird,” in a way that I suspect will ensure I actually have them.
Beggars can’t be choosers, I suppose.
After he leaves and I’m all alone in my room, I notice it’s not quite as late as I thought, so I pick up my phone.
Four rings later, still no answer.