Hands fisting by her sides, Kit fought off images of the motel room lit by a garish neon glow. “Because of me?”
“Far as I can figure out, he uses those random fucks as sleeping pills,” Fox said bluntly. “He hasn’t had that outlet. He finally crashed just after eleven this morning, and I told everyone not to wake him. We don’t need him until right before we go onstage, and he can grab energy drinks prior to performing.”
“What do you mean he uses the groupies as sleeping pills?” Kit said, still stuck on the first part of his sentence.
Fox ran a hand through the chocolate brown of his hair. “Not my story to tell, sweetheart. But you need to know enough to understand that you have to make sure he sleeps. Otherwise he’ll have a fucking heart attack or something from sleep deprivation.” He glanced over at Noah’s bus… just as it opened.
A tousled blond head stuck out, sleepy eyes landing on Kit. “Hey.” Noah’s real smile was a thing of beauty.
Walking over, his feet bare and his body clad only in a pair of disreputable ripped jeans she recognized from the other day, he drew her into his arms, nuzzling his chin over her hair. She knew it was just for show… except maybe it wasn’t, not this time. He was all warm from sleep, drowsy eyed and yawning against her.
Giving in to temptation, she slid her own arm around his waist and, Fox’s warning strong in her mind, said, “Let’s go back to the bus so you can grab some more shut-eye.”
“I’ll catch you both later.” Fox walked over to Molly and Maxwell after bumping fists with Noah.
Not far off, Butch gave her a salute, waiting until she was at Noah’s door before he faded off into the crowd. She knew he’d be back as soon as he’d checked out the area, but for now she didn’t need the protection. Noah nudged her up into his bus, then came up behind her, pulling the door shut.
Kicking something accidentally, Kit found they were his boots. They’d been abandoned not far from the door, along with a crumpled black T-shirt. She leaned down and picked up the tee, had to fight the urge to bury her nose in it; she loved the way Noah smelled, and that hug outside had only made her need worse.
Stomach tensed against the stupid butterflies that refused to get the memo that she was over Noah, she tried for a stern tone. “This is not going to work if you throw your clothes around on the floor.”
Still smiling that lazy, sleepy smile, he grabbed the tee and chucked it onto the sofa, the layout of his bus the same as Molly and Fox’s except there was no desk tucked into the corner. “There, now it’s not on the floor.”
She tried not to smile. “You’re dopey with sleep deprivation. Go get some more rest.”
Jaw cracking in a yawn, he took her hand and tugged her to the bedroom. “I can’t sleep, but I’ll lie down if you sit with me and tell me stuff.”
“What stuff?”
“Any stuff.”
Pushing him down onto the bed, she slipped off her heels, then climbed on beside him. He was lying on his back, his arms folded under his head and his eyes, those so often unreadable eyes, turned toward her.
Unable to look into the storm gray lest she betray too much, she busied herself getting into a seated position with her back to the wall that acted as the headboard. The idiotic butterflies dipped and dived at being so close to him, his gorgeous body laid out in front of her.