“I like the sound of that, though I have no clue how we’d pull together that kind of thing.”
“I think your team can figure it out. If not, I’ll help you find the right people for the job.”
“Do you really think people will like the new versions of my songs?”
“I can’t speak for anyone else, but I’ve been a fan of your music from the beginning, and I love those versions because they highlight your beautiful songwriting skills.”
“Yeah, but you’re biased.”
His deep chuckle vibrated through my body. “That I am, Hendrix. I have always been and will always be, unapologetically, your biggest fan.”
I melted against him. “Then let’s do it.”
“Holy shit. I’ve never had a video go viral so quickly,” I said as I refreshed the screen.
Two million views in under an hour. Even better, the comments were super positive. Sure, there were a few boobirds who said I’d sold out, but most people really heard me when I said I couldn’t destroy my body and my vocal cords like that anymore. That I had to figure out a way to be punkandtake care of myself. They seemed to enjoy my new look, too.
Before I’d made the series of videos for the acoustic tracks, Sawyer had arranged for several aestheticians to come to the cabin for our very own spa day. We were waxed, bleached, and buffed to within an inch of our lives, and the couples massage made my muscles melt.
Sawyer had also brought in his barber from San Antonio, who’d shaped my overgrown hair into a fierce, spiky slant that seemed to flow from the smirk on my face. He’d also added a teal flame right at the front, a shout-out to the younger me who’d loved to dye my entire head in outrageous colors.
Our glam team was barely out of the house before Sawyer had me face down on the bed, eating me out like the world was ending, our favorite T-shirt below me to catch the mess. If I ever met David Lee Roth in person, I’d feel compelled to apologize for the number of times I’d defiled his face.
Refocusing on the overwhelming response to my first video, I went back to the comments.
Oh my God, I love the stripe of teal in his hair. He’s even more beautiful than before.
The leather harness he’s wearing in this video is so fucking sexy.
I am a huge fan of hard-core punk, but hearing his lyrics acoustically? I don’t think I ever understood how good of a songwriter Hendrix was before. He could produce an acoustic album and I would buy it and go to the tour.
Did you hear that he might revive the final leg of his European tour? I wonder if there are any extra tickets?
Sawyer was looking over my shoulder, reading along with me.
I nudged him. “Go ahead, say it.”
“I would never.”
“Just say it,” I said, setting aside my phone to climb onto his lap.
He slid his hand over his mouth.“Told you so,”he said behind his fingers.
I threw my head back and cackled. “Do you feel better now?”
He moved his hand so I could see his brilliant smile and the dimple that only came out to play when he was purely joyful. “Yeah, I do.”
“Look at you. So proud of yourself. Where’s my stoic man?” I teased, nipping his nose.
He schooled himself, transforming his expression into that sharp, dark look that never failed to send desire straight through me. It was his Dom Sawyer look, and I couldn’t get enough of it.
“I still can’t figure out which I like better,” I said, imitating his stern look and then his smile. “I love both. So, so much.”
Sawyer’s breath caught in his throat, and his face—his entire demeanor, really—lit up.
He’d assured me that I didn’t have to rush to sayI love you, and I hadn’t. I wasn’t gonna pressure myself to catch up to where he was at. I’d wanted to spend time with the man and let myself fall in love naturally.
It had been scary as hell to give myself permission to do that. Turned out, loving Sawyer was the easiest thing I’d ever done.
