“I think I do,” she admitted, and the wave of emotion that swelled in Ash’s eyes was her complete and utter undoing.
He swallowed. “Thank you,” he whispered. Then he nodded once and began to pivot toward the couch.
“Wait!” Willow cried, grabbing his wrist this time.
Ash’s hand clenched into a fist.
“Willow,” he pleaded, unable to meet her gaze. “You don’t want—”
“I do,” she interrupted. “Just… Tell me the truth.” His eyes finally met hers. “Were they really all for me? Your songs?”
Ash nodded. “Since I’ve known you. Every. Last. One.”
Correction.Thatwas her complete undoing.
She threw her arms around his neck, his balled-up shirt still clutched in her hand. And then his mouth was on hers, hot and wild and filled withyears of need…of regret…of whatever he was feeling that made him claim her and reclaim her with every brush of his lips, every sweep of his tongue.
He hiked her onto his hips and strode toward the bed, but even when she felt him knock against the bed frame, he didn’t put her down.
“I’m afraid to let go,” he said against her, his voice rough.
“I’ll still be here,” she assured him.
“Promise?” he asked, squeezing her tight. “Because I don’t think I’ll survive it if you leave me again.”
She sucked in a breath at how familiar and yet how terrifying it was to hear those words from him now. “I’ve got nowhere to run this time,” she admitted. God, she hoped those words were true.
He kissed her one more time, this one gentle, and then laid her down with so much care it made her ache with a longing she swore she’d locked away and buried the key.
***
Four years earlier, Willow had woken to lips softly brushing her cheeks, to the scratch of morning scruff she’d grown to adore.
“What time is it?” she asked dreamily, eyes still closed in the hopes of prolonging the night a few minutes—or if they were lucky—a few hours morebefore they had to get on the road to the next stop on the tour.
“I don’t know, and I don’t care,” Ash replied. “I don’t want to waste another second sleeping when I could be awake and doing this.” He kissed her temple. “And also this…” He kissed the tip of her nose. “And—”
“NO!” she yelped, eyes wide open now as she threw a hand over her mouth. “Morning mouth!”
Ash groaned. “You’re killing me, Wills…” He sighed as she slipped out of the bed—still naked—and ran quickly to the small bathroom included in the bus’s master suite.
“Suite” was, of course, a relative term. It was a bus, after all, which meant the queen-sized bedwasthe room, and the toilet/shower/sink sort of closet was the bathroom. But to Willow it was her favorite place in the world because it was the place where she got to wake up to a man who—even after months on the road together—couldn’t seem to get enough of her.
She brushed her teeth and hurried back into bed in minutes to find Ash feigning sleep.
“Hmph,” she said, propping herself on her elbow to stare at a man who was adored by thousands yet walked offstage every night searching for her. “Guess I’ll get dressed and head out for coffee before we hit the road.”
She rolled toward her side of the bed again andthrew off the blanket but never made it any further before he called her bluff.
“Don’t you dare leave me again, Willow Morgan. I won’t survive it.” Ash slid a hand over her hip, pressing his palm to her abdomen and pulling her to him. As he leaned over to kiss her jaw, she rolled her eyes.
“Yousmell minty fresh!” she exclaimed. “Which meansyou leftmefor the exact same reason.”
He laughed. “Yeah, but you were still snoring away and had no idea I was gone.”
Willow scoffed. “I donotsnore.”
“I’d still love you if you did,” he told her, sliding his hand between her legs.
