“I want a pint of ice cream and a two-liter of Coke," she admits. “I’ll share a little though.”
“You got it.”
After I kiss her nose, I get us dressed, feeling more protective with each passingmoment. By the time her snacks are ordered, it’s all I feel.
She is trusting me tonight, and I need to show her I’m someone she can count on. “Come lay with me. What should we watch? Something funny?”
Her eyes, though dry now, are puffy and swollen from crying so much. “You pick, but yes. Something funny. The stupider the better, honestly.”
Dumb movies just happen to be my specialty, so as she settles into my lap, I toss onThe Hot Chickand start playing with her hair.
The snacks arrive before the main character can even put the earring on, and when I look down to tell her I’ll be right back, I see my baby girl is fast asleep.
Today took so much out of her she didn’t last ten minutes of me running my fingers through her gorgeous black hair, and although I know the ice cream is going to melt, I stay put. She needs this right now — needs me. I can always buy her new snacks later.
Chapter Twenty-One:
Follow You
Alaina
The silence is almost overwhelming as I finish unpacking my things. Being home is nice — between his tour and mine, I really haven’t slept in my bed much — but it feels empty now. I got almost absurdly used to having Bash with me 24/7 that now that he’s gone home, I feel lost. What am I supposed to do with my time? Brooke’s on vacation with her newest boytoy, I don’t currently have a project to work on, and I don’t even have another therapy appointment for a week. Once upon a time, I’d have been thrilled to have a few days to rot in bed with junk foodand all the trash TV I could get my eyes on, but now?
Now I’m itching to call Bash and ask him to come here. Is that crazy? I mean, I know it’s crazy, but wouldhethink it’s nuts? Knowing him, he’s probably halfway here already. I’ve never met a man more devoted, not even to a new relationship... if that’s even what this is. We didn’t exactly talk about it before our planes departed. Does that mean he’s going home and Sidney will find him someone new? AmIsupposed to find someone new?
The thought makes me nauseous.
In the final week of my tour, I let all my walls fall to pieces. Bash proved to me over and over again that he wasn’t just capable of fucking my brains out, he could put my heart back together too. If I needed comfort, he gave it. Silence, he gave it. If I wanted to eat my weight in junk food and scroll social media for an hour, he sat there with me and watched. If I wanted to go out, we went out. And yes, if I wanted him to take me apart with that gorgeous cock, he did that too.
It took me about eight seconds to figure out I was in love with him.
So moving on? No. Not me. I don’t care if we had the talk or not, I’m considering this official until he — or the paparazzi that follow him — tells me otherwise.
I guess that also means I should get on birth control again, since the man wouldn’t put a condom on if his life depended on it. At least that gives me something to focus on, so once I get everything put away and a load of laundry going, I reach out to my doctor.
I barely get three words out before my doorbell rings.
Assuming it’s my nosey neighbor, I tell my doctor I need birth control quickly, set up an appointment, and then wander over to the door as the bell gets more insistent.
“What?” I laugh, swinging the door open to reveal not my neighbor, but the condomless king himself. Halfway here or all the way here, either way, my stomach flips and joy travels through my system. “Bash?”
“Hi,” he says with a grin. “I was going to give you some space, but I figured a plane ride was enough time apart. And yes, I went through your shit and stalked you here. I’m not sorry.”
Grinning, I jump into his arms and kiss him like I haven’t seen him in a year. I’m not ready to be alone again yet, and knowing me, I might never be. “You’re insane and I should call the cops,” I mumble as I trail my lips down his neck. “Get my phone.”
“Mmhm. Maybe later.” He kicks the door shut behind him and clumsily drops his bag. “Were you thinking about me, baby girl? It feels like you were thinking about me.”
“I was making an appointment to get back on birth control,” I admit. “But yes, I was thinking about you.”
“Birth control? Want me to just pull out sometimes?”
Sometimes? Did he just say sometimes? “Then I’d only be pregnant sometimes, not all the time. Good thinking.”
His tongue ring slides down my throat as he pins me to the wall. “Kind of hard to think right now, but I hear your point. Are you gonna let me knock you up someday? If you say yes I’ll be patient.”
I’d let him right now if he asked, but I absolutely know that’s the trauma talking. Therapy just helps me recognize it, not stop it. “One day, baby. I promise.”
“Fuck,” he growls. “I didn’t come here just to fuck you, but I need to come inside of you, Alaina. It’s all I thought about while we were apart. I promise I’ll be a good boyfriend afterward.”
