“Because you like me.”
“You know I like you.”
He grinned. “We’re perfect together.”
I couldn’t disagree at the moment. Instead, I threw my leg over him, and he gasped as I centered him beneath me.
“Layla.” He swallowed. “The condoms are in the drawer. Or maybe the bathroom. Somewhere.”
“Do we need one, Shane?”
His fists grasped the sheets, and his eyes closed. “We should use one.”
“I’m on the pill. I’m clean. You?”
“Last I checked, yes. Same. But are you sure?” His eyes were liquid night. “I don’t mind using one.”
His breathing was shallow, and I made a decision to trust him. He was so hard, all I had to do was settle onto his tip and then sit slowly down onto his hips. He said something unintelligible, and I lifted back up.
“Jesus.” His head tilted back, and I took control of him, touching his chest and the muscles along his abs, watching them ripple as I settled into a rhythm. He met me with his thrusts, his hands gripping my hips, helping me up and down.
I fell forward so I could press my lips on him, and as we started to kiss, I slowed, so we could experience this moment together. Skin to skin.
His eyes locked onto mine, and we stared into each other’s souls as I rocked against him, as he rolled into me, an easy beat. Excruciatingly up, deliriously down. He stretched me out and hit that spot deep inside me, again, again, again, until I felt nothing but waves of pleasure. And they built and crashed over me with a sudden intensity.
I groaned out his name, aware that he hadn’t come yet. My forehead fell onto his chest and he flipped me onto my back, still hard, still pumping in me, sweat dripping from his hair, falling onto my forehead, and he picked up the pace, slamming into me harder, faster, uncontrolled, and I went over the brink again, grunting out an animal cry. The wordyesescaped my lips more than once, and I wrapped a leg around his back, urging him to completion.
One, two, three more thrusts, and he cried out as the rush of his jet stream hit like a tsunami.
Panting, he dropped beside me, and we lay side by side, staring at the ceiling.
He was the first to speak. “You sure you can’t come with us on tour?”
“You want a groupie on your tour bus?”
He rolled toward me. “There won’t be any groupies on the tour bus. And I’d get us a hotel.”
“I wish I could.”
“Okay. But I don’t know how you’re going to live without all this while I’m away.”
I laughed. “You’ve got me there. You really are Hurricane Shane.”
His silly grin melted my heart. “That’s me.”
Nobody warned me that we’d be working on Sunday, but as soon as we’d had time to eat and grab a cup of coffee, Shane was on the phone with Micah, and the next thing I knew, I was carrying a million round boxes from the rehearsal studio to a trailer. While Shane broke down his drum set into a reverse thousand-piece puzzle, Rick rolled amps out. Noah was nowhere to be found, and Micah only arrived when we were closing the trailer. I was going to shake my very tired fist at him before I realized he was there to drive over to his townhouse and load up his own things. We walked over and arrived as Micah was carrying out a black guitar case. Then he disappeared inside.
He must have unearthed eight more guitars from his basement.
He passed by, head down, hauling gear. It had never occurred to me that they had to do this every time they went on tour. “When do they get roadies?”
Jo handed me a bottle of water and led me out of the way of the traffic. “There will be people at the venues to help them set up. They’re picky about making sure they have everything.”
A bus rolled up, and Noah climbed down. “It is a gorgeous day to get on the road.”
Everyone’s spirits were up. At least for the guys. They seemed like they’d bottled up energy while hanging around at home, practicing and preparing. Now they were kinetic and ready to burst.
Jo hollered at Micah. “Where will you be tonight?”
