I tried to collect my thoughts. It was all a little hazy, what with the lust clouding my judgment and his dick still pointing at me. I knew, rationally, that this was what he needed. If he was setting a limit with me on this, it wasimportant.
Zane had never set a limit with me when it came tosex.
And Brody was right; it was my responsibility to support Zane. To give him what he needed in his fight to staysober.
His sobriety was the most important thinghere.
It was definitely more important than my frustratedlibido.
But that didn’t change the fact that seeing him like this was such a turn-on. Everything he did and said lately was a turn-on. He just seemed so in-control, and it was so damn sexy it was killing meslowly.
I glanced down at his massive hard-on and asked him, “Are you sure?” Because as much as I knew, rationally, that I should be listening to him right now, my body was still screaming at me to jump on that dick and fuck it into nextTuesday.
When my eyes jumped back to his face, my thoughts must’ve been written all over me—because his eyes went almost comically-wide withpanic.
“You need to go,” he said, suddenly bolting for thedoor.
“Go?” I stared at him, my brain blanking out. I couldn’t make sense of theword.
Zane had never asked me to go anywhere. Other than to bed with him, or to some party where he planned to put the moves onme.
And once, to a weddingchapel.
“I need you to go,” he said, standing by the door and not even looking atme.
I blinked athim.
I got up, slowly, and went to the door. I stood in front of him and looked at his face, but he wouldn’t meet myeyes.
I drifted my hand up his bare chest, just lightly, grazing his nipple piercing, and he flinched at my touch. I could feel the barely-restrained tension. I could sense every muscle hardening as his whole body wentrigid.
He wanted me. I was sure ofthat.
I ran my hand up his neck and cupped his face. Finally, his ice-blue eyes met mine. I stood up on my tiptoes and gave him a super-quick kiss on thecheek.
“I’m sorry,” Isaid.
“Me too.” Then he reached past me and opened the door, and gently nudged me throughit.
I stood in the lot outside, my back to Zane’s bus as he shut the door behind me. I was partly in shock, incredibly aroused… and deeplyconfused.
He asked me toleave.
I just stood here for a long moment trying to process it. When it finally sank in, more or less, I started to move. I crossed the lot to my bus and climbed on, headed straight to the back, to my locker… and I started topack.
* * *
By nine o’clock that night,I’d arrived at Jessa and Brody’s home in North Vancouver. I’d called Jessa to let her know I was coming, and she’d put on a pot of tea. However, I was in the mood for something stronger and arrived with a bottle of wine inhand.
When my tour bus had arrived in Chicago, I’d gotten off the bus, gotten into a taxi and headed for the airport, and caught the next available flight to Vancouver. The first thing I did when I landed was pick up the wine. And the first thing I asked Jessa as we settled into a couple of cushy seats by the fireplace on her rooftop patio was, “Is Brody mad atme?”
“That’s what you’re worried about right now?” My good friend looked over at me. She’d been tinkering with her baby monitor; Nicky was sleepinginside.
Brody was in Chicago; he’d flown out for the Chicago shows and the filming of the “Blackout” video. His mom lived in Chicago, too, so maybe he’d see her while he wasthere.
“Yeah,” I admitted, taking a generous gulp of wine. “That’s one of the many things I’m worried about right now.” I’d had a couple of drinks on the plane, too. Now that I wasn’t around Zane, having a drink—or a few—had become toppriority.
“I don’t think he’s mad at you. I think he’s worried about you.” Jessa set the baby monitor on the table and sat back in her chair. “He was mad at me, though. You know, for not telling him about you andZane.”
