Page 78 of Lyric & the Heartbeats

Emerson didn’t seek clarification. Her jaw was tight, dimples flexing as she stared up at him, as if waiting for him to… What? Deny her?

As if.

He flexed his hips in a miniscule retreat and another thrust, and the tic in her jaw relaxed.

“No,” he said, leaning close to kiss the corner of her jaw. “That’s not bad at all.”

“Prove it,” she dared.

He proved it, sliding in and out of her wet, scorching heat until she cried his name and shattered around him. She squeezed around him as if seeking his own release, but instead of dropping her hand down and working his knot until he came inside her, she wiggled out of his grasp. Once her feet were planted on the tile, she wrapped one hand around his knot and jerked him off with the other until he painted her stomach and thighs with his release.

He shouted her name when he came.

“Holy hell,” he breathed as the water washed away their sins.

Lyric hummed in agreement, a lazy smile on her face as she passed him the unscented body wash. Everyone might already know what they’d been up to, but there was no reason to rub it in their faces.

Emerson was only a little bummed that he couldn’t wear her scent proudly. But he didn’t want to poke at a touchy subject. It wasn’t like Odd wouldn’t know what they were doing, and by default, the others.

After they were dried off and dressed, Emerson left Lyric as she pulled a shirt over her head to grab two bottles of water, intending to relax in the common area until they were ready to leave.

As he reached into the fridge, he heard a rustle, a bang, and a muffled curse before Lyric’s door flew open. He peeked over the top of the fridge door. Her eyes widened the tiniest bit before that firm control she kept over herself slid back into place. The door closed softly behind her and her footsteps whispered over the flooring as she trailed down the hallway.

“Are you leaving?” she asked.

He turned with a bottle of water in each hand and held one out. “I wasn’t planning on it,” he replied, narrowing his eyes. “Unless you want me to, to do your decompressing or whatever after each show alone?”

Lyric tucked a damp lock of hair behind her ear, lips twitching. “You can consider me decompressed.”

“So I can stay?” he inquired, just to make sure.

She stepped forward, wrapping her hand around the bottle of water, overlapping his fingers with hers, and paused. “Please.”

A tickle at the back of his neck made him study her a little closer as he nodded. She relaxed and removed the water from his hand, uncapping it and sipping as she glided around him to collapse onto the couch.

“I liked what you called me,” he admitted.

Her brows furrowed, and he watched her cheeks flush as she recalled what they’d been doing. “What did I call you?”

“You shortened my name to Em. I like that.”

“I heard the others do it,” Lyric murmured softly. She fought the smile on her face, but in the end it won. “Em. When will the others be back?” she asked, changing the subject.

Emerson glanced at the clock on the microwave. “Any minute now. They usually stay in the greenroom until Henry kicks us out.”

Lyric picked at the label on the bottle for a moment. As Emerson sat on the couch beside her, she glanced up at him.

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why does everyone hang out in the greenrooms until we’re ready to leave? Don’t you guys want to shower, or change or… something?”

Emerson cocked his head. This was a test somehow. He just didn’t know what kind.

“We figured you liked having the nest to yourself, the bus quiet for a bit before we all invaded it…”

“Oh,” she said softly, and took another sip. “Is that the only reason?”