Page 27 of All Tied Down

“Garrett.” She gasps and pushes me back with her foot against my chest like it’s a punishment, but hell, I like this view too.

“I called my parents to tell them about us being married.”

“What did they say?” she asks, her expression careful.

“They saw it on the news and figured it was something related to work.”

“I’m not sure if I should be offended by that or not.”

“My relationship with my parents isn’t complicated so much as it is practical. They made it clear that they don’t want my fame and the chaos that goes with it to interfere in their lives.”

“That seems…kind of harsh.”

“My dad had a heart attack when I was in college—a pretty bad one—and so they’re careful to monitor his stress. There were a couple of incidents when the band took off that required extra doctor visits to manage his blood pressure and all that.” I lift one shoulder and let it drop as I knead her calf muscle. “I call with the important things and I keep my distance.”

“You never see them?”

“I do a couple of times a year but we’re careful about it, and Theo usually plants some speculation on social media that allows me to go there without being detected.”

“Good thing you picked a really low-maintenance wife. Totally subtle and absolutely not running an empire in Chicago.”

“Good thing.”

“Were they upset?”

“No, I mean they didn’t say so. I’m sure they’d like me to settle down for real and be able to spend more time with them. They’d like you.”

I don’t know why I say it, but I’m not surprised when her whole body tenses as I wait for her to say something. It was impulsive on my part, but I don’t want to take it back because it’s the truth. My mother would take one look at Emerson and go thank God, you finally found a woman who can keep you in line.

It’s the kind of thing that has a smile tugging at my lips and brings the flash of hope that someday that fantasy might become a reality.

“I’m sure I’d like them too,” she offers slowly, brushing her hands off before sliding off the counter to straddle my lap.

“Why’s that?”

“Are you looking to have your ego stroked again?” She draws out the words, her eyes dropping to my lips before moving back up.

Fuck, she’s pretty.

“My ego definitely appreciates your attention.” I grin, dragging my hands down her back to grip the smooth skin under my band shirt—the one that’s worn and faded and perfectly soft.

“It’s been a long time since I was with someone who made me feel this good,” she admits, arching into me without meeting my gaze. “I like it, Garrett,” she whispers, her lips trailing up the column of my throat before she’s nipping at the corner of my jaw. “I don’t want you to stop.”

Fuck.

11

GARRETT

Ican’t get enough of the way Emerson’s skin feels under my fingertips, her naked body draped over mine in one of the few quiet moments of the day where she allows herself to be still. It’s a fucking honor to witness this side of her, and one I don’t take for granted.

“Did you always want to be a rock star?” she asks quietly,, her cheek resting against my chest as we come down from our high.

“I always wanted to play music. Being in the band and making it were secondary for a long time. I like writing music, but there’s nothing like standing on stage when the energy from the crowd is alive and breathing and you’re pouring your heart out and then you just stop but the crowd doesn’t. They’re singing your words all on their own, and it’s like this incredible moment suspended in time.” A smile ghosts over my lips. “It’s a hell of a rush.”

“It sounds amazing.” The words are wistful as my hand moves into her hair.

“You don’t feel the same when you’re at work?”