“I didn’t tour for the last album. I doubt I’ll be able to get away with that again.” He worried his bottom lip. “Touring is great, don’t get me wrong. But it also takes me away from people that mean a lot to me.”
Her smile was soft and held promise. “Maybe people could come see you on tour.”
His gaze dropped to her mouth. “You think people might do that?”
“I think,” she whispered. “If people cared about you and you made it clear you wanted them there, they would try their hardest to show up for you.”
He licked his lips. “Are you my people?”
“If you’ll have me.”
He bent his mouth to hers and she met him there.
He kissed her slow, taking his time.
Deep, languid kisses.
His tongue, her tongue, heat and promise.
Like time wasn’t anything.
Like they had forever.
“You have the most beautiful eyes I have ever seen.” He brushed his lips over hers; watched the shy smile that happened there. God, he could look at her for hours.
“You truly are the most gorgeous person I have ever encountered.” He traced the shell of her ear with a fingertip. Dipped his fingers into her soft as silk hair.
Everything about her was soft.
Her skin, her heart, the way she looked at him.
“What the hell are you doing looking up at me with eyes like that?” he asked gruffly.
“Tell me where I should be looking,” she whispered back.
“At someone more worthy.”
Her lips parted at his words. And even though he knew he should leave her to find someone else—someone less complicated and more predictable—he wasn’t going to. Not ever.
He lowered his head and took her mouth again. This time with more urgency in his kiss. He ran his hands over her body, touching what he could while he could.
Her hands went into his hair.
His mouth moved to her jaw. She craned her neck back to give him better access. He slid his hands under her t-shirt and in one move, it was off and on the floor. He placed open-mouthed kisses along the top swell of her breasts. She arched, lifting her chest closer to his mouth. He curved both hands around her waist and held her against him. Her legs opened and he settled between her thighs, pressed against her center.
“Can I touch you?” she asked, her fingers skating along the edge of his shirt hem.
“Please do,” he encouraged, going back to her neck with his mouth.
Her greedy fingers ran under his shirt just as he slid his tongue into her mouth again.
And then it was all hands and mouths and movement.
He held onto her like he was afraid she could disappear at any moment.
And maybe that was why he said what he said next.
Because of the hint of desperation in his kisses, or the way her touch felt like coming home.