“Because I decided we weren’t going the minute I got you into my van. So, was the party planned for you? No.” He rakes his bottom lip to cover a smile. “Did I decide to lure you to it after I ramped it up to prove a point? Maybe.”
“You sure you’re not a toddler?”
“I know it was bad. It was meant to be, but only because I wanted to confront your suspicions.” He groans in frustration. “It took you fucking forever to get here.”
“That was purposeful,” I grin.
“Trust me, I know.”
“Well, you threatened me.”
“I’m sorrier for that than anything else. That was the biggest dick move of them all.” His expression turns earnest. “I wouldn’t have carried through with that threat.”
“I know that…now.”
“I was so fucking miserable thinking you weren’t coming.”
“Poor baby, it must have been sooo agonizing with all those titties and bare-naked asses bouncing around you.” Batting my lashes, I dole out my best Southern drawl. “However did you cope until I arrived? Bless your little heart.”
He digs his chin into my stomach, and I giggle and squirm, palming his jaw to stop his assault. “Sorry, but it’s just a little hard for me to imagine that you were waiting so impatiently for me with designer drugs at your disposal and a literal clitoral circus running rampant around you.”
“I told you it’s not my thing anymore. Drugs aren’t either. I prefer to acquire my adrenaline and endorphins naturally.”
“By riding motocross and chasing F3 tornadoes, I’m aware.”
“It was an F4,” he corrects with a grin.
I roll my eyes. “So, no parties, ever?”
“I mean, yeah,” he lifts a shoulder, “sure, occasionally. Why the hell not? I’m in this life for the ride like everyone else, and I want to make the most of it—but everything in moderation. And a party like that? Only with you next to me.”
“That was some show,” I widen my eyes.
“Truth?” He lifts to hover over me, sporting a devilish grin. “That was tame compared to some of the crap I’ve been exposed to.”
“That’s…” I shake my head, “I can’t even imagine what that would look like.”
He turns on his side and props his head on his hand, eyes glittering down on me. “My parents tried their best to shield me, but I’ve snuck into far worse.” He sobers with his next admission. “I’m no saint and won’t ever claim to be. I’ve done my fair share of questionable shit over the years. But since I’ve been on the road, I’ve created a new norm. After we play, I write, work out, order some good food—real food—shower, and crash.” He holds my chin with gentle fingers commanding my full attention. “And now, when I can work it in, I’ll add my new favorite pastime,” his accompanying smile lights my chest, “making my beautiful girlfriend come so hard I put her to sleep.”
“Girlfriend?”
“Moving too fast?” He groans before collapsing back against his pillow. I catch his gaze on me in the mirrored ceiling above us as he addresses my reflection. “Are you really going to keep denying this didn’t get serious back in Seattle? I did patiently wait eight fucking weeks in between dates.”
Sliding my leg over his torso, I lift to straddle him. Soaking in his every detail, I trace his beautifully healed tattoo with my fingers. So much is clear to me now since I’ve allowed my rejection cloud to disperse. Part of that clarity is the fact I’ve never in my life wanted anything more than to keep the connection I feel with the naked man beneath me.
“No. I’m not denying it. My reality is on this side of the glass now, remember?” I admonish with ease, utterly done with that aspect of it, no matter how much the potential consequences scare me.
Easton’s eyes flit with relief. “Finally, Jesus.”
“Oh, shut up.”
He runs his fingers gently through my damp hair before pushing it behind my naked shoulder. After an explorative and thorough shower, we changed the sheets with a spare set we found in a closet. After a handful of hours of sleep, we woke up hungry, only to soil them all over again. We’ve spent most of the day exhausting each other before collapsing, naked and entangled while grabbing cat naps.
Rinse and repeat.
When day turned into late afternoon, we dragged ourselves into the shower to wash off one last time with the intent to dress and get me in the direction of home. Joel had picked up my suitcase for me and checked me out of my hotel before delivering it to this room. Even with my luggage waiting nearby—and a long workday looming tomorrow—we only managed to make it as far as the bed, wearing nothing but our jewelry. Admiring his now, I run my finger along the smooth black cross resting against his chest. “Speaking of messiahs. When did you become religious?”