Then There Was You (23 page)

I nodded just as he swiped his finger across the screen.

“Hello?… Yeah… Uh, hold on a sec,” he said, glancing at me. He stepped out onto the balcony and slid the door closed behind him.

I walked to the kitchen to find the recycling bin for glass bottles and then peeked around the lower level for a bathroom.

After finishing up, I walked back to the sofa. Chris was still outside, pacing the balcony and talking in hushed tones. He looked like he might be engrossed in conversation for quite some time. If I’d had my car, I would have slipped out, but I didn’t. I was stuck there until he finished his phone call, so I slid my shoes off and propped my feet up on the sofa.
I may as well get comfortable. I might be here a while.

I found the remote and clicked the power button for the television. Flipping through channels, I finally found something to watch and settled into the couch. I relaxed and enjoyed some of the show, but the beers I’d drunk were making me feel sleepy. Before long I was dozing off with my head on the armrest.

Beverly was talking entirely too long, as usual. I paced back and forth, eager to get back inside to Salem. Almost thirty minutes had passed and we were still hashing out venues, dates, songs, and marketing. I just wanted to fling my phone off the balcony and go back inside where a beautiful woman sat, waiting for me.

“Beverly,” I finally managed to get a word in edgewise. “Can we finish this tomorrow? It’s getting late. I have company.”

Beverly laughed a feminine, airy laugh. “Ahh, okay. I get it,” she insinuated.

I could almost feel her winking at me through the phone.

Not that it was any of her business, but I’d known Beverly for years. She was as much of a friend as anyone. “No, no. It’s not what you think,” I chuckled.

“Riiiight,” she teased. “Well, go entertain your company. I’ll call you again tomorrow.”

“Goodnight, Bev,” I said hastily.

She sighed breathily into the phone, “Goodnight, Romeo.”

I stepped inside to an angelic Salem sleeping on my sofa. I didn’t dare wake her. She looked so comfortable with her legs curled up and her arm cradling her head. She was the epitome of radiance and class, unlike some of the groupies who had been known to crash the band’s after-parties in the past. I loved this quiet little after party with this exquisite beauty resting peacefully in my living room.

Damn. On any other given night, I would…

Ugh, let it go, Chris. Can’t happen. Won’t happen. She doesn’t see you like that.

But I wasn’t about to let her sleep all night in that uncomfortable position. Gently lifting her from the couch, I carried her toward my bedroom. No woman had ever spent the night in my bed. Ever. Hotel rooms? Fuck yeah. But not this place. Not
my
space—the place where bad-ass rock star and vulnerability meet. I had a sneaking suspicion that Salem was about to change a lot of things in my life, and it scared the hell out of me.

She sighed quietly in her sleep as her head rested against my chest, and she instinctively wrapped her arm around my neck. My skin tingled as her fingers grazed across the back of my neck while my heart thundered in my chest.
Fuck, this woman does crazy things to me.

I couldn’t help the thoughts that ran through my mind as I lay her down softly on my bed among the throng of pillows. I tugged the blanket up over her body, covering the very thing I wanted to admire—those long-ass, sexy as hell legs.
Damn, I don’t remember her having those when I was seventeen.

She unconsciously snuggled against my pillow, breathing deeply in her sleep. I brushed a strand of her hair away from her face.

“You have no idea what you meant to me, Salem,” I whispered softly. “The heart doesn’t forget that easily.”

Slowly, I leaned down and lightly placed a kiss on her forehead. The scent of strawberries from her hair invaded my senses while the heat of her skin on my lips caused my imagination to run wild.

She clutched my pillow tighter in her arms. “Mmmm,” she hummed in her sleep, a sound that instantly resonated in my cock.

My body wanted me to stay, begging me to slip under the covers with this beautiful vixen asleep in my bed. But, my mind insisted I walk away. The internal struggle was intense. With a silent groan, my brain finally won the argument, and I quietly slipped out of the room unnoticed.

A sliver of sunlight sliced through the curtain and poured onto my face. I rolled over, reaching for my alarm clock, when I realized that something about the feel of the blankets and the space around me felt different. That’s when it dawned on me that I was in an unfamiliar place. Glancing around, I tried to get my bearings. Plush bed with a down duvet, lots of pillows, guitar stand in the corner. The scent of the pillow I was lying on held a hint of masculinity.

Then it all came barreling back to me. I’d spent the night in Chris’s bed.
Oh crap!
Bolting up, I tore the blankets off of myself and saw that I was still wearing my clothes from the day before. I staggered out of bed toward the bathroom.

Thank god my hair wasn’t too messed up. Running my fingers through my hair, I attempted to smooth out the tangles. I swished away my morning breath with the mouthwash I’d found on the counter while I sat down on the toilet.

I don’t even remember how I got into his bed.

Finishing up, I quietly spit the mouthwash in the sink and washed my hands. My reflection stared me down in the mirror. I had to come out and face Chris sooner or later. Why did it suddenly feel like I was about to do the walk of shame? “It’s now or never,” I whispered to pump myself with some confidence. Gulping, I reached for the door knob.

The smell of bacon hit my nose before my foot hit the floor outside of his bathroom. I tiptoed down the spiral stairs.

“Ah, there you are, sleepy head,” Chris said with a smile. “Good morning.” He held out a hot cup of coffee like a peace offering.

He was wearing jeans and no shirt. I eyed him warily… him and his bare chest. The waistband of his jeans hung just below the waistband of his boxer briefs, and I tried to beat down the feelings rising up in me.
Get a grip, Salem.

Reaching out, I took the coffee from his hand. “Thanks,” I said sheepishly, “How… how did I—”

“I was on the phone pretty late. When I came back inside, you were sound asleep on the sofa, so I carried you to my bed.”

Oh my god, he carried me?
I glanced down, noticing he wasn’t clutching any strained muscles in his back, which was with relief. “And you?”

“I slept on the couch,” he shrugged like it was no big deal.

I smiled, a little embarrassed. I didn’t mean to put him out like that. I felt sure a blush was creeping up my neck. “Oh, Chris. You didn’t have to do that. I was perfectly comfortable on the couch.”

He shook his head, his biceps flexing as he grabbed a spatula to flip the strips of bacon in the sizzling pan on the stove. “I wouldn’t hear of it.”

I glanced at the floor. “Well, thanks…” my voice trailed. He seemed so nonchalant about it that I wondered if this was this a usual occurrence for him—taking women to his bed. Was I just one of many, but for obvious reasons, he didn’t sleep with me?
And if the reasons are so obvious then why do I even care?

“Any time.” A coy grin was plastered on his face when I looked back up at him. “You hungry?” he asked. “I make a mean omelet.”

“Definitely.” I smiled as I sat down on the barstool at the counter.

His rippled abs and toned biceps flexed as he moved around the kitchen, opening cabinets, searching the refrigerator, and collecting ingredients. My eyes kept wandering as I sipped my coffee. Every now and then, he’d glance my way and would catch me staring, and I’d look away, blushing. He’d just grace me with that sexy as hell half grin of his and keep working. Occasionally our eyes would meet, lingering for a few seconds.

Before long, he slid a plate that was filled with a steaming hot, southwestern omelet and bacon. “Eat up,” he said. “I don’t get to do this often. It’s nice to cook in a real kitchen for once.”

“Thank you.” I scooped up a bite of the omelet and lifted the fork to my mouth.

Swinging his leg over the barstool and plopping down on it, he placed his own plate down in front of him. “You’re very welcome,” he said, taking his first bite.

After a few silent moments, he piped up. “Sorry about the phone call last night. It was my manager, Beverly. She wants me on the road first thing this morning, so we don’t have much more time together,” he muttered regretfully.

I nodded, disappointed. “Oh, it’s okay. I understand. I’ll be out of your hair soon.”

Chris shook his head. “Oh, you’re not in my hair at all. I just wish I had more time with you. That’s the hardest part of life on the road—never staying in one place for very long. It sucks.”

Yeah, it does suck.
I’d been wishing all morning for a little more time with him. I tried to stay positive. “Maybe the next time you’re passing through town we can do this again… spend time together, that is.”

He grinned, the same way I remembered from that day I handed him the guitar in the cafeteria. “I’d love that.”

Yes!
I mentally fist pumped toward heaven.

When we were finished with breakfast, I washed up the dishes while Chris called Grant to make arrangements to meet me in the parking deck with my Elantra.

He slipped his shirt over his head and slid his feet into his black harness boots. We headed for the elevator in silence, our shoulders brushing as we walked side by side down the long corridor. Reaching out, he brushed his hand against my palm. The spark of electricity that zinged through my body packed more of a jolt than any cup of coffee could.

The sensation of his hand on mine caused my heart to pound in my chest. I smiled warmly at him, appreciating his gentle touch. I already missed him, and I wasn’t even gone yet. I hated to have to leave when all I wanted to do was spend more time with him. We could hang out all day, exploring the city, trying new restaurants, and having a few drinks.

Chris turned to me when we reached my car. He pursed his lips. I had a feeling that he didn’t get nervous around women very often, and I didn’t know if I enjoyed it or wanted to put him at ease. He cleared his throat. “I have a lot of time on the road, and I was wondering… if I could… call you sometime? Or text?” Then added hastily, “If that’s okay with you.”

Music to my ears.
“Definitely,” I nodded eagerly.

The corners of his mouth tugged into a wide smile. “Good. Well, I hope you have a great week. I had a great time with you.”

I returned a bashful grin. “I had a really great time too. Thanks for everything.”

Slowly, Chris reached out and pulled me into his space. Curling his arms around me, he whispered, “I just wish we had more time.”

“Me too,” I said softly, breathing in the scent of his masculinity. The last time I remembered being wrapped in his arms I was aching over having to watch him walk away. This time, while the action of him walking away was the same, the ache inside of me was very different. And it scared me. Or excited me. Or both. Laying my head on his chest, I listened to the sound of his heart thumping in his chest.

His phone began beeping and buzzing in his pocket, but he ignored the tones. “I’m not ready to leave yet. I feel like we have so much more to catch up on,” he said, reaching up to cradle the back of my head.

“I’m not ready to leave yet either,” I said sadly, nuzzling against the warmth of his body.

“But I have to,” he sighed, seemingly sad to say goodbye, but annoyed by the disruption of his phone.

I nodded, sighing for the same reasons. “I know.”

“Take care of yourself, Salem. I’ll be in touch,” he said as he opened my car door for me.

I looked up at him, burning the memory of his face, his eyes, and his lips, into my mind. “Okay. Be safe. I’ll talk to you soon.” I reached up quickly and caressed his cheek, then sank down into the seat of my car, reluctantly starting the engine.

I saw Chris in my rearview mirror, watching me as I drove away. While we had just met up again for the first time in years, it felt like we’d kept up with each other the whole time. In many ways he was still the same Chris I knew years ago, just older… and hotter. I smiled at the memory of the scent on his pillow, which smelled exactly like the body I’d just been hugging. I realized the faint, musky smell still lingered on me, so I wrapped myself up in his scent, vowing not to take a shower that day.
God, that man is sexy.