This was stronger than a casual encounter, and although I didn’t know if I could trust it, I gave in to the moment, to the glorious Hurricane Shane, taking what he needed from me and giving me exactly what I desired. And I came hard a second time, saying his name again and again.
At last, he dropped beside me, breathing hard. “Christ, Layla. I think I’m falling for you.”
My hunger grumbles broke the moment, so we ordered room service and talked about where they’d be playing for the next couple of days. He promised he’d be home on and off and finally for a longer stretch in a month.
“I don’t even know where we’re playing anymore. It’s always the same thing. Different view.”
I stole one of his fries. “Do you ever get tired of it?”
“Parts of it are tiring. Seeing Noah’s face gets old. But we worked so hard for this. It would seem ungrateful to find it tiring.”
“But normal. It’s grueling.”
“It is. And if we get more successful, it will only be crazier. I know what Adam’s life has been like. It’s no wonder he’s used parenthood to take an extended break to be with his family.”
I didn’t mention how much the fans hated that. I didn’t mention why I would know that. After his mini freak out earlier, I just wanted to relax into him and have this lightweight conversation about the near future. I’d figure it out. Maybe I’d just hand the forum over to Ash and be done with it. I didn’t think I could hang out in there like I once had anymore anyway. I’d seen too much. Fiction and reality had become divorced, and I couldn’t pretend otherwise.
“So, when will I see you again?”
He grinned. “You’re seeing me now.”
But I’d be on a train back to New York in the morning. He’d be on a bus to Providence. “And after this?”
“I’ll be home Wednesday for two days.”
“Two days. Well, we’ll have to make the most of our time together.” I touched his hand. “How tired are you now?”
He ran his finger up my arm. “I can sleep later.”
That was what I wanted to hear.
Talking Disaster Forum
Topic: Other Bands - Festivals - Boston Calling - Theater of the Absurd - Page 9
Hipster101 wrote:
That’s all my videos, guys. There are some better ones over on the TotA forum.
Sailor8 wrote:
Did you hear whether Noah’s still moping around?
Hipster101 wrote:
Um, no.
CubbiesFan wrote:
@Sailor8 - There’s some talk about him bringing a girl to the show. There’s more detail on their forum—some pictures, too. Looks like he left with her.
Sailor8 wrote:
Thanks, CF. I guess it was only a matter of time before he’d move on. Wonder if that’s a new girlfriend or if he’s open for business again.
DeadFan wrote:
Guys, can we get back to talking about Hipster’s videos?
CubbiesFan wrote:
Sorry, DF. On topic, did anyone notice whether they played any other new songs?
Chapter Twenty-Four
After such a killer weekend in which literally all my rock n’ roll fantasies came true, I worried I’d lose the thrill of going to the office. But it would take me about a thousand years to fail to be awed every single time I came up out of the subway into Midtown Manhattan. The small-town girl in me couldn’t even pretend to adopt an air of nonchalance about the big city.
Once I got to my desk, I settled back into my groove and remembered why I loved doing what I did. Ajit had helped me install coding software and showed me around the source files. It was better than constantly asking him what logic they’d used behind every feature or how they might implement something new. The code was a maze and a puzzle, and time slipped by much more quickly while I tried to navigate the complex web.
Suddenly it was time for lunch. I grabbed my purse and headed out where I got in line at a cart to buy my new favorite food: street meat. I carried it over to a ledge to enjoy the warmth and get some sun, legs stretched out.
“Can I join you?”
Without waiting for an answer, Gabe sat beside me with his own sandwich wrapped in the aluminum foil.
“It’s a free country.” I kept eating. Damn, the lamb was too delicious. I’d never be able to go back to Indiana where I couldn’t get this right outside my workplace.
“You have a good weekend?”
“Indeed.” I dragged a wedge of pita across the tzaziki sauce, sighing as I took another bite.
“You seem pleased. Your boyfriend didn’t dump you?”
I choked. “What?”
“I figured he’d balk at dating someone who’s so obviously using him.”
I breathed in and counted to five. “Gabe, not that it’s any of your business, but I’m not using Shane.”
“So, he’s okay with you upgrading?”
“What the hell are you even talking about? I haven’t—”
“Friday. Aren’t you sitting in with Walking Disaster? Wasn’t that your goal all along?”
I shook my head, trying to ignore him. The rice had a spice in it that I couldn’t place. Whatever it was, I loved it.
“You’re going to sit here and pretend you aren’t looking forward to a private concert with your favorite band, Pumpkin?”
I rolled my eyes at him. “Are you jealous, Gabe? Did they spurn you or something?”
He snorted. “You think I want to meet all these people? I have access to their contact info. I’ve been invited to their parties. But I keep it professional, Layla. That way I can write fair reviews.”
“You mean, so you can pan musicians without having to look them in the eye.”
Damn, my food was gone. I cracked open the can of soda that had been sweating on the ledge and took a long sip.
“Or so I can praise them without looking like a suck-up. Do you think Lars is going to want you writing these blogs if he finds out you’re running a fan site?”
“He knows, and he approves. Got any more questions?” I snatched up my napkin and dabbed the corners of my mouth, ready to end this insipid conversation. Why was he even bothering?
“He might care that you’re dating the musicians.” He shaded his eyes which only gave him the impression of piercing me with his gaze. He was so off base.
“One of the musicians, Gabe. And so was Jo when he hired her.”
That stopped him dead. “Right.” He stroked his chin. “Though she works in a different medium.”
I crumpled my trash and stood. My stomach churned. Street meat tasted great going down, but I hadn’t figured out how to stop myself from overeating. “Are you done questioning my life choices? I’d like to get back to work.”
“I’m hardly questioning your life choices. Well, not all of them.” He glanced at his wristwatch. “Just the musician.”
“Oh, my God. You are jealous!”
“Don’t flatter yourself.”
“That’s it, isn’t it? You think if I wasn’t seeing Shane, I’d go out with you.”
His eyes narrowed. “I’ve noticed the way you look at me. You can’t deny you’re interested.”
I appraised him out here in the sun that really set off his light eyes and smooth bronze skin. He maintained his soft brown hair in a way I didn’t mind at all. If I didn’t loathe him, I’d find him cute. “You’re attractive, I’ll give you that. But looks alone don’t cut it.”
He laughed. “When I perused your fan site, you seemed to ogle the looks plenty.”
His confession gave me a cramp. My forum was public, but his snooping still felt invasive.
“I don’t mind a pretty face, Gabe. But like I said, it’s not sufficient.” I tossed my trash. “And besides, it’s a moot point. I am seeing a mu
sician. Sorry.”
I turned and walked away before he could ensnare me in another dead-end conversation.
The first thing I did when I got back to my desk was to text Ash to say: I think we need to talk about transferring the site to you.
She took no time to respond: Why?
I didn’t want to get into all the myriad complexities, so I just said: I’m way too busy to keep up, and you’re doing all the work anyway. You could ask someone to help. Maybe give the blog duties over to Jayhawk?
On the one hand, it would feel weird to drop out and let her take over. On the other, it wasn’t like anyone knew me. For that matter, I could tell Ash to log in as me and pretend I was still in charge. But that wouldn’t solve my problem. My forum was starting to affect my real life, and I needed to make a break from it so people like Gabe wouldn’t have ammunition to undermine my professional credibility.
Ash wrote back: Let me think about it. I’ve never minded helping out, but I’m not you. I don’t know if I could run the whole site.
Fair enough. I could maybe build a team and distribute the load. But she was right. She wasn’t me. She couldn’t upgrade the software. She couldn’t skip around the admin center or create banners or add widgets to the blog. If something ever went seriously wrong, she wouldn’t know how to handle it.
Huge sigh. It wasn’t important enough to worry about.
I turned back to a section of code Ajit had asked me to review so he could explain it to me later. This was what I cared about. The forum would wait.
Monday night, in Shane’s empty apartment, I suddenly felt exhausted and alone. It made no sense. I’d seen him less than forty-eight hours before, and I was surrounded by proof of his existence. I poked around his things, trying to get to know him better, but his things weren’t him. I found a super soft Arctic Monkeys T-shirt with holes in it that looked like he’d owned it since high school. I put it on.
On Tuesday night, Eden called to invite me to come over to hang out at Jo’s for a while, saying, “I know you can start to freak out a little when they’re on the road.”
Freaking out. That was what I was feeling, not loneliness after all. Just a pent-up impatience and curiosity about where they were and what they were doing. I’d found fan video, but watching the band onstage wasn’t what I needed. I’d talked to Shane on video chat, and that helped, but I was a pinball of anxiety. I’d only feel settled when he came back.
As I sat on Jo’s patio sipping a beer, I explained, “It isn’t that I don’t trust him out there. It’s just—”
“Tour widow.”
“What?”
“You’re a tour widow. You’re living with a ghost while he’s away.”
“God, yes. That’s exactly it.”
She nodded. “Yeah, I hate it. But it’s the life you’re signing up for. Are you cut out for it?”
Her tone didn’t convey judgment. More like warning. I didn’t want her to worry. “Look. I’ve been alone plenty. I can do solitude. Everything’s just so new. And I miss him.”
Knowing he’d be home the next day only made it harder to fall asleep that night, but I finally drifted off. I woke to sheets lifting as a body slid in next to mine. A hand caressed my shoulder. Lips gently kissed my neck. I spun around.
“You’re home?”
“We decided not to spend the night when we were just a few hours away.”
He pressed a kiss to my forehead, and I rolled away, hand over my mouth. “You can’t kiss me.”
“What?”
I jumped up. “I have morning breath.”
He started laughing. “I don’t care.”
“I do!” I ran to the bathroom and brushed my teeth. When I came back, he was stretched out, looking so delicious I could eat him alive.
He held a hand out. I climbed onto the mattress and walked on my knees back beside him. He played with the hem of my shirt, his shirt. “You look good in this.” He lifted it up. “Can you take it off?”
I slipped it off, and he just stared. My nipples hardened under his gaze. I swallowed, imagining all the things I wanted to do to him first. It took all of a heartbeat to zero in on that mouth. More than anything, I needed to kiss him. I fell more than crawled the rest of the way to him, catching myself with one hand on either side of his head, an inch from his face. His lips turned up into a wicked grin.
“Why I believe you’ve missed me.” He lifted his head and nipped at my lips.
I pulled back, teasing. “Maybe a little.”
He tried again, and this time I let him catch me, losing myself in the sensual decadence of him. I slung my leg over his hip, grinding into his hardening cock. His hands wrapped around my waist before sliding up to thumb my nipples.
“Unfair,” I whispered into his lips. “You’re still wearing too much.”
“You, too.”
We sat up and took care of the barriers between us, then lay side by side, face to face, tracing each other gently, exploring slowly. I was torn between burning off my desire for him in a quick wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am, but this wasn’t our first time together, and somehow we both understood there were other pleasures to be had. I discovered I could drive him insane by doing nothing more than running my nails softly down his spine. He could reciprocate by dragging his tongue down the nape of my neck.
After we’d worked ourselves into a state of heightened need, he slid his hand down my stomach, and with one touch, I nearly exploded in pleasure.
I pulled his hand back up and threaded my fingers into his, tugging him toward me. “Make love to me, Shane.”
We rolled as one, me onto my back, him over me. He breathed out as he entered me, muttering something unintelligible. My eyes rolled back in my head at the sensation. As always, he started slow, but I wanted more.
I shoved his shoulder, and he followed my lead, turning us together, so he was under me. I sat up and began rolling my hips, taking him deep and then rocking forward until he was nearly free of me, then slamming back down hard. He gasped back an expletive. I set a punishing rhythm, pounding into him again and again.
All that foreplay had me so close already, that I only had to look down at Shane’s face, twisted in ecstasy before the endorphin rush exploded, releasing a beautiful wave of pure bliss down my legs and up my spine in total satisfaction. I dropped my head onto his chest, breathing heavy.
Realizing I’d climaxed, Shane started to ease me off him, but he was ramrod straight inside me. I sat up, grinding back down on him again. I reached behind me until I found the apex of his legs and touched his balls with the tips of my fingers. They drew up tight, like walnuts, and he hissed out, “Holy fuck, Layla.” I lifted my hips, fucking him while I played with him, and in another few moments, he came hard in me.
I dropped down beside him, and he pulled me over, wrapping his arms around me. I expected him to fall asleep, but instead, he said, “I’ve missed you. Tell me what you’ve been doing.”
“Seriously? I should be asking you that. I’ve just been working.”
“Have you gotten a chance to work on any of that, what did you call it, Python?”
“I can’t believe you remembered I was working on that.”
“You said you hoped they’d let you get some experience.”
I’d mentioned it during one of our FaceTime calls, but I hadn’t dwelled on it. I didn’t think he’d find it that interesting. It touched me that he’d picked up on it. “Yeah, Ajit—that’s my co-worker—is teaching me.”
“And will they let you program?”
I sighed and turned to face him. “I doubt it. Ajit says I have a solid sense of the basics, but it’s not enough.” I bit my lip for a second before articulating the dream I’d begun to cultivate. “I think I want to take classes, maybe get a certification or two. Then I might be able to show them that I could join their team as a full-time
developer instead of someone who comes up with ideas to pass along to them to code.”
“So why don’t you? There are probably summer classes. Have you looked into it?”
The wheels were spinning in my head. I was never going to fall asleep with all the possibilities. “I’m going to look into it tomorrow.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Tomorrow came a hell of a lot earlier than I ever thought possible. I nearly slept through my alarm. Shane didn’t stir until I broke out of his stranglehold to turn my phone off. Then he grabbed me and pulled me back into him, whispering, “Stay.”
“I can’t.”
“I know.” He frowned. “Hurry back home. I’ll make dinner.”
“You cook?” This man would never stop surprising me.
“I’m an amazing cook. Just you wait.”
I could not wait. But work also couldn’t, so I got up, showered, and dressed, planting one last kiss on my gorgeous drummer boy before heading out for the day.
Fortunately, the day was routine. I had meetings. I put in my headphones and worked on a new proposal based on tools I’d found lacking while working on my blog post. I chatted in the breakroom with Ajit about his plans to take his kids to Disney for the first time. I got an email from Lars about setting up a rehearsal with Whiplash in a couple of weeks and nearly fell out of my chair. I texted the news to Ash and basked in her gushing.
At five, I yawned and stretched, closed my laptop, and made the mental trip from my cube, down the elevator, out to the street, into the subway station, through the tunnels, and finally up the stairs into Brooklyn where Shane waited for me. From there, my thoughts turned pornographic. Was it possible to wear him out?
Whatever hesitation I’d felt at the start of this fling or whatever it was, I’d only grown more attached to him. And he’d become more trusting. Everything was perfect.
I pictured him sitting in his apartment staring at the door, wearing nothing but a towel. My thighs cramped in agony.
When I opened the front door, Shane did sit on the sofa, elbows on his knees, staring at his open laptop on the coffee table. He so rarely cracked out the big tech, I wondered if he was writing music. My face broke out into the stupidest grin, thinking he might be writing me a love song.
Kind of Famous (Flirting with Fame Book 3) Page 22
