Love Out Loud

by Aimee Salter

  Still not moving where we’re joined, Crash pulls his head up, breath harsh, his hair tousled by my hands and flying in every direction. He strokes my cheek, my hair. “Are you okay? Do you need to stop?”

  I almost say yes. But I want to give him what he gave me. And I want this. I want us to be us. Together.

  I shift my hips, just to test it. Crash inhales sharply and I smile. There’s an ache that will get worse later. But there’s also that delicious tingling. “I love you, Crash.” I kiss him. “I want you.”

  “There is a god.”

  I giggle until he pulls out and pushes back in, then I inhale fast. The ache’s still there, but that tingling, that shivering brilliance makes me tremble again as Crash starts to move.

  I hold on, kissing him when his lips are in reach, focus on the sensations as our bodies move together. Because as the pain recedes, the good feelings grow, and I want to remember everything. I want to understand what we’re doing.

  I hold his face in my hands, whimpering with every roll, while Crash loses control. It makes me feel beautiful, closer to him than I’ve ever felt to anyone. A happy tear collects under my lashes, rolls down my cheek. I pray he doesn’t notice because he’ll think I’m hurting. But the ache I’m feeling now is in my chest—and it’s swelling, growing every second.

  I kiss Crash’s neck. We’re as together as it’s possible for two people to be. He loves me. And he’s mine.

  “I can’t. I won’t last,” he gasps, thrusting harder, faster, the tendons in his neck standing proud.

  I cling to him, whisper soothing words, and let my sighs tell him the rest.

  His hands are buried in the pillow next to my head. He makes choking noises every time he pushes into me. I answer them with little cries that I can’t stop. I won’t reach that peak again, but the pain’s practically gone and this feels wonderful. I never want it to stop.

  “Kelly . . . oh, fuck.”

  My hand slaps as I grab at him, try to pull him in closer, closer, can’t get him close enough. And he moves inside me so I know he’s there, crying my name, losing himself.

  Then he throws his head back and jerks, shouting into the dark. I bite my lip and hold on as he breaks rhythm, gasping, jerking, then finally slumping over me, his heaving breath thundering in my ear.

  We lay like that for a long minute. I’m still clinging. So full of joy and love that tears threaten again. But his weight on me from knee to shoulder feels almost as good as what we just did. I’m safe in the dark, wrapped in love. And we’ll get married and live in this amazing house, so we’ll be able to do that all the time.

  A minute later, Crash’s breathing is still heavy, but slow. He rolls onto his elbow just enough to get his weight off my chest, resting his temple on one hand, his other cupping my face, his thumb brushes my cheek. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m better than okay.” I stroke sweaty hair off his forehead.

  “I love you, Kelly.” His voice is heavy with emotion. “I’m going to marry you.”

  “I love you, too, Crash. More than anyone.”

  “Forever,” he says, his voice cracking. “Promise me.”

  “I promise, Crash. Forever.”

  I learn so many things that night—about his body and mine. I learn that it takes a little while before he can have sex again. But he can go longer inside me the second time. I learn that his skin against mine is the best feeling, even when we aren’t moving that way. I learn how to make him gasp, and that he can make me twitch and cry out even when I’m tired.

  I learn that when you love someone your bodies talk to each other.

  I learn there’s a side of Crash I’d never seen until this night. And it’s the very best part of him. Of us. He’s soft inside, vulnerable. Giving. Wanting. He’s quieter. He’s awed, worshiping me in ways that leave me stunned. And I want this from him always.

  I learn that baths soothe aching bodies, and can quickly turn into more sex. And that even though I’m self-conscious, I’m not scared of him seeing me. I can be comfortable in my skin because he’s comfortable there.

  I learn that sex does something to my heart. Cracks it open in a way it has never been open before. So when I fall asleep just before dawn, there’s a connection, a strand of light, from my heart to his. And curling up in his arms, tucked under his chin and into his chest, that strand tightens between us. Mine says I’m here. I’m yours. His answers. Me too. Me too.

  Later I learn that the light of day changes everything.

  Chapter Seventeen

  August, Last Year

  Crash

  I wake up curled around warm softness. Kelly’s asleep, faced away from me, tucked into my stomach, pressed against me even in her sleep. My arm is wrapped around her waist and I shift it to cup a breast.

  She doesn’t wake up, but she stirs, pushing her bottom into my thighs until I’m fighting not to lift her leg and push into her. But she’s not even awake. And she was already sore last night.

  Resolved to leave her alone, I concentrate on the softness of her skin and her trust. But having that softness so close is tempting, so I make myself think about recording contracts, album releases, tours, and lyrics. Anything to get my mind off Kelly’s nakedness.

  I’ve never felt more content. The early morning light is a pink blush that washes her naked shoulder, her neck, her hair splayed out on the pillow, the sweep of the blankets down her waist, then up again over her hips. The image becomes a melody in my head follows the gentle up and down of her shape.

  Here with you

  Love in the quiet

  No light, no noise, no foul.

  Here with you

  Just you

  My beautiful you . . .

  It’s a passable first draft of a chorus. I make a mental note to finish it as a surprise for her on the new album.

  She rolls slightly towards me, one breast lifting out from under her hair to point at the ceiling like it’s offering itself.

  Not waking her is agony.

  I want her more than I want this tour to work. More than I want the success, or the fans, or the money. More than everything Amber’s promising us is right around the corner.

  Unable to resist getting closer, but determined not to push, I inhale the sweet smell of her. That’s a mistake. I have to adjust myself against her back. But then I’m touching her skin, my hand sliding from her thigh, up her side, all the way to her breast, where I cup it and kiss her shoulder.

  I only had a couple girlfriends before Kelly. But it wasn’t like last night. It’s never been like that.

  Kelly stirs and I kiss her neck again, stroking her nipple that’s in the morning air. It puckers under my attention.

  I get harder against her back.

  Then she makes a little noise and stretches, arching her back so both breasts push up out of the covers, and her bottom slides against me.

  “Good morning,” I say, combing her hair back off her face with my fingers.

  She rolls over. Then, eyes still hooded against the light, she beams. “Good morning.” Her morning voice is rough. I love it. I pull her into my chest, letting my thumb stroke her nipple until she shivers.

  “You’re terrible. Turning me into a loose woman.”

  I huff against her neck, but can’t resist tasting her skin. She catches my hand as it shifts to her other breast.

  “Just give me a minute,” she says sheepishly.

  “Fantastic idea,” I say and roll away from her to get out on my side of the bed and head around to her side, where the bathroom is. “I want to show you something.”

  “In the bathroom?” She sits up and stretches. There’s a moment when I can see her thinking about pulling a blanket or something with her. But I take her hand and walk her—naked and glowing—to the bathroom.

  “There’s shampoo and stuff in the shower already. There’s bubble bath under the sink—just in case you decide that’s your jam.” She giggles. Yes, we will definitely make use of the bubble bat
h soon. An image flashes in my head of Kelly in the bath, everything below her shoulders obscured by bubbles, her head thrown back against the edge of the tub while I push into her—

  I clear my throat and try to pretend I’m all good with the raging hard on that won’t quit. “There’s towels and washcloths here.” I grab her one of each and toss it onto the edge of the tub, which is right next to the shower. “And I think you know the rest. Is there anything else you want?”

  She shakes her head. “Just you,” she says softly, like she’s half-scared to say it.

  I don’t have words for that look on her face, so I pull her in and kiss her, let her feel what she does to me. But my phone trills a Black Lab song in the bedroom—my ringtone.

  Amber. It has to be. I told Tommy I’d cut his fingers off if he called either of us this morning. And my mom is never awake before noon. I told Amber I wasn’t taking calls between five last night, and nine this morning, just to give me and Kelly uninterrupted time, but she’s always on the warpath about something.

  “Ignore it.”

  But Kelly’s stopped kissing me. “Amber?”

  “Probably.”

  “Does she know?”

  “Of course not! That’s why she’s calling. It’ll be some stupid detail about the tour.”

  We both stare into the bedroom. The song stops and the air is still. I grin down at Kelly, walking her backwards towards the shower. She’s just smiled back and wrapped her arms around my neck when it rings again.

  She lets me go. “You better get that.”

  “Only so I can tell her to stop calling.” I run my hand through my hair, but I let her go. “Why don’t you get cleaned up and I’ll get her off the phone before you’re done, okay?”

  What’s the bet if I hadn’t asked Amber to let me sleep in this morning she wouldn’t even be calling? She has a habit of getting clingy every time I keep her out of something.

  She was stoked when I asked her to put this house in her name to stop the publicity hawks from getting wind of the purchase. The last thing I need is paparazzi showing up at my gate and following Kelly. But Amber acted like I was buying it for her.

  It was kind of creepy.

  Kelly grabs my face, pulling my thoughts back to here and now and who cares about Amber, as she kisses me. Just a simple, slow meeting of the lips. But it incites a surge of heat in my stomach strong enough that I’d have thrown the phone in the toilet if she didn’t step back and pick up the towel to wrap around her hair.

  “See you in twenty minutes,” she says sweetly.

  I stare at her, drink in her pale skin, and the way her nipples stand up when she’s got her arms up like that.

  “Ten,” I say.

  Kelly’s giggles follow me out of the bathroom.

  Ten minutes later I’m sitting on the bed, head in one hand, still on the phone.

  “. . . tickets are selling as fast as they can put them up for sale. They’re adding dates—you’ll be back to LA at the end—and they’re adding an additional week in Portland. We’re opening in eight days!”

  “What?!” I look at the bathroom, the open door, the steam rising and wafting into the bedroom, the hiss of the water and I know it’s falling on her, where I should be. But this could delay everything. Unless we elope and she can come now?

  “But we’ve got some shit to shovel before then. Like, serious shit, Crash.”

  “What is it?” The water’s still running. I ache to be under it with her.

  “We need to meet. Like, now.”

  “No. Not now. Kelly’s here and—”

  “I’m not kidding, Crash. You know I wouldn’t do this if it wasn’t necessary. The label’s talking about doing some big things to promote the early opening but there are problems too. Look, I’m coming over. We’ll sort it out. Kelly can read in your room or something.”

  “No!”

  “Crash!” I’ve never heard Amber yell before and it sets me back. She must realize it was too strong. When I don’t respond, her voice softens. “As far as Crash Happy’s concerned, this is life and death, okay? We need to talk and it has to be now.”

  But she just said sales went well? There’s a flash in my head—losing the tour, having no job, no album, no label. There’s no way Holly will let us get married if I don’t have cash in the bank—and everything I had went into buying this house.

  “But—” The water in the bathroom stops and the tension low in my stomach kicks up a notch. Kelly will step out in a second and I’ll be able to see her.

  “Crash? Crash. Are you seriously ignoring me right now? I’m not overstating how important this is.”

  “No, no, of course not.” I claw my fingers into my hair, want to tug it out by the roots.

  I knew this would happen. Amber said there’s always drama around a tour—she warned us not to get our hopes up. That unless ticket sales were strong, it might not even happen. But they have been strong.

  Kelly shuffles across the bathroom. I force myself not to look up. Not if Amber’s coming over. “Okay, fine. I’ll sort Kelly out. Give us half an hour.”

  “Crash—”

  “Look, Amber, it’s thirty minutes. If we lose everything in that time we were never going to save it anyway, so back off. I’ll see you in half an hour.”

  She huffs, but says, “Fine. But I’m waiting outside for the clock to tick over. This is serious.”

  “I believe you. See you in thirty.”

  Before she can say anything else, I hang up and stare at the phone.

  In the bathroom, Kelly’s humming.

  “What’s going on?” she calls. Her voice echoes in the marble room.

  “Drama. Real drama, apparently. We’ve got a change of plans.”

  The light changes and I can’t look away anymore. Kelly stands in the bathroom door, her hair wet and dangling down her back. A towel wrapped around her. No make-up. No nothing.

  She’s stunning.

  She blushes and it makes me think about her skin when I woke up, which reminds me of last night.

  She looks at my lap and her brows go up. “Good morning.”

  “Good morning.” I grin, get to my feet and cross the space between us because I have to touch her.

  But after the briefest kiss, she puts her hand on my chest and pushes back a step. “What’s going on? Are you okay?”

  “Yeah. There’s good stuff—the tour’s selling, so they’re adding dates. They’re excited. But Amber says there’s something serious she needs to talk to me about and it can’t wait.” I let her hear the apology in my tone.

  Her forehead wrinkles. “Bummer.”

  I snort and pull her in again, kiss her long and slow, then pull back only far enough to talk against her lips. “So, here’s my idea: You take my car and go home. Tell Holly what’s going on. And pack.”

  Her head jerks back a hair. “Pack for what?”

  I comb her hair off her face, then cup her neck. “They want to start the tour next week. And I don’t want you going back to that asshole. Either we get the license and get married now, or you come with me anyway, and Dan can suck my—”

  “Crash.” She sounds like her mom used to. It gives me a pang. Adrienne was the only woman other than Kelly who ever treated me like I was loveable.

  I wink to charm her out of her offense. “What I meant to say was, why wait? Seriously? When school starts we can get you a tutor on tour and you can finish your diploma with me. Money won’t be an issue. It’ll be hard and I’ll be working all the time. But whenever I’m not, I want you there.”

  “But—”

  “No buts, Kel. Seriously. The only thing stopping us is details, and one of the best things about this life is that there’s money to smooth those over now.” It sounds so arrogant to say that. But Amber’s told me and Tommy again and again, whatever we need, it’s handled. We just need to say.

  Hope lights on her face, though doubt sends ripples across it. “Okay.”

  “Yeah?” I sound li
ke a little kid getting a new toy.

  “Yes.” She’s smiling broadly, though I still see shadows behind it. Dan has a lot to answer for. That’s okay. I’ll show her how perfect this will be. “I’ll go talk to Holly and grab some more stuff.”

  “Babe, we’ll figure it out, okay? Don’t worry.”

  She bites her lip. “It’s just that Dan will be so angry.”

  “And in a few days, you won’t have to worry about that anymore.” I do kiss her then. For too long. She’s not headed out the door for almost forty minutes, and by that time Amber’s stalking around the living room, on her phone and glaring at me. Kelly waves a tentative greeting at her as she walks out the door. Amber’s grimace is frightening.

  The second the door closes behind Kelly, Amber clips off the words, “I have to go. Crash is here. I’ll talk to you in a few.”

  There’s a murmur on the other end of the line before Amber flips her wavy red hair over her silk-bloused shoulder and snaps. “Bye.”

  I open my mouth to ask, but she beats me to it.

  “They want to replace Tommy.”

  An ice cube slides down my spine.

  Chapter Eighteen

  August, Last Year

  Kelly

  My phone buzzes with a text from Crash.

  She wasn’t lying about the

  drama. I’m gonna need more time.

  Keep packing! But not too much.

  You won’t need many clothes.

  I’m bummed, but it makes me smile too.

  I’m standing in the middle of my closet, trying to figure out how much to put in the suitcase I’ve dragged down from the attic. Holly wasn’t home when I got back, so I’m packing, just like Crash said. I can’t shake the feeling something’s going to ruin this piece of beauty that my life has become. But I’m determined to keep going until it’s proven to me that it won’t.

  I take a step and wince at the soreness between my legs. It’s a delicious reminder of last night. It makes me ache in the most wonderful way.