I’m sure that man has a mental blueprint of my vagina because he knows just when and where to touch me at the exact right moment. My eyes roll back in my head, a moan escaping this time. The words leave my lips without thought, “I got it.” My voice sounds breathy, girlish, not like me at all.
Just who am I with him?
“Good girl.”
I see a look of power take over his face before he lowers his head to mine. Our lips are almost touching but frustratingly not. And it scares me just how badly I need his mouth on mine in this moment.
His hot breath mixes in with my own as he rumbles out, “For some ass-backward reason, you are the only one I want to ride. Constantly. Over and over. I can’t get enough of you, and you are the only one I have ever wanted to ride bare-fucking-back. So, that kind of erases the rest, wouldn’t you say?” He sucks my bottom lip into his mouth. “I want to feel you,” he murmurs.
Breath knocked out.
Tom doesn’t push for an answer because he doesn’t need to. I’m a limp, pliable mess of emotions under his firm hands and mind-fucking words.
“Tom,” I whisper, breathless. “Ride me…now…bare-fucking-back.”
Releasing me, he takes his cock in his hand and rubs it up and down my center, coating himself in my wetness. He stops, positioned at my entrance.
I close my eyes.
“Open your eyes.”
I blink them wide to see his blazing down at me. “I want you looking at me the whole time.”
Holding his stare, I nod, gently.
Then, he slams inside me.
“Oh God.” I’m fighting for breath, the feel of him bare inside me…it’s intense.
Him. Me.
Connected in this way.
Strange how the removal of a piece of latex can change things in so many ways.
His eyes have filled with something I don’t understand. “Christ…I’ve never…you’re so fucking tight, Ly. I can’t…” He shakes his head.
“I know…” I touch my hand to his face, tracing my fingers over his cheekbone.
His skin is taut. Eyes dark. Jaw clenched.
He’s a man on the edge.
His forehead comes to mine, eyes still open and on me, as he slowly pulls out to the tip and then thrusts back in.
A rush of breath leaves his mouth, gusting straight into my own. “Jesus, I don’t think I’m gonna last long…not like this. It’s too fucking good. You feel amazing, baby.”
“Just let go,” I whisper. “Give it to me. I want to feel everything you have to give.”
His head lifts from mine, and I see from the look on his face that whatever restraint he was holding on to is now gone.
Teeth gritted, he starts to fuck me like a man possessed.
This is pure, primal fucking at its absolute best.
He’s pushing me up the bed with each hard thrust. I’m clawing at the sheets to keep traction.
“Tell me you’re close,” he grinds out. “Because I can’t hold off…for much longer.”
“I’m close, Tom…yes, just keep…doing…that…”
His pelvis hits my clit, and the orgasm tears through me. My eyes close, unable to stay open from the magnitude of the orgasm, breaking our connection.
“Jesus…this is…I can’t…”
I feel his cock jerk inside me.
I open my eyes to see his shut tight, his head thrown back, his chest heaving with the force of his orgasm, as he pumps himself empty inside me.
Seeing him like this, feeling him bare, the feel of him coating my insides—it’s too much.
My chest feels tight. I can’t catch a breath.
It’s like he just punched his fist into my chest and took my heart back out with him.
Oh no.
I’m in too deep. I’m starting to feel things…for him.
Tom lays his damp chest against mine. He kisses me. “Wow, that was something else.”
I force my feelings away and smile at him. “Who knew it could be so good without a condom?” I run my fingers through his hair.
“No, it wasn’t just that…it’s you. You’re amazing.”
Too deep…
“Well, you’re not so bad yourself. Not that you need me to tell you.”
“True.”
His laughter rumbles through his chest. I feel it deep inside me.
“But it’s nice to hear. I don’t often get compliments from you.”
“True.” I smile.
He kisses me once more. Then, he lifts himself up onto his hands. “I’m just gonna go clean up. Back in a sec.”
He eases out of me, and I watch him walk to the bathroom.
I hear running water, and he’s back moments later with a cloth in his hand. He crawls up the bed and presses the cloth between my legs.
I rest up on my elbows. “What are you doing?”
“Cleaning up after myself.” He gives me a cheeky grin. “And I wanted to take care of my girl.”
His girl?
He cleans me up and takes the cloth back to the bathroom. Then, he climbs back onto the bed, laying on his front.
Rolling onto my side, I start to trace my finger over his tattoo. “Who’s Thomas, the third?”
He stiffens under my hands. “My father.”
“You lost him?”
He sighs, and then his head turns my way. “Yeah.”
I lean down and press my lips to his tattoo. “I’m sorry you lost him. When did he pass?”
“A long time ago.” He moves away. Rolling onto his back, he puts his hands behind his head.
“So, that makes you Thomas, the fourth.”
“Yep.”
Remembering what he said before about having songs for people he’s lost, I ask in a soft voice, “What’s your dad’s song?”
Something painful passes through his eyes, and I instantly regret asking.
“‘Ordinary World.” His voice sounds odd…stiff.
“Duran Duran.”
He nods, once.
“So…do you listen to your dad’s song every day, like you do Jonny’s?”
He sits up abruptly. “Jesus Christ,” he snaps. “What the fuck is this? Grill Tom time?”
Taken aback by the sudden venom in his voice, I start to stammer out, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”
“Yes, you did. You know exactly what you’re doing. You want to know about me? Fine. No, Lyla, I don’t listen to that fucking song every day. I haven’t heard that song in sixteen years, and even that’s not long enough. So, is that sufficient information for you? Have you gotten enough out of me? Or do you need more?”
Tears hit my eyes, a lump forming in my throat. Confused and hurt, I sit up. Turning my back on him, I start to move away.
I hear him sigh. Then, he catches my wrist. I feel him move up behind me. His long legs come either side of mine. His chest against my back, his arms close around me, holding me, he presses the side of his face to mine.
“I’m sorry. I just…I don’t talk about my dad. Ever.”
I remember what he said to me about needing to talk about loss. I want to remind him of this, but I’m afraid to push it, worried that I’ll push him away if I do.
“It’s okay. I understand.” I close my hand around his wrist.
We’re trapped in this awkward moment, and I don’t know what to say, so I say the first thing that comes into my mind. “Do you have a song for me?”
He moves his face from mine. I can feel his eyes on me, so I turn my head to look at him.
He looks puzzled. “I haven’t lost you, have I?”
“No.” I shake my head gently. “But the tour will end, and—” I stop because I don’t know how to finish the sentence, or if I even want to.
Tom’s eyes flash with something I don’t understand.
Then, he says, “‘Thought I’d Died and Gone to Heaven.’”
And my heart stills in my chest.
That song was playing the night we had sex under that stage.
“Bryan Adams,” I croak out.
He nods, eyes fixed to mine. “Well, either Bryan’s version or the one that band was playing the night you let me go where no man had gone before.” A sexy smile lights up his face.
I’m speechless. For once in my life, I have no words.
That song…its meaning…
Is he saying what I think he’s saying?
Because if he’s saying what I think he’s saying, then—
“So, do you have a song that reminds you of me?” His voice breaks into my thoughts.
I rub my head, trying to gather my wits. “Oh, um…yeah…‘Gorilla.’” I force a smile to my face.
He lets out a laugh. “Because I’m a beast in the sack, right?”
“More like, because you tortured me with it when you were on your text message roll in that diner.”
He lets out another laugh, taking us both down to the bed.
Tucking me into his side, he starts to stroke my hair.
But I’m still stuck in my head, stuck on that song. I run the lyrics over and over in my mind, wondering if Tom just said that because it reminds him of that amazing moment under that stage…or, if because he also feels the meaning of the song.
If he does, then what does that mean for him and me? And do I want it to mean something?
Could it mean something? Could someone as emotionally broken as I am and someone like Tom, who is as emotionally closed off as he is, have something together?
I close my eyes on the thought.
And when I open them, squinting against the morning light, Tom is gone, and I have my answer.
Five Days Later—Last Night of the Tour, A Club, San Diego
Tom has been pulling away from me.
After our night in Vegas, he changed toward me.
Barely talking to me during the day, when he did, it was related to work. He stopped actively seeking me out to have sex during the day. Avoiding being alone with me.
Only at night when the guys were sleeping, would Tom come to my bed.
I wanted to ask him what was wrong, but I didn’t for fear that I wouldn’t like his answer.
Each night, we would have sex for hours. There was no talking. Only our bodies communicating. Sometimes, it felt like Tom was making love to me, but I’m not naïve enough to believe that’s what it was.
Then, when we were done having sex, and I was replete and exhausted, I would fall asleep in his arms.
And I would wake to an empty bed.
I’ve lost him.
I knew it would happen. Just not like it this.
Now, the last show of the tour is finished, and after tonight, Tom and I are done.
I’m telling myself it’s the right thing, what should happen. It’s what we agreed on. What I wanted.
But my heart is telling me different. It’s wanting more. Him.
I desperately want to fight my feelings for Tom, but for once, my heart seems to be winning the war against my head.
My heart can war and want all it does, but Tom isn’t in the same place as me.
Sure, little things he’s done and said have had me thinking he might have feelings for me.
But I know who Tom is. And these last five days, he’s spent reminding me exactly where we stand with each other.
We’re in San Diego, only a few hours from home, so the plan is to stay in the club that we just played, celebrating with the rest of the crew. Then, the bus will take us home, and that’ll be the end of the tour.
The end of everything.
I haven’t seen Tom since we came offstage.
I’m worried that he’s left. That I won’t even get to have one last night with him. Wishing I knew last night, so I could have made the most of the time. I would have memorized every second.
The DJ is on at the moment, and Fall Out Boy’s “Thanks for the Memories” starts to pump out of the speakers.
I’m standing at the bar with Shannon and Ashlee, my hands nursing a bottle of beer, as my body starts to sway to the music.
I feel a hand on my shoulder. A smile comes to my mouth, hoping for Tom, I turn and come face-to-face with Robbi Kraft.
My smile drops.
I managed to successfully avoid Robbi at the one other show we had together, so it’s just my dumb fucking luck that I have to see him on my last night.
“Lyla.”
I put my bottle down on the bar. Then, I stare at him. If I could strike a man dead with a look, Robbi Kraft would be on the floor, out cold, right now.
“What do you want?” My voice is tight.
“Look…” He scratches his head. “I just want to apologize—”
“Don’t waste your breath because I won’t accept your apology.”
I turn to walk away, but he grabs my arm.
“Just hear me out—”
“No. I’m not interested in anything you have to say. Now, let go of my arm.” I yank it free.
“Lyla?”
My body freezes cold.
No. God, no. Not now.
I turn slowly. Then, feel like I’m going to die on this very spot as my eyes collide with Dex’s.
Everything else around me fades to black.
Dex steps toward me.
I want to move, but I can’t get my legs to work.
All I can think is, He’s here. Is Chad here? And how much I need to get away.
“How-how are you?” Dex pushes his hand through his hair in that nervous way he’s done ever since we were kids.
“Why are you here?” My voice barely gets out the words.
My eyes start to scan the crowd, looking for Cale or Sonny…Tom.
I need Tom.
I see Robbi walking away, making his way back through the crowd. I can’t even be relieved that he’s leaving, because I’m too full of panic that Dex is here.
Tom, where are you? I call out a silent plea.
Dex takes another step closer.
My legs finally awaken, and I step back.
I see the hurt pass over his face at my physical rejection of him.
Good. Hurt. I want you to hurt exactly like you hurt me.
“My band…we’re playing here,” Dex answers my question. “We’re on in an hour.”
How did I not know this?
Then, I realize that I never knew the name of his band. Aunt Steph never gave me it, and stupidly, I never asked.
“I have to go…”
I’m backing away when he reaches out and grabs my hand.
“Wait…Ly, I need to talk to you.”
“Don’t touch me!” I yank my hand from his, like he’s scalded me. Because he has. He burned my heart a long time ago.
“Please, Ly, I miss you…I miss my sister. I need to talk to you. I need you to know how sorry I am. Make you understand—”
“Understand what? How you fucked my boyfriend behind my back? What do you want from me, Dex? Forgiveness? Because I can’t give that to you. I want you to leave me the hell alone. Stop calling. Just get the fuck out of my life.” My body is shaking so hard that my teeth are chattering together. I clench my jaw.
“Ly…please…”
He reaches for me again. I dodge him.
“I miss you so much,” he pleads.
“Cry me a fucking river,” I spit. “You should have thought of that before you fucked Chad.” I turn away, tears stinging my eyes.
Dex grabs my arm, spinning me back around. “I’m your family, Ly. You don’t get to ignore me like this—”
He never gets to finish that sentence because he’s pulled off of me by Tom, who puts himself between Dex and me.
The relief I feel at Tom being here is immense.
“You’re the brother?” Tom says with distaste. “Well, you heard Lyla. She doesn’t want to talk to you, not now, or ever, so you need to leave.” There’s an unmistakable threat in his voice.
Dex looks him up down. He knows who Tom is, but that doesn’t seem to faze him. “This has got nothing to d
o with you.”
Tom steps up close to Dex. Alarm bells start to go off in my head.
“This has more to do with me than you think.” Tom’s voice is low, menacing.
Dex’s eyes flick to me. “Jesus, Ly, you’re sleeping with him?” He shakes his head with disappointment. “You’re better than him, and you know it.”
My body freezes as a war of emotions rage within me.
Dex’s disappointment in me hurts, and angers me all at the same time.
What right does he have to judge me?
“She is better than me,” Tom states. “And she’s clearly better than you. What you did—it doesn’t get lower. Now, leave.” Tom shoves Dex hard in the chest.
Then, it all happens so quickly. Dex comes at Tom, but Tom quickly sidesteps him and punches Dex on the side of his face.
“No!” I cry out.
At the sound of my voice, Tom’s eyes swing to me. His distraction gives Dex the advantage and he charges Tom, taking them both to the floor. He punches Tom in the face.
“No,” I cry again, tears blurring my vision. I swipe at my eyes.
Tom seems to lose his shit completely. With one hard shove, he has Dex off of him. Then, Tom is on top of Dex, hitting him, hard. Over and over.
I move toward them, needing to put a stop this, but Shannon catches me around the waist, pulling me back.
“You go in there, you’re gonna get hurt.”
“But we have to stop them,” I whimper. “They’re gonna kill each other.”
“Leave it to the men to sort,” she says, pointing her finger.
I follow it and see Cale, Sonny, and Van pushing their way through the crowd of spectators.
“Cale!” I yell.
He catches my eye.
“Stop them, please.”
He gives me a sharp nod, and then he starts to barrel through the crowd. Sonny, with his big frame, has no problem getting people to move out of the way.
Dex is on the floor, and Tom is beating the crap out of him. Cale grabs Tom from behind, but he’s too far gone and he tries to take a swing at Cale, who somehow manages to dodge it.
It’s scaring me to see Tom like this.
Van helps Cale restrain Tom, while Sonny pulls Dex up from the floor.
“Get him out of here,” Cale tells Sonny.
Taming the Storm Page 23
