by Lisa Lewis
It was much easier to follow a bright red bus on the highway than a string of motor homes. Especially since it was vacation season and it seemed like every other vehicle she passed was a camper of some sort.
She was definitely making a huge leap in her progress to make Tom Crowley hers forever.
She’d be able to secure a room at the same places Roadhouse stayed. No more hanging out in parking lots, trying to glimpse her man through chain-link fences. And no more standing around on street corners, giving the impression she was a prostitute on the lookout for a john. That was so far from the truth it was laughable. She was unequivocally a one-man woman.
It was about time that management appreciated how hard Tom and his friends were working. The band should’ve been treated to plush tour buses and fine hotels way before now.
She’d been afraid she was going to have to call in some favors to change things. She hadn’t wanted to exert any influence over Tom’s career—she knew he had the talent to succeed on his own—but she was willing to do whatever it took to help him.
Even if it meant exposing her feelings too soon by engaging in a power play with his production company.
Good thing it hadn’t come to that in the end.
She really wanted to surprise Tom gently, show her devotion to him in a tender way.
She didn’t have all the specifics planned out yet, but the general course of action was clear in her head.
And staying in the same hotels as her true love was going to make his seduction flow that much smoother.
Chapter Nine
Tom was feeling good.
Aside from the fact Bethany wasn’t in his sight, things were going well.
The tour bus he was currently riding in was a hell of a lot more comfortable than the band’s prior travel accommodations, and he really felt like Roadhouse was going someplace now. Other than Reading, Pennsylvania, that is.
He felt they were finally being recognized as more than a one-hit-wonder, fly-by-night band. He was proud. And happy.
And the only thing that would make him happier at this moment would be if Beth were sitting beside him. Safe.
Logically, he knew she couldn’t be any better protected than she was right now. She was ensconced in a moving vehicle with ten able-bodied men—including her father—keeping her company. There was no way Eric Sharpe could get to her.
So he had to admit to himself that the real reason he wanted Beth here was because he missed her.
Even though he had plenty of people he could converse with, he wanted to hear Beth’s voice.
Tom let his gaze roam around the bus, taking in Leo and Jack catching a few ZZZs in large reclining seats, and Dylan and Sam passing the time with a leisurely game of cards.
Liz and Hannah sat closest to him, engaged in a quiet but animated conversation.
He studied them, noting they were both long-legged, with trim, athletic builds. But where Liz had long, wavy, near-black hair, Hannah sported a copper-colored chin-length ’do.
They were attractive women, but neither one of them stirred his senses, his heart, the way Bethany did.
Just then Hannah glanced his way and caught his gaze. He gave her a quick smile, not knowing how weak it looked, or how forlorn he appeared.
Hannah spoke briefly to Liz, who nodded in response and pulled a paperback out of her oversized purse. As Liz immersed herself in her book, Hannah came over to Tom.
“Hey, are you doing okay?” She folded a leg beneath her, gracefully dropping onto the sofa beside him. She propped her elbow on the back of the sofa and leaned her head into her hand. It was a casual pose, but her green eyes showed concern. “You don’t look too happy right now. Don’t you think the show went well?”
“No, that’s not it. Everything’s going great.”
Hannah’s face softened, and she gave a teasing smile. “So it’s Beth then? She’s what’s making you pout like a two-year-old who’s not allowed to play with his favorite toy?”
Her analogy made him laugh, but he still wanted to be cautious about how much of Beth’s history he told.
“I’m worried about her.”
All kidding disappeared from Hannah’s face. “Yeah. She told us about this Eric creep. She wanted us to be on the lookout for him. Not for her own sake, but for ours. Beth said it wasn’t likely he’d show up, but she wanted us to be careful, just in case.”
Tom sighed and let his head drop back onto the sofa cushion. “That woman is driving me crazy. She won’t take this threat seriously. She’s more worried about everyone else than she is about herself.”
He turned his head to look at Hannah. “If anything happens to her, I’ll lose it. I know I haven’t known her that long, but I really care about her.”
Hannah reached out to give a couple friendly pats to his arm. “Love is ignorant of time. You can’t choose when it hits, or how long it will last. You just enjoy it while it’s there.”
He wasn’t sure how to reply. He didn’t know if what he felt for Beth was love or not.
And if it was love, he wanted Bethany to be the first one he acknowledged it to.
Hannah seemed to understand he needed to think on what she’d said, so she changed the subject. Sort of.
“I like Beth, too. She’s fun, and smart, and she sings great, too.”
Now that was news to Tom.
He loved the sound of Beth’s speaking voice, but just because a person spoke well didn’t mean he or she could sing well, and vice versa. He was intrigued.
“How do you know that?”
Hannah rolled her eyes at him. “I didn’t listen to her singing in the shower, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
The imagery her comment conjured up was enough to severely distract Tom.
Beth, in the shower, with water streaming over her body.
The graceful curve of her neck exposed as she leaned into the spray to wet and then lather her thick strands of blonde hair.
Her hands leisurely soaping up every curve and crevice, lingering a bit more in certain sensitive places.
The cascade of water rinsing all the soap bubbles from her skin, with small droplets clinging precariously to protruding areas.
Like her long eyelashes … her pert nose.
Her pale pink nipples.
Tom shifted uncomfortably, hoping that Hannah’s sharp gaze didn’t drop to his lap.
How embarrassing. And pathetic.
He was hard at just the thought of Bethany naked in the shower.
If he found the simple task of her bathing to be erotic, he was afraid to think about her in more outright sexual situations. Like making love with him.
In various positions, various locations.
His groin tightened even more, threatening to cut off his very breath.
He had to refocus his mind, and fast.
Now, what had they been talking about? Oh, yeah. Beth’s singing ability.
“So, how do you know she can sing?” Tom asked as casually as possible. He strived to appear relaxed, and not horny as a thirteen-year-old looking at his first Playboy.
Thankfully Hannah’s eyes stayed on his face, but a quick twitch of her lips betrayed her thoughts.
She knew where his mind had gone, damn it. And she’d probably led him in that direction on purpose.
Women. He loved ’em, but he’d never understand ’em.
“The answer to that question,” the redheaded witch explained, “is that Beth liked to rehearse with us. Nothing formal, but she’d sing along as we practiced our parts. Sometimes she’d do some of the dance moves, too.”
Admiration gleamed in her eyes. “Like I said, Beth is sharp. She’s got good range, reads music, and she has the lyrics of the entire set memorized. Not just backing, but the lead vocals, too. Better watch out or she’ll be learning to play guitar next.”
Well this was definitely something he wanted to talk to Bethany about.
She’d given him the impression that working as a roadie was d
ead last on her list of job choices. That she was only here because she’d had few options available after the embezzling fiasco.
And she’d claimed when they’d first met that she didn’t even like country music.
So why was it that she was spending precious free time immersed in a musician-esque lifestyle?
Perhaps her tastes had changed over the course of the tour, or maybe she just enjoyed interacting with Liz and Hannah.
But why not be up front with him? Why hide the fact that she liked his music, and, in fact, liked to sing?
Was this another thing she was ashamed of for some unknown reason?
He was getting a headache. Trying to discern what went on in Bethany’s head was exhausting. Odds were he would never fully understand her, even if he spent the rest of his life trying to figure her out.
But maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing.
•
Beth wasn’t sure what to do.
They were near the halfway point in Roadhouse’s tour, and in less than three weeks she’d be saying goodbye to Tom.
She didn’t want to.
Really, really didn’t want to.
But she knew it had to be done. For both their sakes.
And since they were running out of time rather quickly, it was doubtful they’d even get the chance to make love before they parted ways.
She would’ve loved to carry that memory with her, but it seemed it wasn’t meant to be.
Beth shifted restlessly in the padded bus seat. She knew she should be using this opportunity to sleep, but even as she forced her eyes closed, her mind refused to shut down.
It wasn’t Eric Sharpe that kept her awake—she really wasn’t worried that he’d show up in her vicinity.
No, Tom Crowley was the one she couldn’t evict from her thoughts.
She remembered how he’d been at dinner in Macon. Inquisitive, attentive. Sweet.
Then later, playing mini golf. He’d appeared relaxed but had shown a slight competitive streak, too.
And she saw him as he’d appeared a few hours ago on stage. Hot. Sweaty. Full of energy.
As her brain began to wind down after a long day, those images intertwined and became her ultimate fantasy of late.
Tom stood in front of her as she lay naked on the bed. He’d removed his shirt—or maybe she had done it—but still wore jeans.
Which were unbuttoned and halfway unzipped at his trim waist, baring the trail of crisp, dark hair beneath his navel. They were barely hanging on to his narrow hips.
Teasing her.
Tempting her.
She stretched out a hand to pull the offending piece of clothing down, but he shook his head and moved back, out of her reach.
“Not yet,” was all he said.
And he continued to look at her. All of her.
She forced her arm back to her side, her whole body quivering from the intense heat shining in his eyes.
She felt exposed, but energized. This was what she’d been waiting for. To experience Tom, and all he had to offer, in the most intimate ways possible.
“Turn over.”
She followed his command without question, using folded arms to cushion her head.
She wasn’t afraid. In fact, she was eager to experience whatever pleasures he had in mind for her.
And then she intended to return the favor.
She jumped at the unexpected touch of his callused fingers on her shoulders. But as the roughened texture of his skin slid over the smoothness of hers, she quickly relaxed again.
Relatively speaking.
She felt the mattress give as Tom moved to straddle her bottom, still massaging her shoulders. Then he pushed her hair to the side, leaned down to press gentle kisses against the sensitive nape of her neck. His denim-encased erection cradled snugly against her backside, shifting with his movements.
She was melting.
Anyone looking for her in the morning would find only a big puddle where she now lay.
This was better than she’d dreamed it would be, and he’d hardly touched her.
He slowly slid down her body, meticulously caressing, kissing, and licking every inch of her skin.
She ached inside, wanting more. Wanting to see him and touch him, the way he was touching her.
At last he reached her toes. She’d never before thought her feet were sexy, but he seemed fascinated by them. He massaged them with his strong hands, then bent her knees up and sucked her toes with his equally strong mouth.
Then it was time.
“Turn back over.”
She didn’t know how she summoned the strength, but she did it.
Again she reached to tug his jeans down and again he pulled away.
“I’m not through yet.”
He moved to sit astride her once more, but hesitated.
“All of you looks so delicious, I’m not sure where to start.” His dark eyes gleamed with mischief, toying with her. “What do you think? Where should I begin, top or bottom?”
He wasn’t going to make a move unless she answered him.
It seemed that her whole being yearned for his touch. Her tingling breasts and the warm area between her thighs begged for attention. But even more important than that, she wanted a kiss.
A simple, tender touch of his lips against hers. A caring gesture which demonstrated how deeply affected he was by this act—the act of lovemaking.
Which was what she was.In love.
With Tom.
And she wanted to show him that love the only way she knew how.
“Top,” she said breathlessly.
He didn’t move to straddle her again, but instead sat by her side. He leaned over her, his muscular arms supporting most of his weight, caging her in. His firm chest seared her where it pressed against her taut nipples. Her arms were pinned to her side, her hands unable to caress him.
For the longest time they just stared into each other’s eyes. She hoped he, too, was realizing how significant this moment truly was.
Overwhelmed at the feelings burgeoning inside her, Beth’s eyes slowly closed.
And he leaned down to brush his lips against hers. So softly that she almost believed it hadn’t happened.
But then he did it again. Letting his mouth linger a little longer this time, but pressing no harder.
She strained to free her arms, needing to pull him closer, hold him longer. But he wouldn’t allow it.
“Beth,” he murmured, shifting to place kisses on her cheeks, her forehead.
“Beth, come on,” he urged softly.
Come on, what? He wouldn’t let her do anything.
She tried once more to move her arms, but it wasn’t happening. They were firmly held in place.
“Come on.” Another soft kiss on her lips. “Time to get up, sleepyhead.”
What?
She forced her heavy eyelids open. Blinked a few times to clear her vision.
But instead of seeing Tom half naked and sitting beside her, he was fully clothed and kneeling in front of her.
She was slumped in a seat of the tour bus she’d boarded last night after the concert. Like Tom she was fully clothed, but she was pretty sure his underpants weren’t soaking wet like hers were.
What a dream.
If Tom hadn’t grasped her upper arms and awakened her with soft words and softer kisses, she probably would have embarrassed herself with a loud, powerful orgasm.
And that wasn’t how she wanted to greet her co-workers in the morning. She was uncomfortable enough as it was, with Tom hovering over her in front of everybody.
Beth took a quick look around, only then noticing that no one else remained on the bus. It was just her and Tom.
Well, at least she only had one person to face after that hot fantasy.
Except that person happened to be the star of her wet dream, and facing him wasn’t going to be easy.
She licked her dry lips, cleared her throat. Focused on his mouth, still too flustered to meet his ga
ze.
Big mistake.
His attractive mouth was what had gotten her in this condition in the first place.
She quickly but unsteadily pushed to her feet, shaking off his hold. Tom was forced to stand and move out of her way.
“So, where is everybody?” Beth turned, ostensibly to look out the bus window, but really so she could scrub the sleepiness, and arousal, from her face.
“It’s around six AM. We’re at a diner not far from the hotel. Everyone’s in having breakfast.”
She turned back to him, a bright smile plastered on her face. “Great! Let’s go. I’m starved!”
“Um, Beth? You might want to freshen up before we go in.”
Beth instantly looked down, afraid he’d seen residual signs of her desire. But everything looked pretty normal to her. Her nipples had softened, and the dampness between her legs hadn’t left any telltale spot on her jeans.
She looked up and saw Tom’s gaze focused on her hair.
She raised her hands and found that the thick ponytail she’d had last night no longer existed. Her hair was hanging loose, in a wild, tangled disarray around her face.
Oh, God.
Had she done that while she’d slept? While she’d dreamt of Tom?
She prayed no one on the bus had witnessed her actions. Lord knew where else her hands had traveled during the night.
Embarrassment returned full force. She had to escape and pull herself together.
“Excuse me,” she mumbled as she snatched her carry-on from the seat and pushed past Tom, heading for the bathroom at the rear of the bus. “I’ll be right back.”
“I’ll be waiting,” was his reply.
And he was.
When she emerged from the small rest room a few minutes later, her bladder empty, clothes changed, face washed, teeth brushed, and hair once again neatly pulled back—this time with a large clip—Tom was seated near the bus door, flipping through a magazine.
He looked up and smiled as she came toward him. Her heart flip-flopped, and as he rose and extended his hand to her, she remembered.
In her fantasy, she’d admitted to herself that she loved him. That’s why she’d wanted so badly to make love with him.
They exited the bus in silence. Tom lifted her hand to plant a habitual kiss on her knuckles, but he didn’t miss a step as he led her toward the diner.
