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