shined on his skin, dipping into the lines of roped muscle. He’d clearly kept up the workout routine.
“Hi.” He set the guitar in the nearest stand without bothering to look, but luckily it didn’t topple over.
“Congratulations on the one-year.”
“Thanks.”
A line of stagehands filed in, marching between us as they put the rest of his guitars on their stands, but Nixon kept his eyes on me. “Thanks, guys,” he muttered as they made their way out.
“So, you’re leaving?” I tucked my hair behind my ears, only to remember I’d pulled it up. My cheeks caught fire.
“I have a plane waiting at the airport.” His gaze raked over me, and heat prickled at my skin in its wake.
“Water, and a towel,” Brad said as he walked into the room. He glanced between the two of us, put the offerings on the table, and backed away. “I’ll just…uh…lock this.” He closed the door behind him on the way out.
The feet that separated Nixon and me felt like miles.
“Where are you headed to?” I tried to keep my voice as level as possible.
“Miami.”
I startled. “That’s where I’m supposed to be.”
“I know.” A corner of his mouth lifted.
“Oh.” That meant—
“I took a look at your tour schedule and knew you didn’t have time to come see me, so I carved out a few days to come spend with you. I was going to surprise you.”
“I surprised you first,” I whispered. He’d been coming to me. My heart rate kicked up to a full gallop.
“I noticed.” He took a step, then paused. “Does that mean you made a decision? Or are we still at I’ll let you know?” Fear flashed through his eyes.
“I’m here, aren’t I?”
“Zoe,” he practically growled.
“You wrote a song for me.” I fidgeted with the backstage pass that hung around my neck.
“I’ve written about ten songs for you, only two of which you’ve heard. I’m kind of in love with you, if you hadn’t noticed.” His jaw flexed. “Now, would you please put me out of my misery?”
He was still in love with me. Suddenly, breathing was a million times easier.
“Of course I want you, Nixon. I love you.” Like there had ever been another option. Wanting him was a given, like the sun rising in the east or the Colorado River flowing to the Pacific. It just was.
“Thank God,” he muttered, already closing the distance between us.
He didn’t stop once he reached me. He only paused long enough to pick me up before pressing my back against the wall and kissing me senseless.
I clutched his neck, holding him to me as he kissed me over and over, our tongues picking up where we’d left off months ago without skipping a beat.
Yes. I locked my ankles around the small of his back and kissed him like my life depended on it because it did. This man was my life. I loved my career, loved the industry and the rush of the music, but the last three months had taught me that none of it mattered without this—without him.
“I’m all sweaty,” he said against my lips.
“I like it.” I grinned.
His smile matched mine for one elated heartbeat before his mouth was busy at my neck. I whimpered as my body liquified, turning molten as he palmed my breast.
There was a knock at the door.
“Nix, Jonas wants to add ‘Merciful Fire’ to the Atlanta set list,” Ethan called through the door.
“Go away,” Nixon snapped, then brought his mouth back to mine in an even deeper kiss.
I rocked against him, using the wall as leverage. Now. Now. Now. The demand built to a fever pitch, the result of too many months without him.
Another knock sounded.
“Nixon, the car is here,” Monica called out.
“Okay,” he answered, sliding a hand under my dress to cup my ass. “Damn, I’ve missed everything about you, but this makes the top ten.” His voice dipped to that sandpaper-rough tone that sent my temperature skyrocketing.
“So, do you want me to tell the driver you’re on the way?” Monica asked.
Nixon sagged, resting his forehead against mine.
“How private is that plane?” I asked.
“Very,” he answered, a wicked gleam dancing through his eyes. “Want to get out of here?”
“Yes.”
He didn’t even pause to pack his guitars.
EPILOGUE
FIVE YEARS LATER
NIXON
There was something to be said for being snowed in over spring break, but it took on a whole other level when there were seven energetic kids under your roof and only six adults.
One of those kids skid by, sliding in his socks across the hardwood of our Colorado