before.
Everything tightens within me, and his thrusts speed up as he groans. I can feel him twitching and jerking. With restraint? Or release? I’m not sure, only that I feel it, and I know it’s him. That makes everything ten times better.
Something is niggling at the back of my brain, that this is a bad idea, this is something I’ll regret. The forefront of my brain silences it because the sensations are too powerful. I’m too busy feeling him to think about whatever Nancy Naysayer, my subconscious, wants me to understand.
He stills himself, straightens his elbows, and roars out his orgasm as his trembling body presses against me, and I let go. Lights flash behind my eyes as every muscle in my body tightens and releases in a perfect symphony of pleasure. We rock together one final time, and he collapses on my chest, the warm blanket of his body absorbing the aftershocks of our lovemaking.
I wake up in a pleasant haze. The smell of sex mingles with the scent of her perfume, and I roll over and stretch, my arm out, eyes still closed, blindly feeling for her. My hand lands on something flat and smooth—a sheet of paper.
No, she did not.
I sit bolt upright and stare down at the empty spot in the bed next to me. I don’t need to look around the room or check the bathroom to know that she’s gone.
“Fucking seriously?”
I pick up the note she left me.
“Last night was amazing. I have to get back home and you were out cold so I figured I’d let you sleep in.”
Baloney. That’s a cop-out.
I slide out of bed and stalk into the bathroom. My clothing is neatly arranged on hangers on one of the towel bars in the bathroom.
My God, a woman who gives great blow jobs and who’s even more anal retentive than me? If only she were still here with me, I’d think I’d died and gone to heaven.
Chapter Fourteen
Callie
“Wow. You really like polishing that wood, Callie.”
I stare at our bartender Lance in shock. How did he just read my mind?
“What did you say?”
“You’re going to rub the varnish off.”
Oh. That wood.
I look down at the gleaming surface of the bar that I’ve just scrubbed clean for the third time. It’s so shiny I can see my face in it—my guilty, blushing face. Yes, I was just fantasizing about Sebastian as I aggressively wiped down the old mahogany.
Lance reaches across the bar and snatches the rag from my hand, and I blink at him.
“I think them Lysol fumes are getting to you. Take a break,” he advises me. Before I can answer him, he rushes off to take orders from four girls with Heat Lightning T-shirts. Our lobby is like one big fan club these days, as people (mostly women) crowd the room and hang out for hours hoping desperately for a glimpse of the band members.
In fact, we now have a dozen different drinks named after the band. There’s the Heat Lightning, of course. There’s also the Sebastian, the Magnus, and the Parker, and then there are drinks named after their bestselling songs and albums.
My mother has been letting the band sneak out the servants’ entrance in the back to avoid the crowds most days, although a couple of times the band members have come in to sign autographs and start mini-riots.
The only reason I’m in the lobby today is that I know the band left the hotel hours ago to head back to the barn for a jam session. Ever since I fled Sebastian’s bed, I’ve been doing the Dance of Avoidance—rushing from one place to another to make sure I don’t have to cross paths with them. Or rather, him.
I lean on the bar, my fingers itching for that rag. Then I look around the room. I’ve only cleaned the table-tops in the bar area twice. They could do with another round.
“Earth to Callie. Hello, Earth to Callie.” My mother waves her hand in front of my face.
I didn’t even notice her walk up. That’s not unusual. She’s little but stealthy. That’s how she’d always catch Daisy when she was doing stuff she shouldn’t as a child.
“Oh, hello,” I say distractedly.
She raises an eyebrow. “Who licked the red off your candy?”
“Sorry, Mama. I’m just mentally reviewing my schedule for the rest of the day.”
That is not a lie. I’m mentally reviewing how I’ll avoid seeing Sebastian.
“Well, you’re doing something mentally all right.”
“Anyway.” I try to think of something to say,