All night I recall how fantastic Lexi looked in that silky top, the fabric so sheer it wrapped her chest like a second skin. Her nipples—hard and begging to be sucked. Those tiny black shorts that show off her curves. Legs that were made for straddling hips—for spreading wide and sitting on my dick.
Fuck me.
With my long limbs scrunched into this too tiny bunk I can’t even jack off properly. I shower instead, fantasizing about those tiny red panties on her sexy little body. Her breathy moans when I make her come. Okay, so I make that part up because I don’t know how she sounds when she falls apart, but it’s my daydream so I imagine that’s how she comes.
It’s a long night.
I don’t sleep much, and as daylight pokes through a crack in the darkening shades I pull on a pair of worn jeans and start up the coffee maker. I’ll squeeze in a nap if needed, but laying around isn’t gaining me any rest. Austin, Iz, and Sean are dead to the world as I settle into the bench seat with a mug to watch the miles pass by.
This is the part of the job I love, city to city, each day a new crowd, new fans, new surroundings. It feeds the wanderlust that flows through my blood, the need to keep moving, to not become stuck or complacent. While those desires haven’t gone away, they’ve changed this tour. They’ve changed because of the blonde sleeping down the hall.
I love women. And maybe my love for women, in the plural sense, only proves I’m a little fucked up in the head. But there’s no greater joy in my life than to bring a woman pleasure. To get completely lost in the satisfaction that two, or three, partners can bring each other. It’s lust without shame. It’s need and want. It’s temporary love gratification.
That hasn’t changed, but for the first time in my life I’m not anticipating the horde of women I’ll meet in the next city. I’m only consumed by one woman.
I can’t even get it up without picturing her face. And I never picture faces, because my attraction hasn’t ever been based on one individual. It’s always been a feeling, a body, a basic human connection. Desire. Longing. And lots of orgasms. Having Lexi at the center of my thoughts is confusing. I want her, but why? Is it because I can’t have her? I don’t like being told no, and I always get my way.Until her.
A clank of dish on dish takes me by surprise. I lift my chin.
“Sorry.” She gives a little smile, steadying her mug as she drags it from the cupboard and fills it with coffee. “I didn’t mean to interrupt your ... What exactly are you doing?”
Thinking about you.
“We should write a song together,” I say instead.
She leans her back against the counter and forms a little O with her mouth to blow on her drink. She takes a sip and pierces me with those eyes that seem to know so much more than someone like her should. “Oh, yeah? And call it Sexy Lexi?” She smiles and it illuminates her face. God damn, she’s beautiful.
I shake my head and smile back. “You remember that. God, I’m sorry.”
“I remember everything.”
Her words hang between us and I wonder exactly what she’s remembering now. “That doesn’t surprise me. So, how about we write a song?”
“Now?”
“Sure. I mean, it’s not like I’ve got much going on for the next ...” I pull out my cell and pretend to scroll through my schedule. “Three to four hours.”
“Troubles of life on the road for a rock star.” She chuckles and rolls her eyes. “Fine. Let’s write a song.”
I throw my fist in the air. “Yes! I knew I’d wear you down.”
“That’s your plan, isn’t it? Attach yourself like a tick and never let go?” She continues to sip her drink.
I stand and stretch my arms over my head, working out the kinks in my back. Okay, fine. I stretch and flex because I’m not wearing a shirt and I want Lexi to ogle the full view. My lips kick up when she does just that. “No. Ticks are gross. I am obviously better looking than a bug, and bonus—I won’t give you Lyme disease.”
“I’ll add it to your list of redeeming qualities. Okay. On task.” She throws back the rest of her coffee and rinses out the mug before strutting down the hall. “Let’s write this song so I can go back to my plans.”
Like a little puppy, I follow her back to her room. “Writing your own song?”
She laughs, dropping onto the made bed. “Yeah, kinda.”
“Okay, how do you want to do this?” I stand in the doorway, uncertain how to move forward. I’ve watched other people write a song. I’ve had some creative input with the melodies to a few of ours. But write one? I’ve never done it. I don’t dare mention that now, since Lexi seems to be on board with the activity. I just want to ... be close to her. God, that sounds so lame.
She looks at me as though I’ve grown horns and I wonder if she can read my mind. “This is your idea. You take the lead.” She shrugs and picks up her guitar, laying it over her crisscrossed legs while balancing the notebook on one knee.
All I’m focused on is the fact she voluntarily offered for me to lead. Not that I haven’t coerced her into the song writing, but Lexi doesn’t give up control to anyone. This has to be a good sign. “It makes me more excited than it should when you say shit like that.” I step into the room and shut the door, leaning my back against the wall since she didn’t invite me to sit on the bed. I pull out my cell to make notes on an app because if I mention the fact I don’t own a notebook she’ll probably send me out of the room. “Let’s start with lyrics, yeah? How about we try our luck at a duet? A rock ballad. You write one point of view, and I write the other. Then we can work on the chorus together.”
She chews on the end of her pen and then scribbles something on her notepad. “Okay, what’s the theme?” Her lashes blink and she looks up from under them.
