He can use his damn noise-canceling headphones—or put in his earplugs like the rest of us. Weallgot a pair when the tour kicked off, otherwise we wouldn’t getanysleep. It was worse on the crew bus, definitely. That lot is young and rowdy. The road is long, and when the drinks start flowing? Shit goes down. I spent five months slipping on those headphones every time someone needed to scratch an itch.
Now it’smyturn. I’m itchy as fuck and I’ll take advantage of every millisecond we have together toscratchit. Because he’s finally here. With me. Where he belongs.
Every inch of us touchessomewhere—chest to chest, hip to hip, hand to back—and I’m reminded how perfectly he fits against me. Like he left an imprint on my body that only he can fill. Every hollow, every gap, shaped just for him.
My heart beats louder, beatsforhim,tohim, slamming against my chest in a song of homecoming. Because that’s what this is. This moment.This feeling.
It’s a homecoming.
I don’t have a home. Literally. I don’t have a place to live, to call my own. But I don’t need one, because I have Ty. He’s my home.
And every kiss and sweep of his mouth reaffirms that, solidifies that, and grounds me more. I was feeling adrift these long, lonely months, floating away. But with every minute that passes as I’m with him, he pulls me back to shore. He’s everything to me, my anchor.
My fucking world.
Someone clears their throat just as a knuckle-knock sounds against the frame of the now-open door.
“What?” I mutter, reluctantly peeling my face away from Ty. Just my face—the rest of me is still deliciously glued to my quarterback, who’s now moved his lips from my mouth to my neck. My hand is firmly lodged in his messy hair.
“We’ve changed the sheets,” Ava says simply, nodding toward the back door, her smile a little too smug.
I let out a dramatic breath of relief. While Ithinkwe could technically fit in my bunk—though we probably wouldn’t get out of it uninjured—the extra space isveryappreciated for everything I plan to do to him.
“Oh fuck, really? Thank you!”
“Really what?” Ty asks, his lips still trailing across my skin, currently far more interested in my earlobe than anything our friend is saying. His thumb rubs over the waistband of my jeans, sending happy little zaps straight to my spine.
“There’s a bedroom in the back,” Ava explains. “You can use it whenever you visit, Ty. I don’t mind sleeping a few nights without Asher snoring in my ear, and Missy gets cranky when she doesn’t hit her eight hours a night, so yeah—it’s better if you two stay back there. I don’t think either of you is capable of being quiet tonight.” Her mouth quirks.
“I think I can agree with that,” I gasp, as Ty starts sucking on the junction of my neck and unzips my jacket like he’s undressing me in slow motion.
“God,I missed your smell,” he murmurs, ignoring Ava completely.
I slide my fingers against the back of his head, threading into his still cap-less hair, holding him right where I want him.
“The bus leaves in a few minutes for Syracuse,” Ava continues, entirely unfazed by the fact that Ty is actively maulingme. “We’ll drive through the night so the crew can set up at the dome in the morning. Two shows. Big setup. We’ll go finish our movie now…” She raps her knuckles on the doorframe one more time, laughing softly. “I wanna say have fun, but I think that’s a given. Good night, guys.”
I give Ava a half-heartedthank youbefore trying to pry Ty off me, which—let’s be real—isn’t working. He’s welded to me, handseverywhere, lips brushing my jaw like he’s trying to make up for lost time one kiss at a time.
Then, without a word, he bends slightly and—
“Oh, shit! Ty—” I protest as he scoops me up like I weigh nothing. I cling to his shoulders to keep our balance. But he just grins against my mouth, before continuing our kiss with a heady grunt as he carries me through the hallway.
He shoulders open the door to the back, and steps inside like he owns the place. Which, right now, he kind of does. With one swift motion, he sets me down gently near the bed, then lets his duffel slide from his shoulder. It hits the floor with a heavy thud in the corner, forgotten.
The room is small but comfortable—just enough space for the essentials: a big bed shoved into the corner, rows of cabinets lining the walls, and that sleek, polished wood paired with gray accents that match the rest of the bus’s design.
Ty drops onto the edge of the mattress, legs splayed wide, his arms held out in clear invitation. “C’mere,” he says, voice gone soft. “Let me look at you.”
Complying, I step in between his knees, my hands immediately diving back into his gorgeous dark-brown strands. His hair is longer now, messier, flopping a little over his forehead.
I love it.
He grips my thighs as I drink him in—reading every inch of emotion in his eyes, the longing so clear to me.
The tension,palpable.
The lust,apparent.
