He wasn’t brill even with a handful of people.
But the rest of the band knew that, and she was sure they’d negotiate something workable. Perhaps make sure he got plenty of space, and they didn’t spend months on a tour bus squashed together like sardines. Spook had his issues, but he was important to them, and one thing she’d learned hanging around the band, was that they were in this together and they looked out for one another. Besides, this double album, which was now complete, apart from a few tweaks, contained a whole lot of Spook Mortensen magic. Admittedly that was entwined around a good deal of Xane Geist sexiness, with a frosting of other contributors, but the beating heart of it, the raw agony of it—that was him. That was her man stripped bare and bleeding across a fretboard.
“I’ve had an awful lot of wine tonight,” she said once they were both under the covers in the big old-fashioned bed. “I suppose that means kissing you goodnight is out. Or is there an exception for unbirthdays?”
“No exceptions ever,” he said, rubbing their noses together. He’d drunk at least twice the amount she had, which told her where their respective tolerances were, because of the two of them, she was definitely the tipsier.
“I really dislike this rule. It’s shit.”
“Well, while kisses are out, licking isn’t banned, nor sucking.”
“Oh, really?” She reached for him at once, making him howl.
“Cold hands!”
She caught the flash of his grin. “Your rules make no fucking sense.”
“Their purpose isn’t to make sense.”
She proceeded to feel him up while he reached over to turn off the lamp. The hiss of gas ceased, and Spook sank onto the pillows.
“Come up here.” Spook caught her wandering hands and encouraged her to straddle his shoulders. “I know it may seem a little back to front, but I thought maybe you might enjoy a little tenderness, given I’m going to be entirely the opposite tomorrow.”
Promises. Promises.
Although, given he set about worshipping her pussy with his agile tongue and didn’t stop until she flopped onto the mattress beside him, sleepy, contented, and utterly spent, she was fine with his version of tenderness.
-23-
Allegra
Anticipation, Alle decided, was akin to TNT for the brain. She’d been unable to keep still or maintain any sort of focus, and nothing happened quickly enough. The morning meandered by. She volunteered to help Xane with his cousin’s dogs, and then chased up and down the south coast beach with them and hosed them down afterwards. Gave them treats and ear scritches and got thoroughly slobbered on.
The rest of Black Halo left shortly after midday. Later than expected, but none of them were in any sort of hurry, and they were all, she realised, deeply suspicious of what was afoot.
“We’ll be back around this time tomorrow,” Xane said, while cuffing Spook on the arm. He got into the car with Luthor. Rock Giant and Ronnie were strapped in the back like two teenage miscreants. Ash and Ginny had taken a separate vehicle and muttered something about Carnglaze Caverns and seeing the rest of them later.
Alle and Spook ate lunch together. Mostly so she could reassure herself that Spook had actually eaten something, given her tummy was far too fluttery to be genuinely interested in food. The sun set around six o’clock. Still hours to fill. Spook disappeared off somewhere, a book in hand. Whether he actually intended to find a rock to lean against while he read, she wasn’t sure. She paced. Brewed endless cups of tea. Peed a lot, due to the endless cups of tea, and changed her outfit four times over, unable to settle on sexy over comfort, trousers over a skirt, and which of the items in her meagre wardrobe she was prepared to sacrifice.
She really didn’t know what to expect, though they’d agreed the basics. Was it wishful thinking to hope that he’d rip her clothes off? Was he going to do anything wilder than shag her al fresco against a rock wall?
They hadn’t talked over the details. “The whole point is that you don’t know what’s coming, Alle,” he’d said, when she’d tried to engage him on the topic. “Probably best to just assume the worst.” He’d given her such an enigmatic grin, she’d flashed him a couple of fingers. That’d only set him off chuckling and set her on a collision course with the biscuit barrel. Although, half a packet of chocolate Hobnobs did shit to alleviate her nervous brain snarls.
At half past five, she realised he was every bit as antsy as her. She said, “Hey, I’m going to head out now,” and he’d delayed her not once but three times, by inserting himself between her and the door. He kept finding reasons to hold her, touch her, breathe in the scent of her.
“Spook,” she’d eventually said. “I’m going over to the fort to give the dogs their dinner. If you want to call it off, then you have my number, and I have my phone. Otherwise, I’ll walk back the way we agreed.”
It took a moment to get him to relinquish his grip. “Okay.” He closed his eyes and breathed deeply. “Recall for me again what we agreed.”
“I’m going to walk back via the ravine and you’re going to find me there and do…and do dirty nasty things to me. Then you’ll leave and we’ll meet back here and I’ll tell you all about what happened and why I’m such a mess. Then, you’ll rail over the villainy of the person responsible and take care of me.”
A little of the tension eased from his shoulders. “That’s right. I’ll take really good care of you.”
“I know you will.”
She kissed him then left.
Over at the fort, Toby and Horace slobbered all over her again and shoved their noses up her skirt. “Rude, boys,” she chastened them. They were easily dissuaded from further incursions with a heap of doggy kibble. “Sorry, guys, nothing gourmet tonight, the chef’s still in Mexico.”
