Текст книги "The Song Remains the Same"

Автор книги: Kelli Jean

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Текущая страница: 17 (всего у книги 28 страниц)

Being NOLA natives, we couldn’t let our tribe suffer without us. We caught a flight into Lafayette the next day. Siggie picked us up at the airport in the black van.

“Hey, guys!” she greeted us, looking tired but otherwise in a good mood. “Everyone’s excited to see you. Mr. D is getting a barbeque going.”

La Place had suffered little to no damage from Hurricane Katrina. Our neighborhood had power, clean water, and access to grocery stores. We’d been extremely lucky.

In the Garden District, where I’d grown up, the houses were under about three feet of water. Danielle and Martin also lived in the Garden District, and their house suffered about the same.

Kenna and Connor’s parents likely didn’t have a house left. They lived in Gentilly, and the flooding was so severe that homes were completely submerged. I hadn’t told Kenna yet, but I planned on buying the man and his wife a new house wherever they wanted.

Bougainvillea. I had no idea what had happened to that place. Located on the western edge of the city, there was a possibility that it’d escaped the enormous flooding. Still, it seemed, each day, there were more levees being breached.

Dad, Danielle, Da, and Gloria tried to raise our spirits with the barbeque. It was just such a relief to see them doing well, to see that our home was standing, that we sort of just ate and then crashed. We were all just so fuckin’ done with everything.

X and Alys, the newlyweds, went to stay with her parents, who seemed really happy with their marriage but bummed that it was a quickie Vegas deal.

“We promise we’ll have a proper celebration when things settle down, okay?” Alys had told them while we all started digging into the food.

This time, I’d watched Connor’s reaction. That cat’s face had been smooth as glass, showing nothing. With Brigid’s death, I’d completely forgotten about that bizarre episode with him breaking down over Alys and X getting married.

I was determined to have Kenna tell me what the hell that had been all about.

“I don’t really know,” she told me, sounding exhausted, as we made our way up to the bedroom. “I just know that something happened between them at some point, but nothing came of it. I don’t even know when it happened. Alys doesn’t want to tell, and Connor seems to be on the same page.”

“I’m just thinkin’ how it could affect the band, is all,” I told her.

“I know.”

Getting ready for bed, I watched as she climbed under the sheets, all naked and gorgeous. We hadn’t had sex since before Brigid had ODed. With everything that was going on, our sex drive had crashed.

Slipping in next to her, I curved my body around hers, pulling her back against my chest. My hand rested on her thigh, and I kissed her shoulder. Her firm ass on my dick made all thoughts leave my brain and rush to the other head. Suddenly, I was desperate to be buried deep inside my home, to have her heal me from the inside out.

What if she fuckin’ says no?

I didn’t think I would take it graciously if she did. Maybe it would be best if I just…stopped. Avoided rejection altogether.

My hand caressing her hip and thigh stilled, and I pulled back.

My Baby Girl pushed back into my hard-on and whispered, “Don’t stop.”

“Oh, thank fuck,” I groaned, burying my face in her neck.

She smelled good enough to eat. Her adorable little giggle set me off, and I started dry-humping her sweet ass, kissing every part of her I could get my lips on. Slipping off her thigh, my hand snuck around front, finding her wet and ready.

“Goddamn.”

“Do it from behind,” she demanded.

Yes, fuckin’, ma’am!

Rolling her onto her belly, I grabbed a pillow and stuffed it under her hips. Then, I rolled my giant self on top. It wasn’t the sexiest way of doing it, but my balls had just woken the fuck up and realized they hadn’t had any fun in the last three days.

“Baby, if I’m too quick, I wanna apologize now. I promise to keep going till you get yours, yeah?”

Her laughter was the best. The sound of it was a balm to my sore heart.

Grinning like a dipshit, I pushed into her, and fuck me, was it fuckin’ mind-blowing.

“Ohhh, fuck, Kenna…” I moaned against her ear. “I didn’t even know just how much I missed you until right this second.”

She sighed, rocking back to take more of me.

“I don’t fuck you for a couple of days, and you get so fuckin’ tight. I ain’t hurtin’ you, am I?”

“No.”

It felt so good, so fuckin’ perfect. I wanted it to last for-fuckin’-ever.

Going slow, I took my time, feeling that tiny heartbeat, hearing those sexy little noises and sighs coming from her. Slick, hot, and dripping wet, she was the best slice of heaven.

“Harder,” she said.

I nipped the soft skin where her shoulder and neck met, and her hips jerked, giving me a better angle. She was gripping me so tight that I was losing my damn mind. That awesome sensation shivered down my back, tickling my tailbone, telling me to go faster.

Fuck…

Faster and harder.

“God, Baby, you feel so fuckin’ good. Ain’t nothin’ better than my dick all up in your cunt. Well, maybe my face all up in your cunt. Fuck, I shoulda eaten my fill of you first. Then—”

Kenna squeezed and throbbed on my dick, screaming into the sheets. The fuckin’ dirty talk got her every time. Just like her coming on my dick got me.

Groaning loudly, I went crazy on her ass. I fuckin’ exploded, the load three days large.

Goddamn, that was a powerful one.

I shook a bit afterward.

“Holy hell,” I gasped.

“Too fucking right.” She laughed.

Over the next couple of days, Kenna was able to get ahold of Gavin and Frank. The majority of the population had evacuated. The ones who had stayed behind were mostly the less fortunate who had no real way of leaving.

Kenna had also found Brian fuckin’ Murray, and that absolute douche canoe had mentioned the desperate need for doctors at the makeshift triage facility set up at the airport.

“Kenna, it’s fuckin’ dangerous out there!” I protested. “People are desperate, and they’ll do shit they normally wouldn’t do. The horror stories comin’ from the Superdome—”

“People are desperate for medical assistance, babe—old, sick, and injured. More and more people are being found.”

Most of them dead, I thought. But I kept my mouth shut.

As terrifying as it was for me to let her go, I knew she needed to do this, at least for a little while. I wasn’t filled with that paralyzing fear I had felt the day she had driven off to work to get blown the fuck up, so there was no real reason why I shouldn’t let her go.

Brian picked her up in his fuckin’ pickup truck. Gavin was in the cab, too, so at least she wasn’t alone with the hot paramedic.

Ass.

How it was possible to really admire a person, and in the same breath, hate his fuckin’ guts, I had no clue, but that pretty much summed up my feelings for the motherfucker.

This began the cycle for the next few days. Kenna would leave before the sun would rise, spend the whole day away, and come home late at night, dead fuckin’ tired with just enough energy to stand in the shower before crawling into bed and passing the fuck out.

“Baby, you can’t keep doin’ this to yourself!” I yelled at her.

Her skin was fuckin’ gray, and dark smudges lay beneath her eyes.

“There’s a shortage of doctors. They need every pair of hands available. I’m only helping the people with minor injuries—”

“How the fuck can anyone expect you to take care of anyone else when you’re driving yourself into the ground? Have you seen yourself recently? You look fuckin’ dead!”

That was the wrong fuckin’ thing to say.

She threw me a filthy look before bursting into tears. The last thing her exhausted brain needed was to feel bad about her looks.

“Ah, hell, Kenna Baby,” I grumbled, pulling her into my arms and holding her tight. “You know I didn’t mean you ain’t still beautiful. You’re the most gorgeous dead-lookin’ thing in the whole world.”

A drowned-sounding laugh came from her. “Thanks, babe.”

“I’m serious, Kenna. I ain’t cool with this no more. You can do somethin’ else to help people instead of goin’ to ground fuckin’ zero.”

The guys and I had been going into NOLA every day to help with cleaning up and distributing food and water to people. Day by day, the waters were receding, and the devastation revealed was heartbreaking. Our hometown was unrecognizable.

“People are starting to show signs of illness,” Kenna confessed to me. “The water’s contaminated with sewage and petrochemicals, and we’re seeing people coming in with symptoms of food poisoning and gods-know-what-else…” Sighing, she slumped in my arms. “There are more dead bodies showing up as the water levels drop. It’s…it’s a lot to handle.”

Spirits were at an all-time low. We all felt that each time we ventured into the city. That vibe scared the piss out of me ’cause I knew people were desperate and angry, and the longer they stewed in this misery, that would only spell trouble.

The following day, the guys and I headed for NOLA, taking the highway like we always did. At the city limits, there was a roadblock. Military personnel were evacuating thousands of people.

“Sir, my fiancée is a doctor helpin’ out at the airport,” I said to one of the soldiers at the roadblock from inside the passenger side of the black van.

Jason was driving. No way was I gonna get out with the heavy artillery being shown off by the soldiers.

“Doesn’t matter,” replied the soldier, holding a semiautomatic. “You need to go back. We’ve been given the order to evacuate by force.”

That fuckin’ fear was starting to grow inside me. It was that feeling of knowing something bad would happen to Kenna, and there wasn’t a fuckin’ thing I could do to stop it.

Late that night, Kenna came home, and I nearly fell to my knees, thanking all of her gods for bringing her back to me.

Lifting her filthy, stinking self in my arms, I carried her upstairs, stripped her down, and took her into the shower where I scrubbed her entire body with my two hands.

“You ain’t goin’ in again,” I told her as we slipped under the covers. “I’m serious.”

She sighed, refusing to give me any sort of answer. I knew my Baby Girl. She was planning on getting up in a few hours and going back. Just thinking about her doing that made that horrible fear spark up again. The more time she spent in the city now, the greater the chance that something bad was gonna happen.

Not just bad.

Fuckin’ life-threatening.

This time, I was listening to whatever it was inside me telling me not to let her go. Sleep didn’t come to me at all. Instead, I watched her. She didn’t have an easy time of it. Dreaming some awful shit, her sleep was making her more exhausted. This went on for four hours before her alarm sounded.

Fury ignited within me. She’d set her alarm even earlier in the hopes of sneaking past my ass.

Enough was fuckin’ enough! I grabbed the phone from her hand.

“Hey!” she snapped.

And I chucked the motherfucker across the room. Pinning her beneath me, I grabbed her wrists and yanked them above her head.

“Hey nothin’, Kenna,” I growled, getting in her face. “I’m fuckin’ done. You’re fuckin’ done. I ain’t fuckin’ around, and I ain’t gonna tolerate mutinous bullshit from you either. If I have to fuckin’ tie you to the bed, I’ll do it. Do you fuckin’ understand me?”

Slowly, I ground my dick between her legs, finding her hot and wet.

“People need help,” she spit.

“Not from you,” I retorted. “Doctors who are trained to deal with these sort of situations are bein’ shipped in. You ain’t goin’ back. None of us are. End of fuckin’ argument.”

“But—”

Fuck this.

I grabbed my dick with my free hand and shoved myself inside her. She shut the fuck up, so…mission accomplished. Her eyes went all big and black as her pupils dilated, her sweet mouth parting slightly, her breath catching in her chest.

“I’m ready and willin’ to fight you. And you know that I don’t fuckin’ lose when I have somethin’ worth fightin’ for,” I murmured against her mouth. I pulled out and thrust into her hard. “You wanna fight me?”

“No.”

“Tell me you ain’t goin’ back. Promise me you ain’t even gonna try.”

“I…”

“Now!” I shouted, making her flinch.

“I promise, I won’t go back,” she whispered. “I won’t even try.”

“That’s my Baby Girl,” I told her, rocking into her soft warmth.

She had given me what I wanted, so I had to reward her for that. I fucked her into submission, making her come so many times that I lost count. By the time I let go, she was wrung out, clinging to me.

My Baby Girl fell asleep with me deep inside her, a tiny smile curling up her mouth. For a while, I just held her, grateful to have her so close to me, for letting me be a part of her. When I pulled out, she didn’t even stir.

Fuckin’ tired as all hell, I got up and headed downstairs, making myself a real strong pot of coffee. Kenna had promised me that she wouldn’t leave, and I believed her. I trusted her to keep her word, but just in case her ethics or morality or whatever got the better of her, I decided it would be best to stay awake.

As I was pouring myself a mug of alarmingly black brew, there came a knock at my front door. Wearing only a pair of shorts, I wondered if I should put something else on, but fuck it, I opened the door anyway.

Brian fuckin’ Murray.

He looked just as wasted as Kenna, smudges of the sleeplessness shadowing his eyes. He was dead pale, too, looking real Irish.

“What?” I snapped, not feeling in the mood to stuff my jealousy away.

He’d been working side by side with Kenna for the last week and a half, and it pissed me off that he’d spent more time with her than I had. It pissed me off that he was too fuckin’ good-looking, too.

“Good morning to you, too,” he replied on the dry side.

“She ain’t goin’ with you today. Sorry, but I ain’t riskin’ my Baby Girl’s health and especially not her life.”

A ghost of a smile played about his mouth. “It’s all good, man. We’re not allowed back in the city. Is she here?”

“Yeah.”

Rolling his eyes and huffing, he said, “I’d like to speak with her.”

“Tough shit.”

Yeah, that felt good. I liked getting this guy pissy.

“Who the fuck do you think you are, telling her who she can and can’t speak with?” he snapped at me.

Lazily, I leaned my massive ass against the doorframe and took a sip of coffee. Fuck that was some strong shit. It just might put hair on my chest.

“Well,” I said, acting as though I was bored to hell, “I am the man she’s marryin’, the man she lives with, the man she sleeps with—”

“This is bullshit, Phil—”

“No, it ain’t. She’s fuckin’ sleepin’ right now, and the way she’s been workin’, I plan to let her sleep for as long as she needs. I ain’t wakin’ her up just so you can fuckin’ speak with her.”

Brian relaxed. “Oh.”

“So…I’ll let her know you came by,” I told him. “Was there somethin’ important she needed to know?”

He shook his head. “No. Just that we wouldn’t be needed anymore. The military has it covered.”

Excellent. “I’ll let her know.”

“Thanks,” he said.

I watched him head back to the front of the house, and after a few seconds, I heard the sound of his truck engine turning. Just to make sure, I dropped off my mug on the kitchen counter and took the stairs two at a time up to the bedroom, my heart in my throat.

Kenna was sleeping peacefully. Shame coursed through me for letting my head mess with me. She’d promised she wouldn’t go back, and here I was, thinking she might have snuck out while using Brian as a diversion.

My Baby Girl wasn’t like that.

From the doorway, I watched her sleep like the creepy fiancé I was. I didn’t care. Nothing compared to knowing she was safe.

In the weeks that followed, we all realized New Orleans’ healing would be a long, slow process. With a heavy heart, NOLA’s Junk made the decision to move to Lafayette for the time being. We had a job to do, and we needed a studio to do it, so we bought up a warehouse and soundproofed it.

We ended up renting a massive duplex, each side containing six bedrooms and bathrooms. Jason, Sheri, Flipper, Viv, and Connor took one side while X, Alys, Lili, Lewis, Kenna, and I took the other.

We were beyond lucky in that we’d had nearly every piece of our equipment with us on the road while on tour and found a high-security storage place to put it in.

By the end of October, the Lafayette studio was set up, and we were in touch with several bands who were interested in recording under our label.

Bougainvillea had suffered some damage from flooding and wind, but it wasn’t too extensive. It’d be good to see that place in action again, but I wasn’t gonna push my luck. Many people would never return to NOLA. There might not even be a crowd that could fill it up once it reopened, and that thought was depressing.

While all this was going on, Kenna had started working at a local rehab center three days a week. The woman constantly felt the need to work, so Tuesday through Thursday, she would do her doctor thing, and then she’d travel around to music hot spots the rest of the time, helping us look for new talent. The two of us made a decent fuckin’ team, and the pure joy on her face each time we went out to watch bands was well worth the effort.

With little encouragement, she was writing reviews and sharing them with me. I wasn’t only sharing them with the guys, but I was also secretly sending them to an acquaintance of mine—Michaela “Mike” O’Flaherty, a music journalist—back in New York.

Mike had called me after reading a few of them and confirmed what I’d already suspected—that Kenna was fuckin’ brilliant. She had a way with words, a way of describing the music that was unlike anything Mike had ever encountered before. She wanted to meet my Baby Girl, and I wanted to make that happen.

The week before Thanksgiving, I planned a trip to New York for the two of us to check out some up-and-coming bands. We’d be leaving on Thursday after her shift and return on Monday night.

My Baby Girl was fuckin’ glowing as she packed her suitcase, excited to be going to Manhattan. Stephen—front man for Black Prophecy—and his wife, Tara, were putting us up for the time we would be there. It had been a while since we’d seen them.

After a quick, uneventful flight, Stephen and Tara met us at baggage claim, and took us straight to a sushi restaurant where we pigged out and sucked down a decent amount of warm sake.

“I heard you and Devon made up,” Stephen mentioned.

“Yeah, man. Get a load of this,” I said.

Then, I told him and Tara all the shit that had gone down while on tour, except for the whole part where Kenna had pulled the brakes on our relationship. Her lips twitched when she realized I was leaving that bit out.

“I have to admit, I was shocked to see the photo of you and Brigid in that restaurant.” Tara sniffed.

They’d both met Brigid when we were in Switzerland all those years ago.

“Brigid passed away,” said Kenna softly.

Stephen and Tara looked stunned.

“What happened?” asked Tara.

“She committed suicide by OD,” I replied.

Kenna’s hand reached beneath the table to squeeze my knee. Turning my eyes to hers, I smiled sadly, and she returned it. Brigid’s death had affected her, too. For the life of me, I couldn’t understand why I hadn’t seen it before. Maybe because she never talked about it, or because, in my own grief, I’d never considered hers.

Kenna had fought to save her. She’d stepped up and done everything within her power to bring Brigid back.

“Oh, Kenna Baby…” I said softly, leaning over and pressing my lips to hers. “You know it wasn’t your fault.”

Her throat worked hard as she swallowed, and she sipped some sake. “I know.”

“Why would you think it was your fault?” asked Stephen.

“She was amazin’, you guys, like just levelheaded and calm, while the rest of us were losin’ our shit. Well, her brother was pretty stable, too—”

“He helped me,” she interjected.

“Sure, sure,” I conceded. “Kenna did CPR until the medics arrived. But, really, Brigid was already too long gone. She’d left Devon a note tellin’ him…I don’t know what. But it was a suicide note.”

“What happened after that? Have you spoken to Devon since?” asked Stephen.

Nodding, I replied, “Yeah. I talk to him a couple of times a week. We had to go back to NOLA, but he got in touch with her sister, Ingrid. Once everythin’ was finalized, they decided to have Brigid cremated in Nevada, and he brought her back to Amsterdam.”

“How are you holding up, Phil?” Tara asked, shooting a furtive glance at Kenna.

“Bummed, but no more than expected,” I replied. “I wasn’t close with Brigid anymore. Hadn’t been for a long-ass time. And when we were datin’, I can’t say I was really that involved either.”

“What’s it like in New Orleans?” Stephen thankfully changed the subject.

“Awful,” replied Kenna.

Not that that subject was any better.

Kenna

Stephen and Tara’s apartment was freaking palatial. The elevator, accessed by a key, brought us up to the top floor and opened into a magnificent foyer made of white Italian marble and black walls with at least fifty silver-framed mirrors of varying sizes. It was…different. Certainly posh compared to our style of living.

Through the archway was an open-plan massive living area, dining room, and by the gods, a kitchen of epicness. The same Italian marble graced the floors, but the walls in the living room were a deep dark red. Panoramic windows provided relief from the bold colors with a view of an amazing skyline. Their furniture was plush black leather and chrome.

Wow.

Phil smirked at me, his eyes giving me a sly sort of glance.

“You guys too beat, or do you want to hang out?” asked Tara.

“Yes, and yes,” I replied.

Tara laughed. “Go show them their room, Stephen.”

Stephen led the way down the hall to the right, carrying my small suitcase. He opened the last door on the left, and we entered a huge bedroom that was so purple, I had to blink a couple of times. I supposed it was quite lovely, and it was big with a bathroom en suite. The floor-to-ceiling windows on the far wall showed a sweet view of a glittering Manhattan, once again giving a bit of relief to the severe amount of bold color. The bed was a king, nestled in a wrought-iron four-poster frame with black velvet and white silk drapes, white satin bedspread, and a white shag rug beneath the large bed.

“Damn, man,” said Phil, giving a long, low whistle.

“It’s dark in here now, but the morning light will wake you up just fine. And the windows are mirrored. No one can see in, if you catch my drift.”

Drift caught, I thought dryly.

“And don’t worry about keeping shit tidy or anything. We’ve got a housekeeper.”

Dropping off our stuff, we headed back into the living room and plopped onto the black leather love seat. We hung out, chitchatting and attempting to keep the atmosphere light since the conversation at dinner had nose-dived into the depressing.

In all honesty, I knew Phil was more than bummed about Brigid, and once we were alone in our bedroom, I found the balls to bring it up.

As he tugged off his shirt from back to front, the way I liked, I watched him from my seat on the edge of the bed for a few beats before asking, “Do you want to talk about Brigid?”

Giving me a surprised look, he asked, “Do you?”

I shrugged. “Well…I guess maybe I do. I mean, you lost someone close to you—”

“We weren’t close, Kenna. We hadn’t been for a long time.”

Dismissing that with a wave of my hand, I started untying my boots. “You know what I mean.”

Phil squatted down before me and took over the task of unlacing. “What do you want to know, Baby Girl?”

He tugged off my boots, and I was so engrossed with watching the powerful muscles of his chest that my mouth went dry, and any questions I’d had momentarily dissipated within my brain.

“Kenna?” he asked, cocking an eyebrow.

Heaving a sigh, I said, “It’s just that, when we got back home, with the hurricane and working all the time, I sort of put the whole Brigid situation out of my head. I didn’t have to think about it, and looking back, I realize you didn’t have that luxury.”

Phil stood, towering above me. The Dark God of the Universe kicked off his boots and undid his belt buckle.

“It sucks,” he told me, walking away and removing the rest of his clothes.

Getting up, I started to undress. After I pulled off my sweater, Phil stood before me, stark naked, arms crossed over his huge chest, just watching. His eyes were nearly black, narrowed and contemplative.

“What are you thinking?” I asked.

“I’m wonderin’ how you’re feeling about the whole thing.”

Sighing again, I took off the rest of my clothes and threw them on top of his pile on the black leather armchair in the corner of the room. Then, I turned and crawled into the bed, the satin sheets slippery and cool against my skin. The bed next to me sagged beneath his weight, and I rolled onto my side to face him.

“I’m waitin’,” he said.

“I feel guilty,” I told him. “Not about her dying. I mean, I feel bad about that, too, but about not being there for you. Whether or not you two were close, she was someone special to you, and I…I left you to deal with her death on your own. I think that I insisted on working as hard as I did, so I wouldn’t have to witness you grieving for her.”

Propping his head in his hand, he looked down at me, and I could swear he was judging me. It made me feel all squirmy inside.

“You really think that?”

“In some way…yeah. I didn’t like her. I was insanely jealous of her—”

“I think she was insanely jealous of you.”

“Only because she didn’t have you,” I replied.

His free hand reached out and trailed fingertips softly up my arm. “She never really had me at all. What I feel guilty about is the fact that I never loved her when, apparently, she thought she loved me. After I left, she started hittin’ the needle hard. I can’t help but feel like maybe I was the one who had pushed her into it.”

“Ridiculous,” I scoffed. Yet…if he ever decided to leave me, what would I do in order to cope? Would I search for a way to escape the pain his leaving had caused? I didn’t know, but I could admit, it wasn’t out of the realm of possibility.

“What are you thinkin’ now?”

“That if I ever had to face you leaving me—”

“No, Baby Girl.”

“Hypothetically—”

“Not happenin’. I can hardly stand to spend a few hours away from you,” he said, his voice starting to take on that dangerous quality that did funny things to my female parts. “Let alone even think about leavin’ you.”

“We’re getting off the subject.”

“You started it,” he grunted.

“Well, what I was trying to tell you was that maybe Brigid using heroin wasn’t so ridiculous. Maybe losing you did hurt her enough to want to find a way to dull the pain. I could relate to that, okay? But, in the end, it was her choice, and that sort of blame shouldn’t be laid at your feet.”

“I wonder if I could’ve prevented her from takin’ her own life, like maybe if I had been nicer about the whole thing. I was a bit of a dick—”

“So was she,” I huffed under my breath.

He gave me a lopsided grin. “Yeah, she was. But still…”

“Still, I should’ve realized she was unhinged. I knew that she was using.”

“It’s the worst for Devon,” he said softly.

“I think, when she realized that she wouldn’t be able to just snap her fingers and fix things between them, she just…gave up on everything. She couldn’t have you, she couldn’t have him, and she was fucked in the head from whatever shit she had gone through with the Cannibals.”

Phil nodded, lightly tracing his fingers around the outer curve of my breast and down my rib cage. Scooting closer, he slid his arm around my waist and pulled me into his warmth. Distracted by his thick cock pressing into my abdomen, I automatically pushed into it.

“Do you want it?” he asked, his voice deep and smooth.

“D-do you?”

Motherfucker could make me breathless and incoherent, even after being together for more than a year.

“I always want you,” he replied. “I could spend the rest of my life inside you.” He pulled my thigh up over his hip. Positioning himself, he dragged my body against him as he thrust forward.

Nothing else felt so right. He pulled me even closer, so our chests pressed together. Still, he watched me, searching…

“I am sorry she’s gone,” he said. “But I said my good-byes a long time ago. She hurt you, and she tried her damnedest to hurt us. It’s hard for me to forgive her for that.”

He was so deep inside me that I could hardly concentrate on what he was saying.

All I could get out was a gasped, “Okay.”

Slowly, he pulled out until only the head of him remained inside, and then he just as slowly pushed back in. The centers of his eyes expanded, swallowing up the maple-sugar irises.

His voice taking on rich dimensions that warmed parts of me not often recognized, he said, “You’re my other half. The only way my life makes any sense is if you’re in it.”

“Something like that…” I breathed.

His gaze was so intense that I wasn’t sure I’d be able to hold it for much longer.

“Exactly like that,” he stated.

After sleeping in until ten in the morning, Phil and I headed out for food and coffee and…shopping. He was like a chick with the shopping shit, insisting on getting me a whole wardrobe of warm clothing.

“We live in Louisiana,” I reminded him.

“For the most part, yeah, but we’ve been traveling around a lot, and…”

“And?”

He grinned wickedly.

The “and” turned out to be Phil taking me to a gorgeous, huge apartment. At first, I was clueless as to why we were even there.

“What do you think?” he asked.

It was clean with bright white walls and pinewood floors and spacious with a killer kitchen and a wrought-iron spiral staircase that led up to the bedrooms. “It’s beautiful.”

“You want it?”

Startled, I turned my eyes on him. “What?”

“I was thinkin’ of gettin’ us a place here. There’s always one or two of us flyin’ here for somethin’ or other, and I was hopin’ you’d want to come here more often and check out the music scene.”

“Oh.”

“So…you want this one?”

I looked around again, absolutely loving the place. “Yeah. Yeah, it’s really awesome, babe.”

“Thank fuck. I already put an offer in,” he said, jingling the keys. “The realtor should be here any second, and I’ll tell them we’ll take it.”

“Damn. Just like that?”

“Just like that,” he replied with a smile.