He follows over the edge a moment later, his body tensing as he comes with a deep, guttural sound that makes my entire body pulse with satisfaction. I did that for him, and my name is the only thing on his mind.
Coming undone together—it feels like more than sex.
It feels like surrender.
Something sacred.
He collapses beside me, dragging the duvet cover over our tangled limbs as his fingers trace random strokes across my chest and down my arm before curling protectively around my hand like he’s afraid to let me go.
I’ve always hated the term making love.
But sex feels too basic.
Because, the thing is—this feels like coming home.
The next morning, I climb into the front booth in the common area of the bus. I pass my luggage off to the band’s production crew, clutching a cup of hot tea and wearing the most comfortable thing I can think of—leggings and one of Grayson’s tour t-shirts. It’s soft, worn, and smells just like him.
Grayson slides into the booth next to me, pressing a kiss to my cheek. When he pulls away, that smug grin is already in place—like he isn’t the least bit embarrassed about being walked in on after the most intimate moment of our relationship the night before.
“You look so damn good in my clothes,” he murmurs in my ear.
I blush wildly, but I know I’m certainly not looking forward to seeing everyone’s reaction to our recent activities. My sex life is something I prefer to keep private, but that line blurs fast when you live in a rolling tin can, albeit a luxurious one, with seven other people.
Eric walks in first, dramatically shielding his eyes then slowly sneaking a peek at us.
“Oh good, clothes! Wouldn’t want to be traumatizedtwice.”
Grayson stifles a laugh into his coffee. “You were the one who came in without knocking.”
“It was aband dressing room!” Eric shouts, though I can tell he’s enjoying the banter. “Not a Motel Six!”
The rest of the gang arrives shortly after. Rylee plops herself into the booth across from Grayson and me, a mischievous sparkle in her eyes.
“It’s about damn time you two sealed the deal. I’m just saying.”
“Did you tell Jake about the couch?” Johanna asks from the kitchenette as she makes one of her disgusting, greenpower smoothies.
“Oh, I told him,” Tony laughs as he tosses his backpack on his bunk. “You know the little forehead vein he gets when we’re late for soundcheck? That thing waspopping. Like… level ten.”
Brandon shakes his head and takes his seat next to his sister. “I’m pretty sure it’s always on level ten.”
Grayson leans into me and murmurs under his breath, “They’re not going to shut up about this, are they?”
“Not a chance,” I smile into my mug. “It’s all your fault.”
“I’m pretty sure you were an equal participant in last night’s… escapades.”
“Escapades?” I giggle. “Who are you, James Bond?”
He grins. “Only for you, beautiful.”
Rylee leans across our table, looking between us knowingly. “So… Can I start planning the wedding playlist now?”
“Rylee,” I groan, a knot forming in my chest.
Not even a month prior, Grayson finalized a divorce. The last thing I want is to spook him with the marriage talk so soon.
“I have, like, at least five options for a first dance song already,” she says, totally unfazed as I kick her leg sharply under the table. “What can I say? I’m nothing if not prepared.”
