“Yeah.You make me want things I don’t do.”
Vic traced a finger down her spine.“Like what?”
“Like letting someone stay the night,” she admitted quietly.“Like thinking about them when they’re gone.”
His expression softened.He didn’t push.He just leaned in and kissed her—slow and deep this time.
They talked for hours after that.Crazy conversations that jumped from the best/worst gigs they’d ever played, to childhood stories, to what they were both terrified of.Vic told her about his dad.Bonnie told him about her mother’s constant disapproval.Neither of them flinched from the dark parts.
Then they had sex again.Slower this time.Each touch and movement threaded through with new and delicate tender affection.
***
The pattern startedthat night and continued for the next two weeks.
Bonnie would text him after a gig or he’d call her after rehearsal.One of them would come to the other’s place.The sex was always intense.
The first full evening after the initial night was pure fire.
Vic showed up at her door with a six-pack and a crooked grin.They didn’t even make it to the bedroom.Bonnie pushed him against the wall in the hallway, dropping to her knees before he could speak.The way he groaned her name when she took him in her mouth made her feel powerful.When he finally pulled her up and took her against the wall, hard and deep, she came so intensely she saw stars.
Later, entwined on her couch, they talked about everything and nothing.Vic told her about standing up for Benny’s gear the day he arrived.Bonnie confessed how terrified she was of needing anyone.They laughed about stupid band stories and argued about the best drummers in rock history.
The sex that night was frantic and filthy—on the kitchen counter, then in her bed, then again in the shower at 3 a.m.Each time they pushed each other harder, daring the other to keep up.
***
Afew nights later, the tone shifted.
They drove over to Bear’s garage studio, hitting the space after Vic was pretty sure everyone else had left.Vic brought his acoustic.They sat cross-legged on the floor, trading riffs and half-formed lyrics until four in the morning.The chemistry was so strong that when Slate, Benny’s brother, heard the rough mixes later, he just shook his head and said, “Well, damn.”
When they finally made it back to Bonnie’s house, the sex was slower.More intense.Less about release and more about connection.Vic held her gaze the entire time, like he was trying to memorize every reaction.Bonnie found herself whispering things she’d never said to anyone—how scared she was of how good this felt.
Afterward, lying with her head on his chest, she traced the tattoos on his arm and felt her walls cracking just a little more.
***
The third full eveningwas the most dangerous.
Bonnie texted him at midnight after a particularly rough gig.He was there in twenty minutes.The sex was wild again—against the wall, on the floor, her riding him so hard the bed frame slammed against the wall.They laughed and cursed and challenged each other until they were both wrecked.
But when they lay together afterward, Bonnie felt the panic rising.
She was falling.
Hard.
And that terrified her more than anything ever had.
Vic sensed it.He didn’t push, but he held her a little tighter, stroking her back in slow circles.
“You okay?”he asked quietly.
Bonnie didn’t answer.She just pressed her face into his chest and tried to ignore the way her heart was racing for reasons that had nothing to do with the sex.
