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“Okay, well I’m gonna show Lennon around the bus. I’ll catch up with you guys later.”
“Sounds good.” Hank nods, collecting the cards between him and Zeke as he prepares to deal out another game.
Hudson bumps fists with Oliver as we pass, heading into a long hallway that houses bunk beds on each side. I follow him to the very back of the bus that opens to a small bedroom, dipping inside when he holds the door open for me.
“Is this your room?” I ask, looking around the small but very nice space.
“This is my home away from home.” He drops down onto the bed before patting the space beside him.
“This is not at all what I pictured,” I admit, taking in the dark tinted windows on either side of the room and the small private bathroom tucked in the corner.
“No?” he questions when I slide down next to him, tucking one leg under myself so that I’m facing him.
“The bunks out there is more of what I envisioned but everything else.” I shake my head. “It’s like a small house in here. You’ve got a living room and kitchen combo.” I gesture to the vicinity of where the guys are. “Guest rooms.” I point toward the door where the bunks are located. “And you even have your own private master.” I run my hand along the deep red comforter beneath me.
“You think this is something, you should see Travis’ bus. If mine’s a house then his is a mansion.” He laughs, looking around the space.
“Perhaps I’ll go ask if I can see it,” I tease, not missing the way Hudson’s jaw twitches when I do.
“Careful,” he warns, squeezing my thigh.
“You know I’m only kidding. There’s only one tour bus I want to see and this is it.” I smile, pushing up on my knees before crawling into Hudson’s lap, my legs wrapping around his back and my arms going around the back of his neck.
“Yeah, you better say that,” he murmurs, running his lips across my jaw.
“If you had told me when we met that I’d be here with you now, on your tour bus, I never would have believed it.”
“Funny how life works.” Hudson runs his nose up the side of my neck, inhaling me. “God you smell good.” He groans, thrusting his hips upward slightly so I can feel him hard beneath me.
“I probably smell like you,” I counter, pushing down to grind myself on him.
“Why would you smell like me?” He smiles, pulling back to look up at me.
“Because you haven’t stopped rubbing yourself all over me since last night,” I inform him, scratching my nails along his scruff.
“Is that a bad thing?” he asks, cocking his head to the side.
“Quite the opposite actually.” I shift my hips, pressing into him again. “I’m thinking I’d like you to be rubbing on me right now,” I purr, sliding my hands into the back of his hair as my mouth settles over his.
“You want to christen my tour bus, do you?” He groans when I slide my tongue into his mouth.
“That depends...” I pause, my face hovering so close to his that all I can see are his dark eyes.
“You would be the first,” he cuts in like he knows exactly where my mind is going. “The first and the only.” He shifts, lifting us both up as he turns and deposits me on the bed beneath him.
“Well in that case.” I lift my arms so he can peel my shirt off. “Christen away, Mr. Demasi.”
—-
“So will you have thesame bus the next time you go on tour?” I ask, my body curled into Hudson’s under the blankets.
“Doubtful. Usually the label leases the buses. I think it depends on what’s available. Obviously their higher end stock is reserved for the bigger artists.”
“Which you are quickly becoming,” I interject.
“Maybe.” He shrugs like he’s unsure, which is completely out of character for him. “I don’t know. Some days I think I’m just waiting for the rug to get ripped out from underneath me.”
I sit up, doing a ninety degree turn so that I’m facing where he’s lying, propped up on pillows with his hands tucked underneath his head. “What do you mean?” I question, criss-crossing my legs in front of myself as I tug the blanket up to my chin.
