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Nine years ago—motel room, Richmond
“Midnight Rider” is blasting out of the cheap motel room Adam Stix, Regulator’s asshole singer checked into after the sold-out show.
I watched Regulator’s performance from backstage. It’s a miracle Dad let me leave when we sat down together, and told him the news of me being pregnant. He wanted to punch my husband’s lights out, I don’t blame him, most days I have the same urge.
The roar and the anticipation from the audience is the one thing that never gets old. People clapping and shouting “Regulator” over and over. Mister Guitar Hotshot killed it onstage. Navarone loves the limelight and couldn’t resist the girls standing in front of the podium, who showed him their appreciation of his guitar solos by raising their shirts while he flashed them his crooked grin. And I hated it.
I brush a restless hand through my hair, filling the bucket with ice cubes. His drinking has gotten out of hand the last couple of weeks on the road. It’s like the more venues they sell out, the more he and his fellow bandmates make it their mission to help all the booze on their rider disappear. I haven’t touched anything since stepping on the tour bus, because of the kid I’ve got growing inside me, a big fact he keeps ignoring.
One night after a show when we were alone, I told him I wasn’t feeling well, but he had been too drunk to register anything other than the minibar. I even tried talking to him about his drug and alcohol-filled past when he was touring with his father and Sterling as a teenager. I only got a grunt and a, “that’s all in the past,” from him.
A couple crew guys leaning against the railing and smoking cigarettes say hello to me when I pass them on my way back to Adam Stix’s room.
I don’t understand why I’m feeling like this; I should be happy, fuck we should be taking on this adventure together, not alone like I’ve been doing the last couple of weeks. Somehow I’ve lost ten pounds. I miss my best friends. I miss Nashville. I love the son of a bitch, my husband. But, looking at my ring, I realize it is time for me to go home, with or without him. I need to rest, I need to figure out how I’m going to take care of our kid.
When we are not on the bus, we either spend time onstage or in cheap motel rooms. I love it when we are alone. I still need to get to know him better. Sometimes I look at him and that devilish, handsome smile takes my breath away. I do love the times we write songs together.
I have no idea why he doesn’t want to start a band with his brother. Sterling has pleaded with him to come back to Nashville and try and make it work. Rone loves country music; the songs he has written are all number-one hits my dad could help produce.
I don’t understand what he is trying to find out here on the road to fucking nowhere.
But I stay with him, because at the end of the day, I love him.
“More booze!” Navarone roars, grabbing the bucket of ice from me. The boys holler and take the drinks from him. I walk to the corner and lean against the wall. Our eyes lock from across the room when he motions to ask if I want a drink. I shake my head, of course not asshole.
Some fake blonde with big tits walks over to my man and starts whispering something in his ear. He shakes his head before handing her a shot glass. Her hand lingers on his arm, rubbing up and down while she leans in. He laughs at something she says before draining the shot. The next thing I know, I’m walking over and pushing her away from him. She shrieks and falls into Adam’s lap. He doesn’t register the fake rack grinding against his chest while he lies passed out on the motel bed.
Navarone puts his hand around my waist, pulling me toward him. His erection presses against my leg through the fabric of his jeans. “What do you say we go back to our room?” he says, waggling his eyebrows.
George slaps him on the shoulder before holding up another bottle of whiskey. “Nightcap, man?”
Rone smirks, taking the bottle from him and draining it in one swig.
“I’ll see you in a couple,” I tell him.
He nods, swinging back another shot handed to him by Adam, who is finally awake. Last time he laced it with something “for fun” and Rone went straight out of his mind, trashing the hotel room.
He needs to stop drinking, stop with the drugs. I pleaded with him but he never quits.
I walk back to our room, grabbing my stomach when something stabs deep inside. I hold onto the door, trying to catch my breath. I take a quick shower, hoping the warmth will ease the aching pain I feel. Covering myself with a big towel, I let out a cry when Navarone grabs my hand and spins me against the wall.
“Not easy to stay away when I know you are here,” he drawls. Kissing me, he pushes me against the cold brick. One lamp casts a low light in the room. Tasting the alcohol on his lips and breath, I wince. He lifts me up from under my butt. The towel falls and he growls when he sees my naked body. Holding me close, he stumbles to the bed where he collapses on top of me, knocking the wind right out of my chest.
“Fuck, Navarone,” I whisper, pushing against him.
He growls again, kissing my neck, his hands moving up and down my naked body. Goose bumps break out where his warm fingers cover my cold skin. All of a sudden I’m dizzy, about ready to throw up, and shivering cold at the same time.
“I don’t feel so good. Can we please go to sleep?”
He grunts, not stopping, instead taking possession of my mouth. My body betrays me as I push myself against his erection. He holds my hands up high, locking our fingers together, keeping them prisoner above my head. I groan when he bites my nipple, his tongue swirling around the tip and pulling with his lips. Moaning, I shiver from the cold and the sensation of his hot, wet mouth on my feverish skin.
“That’s it,” he purrs, pushing my legs apart with his muscular thigh. He holds my hands above my head, his tongue making its way to my collarbone, leaving a trail of saliva. After wetting his fingers, he finds the little nub and circles my clit, and I become drenched with each stroke of his hand.
“Let’s see how wet I can make you, shall we? Damn, I love it when you let me fuck you hard,” he growls.
His wet fingers dip inside me, and my back bucks off the mattress.
“Always ready, aren’t you?”
