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I doubted the latter. He could have no idea what his angry, gruffly spoken confessions did to me. “You’ll have to give me space sometimes, taking into account what our work schedules are like when we’re not having downtime,” I pointed out.
He idly lifted one shoulder. “You’re on tour, I’ll go with you. I’m on tour, you’ll come with me.”
“Oh will I now?”
“Yeah, you will. Got a problem with that?”
I inwardly sighed. God, he was a demanding bastard at times. “Would it matter if I did?”
“No.” He rolled me onto my back and draped his body over mine. “I want in you again.”
“Well. maybe I want to talk instead and—” I sucked in a breath as two fingers thrust deep inside me. “Jesus, Kaiser.”
He hummed. “Missed this pussy.”
“Missed your cock.”
“Good, because it’s about to pound into you until we both come again.”
Like I’d complain.
Chapter Twelve
As the green room door closed behind the stylist, I rose from the plush sofa and slowly walked toward Kaiser. “Looking good, Wolfe.”
Actually, he looked sexy as hell even as he stuck with his minimal color habit. Black faded, scuffed jeans. Plain white T-shirt. Brown leather cuffs. Navy-blue beaded bracelets. An Ace of Spades Playing Card charm dangling from a thin, stainless steel chain. Completing the look was his signature black leather jacket.
Sometimes, I couldn’t quite believe that this man was mine.
He fairly hummed with energy and intensity right now, much like he always did before a performance. Seeing him all revved up never failed to make me want to lick him from head to toe. He would be just as sexily revved up afterwards, but I wouldn’t get the chance to do any licking then either. Hyped up on adrenaline, he’d want nothing more than to fuck me like a savage with little foreplay involved. I was always up for that.
I let out a little hum. “I’m thinking lots of inappropriate thoughts right now.”
His gray eyes gleamed with a smile. “Always objectifying me. As it’s you, I’ll tolerate it.”
I snickered. The dude really didn’t like being ogled or flirted with. Which, from what I’d observed, was rare when it came to the rich and famous. Women often tried surrounding him at events but, honestly, he just marched forward like they weren’t even there—forcing them to either move or get mowed down. It made me smile every time.
“On another note, are you ready to go kill it out there?” I asked.
He lifted his bottle and knocked back some water. “Always am.”
“Last night of your tour,” I mused. While the tours he’d went on before we’d gotten together had generally lasted four months, he’d refused to go on the road for longer than two months this time. “You looking forward to getting back home?”
He gave a flippant shrug.
I snorted. “You might not be missing Redwater, but you’ll be glad to see Judy.” His reason for doing a short tour was that he didn’t want us to leave her alone for too long—he just wouldn’t admit it.
He shrugged again. “She’s like you. Grows on people. Like fungus.”
“Well that’s lovely.”
It was really a good thing that I wasn’t a woman who needed compliments, because I very rarely received any from him. Nor did I hear professions of love, but that didn’t matter. He showed that he cared in other ways. Like having my name tattooed over his heart.
I’d gotten a wolf-head tattoo over my own heart in a similar gesture. And it had sparked a sort of game where we’d each alternate in getting a tattoo to honor the other, and he seemed determined to one-up me. It was a kind of ‘I care for you more than you do me’ thing.
He’d recently gotten a huge chest tat for me—an image of my exact guitar with a rose at its base and my first name imprinted on the handle. I still hadn’t worked out how I’d yet beat that, but I’d do it for certain.
“I had an offer on the house,” he said.
