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I fight the urge to come completely undone standing in a crowd of thousands of people, pushing thoughts of a fully naked Bordeaux on top of me to the back of my mind… at least for now.
Forty
Bordeaux
Kalopsia (n.) the delusion of
things being more beautiful than
they really are.
___________
I normally love meeting fans, signing things for them, talking to them, even for the small amount of time I’m given to interact with them. But tonight, as I’m doing all the things I usually enjoy, all I can think about is how Isla is waiting for me in my dressing room. I sign the last of the items and take a few photos with the remaining fans waiting for us, then hightail it to Isla.
She looks fucking gorgeous in her tight, distressed dark denim jeans. They cling to her body, emphasizing the curves of her hips that I love so much. She’s paired it with a silk-looking strapless top and all I can think about it is pulling it down and exposing her perfect chest. I close the distance between us, wrapping my arms around her and picking her up in my arms. I breathe in her already familiar and intoxicating scent.
The combination of Isla in my arms and coming off another perfect show is almost more than I can handle.
“God, I can’t even explain how much I need you right now,” I say against her neck, kissing her skin. She tastes like vanilla and honey. I pull back and look into her eyes, trying my best to tame my dick before it explodes in my jeans. I need her so bad. “How’d you like the show, sugar?”
A smile breaks out on her face, and she nods. “I can’t even put into words how incredible you guys were. I saw you at Iconic, but this is a whole new world. It’s like you had all those people totally memorized in some kind of trance. The way you moved on that stage…” Her voice trails off as she slowly shakes her head, running her tongue over her lips.
I reach up and cup her face in my hands. I love holding her like this, feeling her in my hands. “What about it, sugar?”
A blush creeps up on her cheeks and I smile, not used to seeing her get embarrassed. She’s usually so controlled, so disciplined and confident.
“I think I fell for you even more in those couple of hours,” she says, and while it isn’t what I was expecting, but it makes my heart run wild in my chest. I’m still coming to terms with the fact that we told each other we love each other before I left. I have never told anyone I love them before. Ever. Not in my entire life. And it was one of the reasons I never let anyone in, because I didn’t know how I could possibly be capable of it. But my rebel heart thinks otherwise.
This is the woman I’d give it all up for. And as much as we both tried to give ourselves reasons to not give in to each other, I think it says something that we’re together right now.
Isla takes my hands and pulls me down onto the couch with her. She straddles me, wrapping her arms around my neck. “I’ve never seen this side of you before. Just when I think you’ve let me totally in, you go surprising me again. I’ve seen the Bordeaux at the record shop. The one who was my fake date for a wedding. The one at the recording studio.” She pauses, a mischievous smile playing on her face as she bites her bottom lip, driving me insane. “But this version of you is entirely different.”
I’ve never really thought about it like that, but she’s right. There are multiple sides of me, sides I don’t let everyone see. But when I get on the stage, I feel like I’m my truest self. Like I could die on stage and be happy. Nothing in the world matters, and it’s just me and the band and the music and the crowd, and it’s the most exhilarating feeling in the world. I try to be a hard ass in my regular life, but when I’m on stage, everything hits different.
“Which is your favorite version?” I ask her, curious.
Isla tilts her head to the side and her eyes stray down my body before meeting my stare once more. “This one,” she says. “The one when you’re with me.”
God, I fucking love her.
If you look up love in the dictionary—which I did after I told her, when we left for tour—you’ll find that it says love is an “intense feeling of deep affection.” I don’t know why I’ve made it so fucking complicated in my head all my life. Mommy and Daddy issues, I guess. But I was flipping my shit about saying I love her and then leaving, but when I read the definition, I was like… yeah. Wow. Okay. I do love her. Every time I see her, all I want to do is protect this woman. I want to hold her and make sure she’s safe. I want to do anything I can to make her happy and take care of her.
It doesn’t matter that I’ve only known her a few weeks. She’s fucking everything. And love doesn’t seem even half as complicated as it did before she walked into my life.
* * *
Two hours, too many slices of pizza, and one hotel room rental later, I finally have Isla all to myself. We hung out with the band for a while—minus Flynn, who ran to the nearest Walmart with a couple of our security guys for some essentials he’s ran out of.
I love how seamlessly Isla just fits with my crew. It’s like she’s always been part of us, like there wasn’t a time she wasn’t here. But as much as I loved seeing her interact with my best friends, I think selfishly, I love keeping her to myself a bit more.
She’s laying back on her elbows, naked on the white sheets when I come out of the bathroom. I’m turned-on just by her sheer existence, but seeing her naked stops me in my tracks. It isn’t that I haven’t seen her naked before, but I still can’t get over how fucking perfect she is, like a slice of heaven in the flesh. She smiles at me, and I crawl up onto the bed, wanting to devour every single inch of her.
I start at her feet and trail kisses up her legs to her thighs. Her skin is so soft and smooth, I revel in it as I take in her sweet scent.
“You were incredible up there, you know,” Isla says, her voice low and filled with desire. “I’ve never seen anything like that, B. Those people worship you.”
I stop and look up at her.
