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“And, I don’t know. I love you. I want to keep loving you. I want us to be on the road and be a zillion years old.”
“You can haul my oxygen tank onstage.”
“That’s a safety hazard on so many levels.”
“I love you so fucking much, Lyndsey Eliza Vynse.”
Vince crosses the room and grabs my waist, pulling me into his embrace, protectively. He kisses me with the passion of a thousand screaming fans in a thousand stadiums. His taste is intoxicating and familiar, and I feel myself melting into him.
Pleasure fizzles up through my body like a power cord, striking deep and reverberating throughout my bones. I slip my tongue into his mouth, and he sighs with pleasure. I grab a handful of his hair and yank. I suck on his bottom lip. His hand roams my body hungrily, tracing my curves and cupping my ass. I need him now.
He reaches his hand beneath my tank top and cups one of my breasts. My knees buckle as he thumbs my nipple. I tilt my pelvis toward him and feel his growing hard-on. He reaches down for the zipper of my jeans.
A loud thunk jerks us out of our reverie.
“Lyndsey? Vince? Are you alright?” Priya asks.
To my horror, the door clicks open while Vince’s tongue is still in my mouth. We jerk apart, blushing. My jeans are unzipped. Priya observes the scene with a satisfied smile, knowing that her plan worked.
“I told you to talk it out, but this works, too!” She quips.
“Priya!” Vince hollers.
Priya laughs, “All that I ask is that I get an invite to the wedding. I am legally able to officiate weddings in the state of California, y’know.”
“We’ll keep that in mind!” I squeak, mortified, as I zip my jeans back up.
“But, for real, we were thinking of grabbing dinner somewhere to celebrate the last show. Are you love birds coming?” Priya asks.
“Sure thing,” Vince says. He grabs my hand, and we walk out together.
Chapter 18
Vince
Laurel Canyon, CA
One week later
Usually, when I get home from a tour, I sleep for a week.
Lyndsey and I don’t leave my bedroom for a week. We order pizza and eat it in bed. We watch movies. We fuck all hours of the day. We use every excuse to touch each other, brushing hands when walking Violet and cooking.
She puts her feet in my lap as I sit on the floor and write. I’m writing up a storm, completing two songs in one week, which would usually take me two months.
Today, Lyndsey’s scrolling through her phone, looking at apartments. I told her to move her stuff in here, but she says it’s too soon. Instead, we compromise, and Lyndsey’s looking for a one-bedroom in Laurel Canyon.
“I love you. It’s just I’ve never been able to afford to live by myself, you know?” Lyndsey says.
She passes me her phone to show me a listing. It’s a spacious one-bedroom, only a ten-minute drive from my place. There’s a balcony.
“That looks great. I’ll go with you to a showing if you want; vet the place for you,” I suggest.
“That’d be great. Thanks, babe.”
She kisses me, slipping her tongue into my mouth. I press her back against the kitchen counter, and her elbow hits the miniature decorative Christmas tree she put out the other day.
I found a bunch of Christmas decorations in the attic when I first moved here, but I don’t usually decorate. It seemed pointless when it was just me and Violet, but to my surprise, Lyndsey loves Christmas.
