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Butterflies flapped around in my stomach at his words. How did someone who portrayed himself as so dangerous turn into the sweet man before me?
He grinned as if, once again, he’d read my mind. “Don’t be fooled.” He winked, and a mischievous sparkle flickered in his eyes. “I’m still the Jason you see on stage too. But what kind of man would I be if I didn’t take care of my woman?”
My mouth dried out. I was his woman.
His.
Woman.
I wrapped my arms around his neck and pressed my lips to his, kissing him harder than I ever had before. It had always been so gentle, but at that moment, I wanted him to be in no doubt about how I felt. How much I wanted him. How much I wanted to make this work.
Jason pulled me in tighter, his tongue flicking into my mouth and making me push my body against his, my fingers twisting into his hair. His hands slipped lower, and he bunched up the bottom of my shirt, pushing it up slightly so his fingers touched my skin.
It wasn’t enough. That light touch wasn’t enough. I needed more, and as heat flooded through me, a tiny moan of desperation slipped from my lips. Jason’s fingers moved higher, resting on the strap of my bra.
“Lucy,” Jason murmured as I closed my eyes. He kissed me again, but his hands moved lower, and disappointment filled me as he put my shirt back in place and pulled away. “Sorry.”
“What for?”
“For telling you I’ll go slow and then kissing you that way.”
“I have no problem with that kiss. Only that you stopped.”
I was practically panting, which was totally embarrassing. But he’d just called me his woman, and I would soon be separated from him for a few weeks. I didn’t want to waste a second of our time doing anything other than exactly what we wanted to do.
He smiled, and I watched his lips, waiting for the second I could kiss them again. “Lucy Hayes, you dirty little thing.”
“What? What did I do?”
Laughing, he kissed me on the cheek. “I love that you have no idea.”
I narrowed my eyes at him but couldn’t stop the smile. Whatever it was, it was his effect on me that set it off. I felt naughty.
“Okay,” I said, changing the subject before I said or did something else that might embarrass me. “So… we’ve decided? I’m going home?”
Jason placed another, much softer, kiss on my lips. “Yes, but as soon as we get back to the UK, I want you there. I want you in London when we land so we can do cheesy London tourist shit. The stuff we’ll have missed out on through America.”
I grinned. “Can we go to The Shard?”
“I’ll take you to the top.”
“Madame Tussaud’s?”
Jason snorted. “Don’t push your luck. I’m not going in there until my own waxwork is there!”
I laughed out loud. “Hey, it’ll happen. Maybe not this year, though.”
“Well, until then…” Jason pulled me close to him again and kissed me one more time. “Come on, Luce. Let’s go back and tell the others how grown up we are.”
“How about we tell them to go to hell?”
Jason stared into my eyes, his own dancing with amusement. “God, I’m going to miss you.”
“Me too, Jase. Me too.”
* * *
With great reluctance, Jason and I left the hotel and got into the waiting car to take us back to the tour bus. Journalists were still waiting outside, but we shoved through them and clambered onto the bus where Ellie, Drew, and Derek had obviously been anxiously waiting for us, judging by the way they jolted to face us as we approached.
