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“Why does this feel so fucking good?” he whispered.
I was so overwhelmed by the surge of intense emotions that I couldn’t answer him.
Was Iain really here in my arms? It was unexpected, unreal. Would I wake up tomorrow to realize I’d dreamt it all?
“Go to sleep, Iain.”
He gave a long sigh, and a few minutes later, I heard a soft snore.
I wondered if I would hear him talk in his sleep again.
That thought brought a smile to my face, and surprisingly, a short while later, I drifted off and joined him.
CHAPTER 17
IAIN
FEB 13
Ialways slept in fits and starts, so I wasn’t surprised when I woke up to a darkened bedroom. I’d probably only been out for three or four hours.
What was shocking?
I was in bed with my bodyguard.
And I hated sharing a bed with anyone—especially the guy who had ruined my libido for anyone else.
To top it all off, I wasn’t just lying beside him, but I was wrapped around his body, holding on to him like he was one of my prized guitars. I was a possessive motherfucker when it came to the rare things I loved.
Not that I loved Dawson.
That would be reckless on a level I’d yet to achieve.
Lifting my head off his chest, I stared up at his face, and memories of the night before began to flicker in my mind.
I remembered the club. And drinking a lot of tequila and champagne, and fuck, I reeked of both. I’d been dancing with a few guys, and then Dawson had walked off. I’d tried followinghim, but Lennie stopped me. Then, I headed back to the hotel with the cute bartender, but I ended up alone. Knocking on Dawson’s door, we had another argument. He pinned me to the wall and, fuck, I liked that memory a lot, as evidenced by my now fully erect cock.
Then I admitted to Dawson that he was fucking with my head. Did I tell him he was the only one I wanted?
Shit.Way to make things awkward, Iain.
I should roll away, get up, and go back to my room. Forget last night ever happened.
But I didn’t.
Because a part of me deep inside that had been cold for so long was now a fucking inferno.
And no one could be more shocked than me.
Like my band brothers, I liked to fuck and hit the road, so to speak.
Well, Brodie used to. Now, he was magnetized to Van.
But me? I didn’t enjoy sleepovers.
I’d had enough of that early on in our career when the guys and I had to share crowded buses and shitty motels.
Now, I liked my space. I was a restless sleeper anyway.
