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My forehead crinkles, not understanding what he’s stressed about. When I ask, he waves me off, irritating me, but the pilot announces our descent before I can push.
I turn and watch as the Nashville skyline comes into view, so I focus my attention out the window, pretending I don’t care about what he said. Convincing myself I’m not concerned. I got my answers. It’s over.
But the nagging in my head won’t go away. I thought I knew him, but this small piece of information has me doubting myself. Why didn’t I know? Why didn’t I ask?
Then I realize what’s causing his stress… Me. I’m the cause. I’ve become a literal headache for him. And it makes me feel like shit, even though it shouldn’t. I’ve told him to leave me alone. Given no mixed signals, we will never be an us again. But I hate I’m causing him pain.
There’s a car waiting on the tarmac when we exit the plane. I may have grown up in Hollywood, daughter to a highly successful celebrity attorney and a well-accomplished actress, surrounded by industry professionals of all types, but I’m not immune to feeling awe—feeling like a celebrity myself—when we get in the car, bypassing security and everything. Even as an influencer and the couple of modeling gigs, I had as a teenager, I’ve never experienced this.
“It’s because it’s us,” Liam tells me as we turn onto the highway. When my face scrunches, he explains further. “The plane, the car… all of it. It’s because we’re friends… family. They’re generous to a fault, but they wouldn’t go through this expense for anyone and everyone.”
The rest of the ride to the hotel is quiet. With every bump, Liam looks paler, and my worry grows. “Maybe you need a doctor.”
“All I need is a dark room and quiet for a couple of hours,” he tells me, waving his hand through the air. “Now, stop worrying about me.”
“I tried that,” I grumble as I look out the window.
“Knew you cared.” He chuckles, though it sounds strained.
I bite back a retort because, of course, I freaking care. The problem is I don’t want to, and I can’t stop as long as he remains in my orbit.
Once we get to the hotel, we check in, he hands me my key, and we ride the elevator to the top floor. He goes to his suite after telling me we’ll meet up at seven, and I go to mine.
It gives me entirely too much time to think. If I think, I’ll panic. Or get horny. So, I try for a nap instead.
As it turns out, lying in bed in a dark room is a horrible idea. My brain moves at warp speed as I try to force sleep that won’t come. I toss the covers back with so much force they land on the floor.
A shower. That’s what I need. It will clear my head and eliminate a task for tonight.
I gather my toiletry bag and walk across the fluffy carpet to the luxurious bathroom with its massive shower, free-standing tub overlooking the city, and heated tile floors. My mouth twists, and my nose scrunches as I dart my eyes back and forth between the tub and the shower before deciding if I get in that tub, I may never leave.
As the hot water trails down my body, washing away the grimy feeling of travel, my lashes droop. Images of large, calloused, tattooed hands and talented fingers appear. Bright blue eyes and a devious smirk looking up at me from between my thighs make my eyes pop open.
Nope. I will not do it. I will not get myself off to visions of the man on the other side of this wall.
Then again…
I mean, it’s better to get off to a memory than the real thing, right?
My head tilts back, and my lips stretch when I glance at the detachable showerhead.
Don’t mind if I do.
I turn the nozzle to the highest setting, needing a quick release, not a prolonged one, lean against the wall, and lower the attachment between my parted thighs, picturing his mouth working its magic. I imagine his tongue swiping between my lips, driving deep inside me, devouring my arousal from my aching pussy. I pretend his tongue piercing that I’m quite fond of rolling over my clit. My moans bounce off the sparkling porcelain as my free hand trails up my stomach to my heavy breasts, envisioning those rough fingers rolling my aching nipples between his fingers as his lips wrap around my throbbing clit.
“Fuck, Liam.” My body tenses as my release makes my pussy convulse around nothing but my imagination. “Liam.”
“I could’ve taken care of that for real, you know?”
My eyes snap open as a sharp scream leaves me. I nearly fall, trying to grab the towel hanging over the top of the glass.
“You’re still the sexiest thing alive when you come.” He leans against the vanity, his feet crossed at the ankles as his eyes rove over my body. His tongue darts out, rolling over his bottom lip before he pulls it between his teeth, ignoring my glares while I pretend that lascivious gaze isn’t igniting my body because what it really wants is within reach.
“What the hell are you doing here?” I yell as I wrap the towel around me.
“I came to talk about the shows tonight, but I’ll happily skip the shows for another performance.”
I shove his chest with a growl as I look up at him, irritated he’s so tall.
