Love and Music (Small Town Secrets Book 3), page 9
When he released my breast and stood, it felt as if he was towering over me. “Is everything okay?”
Taking another deep breath, I forced myself to look him in those smoldering eyes of his. “I think…I just need a little bit. I’m not ready yet.” Fuck. I didn’t want to tell him my insides were like one of the rollercoasters at Elitch’s. My brain was worse.
He nodded, but I couldn’t tell what the hell he was thinking. The only thing I was sure about was that he wasn’t angry. “Should I order up some champagne or something like that?”
It was tempting—but maybe alcohol was part of my problem. “I’ve probably had too much to drink tonight as it is.”
“Coffee?”
I couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped my lips. “No.” All I’d need would be to lay awake all night long.
“Backrub?”
Also tempting. But no. “Maybe if we just talk for a little while?” My fucking nipple was cold and hard as Tyler’s saliva slowly dried in the cool air.
He leaned over, scooping up my bra and blouse from the plush beige carpet underneath our feet, handing them to me. “Okay. Let’s do that.”
“Thanks.” Damn. I felt completely naked now, even though I was still half dressed. So I slipped on the blouse and fastened the top button. I wanted to give him the impression that we were on pause rather than full stop. “And now that I think about it, a backrub sounds nice.” How many women could brag that a rock star had offered to give them a massage?
“We’ll have to fit that in.” Picking up his t-shirt off the floor, he then waved his hand toward the living room area. As I turned to walk there, I couldn’t help but notice the way Tyler cupped his crotch and adjusted his junk, and then I felt horrible.
I was now officially a cock tease.
God…of all things. So I decided we’d have to do something tonight, especially since he was being a complete gentleman. Taking care of Tyler’s needs would be the last thing I’d do before exiting his life. What a way to go.
As I sat down, I placed my bra on the end table so it would be easy to find later. Tyler threw his shirt on the coffee table but didn’t sit down. “That’s a gas fireplace. If you want, I could start a fire. I know it’s July, but…”
“Actually, that sounds great. It’s a little chilly in here.”
He walked over to the wall to locate the switch. “First world problems, right?” He glanced my way as I laughed. “No wonder I—or, should I say, musicians have a bad reputation.”
“Why? Because you can’t make up your mind?”
“No, because we spend money on stupid shit. Instead of turning off the air conditioning and opening a window, I’m lighting a fire.”
“But it’s for the ambience.” My fake upper crust accent sold the joke. Well, maybe not, but it at least let Tyler know I wasn’t serious.
“Right.”
“Do you mind if I get a glass of water?”
“Sure that’s all you want? There’s plenty to drink here. I have a fully stocked bar.”
Did I seem that nervous? “Water will be great. Thanks, though.”
“Ice?”
“If you want to go to that kind of trouble.”
He seemed eager to please. If I hadn’t felt so damned uptight, I might have giggled at how accommodating he was. This guy was a world-famous rock star, and he was doing his damnedest to make me happy. Me.
It was endearing.
Once the fire was gently burning, Tyler made his way over to the kitchen, and soon ice cubes were clinking into a glass. The fireplace was nice, but there were no crackles, reminding me that it was an illusion.
Making me wonder if all of this was.
I peeked over at him now that he had his shirt off. Not only did the man have close to two full tattoo sleeves, but there were a couple on his back I couldn’t quite make out from where I sat, and I didn’t want to gawk.
Tyler had been cute back in the day but today? He was fucking hot.
And I’d once been a fun-loving teenager. Now I was a nervous wreck. Maybe I should have just one more drink.
Tyler entered the living area with a cool glass of water that he handed to me, a grin on his face that seemed as nervous as my insides. So I told him what I’d been thinking. “Maybe a little drink wouldn’t hurt.”
“Anything you could ever want is either already here or can be delivered. What’ll it be?” I shrugged, because my brain hadn’t made it that far. Moving over behind the sofa, he opened the bottom part of a hutch. On one side was a mini fridge; on the other side, there was enough alcohol to throw a raging party. “Looks like I can make you a rum and Coke or…almost anything and Coke. Jack, Southern Comfort—”
“Rum and Coke would be fine.”
“Okay. Coming right up.”
He filled up two glasses with ice before heading back over to the bar area, and I sat on the couch, getting lost in the flicker of the flames. It might have been an artificial fire, but it entranced me anyway. I slipped off my heels, tucking my feet up underneath my lap, letting my head rest against the back of the sofa.
“There are some snacks here, too, Meg. Do you want anything to eat?”
“No. Thanks, though.”
I stared at the flames, relaxing as every second went by, until Tyler joined me. After he handed me the drink he’d made, he took a sip of an identical one. “It’s nice, huh?”
“What? The fireplace? Yeah.”
He took another drink. “I’m no bartender. Sometimes, I put too much alcohol in mixed drinks, but I think this is okay. What do you think?”
I took a sip from my glass. “It’s fine.” I didn’t know if I was immune after all the alcohol I’d imbibed earlier or if I just really needed it—or maybe it was perfect.
Tyler then jumped in with both feet. “So what did you want to talk about, Meg?”
An uncustomarily shy grin spread across my face as I looked down into the brown liquid of the glass I was holding. “I don’t know. I just…” After taking a deep breath, I let it out slowly as I forced myself to look him in his deep dark eyes. “I just feel like we don’t really know each other anymore, and it seems kind of strange to just…” My voice trailed off as I took a swallow of the beverage in my hands, thinking maybe I needed it worse than I’d thought.
“Are you saying if we hadn’t known each other so well back then, it might be easier to just fuck our brains out?”
“Well, no, I don’t know if that’s what I mean. Maybe I’m not making any sense. I just…feel like I don’t know you anymore.” Taking another small sip, I tried to monitor how sober I felt, because I didn’t want to get tipsy like I’d been earlier. Taking the edge off was my goal.
“Hell, I would have sworn you know everything. It feels like nothing in my life has been secret for at least the last three years.”
I wasn’t going to argue with him, but I was pretty sure there was plenty I didn’t know. “Reading a condensed version of how your band came up with the title of your album and the songs in it isn’t the same.”
“Sure. But you have an advantage.”
“How’s that?”
“I haven’t seen you interviewed in Revolver.” I laughed then, because he was right. The only thing he could have dug up about me would maybe be the few times the library had been covered by an event by the Winchester Tribune. “So how about this?” he said, leaning over to place his glass on the coffee table. “You ask me a question and then I ask you a question. If something feels too personal, we can pass.”
“Sounds fair.”
“You start.”
Oh, God. I didn’t know exactly what I wanted to know. I just wanted Tyler to feel like less of a stranger. Way too much time had passed. In a lot of ways, he was exactly like the young man I remembered—but there was so much that had changed. It wasn’t bad—just different.
My heart went for the jugular before my brain even knew what I’d done. “How many serious relationships have you had since high school?”
“Wow. You don’t waste any time, do you?” Picking his glass back up, he took a long swig. “You sure you want to know?”
I felt the blood drain from my face. “Actually, no. I don’t think I do.”
“Then ask a different question.”
Tyler’s eyes looked serious, but I couldn’t read what he was thinking. I decided to ask a throwaway question to begin with. It might make the hard questions easier later on. “What’s your favorite song that you’ve written?”
“That’s like asking a parent which child is their favorite. They’re all a piece of me, Meg, and each one was my favorite when I wrote it.” I frowned. “So ask me another question.”
At least he was giving me another freebie. “Okay. Who’s the best band to tour with?”
“In what way?”
“I don’t know. Just…who do you like touring with?”
“Well, if you like to party, Last Five Seconds knows how to have a good time.” I nodded, now feeling like I’d wasted my question. “My turn.” The smile on his face had a wicked look to it, and he narrowed his eyes to match. “What about you, Meg? How many serious relationships have you had since high school?”
That son of a bitch. I should have been angry, but instead I felt my jaw slacken in disbelief—and the words he’d uttered earlier filled my mouth. “Sure you want to know?”
“Yeah, actually, I do.”
I swallowed nervously, sensing a glistening of perspiration on my upper lip. But this whole thing had been my idea and I couldn’t exactly renege now. My eyes drifted from his to the glass I held in my hands, and my brain scoured the past decade. Goddamn. I wished I could tell him about so many tempestuous relationships, ones where the guy had swept me off my feet and made me forget my first love, but there was nothing to tell him about.
Nothing.
I’d had plenty of dates, and a few guys even got close to being real boyfriends, but they all eventually fell short. And part of me felt ashamed to admit the truth to Tyler.
But I couldn’t lie.
“None.”
I downed the rest of my drink, sobriety be damned.
“Are you bullshitting me?”
“No. Why would I?”
Once more, I couldn’t read Tyler’s expression—and his voice also gave nothing away. “Your turn.”
Fuck. Why had I thought this would be a good idea? It was my turn to put him on the hot seat. Taking a deep breath, I spat out the next question. One that wouldn’t be wasted this time. “Do you have any love children?”
He started laughing then, a hearty guffaw that almost made me feel stupid for having asked. “None that I know of.”
“Well, that’s not very reassuring.”
He shrugged, grinning from ear to ear, and took another small drink. “Tell me something you’ve been up to over the past ten years—besides work and school. What’s something I don’t know about Megan Katrina Walker?”
I hadn’t expected an emotionally easy question after the last one I’d asked him, so I wanted to honor it. I wanted to tell him I’d done nothing, that I was boring and actually liked my life that way, but there was one thing he probably didn’t know—one thing I was proud of that got me a little excited. “Well, I write reviews of new books for the Tribune a few times every year.”
“You get paid anything for it?”
“I get a free copy of the edition it’s in—but I don’t do it for the money.”
“I didn’t figure you did.”
Aw, shit. The rum and Coke hit me then, making me feel warm and drowsy, and I struggled to think of another question. Or at least a question whose answer wouldn’t make me feel awful that I’d asked in the first place.
Tyler grabbed my hand, forcing me to make eye contact. “Ready for that backrub now?”
I tilted my head, a small smile creasing the corners of my mouth. “Really?”
“I promised, didn’t I?”
Standing, my hand still cradled in his, he led me toward the large bedroom right off the living room area. As my eyes took in the king-sized four-poster bed, I wondered if he was going to give me a backrub or if we were going to engage in another activity.
At this point, I was okay with either. But would I be able to leave later with my heart still intact?
Chapter Eleven
I tried not to let the monstrous size of the bedroom overwhelm me. Compared to my apartment, this place was fucking huge. How the hell much had Tyler dropped on this room?
“Lie down on your stomach. Get comfortable.”
How could I relax in a place like this? With Tyler’s tattooed body so near? But, nodding, I turned toward the bed, lying down on top of the fluffy brown and multi-colored spread. Then I grabbed a pillow from underneath it to scrunch it under my head, turning to the side so my cheek rested on it.
“Good?”
I opened an eye and looked up at him, watching as he removed one of his shoes. “Mmm-hmm.”
As he took off his other shoe, I let my eye close again. “I’m gonna straddle you at your lower back. If it hurts or something, tell me, okay?”
“Mmm. Okay.”
“Wanna take your shirt off again? I think it’ll be easier to—”
“Yeah. I guess I should.” I wiggled my hands out from under the pillow and unbuttoned the blouse. It wasn’t cooperating, but when Tyler’s fingers grabbed it at the collar, the blouse slid off my arms and back, tickling my sensitive skin on its journey. I relaxed again when my head rested on the pillow.
Soon, Tyler’s warm, strong hands were massaging my back, and I tried not to think about his body straddling my bottom.
He was in the exact right spot.
As his fingers wrapped around the top of my shoulders and squeezed, I felt the tension drain from my muscles, and I almost purred. “Mmm.”
“You like that?”
I tried to tell him I did, but it must have sounded like nothing but muttering from my slackened mouth. The soothing touch of his hands helped me relax further as they gathered my hair together, resting it on the pillow near the crown of my head. Then he kneaded my flesh and muscle underneath his strong fingers, ones made all the more flexible thanks to his work on the guitar, and I felt like I was melting into the bed. When he began massaging my back along my shoulder blades and spine, I felt myself slip further into a sea of relaxation. As my jaw relaxed, my head and arms grew heavier, and feeling his legs wrapped around my hips along with having the sides of my breasts exposed maybe should have made me feel vulnerable, but the way Tyler worked my muscles eased me into a peaceful state.
I even started drifting off to sleep.
His voice pulled me back to the land of the living. “How can you carry this much tension all the time?”
“What?”
“You have all kinds of knots in your back, Meg. And you’re pretty stiff, too. Do you get regular backrubs?”
“No.”
“You should consider it. I’m not trained to do this shit, and even I can tell you need it.”
“Maybe you’re not trained for it, but you’re good at it. And, on an Assistant Librarian’s salary, I can afford you better than a masseuse.”
His hands worked on a spot underneath my shoulder blade, and then I could feel one of the knots he’d been talking about. As he rubbed on it, I felt winded but I was still comfortable. “How are you feeling now?”
“Pretty damn good. You’re a fucking genius.”
He laughed. “I don’t think so. I just think your back desperately needed some help. But you’re good?”
“Oh, yeah.” I could drift off easily now.
But Tyler’s hands paused at my shoulders before brushing his fingertips down my back, tickling the skin enough that I perked up a little. Then he slid down and learned over to kiss the back of my neck. It was just a light peck, but it was enough to make my nipples stiffen. They were definitely ready for action.
The shiver down my arms signaled that maybe all of me was not just ready for a little fun but willing and able.
Tyler continued kissing the back of my neck, but his lips were pressing harder now. When he lightly kissed my earlobe, I thought I was going to explode. “Do you want to roll over, Meg?”
Oh, God, I was finally ready. I nodded just a bit and Tyler lifted himself up so I could roll over. I didn’t want to open my eyes for fear that I’d lose what I was feeling in this moment.
In that pillow-soft bed, I felt warm and relaxed, and I realized Tyler had been right about one thing—I’d been carrying a lot of tension in my shoulders, neck, and upper back, and he’d managed to banish it all. As I smiled, his lips brushed mine. I kissed him back before his lips pressed harder, and I opened my mouth, inviting his tongue inside. I was so drained, though, that I struggled to even find the strength to wrap my arms around him, instead leaving them lay beside my head. As he continued kissing me, I felt a stirring in the pit of my belly, but my muscles felt like I’d been sitting in a hot tub for hours.
Soon, though, Tyler’s lips left mine and began a journey lower. They were warm against my skin as he traced a line from my neck to my left areola. Once he drew it in his mouth, it pebbled up, and I realized that even though I was relaxed, I was growing more aroused with each passing moment.
My body began responding to his touch, but it was nothing I was consciously doing. Like how my back arched as if demanding he take more of me or how a groan vibrated my throat. Tyler must have understood my body better than I did, because he seemed to naturally know what I would respond to. When he cupped my other breast in his hand, giving the other nipple the attention of his dexterous fingers, my body grew more taut. Those same damn digits made beautiful music on a stringed instrument on an almost daily basis, and they were no less magical on my body. Another loud breath escaped my lips, but I had no energy to participate actively.
