The Redemption(18)

“You’re too kind,” I say in response to his words tickling my neck and making me tingle in other ways. “Thanks for volunteering.”

And there’s that smile again, the one that shoots straight to my heart when he says, “I’m here to please, sweetheart.”

I really shouldn’t like his arrogant side as much as I do, but I don’t bother hiding it. “You’re making it very hard to leave this bed.”

“Then don’t. Stay with me. Stay in bed with me. We’ll catch a later flight or rent a car and drive together.”

“You’re making me an offer I’m finding hard to resist. I want to go. I really do, but I need to check. It would only be for one night—”

“I’ll take one more night over nothing.”

“You have a show tonight. Sound check, meetings—”

His fingers run along my cheekbone, pushing back strands of hair that lie across my cheek. “Don’t think about the time we don’t have. Think of what we have when we’re together.”

I close my eyes under his soothing touch. “I’m scared, Dex. What if this doesn’t work out?”

“Don’t be scared.” After drawing in a slow breath, he says, “If all we ever have is one more night together, the rest of the nights won’t matter.”

I can tell he wants to kiss me as we stare into each other’s eyes. I’m not opposed to the idea myself as our breaths mingle between us. I close my eyes and lean forward, but instead of a kiss, he whispers, “One step back.” A gentle reminder of what I put in place as he drags his fingertip lightly over my lips, his gaze savoring them.

“And what if I don’t want to take a step back?” I sulk, rejection covering my heart.

“That’s my good cuddling skills talking right there. Once I let you leave, you’ll realize you were just under my spell.”

Now my cynical side comes out. “Cuddling skills, really?” I roll onto my back.

“Yeah, cuddling skills. I’m a master, but it’s not something I work on. It’s like a gift the ladies can’t resist.” My silence must speak for me because he adds, “Trust me, once you leave my arms, you’ll realize how powerless you really were while in the throes of my amazing cuddles.”

“I didn’t know guys cuddled?”

“Damn right guys cuddle, but I just happen to be a master, an artiste, an expert in the field.”

“Does that make you a cudster or an arddle?”

“I’m thinking it makes me more of a perddle, but that’s just a personal preference.”

I sit up. “I’m gonna get up now and see if my common sense comes back.”

“Wait.” He grabs my waist. “Just one more time.”

I tilt my head, then start to laugh. “Okay, I’ll let you cuddle me one more time.” I snuggle into his side and his arms tighten around me. When my body relaxes, my eyes start to close again.

“I win. I’m the cuddle king.”

Even though I love being with him this way, I roll my eyes and sarcastically repeat after him, “You win, Oh great cuddler.” A minute more in his arms and I finally look up. “Are we still doing this?”

“You’re welcome to stay as long as you like. I’m happy to oblige.”

“What about Boston? Do I get these kinds of snuggles there?”

“If you come to Boston, I’ll give you whatever you like.”

“Tempting.” When his erection presses against my leg, I say, “So are you. Too tempting most of the time.”

He drags his finger slowly down my neck and over my collarbone, stopping just at the top of my right breast. “I’m struggling here, but for you, I’ll live with tempting for now.”





“C’mon, I have a surprise for you,” Dex says. We arrived in Boston just over an hour ago and went straight to the arena for sound check.

Typically, no one would take notice of us because they’re so used to seeing us around, but not today. While I follow Dex down the hall, I see the stares, the looks, the curiosity in their eyes as the stagehands go about their jobs, setting up for the performance tonight. But I’m not bothered by it. He leads me onto the stage where a single chair with a guitar on it sits with a spotlight shining down, lighting the area. “What is this?” I ask.

“I want you to play.” There’s a spark in his eyes that I bet gets women to do whatever he asks of them.

But with the fear beginning to rise inside of me I can’t think about that. With wide eyes, I ask, “You want me to play for you?”

“No, I want you to play for you.”

“On stage? Why?”

“Because I don’t think you do anymore and you should.”

I stare at him, my stomach tying up in knots, then I try to defend myself. “I’m busy is all. No biggie.” I shrug to add to the casualness I’m trying to portray.

“No biggie? You used to love to play,” he says. “I remember watching you in the studio on the last album. You come alive when you play.”

“I’m busy. I’m tired. I don’t have the same passion for it that I used to.”

This time he stares at me like he’s trying to work through some complicated equation… or maybe he already has me all figured out. Maybe he can see through the fa?ade I try so hard to put on every day. “I don’t have to prove anything, Dex.” I cross my arms, adamant.