Reckless (Thoughtless, #3)(25)

“Good. I’ve been prepping our room. You’re gonna love it.”

My grin got even wider. “Our room?”

“Yep.” I heard the sounds of other people laughing and wondered who else was awake at this hour. “And, I’m not sure if I mentioned this or not, but bring your suit. The house has a pool.”

Kellan and the band were staying at a house that the record label owned. From what Kellan had told me about it so far, it was nice, so I wasn’t too surprised that it had a pool. It seemed like pools were a lot more common in California than they were in Washington. We had espresso stands on every corner; they had pools in every backyard.

Trudging upstairs, I told Kellan how excited I was to join him. Staying at this house by myself was a little scary at times. I’d even gotten into the habit of writing in bed until the early hours of the morning; immersing myself in my romantic memoir stopped me from thinking about the possibility that a boogeyman was lurking in the closet. Having Kellan verbally tuck me into bed also helped to ease those late-night fears. His voice always had a soothing effect on me. Well, perhaps “soothing” wasn’t the best word. While his voice always affected me, there were definitely times when the sultry sound that came out of his mouth was anything but relaxing.

With the phone glued to my ear, I got ready for bed. Because I missed him, I threw on a shirt that I didn’t typically wear. It was saturated with Kellan’s scent, and I didn’t want that to fade. Slipping on the black shirt with the word “Douchebags” in bright-white bold letters, I crawled into our bed.

As Kellan gave me the rundown on his schedule, I brought the fabric of my T-shirt up to my nose and inhaled the smell of him. It was incredible—manly, yet clean. I still wasn’t sure what combination of products he used to create that scent, but it was the most sensuous smell in the world. I supposed it was possible that it wasn’t a manufactured scent. Maybe he just naturally smelled amazing; his bare skin was quite edible, after all.

I giggled a little at that thought, and Kellan stopped talking. “What are you doing?” he asked, a clear smile in his voice.

“I just crawled into bed—”

He immediately cut me off. “Are you naked?”

I flushed all over and felt a stirring in my body by his words alone. I could still hear faint noises in the background, so I knew Kellan wasn’t by himself. But maybe he could be . . .

“No . . . I’m wearing the shirt you gave me a long time ago. It’s my favorite shirt. I don’t usually wear it, though.” I closed my eyes as I confessed just how obsessed with him I was. “It smells like you, and I want it to stay that way.”

Kellan chuckled in a low tone; it ignited the spark of heat in my belly that he’d stoked earlier. I ran a hand over my body as the ache of loneliness within me grew. I missed him so much—his touch, his smile, his eyes, his tattoo . . . his heart. Everything.

“Really?” he asked. “Do I . . . smell?”

A low purr escaped me. “Yes, you do, and it’s the best smell in the world. Better than coffee.”

Kellan groaned. “God, Kiera, you’re turning me on.”

I smiled, imagining him as restless as I was becoming. “Are you alone?” I whispered, afraid that somehow, someone would hear me . . . or Kellan. He wasn’t exactly opposed to intimate public performances.

“Hold on,” he muttered instantly. After another second, I heard him addressing the room. “Night, guys, see you in the morning.” There was some murmuring in the background, and then it faded, and all I heard was Kellan telling me, “Now I am. Did you want something?”

I ran a hand down my face. I still struggled with this part—forwardly asking him what I wanted, what I needed. But I remembered what he said the morning after our wedding night; he wanted me to feel comfortable asking him for anything, talking to him about anything. I shouldn’t be embarrassed. Kellan loved me, heart and soul, and he’d never intentionally hurt me. He may tease me on occasion, but I didn’t think he would tonight.

“Kellan,” I murmured, my voice doing that groan-growl thing that had turned him on before. “I miss you, and I want to make love to you.” Before I could comprehend what I was saying, I quickly added, “Take your clothes off.”

I slapped my hand to my forehead after I said it—it wasn’t exactly the sexiest request. I expected Kellan to chuckle and give me a smart-alecky line, but he didn’t. Sucking in a quick breath, he groaned, “God, that was hot. I’m so hard right now. I wish you could see.”

My heart thumping in my chest, an image of him flooded my head. A thought popped into my mind and I repeated it to him without exactly meaning to. “Send me a picture.”

I clamped down on my lip so hard, I thought I might draw blood. Did I seriously just tell him to send me a d-pic? I really never thought I’d ever ask him that. Then again, there were a lot of things I’d never expected myself to do with Kellan. He opened me in very unexpected ways.

Just as I was wondering if Kellan really would send a picture, he told me, “Hold on.” Maybe I was imagining it, but I thought I heard his jeans unzipping. Oh. My. God.

I wasn’t sure if I could handle the erotic image he was about to send to me. My body was already aching for him to touch me. Seeing how much he missed me, how much he wanted me . . . might undo me.