Lead (Stage Dive, #3)(80)

He’d gone jogging with Ben after they’d finished up in the studio for the day. I’d fixed a plate of food and retreated to my room. Let me tell you, hauling my ass up the steps with a plate was no easy thing. Perhaps not the best idea I’d ever had. But there’d still been people around downstairs and honestly, I’d needed some quiet time, just me, fine food, and the new camera.

It was nice to slow down. Things had been intense lately.

Jimmy slid beneath the blanket, the mattress moving under his weight. I lay on my back my foot propped on a pillow. For a while, he seemed content just to lie near me. My ears strained, listening for every breath he took, every rustle of the sheets. What was he doing here? It had to be a booty call, surely. I frowned into the darkness awaiting revelation and getting absolutely nothing for my trouble. Never understanding seemed to be the theme of the year.

“I apologized to Dean,” he said quietly.

“You did?”

“Yeah.”

“Good. I’m glad.” Then some fingers came seeking. They crept over my hip, stopped, and tugged at the material of my nightshirt, fingering one of the many small holes in the hem.

“That’s my old shirt, isn’t it?” He shifted closer. The mattress moved again as he reached across me and switched on the lamp on the bedside table. Little lights danced before my eyes. When they cleared, he hovered over me, a bit blurry on account of no glasses. “I f*cking knew you took it.”

“I have no idea how it got mixed up with my laundry.”

“You’re a lousy liar.”

I bit back a smile. If he thought I was ever giving the shirt back, he was dreaming. “That’s not a nice thing to say.”

“You want nice,” he asked, voice dropping in all the sexy ways. “I can be nice.”

“I know you can be.”

“I didn’t think when I saw Dean. You were right, I get jealous.” He quietly cursed, still toying with the hem of my shirt. His thumb tucked beneath the shirt and stroked over the bare skin of my belly. It was the sweetest, most ticklish of sensations. Booty call, just as I’d suspected, and shame on me for not minding. My momma should shout at me for being so easy.

I stopped breathing for a moment. When it came to him, I just was that silly.

“Talk to me,” he said, voice soft.

“About what?” I asked, just as softly.

“Anything.”

What to say? I turned to face him. His head lay on the next pillow over, neither too close nor too far away. The perfect distance for touch or talk. How great it would be to have him as the last thing I saw each night. To wake up to him every morning, lying by my side.

“Want me to go down on you again?” More fingertips traced over my stomach, making everything down low wake right the hell up. Much more of this and the state of my panties would be a disgrace. He went up on one elbow, a move I felt more than saw. “Lena? You still mad at me about Dean?”

“No, I’m not. Though I wish you hadn’t felt the need to do that. We have to stop fighting all the time, it’s wearing me out.”

His hand grasped my hip. “You mean I need to stop f*cking up.”

“I mean we both need to figure out a way to not constantly be getting butt-hurt over everything the other does.”

“Hmm.” The flat of his hand glided over my hip, easing between me and the bed to grab at a cheek. So subtle. “I’ve got something that’ll make your ass feel better.”

“I highly doubt that given your size.”

He snickered.

“I’m serious, Jimmy. We need to learn to live in some sort of peace and harmony before we accidentally on purpose kill each other one of these days.” I reached out, touching his hair. As per the usual, he stiffened. But then he relaxed again, allowing it. It was like dealing with a wild animal, you never knew when the teeth might come out. Fingers kneaded my ass cheek, keeping up a firm grip.

“We’ve both got tempers,” he said. “But I gotta say, you hold a mean grudge.”

“You left me panty-less sitting on the kitchen table. Getting down from there with this stupid boot on was not easy.”

“I’m sorry. That was an * thing for me to do.” Straight out, no hesitation. Maybe there was hope for him yet.

“Thank you, you’re forgiven. So, what?” I asked. “You just got bored in your room?”

“Something like that.” The big shadow of him leaned over me.

“Or did you want something in particular?” My hand slid down to his neck, testing the hard muscles there. His skin felt so fine, smooth and warm. Maybe if I asked really nicely he’d take his T-shirt off? No, bad hand! Making me think all kinds of unwanted thoughts.

“I didn’t want to go to sleep without talking to you,” he said. “Shit was busy today. Then you went to bed early.”

“You miss me?”

He huffed out a breath, gave a terse nod.

“That’s good. A girl likes to be missed.” The pad of my thumb trailed over the prickle of his stubbled jawline. He caught the digit between his teeth, nipping gently, surprising me. Jimmy wasn’t someone I’d ever have pegged as being playful. His teeth did not release. I wiggled my hand, trying to get free.

“You’re an animal.” I laughed, finally tugging my thumb free. Enough of this nonsense, I wanted sex. Despite what my brain wanted, my tummy was wound tight and my thigh muscles clenched. I sat up and Jimmy shifted back, keeping the same distance between us.