Lick (Stage Dive, #1)(25)

My kiss-addled mind came up blank. Damn it. “No. I don’t think so.”

“That’s a pity.” A ridge appeared between his brows. The dark smudges beneath his beautiful blue eyes seemed to have darkened. I’d disappointed him again. My heart sunk.

“You look tired,” I said.

“Yeah. Might be time to get some shut-eye.” He planted a quick kiss of my forehead. Was it a friend’s kiss or more? I couldn’t tell. Maybe it, too, was just for scientific purposes.

“We tried, huh?” he said.

“Yeah. We did.”

He rose to his feet, collecting his beer bottle. Without him to warm me the breeze blew straight through me, shaking my bones. It was the kiss though that had really shaken me. It had blown my ever-lovin’ mind. To think, I’d had a night of kisses like that and forgotten it. I needed a brain transplant at the earliest convenience.

“Do you mind if I come with you?” I asked.

“Not at all.” He held out a hand to help me to my feet.

Together, we wandered back up to the house, up the stairs into the master bedroom. I tugged off my shoes as David dealt with his own footwear. We lay down on the mattress, not touching. Both of us staring at the ceiling like there might be answers there.

I kept quiet. For all of about a minute. My mind was wide awake and babbling at me. “I think I understand a little better now how we ended up married.”

“Do you?” He turned his head to face me.

“Yes.” I’d never been kissed like that before. “I do.”

“C’mere.” A strong arm encircled my waist, dragging me into the centre of the bed.

“David.” I reached for him with a nervous smile. More than ready for more kisses. More of him.

“Lie on your side,” he said, his hands maneuvering me until he lay behind me. One arm slipped beneath my neck and the other was slung over my waist, pulling me in closer against him. His hips fit against my butt perfectly.

“What are we doing?” I asked, bewildered.

“Spooning. We did it that night for a while. Until you felt sick.”

“We spooned?”

“Yep,” he said. “Stage two in the memory rehab process, spooning. Now go to sleep.”

“I only woke up an hour ago.”

He pressed his face into my hair and even threw a leg over mine for good measure, pinning me down. “Bad luck. I’m tired and I wanna spoon. With you. And the way I figure it, you owe me. So we’re spooning.”

“Got it.”

His breath warmed the side of my neck, sending shivers down my spine.

“Relax. You’re all tense.” His arms tightened around me.

After a moment, I picked up his left hand, running the pads of my fingers over his calluses. Using him for my fidget toy. The tips of his fingers were hard. There was also a ridge down his thumb and another slight one along the bottom of his fingers where they joined the palm of his hand. He obviously spent a lot of time holding guitars. On the back of his fingers the word Free had been tattooed. On his right hand was the word Live. I couldn’t help but wonder if marriage would impinge on that freedom. Japanese-style waves and a serpentine dragon covered his arm, the colors and detail impressive.

“Tell me about your major,” he said. “You’re doin’ architecture, right?”

“Yes,” I said, a little surprised he knew. I’d obviously told him in Vegas. “My dad’s one.”

He meshed his fingers with mine, putting the kibosh on my fidgeting.

“Did you always want to play guitar?” I asked, trying not to get too distracted by the way he was wrapped around me.

“Yeah. Music’s the only thing that ever really made sense to me. Can’t imagine doing anything else.”

“Huh.” It must be nice, having something to be so passionate about. I liked the idea of being an architect. Many of my childhood games had involved building blocks or drawing. But I didn’t feel driven to do it, exactly. “I’m pretty much tone deaf.”

“That explains a lot.” He chuckled.

“Be nice. I was never particularly good at sports either. I like drawing and reading and watching movies. And I like to travel, not that I’ve done much of it.”

“Yeah?”

“Mm.”

He shifted behind me, getting comfortable. “When I travel it’s always about the shows. Doesn’t leave much time for looking around.”

“That’s a pity.”

“And being recognized can be a pain in the ass sometimes. Now and then, it gets ugly. There’s a fair bit of pressure on us and I can’t always do what I want. Truth is, I’m kind of ready to slow things down, hang out at home more.”

I said nothing, turning his words over inside my head.

“The parties get old after a while. Having people around all the damn time.”

“I bet.” And yet, back in LA he’d still had a groupie hanging off him, cooing at his every word. Obviously parts of the lifestyle still appealed. Parts that I wasn’t certain I could compete with even if I wanted to. “Won’t you miss some of it?”

“Honestly, it’s all I’ve done for so damn long, I don’t know.”

“Well, you have a gorgeous home to hang out in.”