Lick (Stage Dive, #1)(27)

Her bed was made of stone

I know I’ll break her throne

These aching bones won’t hold me up

My swollen shoes they have had enough

These smokestacks burn them down

This ocean let it drown



When he finished I was quiet. He gave me a squeeze, probably checking I was still alive. I squeezed his arms right back, not turning over so he couldn’t see the tears in my eyes. The combination of his voice and the moody ballad had undone me. I was always making a mess of myself around him, crying or puking. Why he wanted anything to do with me, I had no idea.

“Thank you,” I said.

“Anytime.”

I lay there, trying to decipher the lyrics. What it might mean that he’d chosen that song to sing to me. “What’s it called?”

“‘Homesick.’ I wrote it for the last album.” He rose up on one elbow, leaning over to check out my face. “Shit, I made you sad. I’m sorry.”

“No. It was beautiful. Your voice is amazing.”

He frowned but lay back down, pressed his chest against my spine. “I’ll sing you something happy next time.”

“If you like.” I pressed my lips to the back of his hand, to the veins tracing across, and the dusting of dark hair. “David?”

“Hmm?”

“Why don’t you sing in the band? You have such a great voice.”

“I do back-up. Jimmy loves the limelight. It was always more his thing.” His fingers twined with mine. “He wasn’t always the * he is now. I’m sorry he hassled you in LA. I could have killed him for saying that shit.”

“It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not. He was off his face. He didn’t have a f*cking clue what he was talking about.” His thumb moved restlessly over my hand. “You’re gorgeous. You don’t need to change a thing.”

I didn’t know what to say at first. Jimmy had said some horrible things and it had stayed with me. Funny how the bad stuff always did.

“I’ve both puked and cried on you. Are you entirely sure about that?” I joked, finally.

“Yes,” he said simply. “I like you the way you are, blurting out whatever shit crosses your mind. Not trying to play me, or use me. You’re just … being with me. I like you.”

I lay there speechless for a moment, taken aback. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Anytime, Evelyn. Anytime at all.”

“I like you too.”

His lips brushed against the back of my neck. Shivers raced across my skin. “Do you?”

“Yes. Very much.”

“Thanks, baby.”

It took a long time for his breathing to even out. His limbs got heavier and he stilled, asleep against my back. My foot went fuzzy with pins and needles but never mind. I hadn’t slept with anyone before, apart from the occasional platonic bed-sharing episode with Lauren. Apparently, sleeping was all I’d be doing today.

In all honesty, it felt good, lying next to him.

It felt right.





CHAPTER EIGHT




“Hey.” David padded down the stairs seven hours later, wearing a towel wrapped around his waist. He’d slicked his wet hair back and his tattoos were displayed to perfection, defining his lean torso and muscular arms. There was a lot of skin on show. The man was a visual feast. I made a conscious effort to keep my tongue inside my head. Keeping the welcoming grin off my face was beyond my abilities. I’d planned to play it cool so as not to spook him. That plan had failed.

“What’cha doin’?” he asked.

“Nothing much. There was a delivery for you.” I pointed to the bags and boxes waiting by the door. All day I’d pondered the problem of us. The only thing I’d come up with was that I didn’t want our time to end. I didn’t want to sign those annulment papers. Not yet. The idea made me want to start puking all over again. I wanted David. I wanted to be with him. I needed a new plan.

The pad of my thumb rubbed over my bottom lip, back and forth, back and forth. I’d gone for a long walk up the beach earlier, watching the waves crash on the shore and reliving that kiss. Over and over again, I’d played it inside my mind. The same went for our conversations. In fact, I’d picked apart every moment of our time together, explored every nuance. Every moment I could remember, anyway, and I’d tried damn hard to remember all of it.

“A delivery?” He crouched down beside the closest package and started tearing at the wrapping. I averted my eyes before I caught a glimpse up his towel, despite being wildly curious.

“Would you mind if I used your phone?” I asked.

“Ev, you don’t need to ask. Help yourself to whatever.”

“Thanks.” Lauren and my folks were probably freaking out, wondering what was going on. It was time to brave up to the butt-picture repercussions. I groaned on the inside.

“This one’s for you.” He handed me a thick brown-paper parcel done up with string, followed by a shopping bag with some brand I’d never heard of printed on the side. “Ah, this one too by the look.”

“It is?”

“Yeah. I asked Martha to order some stuff for us.”

“Oh.”