Time (Laws of Physics #3)(49)

I reached for Melena’s arm before she could dart off in search of our guitarist, released her when I was sure she wouldn’t leave, and held my hand out.

She shook her head, her forehead wrinkling. “What?”

I made the universal symbol for phone with my thumb and pinkie finger since I couldn’t risk shouting.

“Oh! Yes. I have it.” She pulled out my cell from her back pocket. “I had it the whole time, never left my person.”

Mouthing thank you, I snatched it and hurriedly marched past the trio, down the hall toward the dressing rooms, needing to get there before the backstage area flooded with fans and VIP ticket holders.

Stan was there, next to the door, and he turned as I approached. “Mr. Fletcher.”

“Stan,” I said, my voice raspy and tired. “I need a favor, man. I need you to go get someone for me. Her name is—”

“Mona DaVinci.”

I drew back, surprised.

He pointed with this thumb toward the door. “She’s already inside.”

My brain stuttered to a stop, and I looked at the door. “She’s . . .”

“Already inside.”

Inside. The room. And suddenly, this steel door became a magical fucking portal to heaven.

“You going in?” Stan asked.

I nodded. “Yes.” This is it. Fuck, this is it.

Was I ready?

No. I wasn’t. I was still hopped up on adrenaline, the crowd was still chanting, but had switched to my name. If I went in there now, I would probably . . . I will definitely do something selfish.

“I just need a minute.” Pushing my phone into my back pocket, I took a sip of tea, gathering my thoughts.

“Here.” Stan reached in front of me, twisting the doorknob and then taking the mug out of my grip. “Let me get that for you.”

Before I could stop him, he’d pushed it open. And—again—there she was.

She stood in profile, a hand on her hip, looking at something. But when the door opened, she turned, immediately smiling, her eyes huge and happy.

“Abram.” She said my name breathlessly, hesitating a fraction of a second before launching herself forward.

Time skipped. She’d been across the room a minute ago, but now she was in my hands, her body pressed to my body, her mouth on mine, her fingers in my hair, and I was so, so right. I was definitely going to do something selfish.

Kicking the door shut, I turned her, pressed her against it, and feasted on her glorious mouth, demanding her tongue and drinking from her perfect lips. My hands traveled south, wanting the skin of her legs, my fingers curling into the fabric of her dress and lifting it.

She yanked her mouth away with a shocked gasp, her hands immediately gripping mine and trying to hold them still. “Wait, wait. You have to stop.”

My mouth lowered to her neck and I bit it, wanting to consume her, taste every inch of her skin, rocking my hips forward urgently. “I need you.”

“Abram!” she squealed. “We’re not alone!”

We’re not alone?

Breathing hard while my brain worked to make sense of her words, the sound of a throat clearing somewhere behind me had my back stiffening.

Mona ducked her head, whispering hurriedly against my ear, “Your—uh—sister is here with her fiancé. And so are Allyn and my brother.”

Well, fuck.

Actually, no. Not fuck. No expletive existed that could adequately describe the magnitude of my frustration in that moment. Instinct told me to toss her over my shoulder. Leave. Find a room that didn’t have a fucking housewarming party in it. Pick up right where we left off, with my hands up her skirt.

And when Marie said, “Don’t mind us, we were just talking about the—uh—show. Not this show, the other show,” and everyone laughed, I almost did it.

But we’d be photographed. Fans would have their phones ready and there’d be no escape. Everyone would know. Mona in her tiny blue dress, me looking like—what did Ruthie call it?—a porno pirate, covered in sweat, my shirt sticking to my body, my eyes a little wild. Not an image I imagined Mona wanted out there.

Mona.

My fingers tightened on the fabric of her dress. She was sifting her fingers through my hair, placing little, sweet kisses on my neck, murmuring words meant to calm and coax. “Let’s visit. Just for a minute. Then we have three days, you and me. All the time in the world, right?”

Slowly, reluctantly, I gathered a deep breath and removed my hands from her, bracing them against the door and glaring down at this woman I loved, and wanted, beyond description, beyond the limitations of language.

“Ten minutes,” I said, not sure if it was a threat or a promise. “Five if someone gives me a reason to kick them out.”

Mona rolled her lips between her teeth and nodded, peering up at me, looking pleased and excited and a little dazed. “Ten minutes.”





I wasn’t much of a drinker anymore. But tonight, when offered whiskey by Leo, I downed the two-ounce pour just to take the edge off.

“Slow down,” he said, grinning and taking my glass to pour me another.

Accepting the refill and looking over my shoulder at Mona, I took his words to heart. Slow down. Slow. Down.

Mona sat on the chair facing the sofa, talking animatedly to Marie and Matt. She seemed galvanized, like the show, the energy affected her too. And as I watched her, doing my best to slow down, I savored the sight. Her smile. Her bright eyes. Her laugh. Her voice, here, live, not carried across the planet over a phone.