Sean

Welding my back teeth together, I did my best to ignore Anna for the three miles it took to get to the Four Seasons. Damned hard to do when every instinct told me to pull her against me and never let her go. 

For a million reasons, that wouldn’t work. Not only did Anna belong to someone else, but she’d chosen the douchebag over me. 

Whatever else happened on that last night before I left, all the sins I carried like stones, it had all started with Anna’s rejection. 

I can’t go with you. I have school. 

Everything after that—I owned. But those words put an end to us. 

The limo coasted to a stop, and I jumped out to scan the area for paparazzi, leaving Anna to fend for herself. Not that I needed to worry. The eagle-eyed valet was Johnny on the fucking spot, helping Anna to her feet, a lascivious grin on his mug. 

The band stayed at the hotel often, and the valet was a regular. He’d seen me bring women here on many occasions, only to have to hail them a cab a few hours later when I was finished with them.

“No bags, ma’am?” The valet’s grin turned into a smirk.

Anna glanced at me, her jaw going slack and color rising in her cheeks. 

My anger evaporated, for the moment at least, and I pulled Anna flush to my side. 

“The airline lost my girlfriend’s luggage,” I informed the valet. “When it gets here, have it sent to my suite, yeah?”

Nodding, the valet fumbled to grab a ticket from his breast pocket. “Of course.” Gulping, he turned his focus to Anna. “Name, ma’am?”

Fuck.

Before I could offer an alias, Anna piped up. “Dresden. Anna Dresden.” 

Dresden?

If only that were true. 

Trying not to scowl, I handed the valet a twenty in exchange for the bullshit ticket for the luggage that would never arrive. Then I grabbed Anna’s hand, and we marched to the glass door. 

As I pulled her inside the lobby, she stumbled, and when I looked down, I found her gazing around in wonder. And for the first time in a long time, I took in my surroundings through the eyes of someone else. 

Molding my hand to Anna’s back, I followed her to the row of brightly colored glass sculptures. She ran a fingertip over the smooth surface. “Wow.” She peered up at me, smiling. “These are beautiful.” 

She was beautiful. And sweet. And so fucking sexy I could barely stand it.

For a moment, I forgot how pissed I was. “Yeah, they are.” I pulled my hand away and cleared my throat. “I’ve got to get the key.”

Anna nodded, her attention still on the figurines. 

Mandy, the front desk clerk, gave me a smile when I approached. I really spent too much time here if I could recognize all the employees. After a quick greeting, Mandy handed me a little envelope with my key, her focus on Anna. 

“Would you like me to set up a car service for your friend, or is the valet hooking you up?” 

Mandy continued to smile at me as if I wasn’t the biggest douche nozzle on the planet, which, obviously, I was, because I’d sent many a girl packing with her assistance. 

“No, sugar,” I fingered the edge of the little envelope. “But I will need another key for my girlfriend. Her name is Dresden . . . Annabelle Dresden. If you could add her name to the room?” 

Why I was going through all this trouble to make these people believe that Anna wasn’t a groupie, I didn’t know. But for some reason it was important. Vital, even. 

Mandy quickly fixed me up with another plastic card, which I stashed in my pocket. It’s not that I wouldn’t mind giving it to Anna, along with the key to my house, the pin to my ATM, and any other damn thing she wanted, but I knew she wouldn’t take it. 

It’s a miracle she’d agreed to come to my room, and from the look of dread on her face when she did, it wasn’t for anything fun. 

I made my way back to Anna, taking her elbow. “All set.”

She didn’t budge, folding her arms tightly around her middle. “Maybe we should talk in the lounge?”

“Not unless you want to get interrupted every few minutes.” I tried for an easy smile. “They’re having a shitload of parties here tonight. Closing out the festival and all. They’ll probably be photographers as well.”

Sucking her lip between her teeth, Anna pondered. I thought for sure the comment about the paparazzi would spook her. Or at least the idea of explaining this shit to her husband if we ended up an item in the paper. 

She heaved a sigh. “Okay. Lead the way.” 

The elevator ride was quiet, and once we exited on the top floor, Anna struggled to keep pace with me. I paused, biting down a smile when she stopped to take off her shoes. 

“Surprised it took you so long,” I said, glancing at the high heels dangling from her fingertips.

Anna’s cheeks flushed. “Sorry. I’m not used to wearing stilettos.” 

Something about her barefoot was more enticing than her fuck-me heels, and I felt myself hardening behind my zipper.

Anna was right—this wasn’t a good idea. 

I grunted an incoherent acknowledgment before trekking the last few yards to the suite. 

Anna lingered just inside the double doors while I turned on some lights. My backpack and a few personal items were already in the bedroom, and I hoped a bell hop had delivered them and not one of the guys. 

If they busted in here and saw us . . .

Dismissing the thought, I made a beeline for the bar. After making us each a drink, I turned and found Anna standing at the wall of windows. Moonlight kissed her skin as she gazed into the distance, palm pressed against the glass and a small frown touching her lip. 

I stole behind her, snaking my arm over her shoulder to hand her the cocktail. “You want to tell me what happened to UT?” 

“Nothing happened to UT.” She tapped the glass, her tone wistful. “It’s right over there.” 

Ready to issue a bitter retort, I noticed two leaves from her willow tree tattoo peeking from the collar of her blouse. And I couldn’t help it. Pushing the fabric aside, I ran a finger over the ink. 

I’d drawn the tree myself, a replica of the willow that sat by the shores of Anna’s parent’s cabin at the lake. It was a match to the one on my bicep. 

But different. 

While Anna’s tree was the picture of serenity, long branches and lush leaves brushing the ground, mine was all chaos and fury, with gnarled limbs twisting in the winds of a summer storm.

My name was twined in the bark of the trunk of her tree, camouflaged, but I saw it clearly. 

“Why him?” I asked, meeting her gaze in the glass. “I asked you for one year, and you said no. But you married someone else six months after I left?”

Fire flashed in Anna’s eyes when she spun to face me, a little unsteady on her feet. “What does it matter?” The alcohol brought out her southern drawl. “You left, remember?”

After downing the contents of her drink, Anna weaved her way to the bar, and this time she didn’t bother with a mixer. She poured three fingers of Jack and then drained the whiskey in one gulp. 

I was too damn mad to tell her to slow down. And besides, maybe the liquor would loosen her tongue, and she’d tell me what I wanted to know. The uncensored version.

I joined her as she sloshed more Jack into her glass. “I left after you said you wouldn’t come. I wanted you to—”

“To what?” She glared up at me with unfocused eyes. “We had a plan. I asked for th-three weeks,” Anna slurred. “Enough time to get my scholarship in order and tell my parents. But no, that wasn’t good enough.” 

She continued to glare at me, swaying on her spot, and the weight of her stare was too much, so I slumped onto a bar stool and stared at my hands. “I thought you were making excuses. That once I left, you’d never come.” 

And I guess I was right. But my pride kept me from saying that out loud. 

Anna inched closer, her toes digging into the plush carpet. “Is that why you did it?”

Lifting my gaze, a bitter smile curved my lips. “Did what, Anna? Followed my dreams?” I motioned around the room. “As you can see, I did all right. I never lied to you about what I wanted to do with my life.” 

She grabbed the edge of the bar for balance. “That’s not . . . That’s not what I’m talking about.” 

“What are you talking about then?” 

Anna leaned in as if she were about to make a point. Then her eyes widened, and she doubled over, throwing up all over my boots. 

I ran a cool, damp washcloth over the back of Anna’s neck as she hung her head over the toilet. Her blouse and skirt were long gone, replaced with a large cotton bath towel she’d secured under her arms.

My chin grazed her shoulder as I said into her ear, “Feel better, baby?” 

The endearment spilled out unbidden. But in my defense, it was taking all my concentration to keep from molesting her. A nearly naked Anna, puking or not, and my body was on full alert. It didn’t hurt that she was situated between my legs, her back pressed against my bare chest. The skin-on-skin contact was driving me crazy. 

Groaning, Anna sank back, straight into my lap.

Fuck.

Adjusting her body so she wouldn’t feel the obvious bulge in my jeans, I eased her into the crook of my arm and gazed down at her. Remarkably, she’d managed to get all but a little of the vomit into the bowl. And even with her eyes squeezed shut and sweat dotting her scrunched up brow, she looked gorgeous. 

“Sean . . .” she mumbled without opening her eyes. 

I used the corner of the cloth to remove some dribble from her chin. “Yeah?”

“I’m sick.” 

I bit down a smile. “No, you’re drunk.” 

Which was a little surprising. The Anna I remembered knew her way around a bottle of Jack. Not that she overindulged, but she could hold her own. Whatever she’d been doing these last four years, she hadn’t been doing it in a bar. 

Anna shook her head vehemently at the affront. “Am not.” 

“Whatever you say.” 

She turned her face into my chest, then went limp. I’d nursed the girl through her first drunken episode when we were teenagers and many more since, so I knew the drill—she’d be passed out in minutes. 

“Stop,” Anna protested with a loud groan when I shook her lightly. 

Sighing, I tilted her forward and said, “Grab the bowl.” 

Thankfully, this was the Four Seasons, and not one of the rat traps the band had stayed in during our first year on the road. 

Once Anna’s uncoordinated arms were wrapped around the gleaming porcelain, I pushed to my feet, cursing when my leg cramped. 

She looked up at me with heavy lids. “Sorry.”

“It wasn’t you.” I rubbed my thigh. “My legs always give me trouble after a long set.” 

“I remember.” Brow furrowed, her gaze lingered on my bare chest. “Why don’t you have a shirt on?”

Because I’m a selfish bastard who wanted to rub against you in your time of distress.

Keeping that thought to myself, I plucked my T-shirt from the floor. “I didn’t want it to get dirty.” 

Dirtier, I realized as I glanced at the wrinkled cloth. Still, it was better than Anna’s puke-covered blouse. 

“Let’s get this on you.” My tone was gruffer than expected, full of unspent lust. “Lift your arms.” When Anna’s eyes widened, I smiled at her. “I won’t peek. Unless you want me to.” 

Something about taking care of Anna brought a slew of emotions to the surface. Not all of them pure. If fucking her right here on the tile floor was an option, I’d take it.

Pathetic.

I didn’t have time to ponder my depravity because Anna pushed herself off the bowl and slowly raised her arms. The towel slid off, and thank fuck, her back was to me because I couldn’t move. My hungry gaze ate up all her smooth skin, lingering on her willow tree tattoo. 

She finally looked over her shoulder at me, a weak smile ghosting her lips. “Is this some weird new fetish? Are we playing cops and robbers?” She snorted a laugh, wiggling her fingers. “I surrender already.” Confusion crinkled her brow when she looked down. “Holy shit . . . my nipples are hard as hell,” she mused. “What’s that about?” 

Before I was tempted to do a thorough inspection of the stiff peaks with my tongue, I yanked the T-shirt over her head, “You’re just cold.” 

Anna continued to chuckle as I pushed her loose limbs through the sleeves. 

Slipping an arm around her waist, I pulled her upright. “Up you go.”

Anna’s legs weren’t on board with the plan, so I molded myself to her back and walked us to the sink. 

She gripped the edge of the granite while I held her in place with my hips so I could sift through the complimentary basket full of toiletries. 

Finding two toothbrushes, I peeled off the wrapping and then loaded the bristles with toothpaste. 

Prying Anna’s hand from the counter, I pressed the toothbrush into her palm. “Brush.” 

Anna wrinkled her nose as she tried to find her mouth. When her cheeks were sufficiently covered with gel, I took pity on her and guided the instrument to her lips. “Open, baby.” 

Anna did as I asked, her hand covering mine as I swept the bristles over her teeth. 

“Good girl. Now, spit.”

Our eyes met in the mirror, and she blinked, foam dribbling on her T-shirt. My T-shirt. And something about her wearing my clothes was hot as fuck.

Cupping the back of her neck gently, I tipped her forward. “Spit, baby.” 

Once she’d expelled most of the bubbles, I drew her back so I could clean the mess off her face. 

Her gaze never left mine as I made quick work of brushing my own teeth. 

“Can you walk?” I asked when I was finished. 

Anna jerked as if she just realized she’d spent the last five minutes with my hard-on pressed against her back. 

I snaked an arm around her waist as she tried to scoot away. “Whoa, hold on.”

Her wobbling legs guaranteed an inevitable crash to the unforgiving floor, so I scooped her into my arms. 

“Stop squirming,” I said as I carried her into the adjoining bedroom. 

When she complied, collapsing against me, I gave serious thought to taking a lap around the suite just to hold her for a few extra minutes. But I wasn’t that fucking desperate. 

Pride notwithstanding, I pressed a feather light kiss to the top of her head before easing her between the sheets on the king-sized bed. 

Anna grumbled, then rolled onto her side, burrowing into the pillow.

Sinking into a chair, I watched her for any signs of distress. 

“Sean?”

Inching forward, I lowered my head to catch her eyes. “Yeah?”

Anna blinked slowly. “Am I dreaming?”

I laughed because it was a distinct possibility. She’d always talked in her sleep, sometimes with her eyes open. We used to have disjointed conversations about flowers and bicycles and birds. Mindless chatter that she couldn’t remember and I’d never forget.

“No, baby, you’re not dreaming.” 

She frowned, her eyes drifting shut. “Why aren’t you in bed, then?” 

Since Anna’s subconscious was taking a walk down memory lane, I decided to call the front desk and get my own room before I lost all reason and took her up on the offer. 

After securing the black-out drapes so the sun wouldn’t blind her in the morning, I crouched next to the bed. 

Tracing a finger down her jaw and over her bottom lip, a lump of regret formed in my throat. “It was nice seeing you, Anna-baby.” 

Her eyes popped open. “Sean . . . ?”

Alarm etched her tone, and before I could say anything, her palm was flat against my cheek.

I leaned into her touch. “Yeah?” 

“Do they have good pancakes here?”

 “They have good everything here.”

Anna hummed, her eyes fluttering closed and her hand falling away. Seconds passed, and when her breathing evened, I got up. 

I was headed for the door, to the freedom from all the turmoil twisting me in knots, when I heard her voice, soft as a whisper.

“Can I have some in the morning?”

My every instinct prodded me to keep walking, but when I swung my gaze to the tiny lump huddled on the side of the huge bed, I lost my will to be anywhere but here.

Closing the door, I sealed out the rest of the world for the little while we had left. When morning came, Anna would go, but right now I could pretend. Easing onto the mattress, I stayed on my side of the bed until I felt her roll over. 

“Can I?” she asked, groggy. “Have pancakes . . . with you?” 

Even though I knew it would end badly, I turned and faced her, sliding down until we were nose-to-nose. Her eyes twinkled faintly, and I found her hand, tangling our digits.

“You can have anything you want.” Brushing a kiss to her knuckles, my lips grazed her emerald ring. “Anything.”