Liz’s eyes widen and I see her gulp as she hovers next to my motorcycle.

“Come on.” I pat the seat.

“I, um.” She bites her bottom lip and looks around the empty parking lot. “I don’t think I can get on that.”

“I’ll keep you safe, Liz, I promise. Just hold on to me. You can squeeze as hard as you want.”

She looks scared shitless and I worry that I might have to call us a cab. I honestly have no problem doing that since it’s drizzling, and riding in the rain isn’t fun for anyone. Plus, an intense make-out session in the backseat, on the short drive to my place, would be amazing foreplay, but I’d rather get my bike home than leave it here overnight.

“Get on back; we’ll go for a little spin right here in the parking lot so you can see how it feels.”

She takes a small step toward me. I help her secure her helmet before she swings a leg over the bike. Once she’s on, she wraps her arms around my waist tightly. I reach back and pat her outer thigh.

“I feel good between your legs, don’t I?”

Her chest presses against my back when she laughs. Then her helmet knocks against mine.

“Sorry!” she yells.

“It’s okay.” I chuckle to myself and start the engine.

I know I said I was going to go for an easy spin around the parking lot, and I will, but I don’t plan on stopping this bike until I’m in my driveway. If I told Liz, I’m pretty sure she never would have gotten on.

My house is less than ten minutes away, so she shouldn’t hate me too much when I peel away without giving her proper notice.

Being on my bike is absolute freedom. Nothing caging me in, air flowing from all sides, the connection between the road and my mind. I have to concentrate and pay attention, yet my brain is constantly turning.

Why am I so attracted to Liz?

When I first saw her tonight, I could chalk it up to pure lust—the physical connection from our eye contact. The intoxicating feel of getting lost in the heat of the moment. A pull this intense doesn’t happen to me often, so it’s definitely a possibility.

Or is it because I found out that this girl is the girl I wrote a romanticized love song about? Are the emotions I get from singing the song distorting the way I see her?

Maybe it’s because she’s a bit shy and awkward? The way she stumbled over words to say to me after the show endeared her to me forever. I love introverted, yet badass, women. Reminds me of my mom—and myself—when I’m around my family and friends—those brilliant moments where I can put down my guard, shed the musician character, and just be Austin.

Or is it because her eyes penetrate into my soul? Every time she looks at me, there’s more there—like she’s searching for someone she already knows. Does she subconsciously remember me?

I push the why’s out of my head and focus on the moment. No reason to think so much when it’s simple. Right here. Right now. With Liz.

After parking my bike in the driveway at my place, I climb off and remove my helmet, then immediately turn around to help Liz dismount. I grab her by the waist and help her off, placing her on the ground gently. She braces herself on my chest, seemingly startled at my assistance. Her surprise makes me smile. Having her thighs squeeze my hips the entire ride has me riled up, ready to drop her onto my bed, hold her wrists above her head, and fuck her senseless. Which will be quite the challenge, since the girl is smart enough to be a fucking surgeon.

As soon as she sets her helmet on the seat of my bike, I take her face in my hands, lean down, and brush her lips softly. She responds by pressing her mouth against mine with desperate hunger.

Oh, it’s on.

The rain falls harder, but I barely notice. Grabbing her ass with both hands, I pull her pelvis toward mine and grind into her. She slides her hands into my wet hair and holds on, pulling tight. The slight pain as she tugs gets me hot as hell. I can’t get enough of her taste or the feel of our tongues tangling with each other. I need more. I need to bury my face between her legs and work her clit until she’s screaming my name.

When I try to retreat, she holds my bottom lip between her teeth. She’s so fucking sexy. And dangerous. She’s the girl I shouldn’t be lusting over. And yet, I’m lost in the thought of driving my cock into her over and over. The girl with the intense eyes—the ones that can read my soul.

At first, I was worried about what she saw, but she’s here with me now, so it must’ve been positive.

When I let her go, Liz takes a slight step backward. Her foot slides on uneven pavement, and her ankle rolls. I wrap my arms around her to steady her. “Hey now!”

“Geez! I’m such a klutz.” Her face turns pink with embarrassment. “That kiss was, ummm—” She rakes her fingers through her hair and swallows hard. “Intense.”

“I know,” I agree, my lips brushing her ear. “Now let’s get inside, because I’m gonna fuck you so hard you won’t be able walk when I’m done, and I don’t feel like sleeping out here in the rain.”

“Sounds good to me.” We lock eyes. I implore hers to make sure she’s down. I’m not into forcing chicks to do anything they don’t want to do.

Her gaze doesn’t waver. Not even a blink. That’s how I know we’re gonna have so much fun tonight.

Taking Liz’s hand, I lead her across the gravel driveway to the walkway.

“Watch your step.” I point to a spot where the concrete is uneven and broken. Her lips turn up in a small smile. When I look at the house, I notice multiple faces peering out the window, which means my roommates have people over. It doesn’t bother me, but I hope Liz is okay with it. I mean, it’s not like we’re gonna stop to chat or anything. I’m taking her straight to my room. I don’t give a fuck if anyone hears us.

As soon as I open the door, every head swivels toward us. Smiles drop. Eyes widen. I don’t pay attention, but Liz’s grip tightens, so I rub her hand with my thumb as an unspoken gesture of reassurance.

“Austin!” someone calls.

“Hey!” I mumble, moving Liz so she’s ahead of me as we go up the stairs.

“Great show, man!”

“Thanks. Appreciate it,” I call over my shoulder. I don’t want to seem ungrateful; I just want to get Liz out of the firing squad because it’s bound to go from casual praise for the show to pointed questions about her.

At the top of the stairs, I place my hand on Liz’s back and direct her to my bedroom. As we slip inside, the questions from below come fast and loud, like bullets from an assault rifle.

“What’s up with the Becky?”

“What the fuck is he doing?”

“Who is she?”

“Fuck that. Who’s got the herb?”

In all honesty, I’m not bothered by the comments, because once I’ve fallen for a woman, no one can sway me. But that doesn’t mean I want to hear them. All I want to do right now is make this girl scream. Loud enough that everyone downstairs can hear it.

At least, I hope she screams. She’s definitely more fun than I originally gave her credit for, but it still seems like she’d be reserved in bed.

No worries. I’m ready for the challenge.

I slam the door behind us and rush Liz immediately, taking her face in my hands and covering her mouth with my own. Her response is the same as before, crushing her body against mine, but this time she wraps her arms around me. I love that she wants to be closer. Every time our kiss deepens, her arms tighten around me. It’s like she’s trying to be one with me and it gets me hot as hell. Because becoming one with her is all I can think about, as well. Naked. For hours.

I move my hands to her legs, running my palms against her outer thighs to lift her skirt. Her breath hitches and she grinds her pelvis against the front of my jeans. Knowing how much she enjoys it makes my dick hard. I don’t want to stop until I feel how excited she is.

I back her up until her legs hit the bed.

“I want you, Liz.”

“I want you, too,” she whispers. I wonder if it’s because she’s trying to be quiet so people downstairs don’t hear us, or if she’s just quiet in general. Her nervous smile melted me after the show. Seeing her whole, safe, and alive sent a buzz of excitement through me. Part of me wants to confess that I know her, but I don’t want her to think it’s because I’m one of these people that needs others to know when I’ve done something for them.

I would have stopped for anyone. Rich. Poor. Black. White. American. Russian. It wouldn’t have mattered. But I can’t shake the feeling that there had to be some universal reason for her showing up at my show tonight. She didn’t know I took her to the hospital. EmVee didn’t know. There has to be something to that.

There’s a fucked-up Prince Charming part of me that wants to claim the girl I saved. I’ve never been the type to have a hero complex, but I guess that’s because I’ve never been a hero. And technically, I don’t even know that I saved her. An emergency crew could have been minutes away.

I can’t explain the strong connection I felt the first time I saw her, but I’m feeling that same connection right now. The best way to test that connection is to look in her eyes while her pussy clenches around my cock.

I crouch down, grab Liz behind her knees, and flip her back onto the bed. The pure joy in her squeal tells me that she likes it. Her dress flips up to reveal creamy thighs and a tight stomach.

“God, you’re so fucking sexy,” I tell her.

Instead of going straight for the prize, I place my hands on each side of her, lean down and press my lips right above her belly button. Her back arches in anticipation which also lifts her tits to the sky. A reminder that I need to get this fucking dress off her.

My cock strains against my jeans as I climb onto the bed, but I’m not ready to let it out yet. I need to know her body first. Need to see what makes her happy. See what gets her off. I want to taste her. Want to make sure she’s completely satisfied, because once my cock comes out, I’m driving it straight inside her.

I move up to lay on my side, next to her. Before I have a chance to touch her, she sets her hands on my chest, curls into me, and presses her mouth against mine. She pulls back slightly and slides her tongue across my lips. Liz taking charge is so fucking hot. I love that her first reaction is always to get closer. It’s like she wants to mold herself against me. I can’t get enough of that feeling. There’s nothing better than when a woman wants to be with you.

Our eyes lock. And there it is. What started out as physical attraction, has morphed into something completely different. My body hums, fueled by an invisible connection between us. This isn’t just sex, this is an energy exchange—thick, almost palpable—but absolutely unmistakable.

I’ve never felt anything like it.

Liz’s lips curve into a sexy smile, then she grabs my hand and guides me to the promised land. She’s so fucking wet, it makes me groan. “Fuck, Liz!”

Since I have permission, I slide her underwear down her legs, until they hit her calf. She uses one foot to push them the rest of the way down and fling them off. When I slip one finger in, she closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. Her chest bumps against mine before she lets out the breath, just as slowly as she inhaled. I’ve never been with a girl that took deep breaths. Maybe it’s her way of gearing up for all the fast panting she’s about to do.

Or not?

She keeps up the deep breathing as I finger-fuck her into oblivion. I do say oblivion, because I have never had a girl come so fucking hard on my hand. I can usually tell when a someone is getting close by the way her breath hitches and her breathing increases. But Liz is completely different than anyone I’ve ever been with. She lifts her chest and hips on the inhale and releases on the exhale, as if her body is breathing in waves.

“Was that good?” I ask.

“Umm hmm,” she moans, still writhing against my hand.

I think she’s still orgasming. I don’t know. Jesus, I feel like a fucking novice. I need to know.

“Are you still coming?” I ask. Having to ask makes me feel like such an amateur, but this girl my judgmental friends labeled a “Becky” is surprising the fuck out of me.

“I’m riding it out. It still feels really good.”

“Damn,” I breathe out. Watching her roll her hips gets me harder by the second.

I love that rather than just lying there, she goes for it. First times with someone can be awkward, but Liz doesn’t hold back and it’s hot as hell. For someone who comes across quiet and shy, she’s knows exactly what she wants and how to get it. That alone makes her a thousand times sexier than the majority of the girls I’ve been with. Liz is very aware of her body. She obviously knows what works for her and how to enhance it.

Suddenly, she opens her eyes and grins. “That was brilliant.”

“Was that all from breathing?” I ask, curious about her goddess ways.

Her smile falters a bit, but doesn’t disappear completely.

“It was amazing,” I say quickly so she knows I enjoyed it and wasn’t trying to make her feel self-conscious. “Watching you is hot as fuck.”

“I work in medicine, so I research a lot of things.” She stops, as if contemplating what to say next. I already know she’s a surgeon, but I’m still hanging on every word.

She continues, “I’m very aware of my body. And of other people’s bodies.”

“Oh yeah?”

She nods. Her shy smile slides into a sexy smirk. “I’m extremely aware of your body right now.”

Her fingers find the zipper of my jeans easily, and within seconds my pants are on the floor. Then she climbs on top of me and grabs the hem of her dress. I take a deep death as she slides the silky fabric up her body, slowly revealing every gorgeous curve. I knew she wasn’t stick thin from holding her. It’s a complete turn-on to see a girl who’s fit and tight, yet not bony and hard. Her soft curves make my mouth water.

She slings her dress to the floor giving me full view of perfect, round breasts, contained by a sexy, black-lace bra. I reach out and place my hand on top of her heart. It races under my palm. Her energy pulses into me with every breath.

At first, I think she’s going to climb on and start riding my dick, but she surprises me yet again by turning around. She takes the base of my cock in one hand, leans over, and licks the entire shaft before swirling her tongue around the tip lightly.

“Fuck,” I groan, lifting my hips off the bed when she takes me into her mouth. As she works my cock, she lifts her hips, giving me full access to her pussy.

This reserved, professional woman wants to fucking sixty-nine.

I think I’m in love.

Without a second thought, I grab her hips and pull her onto my face. The rumble of her moan creates a phenomenal vibration against my dick.

Suddenly there’s a knock on the door. Followed by someone calling out, “Austin!”

Liz removes her warm mouth from my dick.

“Don’t worry about it, honey.” I slap her thigh lightly to prod her on. “There’s no way I’m answering that door.”

Another pound. Then another. More yelling. Mother-fucking fuckers. I hate my friends.

Ignoring the knocking and yelling, I settle back into Liz’s pussy, lapping and sucking and biting. I’m so completely into her—into this—that I don’t want to think about anything else. I’m hoping she hasn’t lost the mood. But how could she not when my fucking idiot roommate is pounding on the door?

Yet, every time I think something about Liz, she flips it around on me.

So I can’t say I’m totally surprised when she grinds her pussy against my face and gets back to work on my dick with more enthusiasm and gusto than before. She spits into her palm, then grabs onto the base and starts twisting her hand as she takes as much of me into her mouth as she can. It feels so fucking good I could blow right now. I wouldn’t—not the first time—but damn! This woman is talented.

When I’m sure I can’t hold off any longer, I lift her up and toss her on the bed next to me. “Fuck, baby. Hold on. You’re gonna make me come.” Then I climb on top of her and say, “I want to be looking into your beautiful eyes when I explode in your pussy.”

Her sultry smile says everything I need. I reach into the drawer next to my bed and pull out a condom. I want to be inside this girl so badly my hands are shaking as I roll it on. Without any more waiting or foreplay, I push into her with one swift thrust. Her eyes roll back and her lids close as pure ecstasy takes over. Her head presses into the pillow, chin in the air.

“Harder, Austin!”

Spurred on by her command and her nails digging into my back, I pull out slowly before slamming back in. She gasps with the impact, and her pussy clenches around my cock.

“Yes! Keep going!”

Normally, I’m not a jackhammer-sex kind of dude, but if that’s what Liz wants, I’m going to do it. Whatever feels good for her. Her gasps turn into moans the more I thrust. Each reaction has me riding so high I’m about to come if I keep this up. Thrusting one more time, I stay deep inside, but lean down and grind my pelvis against her. Up and down, in circles, I know it feels good against her sensitive clit.

“Oh my god! Yes! Right there. Don’t stop! Don’t stop!”

I lower my head to kiss and bite the smooth skin of her neck. Her pulse beats against my lips—the blood pumping through her system bringing me to life. “Tell me when you’re coming, baby. I’m going to explode with you.”

“I’m—oh my god—I’m coming, Austin! Don’t stop!”

No fucking way would I stop when I know the sensation I’m creating is making her come undone.

“Austin! Austin! Austin!”

Liz’s eyes flash open and that piercing gaze takes me to the next level. The sweet sound of her chanting my name, while staring into the depths of my soul, makes me come hard.

“Fuck!”

I’ve been on stage in front of hundreds of people staring at me, yelling and screaming their praise, but none of that compares to the high of staring into Liz’s eyes while reaching the ultimate physical and mental connection.

What is this girl doing to me?

I lean over and press my lips against hers before collapsing on the bed next to her, breathing hard, wondering if my breath will ever resume to a normal pace when I’m around her.

“You okay?” she asks, reaching for my hand and intertwining her fingers with mine.

“Never better, baby,” I answer. It’s an honest, yet complicated answer.

While it’s true that I’ve never felt better than I do right now, after having the most extraordinary orgasm of my life, I’m cautious, wondering if I should jump straight into the deep end and give this girl my heart. When I fall, I fall hard.

We lie together in silence, catching our breath amid the mild smell of sweat and sex.

“That was intense, Austin,” Liz whispers.

Yeah, it was.

Pressing my eyes closed, I will myself not to speak. Because if I speak I’m either gonna say something so fucking outlandish like, “I love you” or something completely asshole like, “So you want me to take you home?”

I don’t want to go the asshole route, because even though I know it’s based out of fear and self-sabotage, she won’t understand, and it’ll ruin any future we might be starting here.

Still, I feel like that’s what I’m doing when I slide out of bed saying, “I’m gonna run to the bathroom. Be right back.”

I dispose of the condom quickly and take a piss.

I've never had to deal with these feelings before. Usually, relationships happen the “normal” way, after the getting-to-know-you part and sexual buildup. It’s never started with such a strong connection. Probably because I don’t usually have strong connections with strangers. I don’t really open up until I feel comfortable with someone.

Except she’s not technically a stranger.

Fuck me and fuck feelings.

After washing my hands, I splash my face with water. It’s never going to work between Liz and me. It’s a connection I created and romanticized in my mind. Sure, that sex was intense and fucking phenomenal, but we have nothing in common. Pursuing a relationship with her would be an uphill battle I don’t have the time or energy to fight right now. Not when I’m using every ounce of strength I have for making it in the music industry. We’ve never been this close and I’m not letting a stupid crush get in the way.

When I get back to my bedroom, Liz sits there with both feet on the floor, as if ready to make a run for it.

“Can I use your bathroom?” she asks, glancing at me, but not meeting my eyes.

“Absolutely. It’s at the end of the hallway.”

“Thanks,” she says, getting up swiftly and sliding past me in the doorway.

Fuck! Every reservation I had about pursuing her, every warning flag I raised in my head flies out the window when I see how dejected she looks—like a woman who already regrets sleeping with me.

I already screwed up by going to the bathroom instead of talking and cuddling first. Before she shuffles out of reach, I grab her hand and draw her toward me. She raises her eyes to mine tentatively.

“You are so fucking amazing,” I whisper before placing a soft kiss on her lips. “Hurry back.”

The words make her eyes light up and her smile come alive again. Sometimes I’m such an awkward idiot I forget the little things—like compliments and how much I appreciate a woman sharing her body with me in the most intimate way possible.

When Liz returns, she climbs back into bed. I immediately open my arms, inviting her to snuggle in. She rests her head on my chest and places a hand over my heart. I kiss the top of her head.

“You gotta tell me about that orgasm, Liz.”

“It was awesome. Amazing. Best I ever had?” The inflection at the end makes me realize that my questions sounded like I’m an egomaniac fishing for compliments.

“Well, I know that,” I tease. “I meant how do you do it? I’ve never seen anyone slow-breathe through an orgasm. It’s always a lot of fast, hyperventilating-type breaths.”

“Oh.” She laughs softly. The delighted vibrations send waves straight into my heart.

“I’ve read a lot of books and articles about how I can get the most out of the time with lovers. Though, the goal of sex isn’t always to orgasm, it is a measurable representation of satisfaction. Once I learned that my orgasm is much more intense when I breathe slowly through it, I started practicing.” She pauses and I feel her tense against me. “Not with a ton of men or anything. I practice by myself and take what I learn into my experiences.”

“Wow.” I don’t have any other words. She fucking researches sex and how to make it better. Her mind turns me on.

“There’s so much talk about empowering women—which is absolutely brilliant—but the conversation doesn’t move into the bedroom. I was raised to be a strong, independent woman. Why would I change who I am in one of the most important parts of a relationship? But it’s not just about my own orgasm and satisfaction,” she says quickly. “I research men, too. That’s why I’m pretty good at giving head.”

“Correction: you’re fucking phenomenal at giving head.” My mind wanders back to the way she worked my dick with enthusiasm and expertise. “How do you practice that by yourself?”

If I’m honest—I’m slightly intimidated by how fucking smart she is while being exceptionally turned on at the same time.

“I’m sorry to break it to you, but I’m not a virgin,” she deadpans.

I reach under her arm and tickle her gently. She laughs and shakes against me, sending her infectious vibes through me again. I love her laugh and her mind. She’s blowing me away—literally and figuratively.

“You can practice on me whenever you want.”

“I bet.” She nestles back into me.

“I’m your slave, Liz. Whatever you want to do to me, go for it. I’ll return the favor ten-fold.”

“Noted,” she says. “When did you start playing music?”

“Geez.” I look up to the ceiling, trying to remember how old I was when Dad came home with my first guitar. “I think I was eight or nine when I started playing guitar. I messed around with piano before that, but only for fun. My parents always had instruments in the house. Neither of them played, but they really pushed creativity as an outlet for emotions. I think I wrote my first song at twelve or thirteen. A true story of betrayal and jealousy. Giving the girl I liked the soda from my lunch and having her turn around and give it to the guy she liked. The pain of heartbreak, ya know?”

“Ouch.”

“Right?"

“In sixth grade, I thought I had my first boyfriend. We barely talked at school, but he always wanted to come over to my house. Nothing happened. We just watched TV or hung out. Then, one day, out of the blue, he asked if I could hook him up with Maddie. That happened a lot actually. Guys befriended me to get closer to Maddie. Personally, I don’t see how breaking one sister’s heart is a way to get on the other sister’s good side, but she’d still date the guy if she liked him enough.”

“That’s really shitty.”

“Yeah, but that’s the competitive nature between sisters. Not like there was ever a competition. No one picked me over her.” She says the last part in a whisper and I know that it’s still a source of pain. For someone so confident in her career and self—she’s still hurt by the juvenile shit idiot teenagers pulled.

“That’s a good thing.”

“What?”

“I don’t know your sister, obviously, but I can tell you’re completely different people. You don’t want the guys who are attracted to Maddie. Those aren’t your matches. Using you to get to her is a completely shit-bag thing to do, but be happy that you didn’t get all wrapped up in that dude only to realize later that he wasn’t the right fit in the first place.”

Liz rests both hands on my chest and places her chin on top of them so we can look at each other as we talk. “I never looked at it that way.”

“It’s hard to see past the pain and hurt of a situation like that. You’re way too smart and strong for those cowards anyway. You don’t want a guy who has to go through your sister to get you. You need a guy who knows what he wants and goes for it.” I reach out and run my thumb across her bottom lip. “One that lures you in with intense eye contact and asks you back to his house the same night you meet so you two can explore the obvious connection.”

“Ohhh. Maybe a musician?”

“Absolutely. An okay-looking musician with lots of tattoos and a heart of gold.”

She smiles. “Sounds like my kind of guy.”

“I can hook you up with one.”

“You know what you want and you go for it. I believe that about you. You seem very motivated. Goal-oriented.”

“Did this turn into an interview?”

“No.” She laughs. “I look for those qualities in people. You may not believe this, but it’s hard to be with someone like me.”

“What does ‘someone like you’ mean?”

“I work a lot. By the time I’m finished with my residency—” She pauses and I swear I see tears in her eyes. “These last few years have been some of the most intense I’ll ever go through in my life. Some men are intimidated by what I do. Others can’t handle the fact that I have very little free time to spend with them. They feel neglected and start resenting me. And then I second-guess my career and passion because some guy’s feelings are hurt. I guess that’s why I don’t really pursue relationships right now. I’m sick of feeling bad about myself because I’m not meeting someone else’s expectations for me.”

Her words describe my life as a musician, trying to make it. My focus has been razor sharp recently. If it doesn’t serve me or my career, it goes on the back burner—including relationships.

“Yeah, I completely understand. I’ve worked my ass off and been in band after band, trying to make a living out of this. Just when I think it all clicks—the people, the sound, our goals—something falls apart and I start over again. I put every drop of sweat and blood into making this my full-time career. It’s not easy. I work crazy hours. Sometimes I pick up and drive somewhere random for a weekend, to write. I need a lot of solitude. And now everything is blowing up. Two songs on the radio, millions of streams on YouTube, talking to record labels—” I stop, realizing that I sound like an insecure douchebag listing all my accomplishments like I’m trying to impress her. But I’m not; I know she understands the amount of time and work it takes to be successful. It’s something we have in common.

“Go on,” she says. Her eyes are bright and encouraging.

“Some people still think it’s a hobby—that I can just drop it and move on. It’s funny how many people say that and it’s annoying, ya know? Maybe I didn’t go to college, but I studied and practiced just as hard as anyone learning their craft. And I’m not in massive debt.” I laugh. “My career is just as important to me as your career is to you.”

“I understand, Austin. Believe me.” Something in her eyes tells me to believe her. Trust her. “How long has Drowned World been together?”

“About three years. Fozzie and I started the band with another bass player, but he met a girl and wasn’t interested in touring, so we brought Tim on. He’s been with us about six months.”

Just thinking about Tim and the issues that he’s brought to the band makes my muscles tighten all over.

Either Liz can read my mind or she felt me tense up because she adjusts her body, tucking herself between my arm side, freeing up her hand to rub my chest soothingly. “Trouble with the new guy?”

Talking to her is almost like talking to a therapist. I’m free to say anything I want because she doesn’t know any of these people.

“He’s not as invested as Fozzie and I are. He’s not even on the tracks that are on the radio. We recorded our EP with our old bassist. We’re realizing that he’s literally just with us for the free bar tab at gigs. None of the responsibility.”

“Oh. That doesn’t sound like a good situation.”

“Yeah, it’s—” I take a deep cleansing breath and release the bad vibes around talking about Tim. I want to focus on Liz. “Let’s not talk about him. I’d rather do this.” I shift to my side and wrap my arms around her, pulling her back to my chest. Then I nuzzle my face in her neck and kiss her below her earlobe. She responds with a soft “mmmm” sound which makes my heart race and my cock rise. Despite my body’s reaction, I’m not ready for round two. I just want to hold her.

Miss Honey has completely surprised me. I knew she was intelligent—that part was obvious—but her down-to-earth vibe is what really gets me. She cares and listens. Huge shout-out to the universe for bringing her back to my life. There’s a reason I found her on the side of the road and a reason she was here tonight. I believe in all that energy.

I still can’t believe she’s Harris Commons’ daughter; then again, EmVee is one of the coolest chicks I know and she’s his daughter, too. How did such an arrogant dick bag raise freaking amazing kids? Their mom must be a kick-ass lady.