THE CROWD IS massive, the entertainment at Jack Daniel’s amphitheater in the heart of Music City having been at it all day. As we slowly make our way through the masses, Ashley trying to find a good spot for Corie to see the fireworks, I’m grateful that we weren’t here all afternoon. While the sheer numbers that surround us make it less likely that anyone will even think to pay any mind to the music legend blending in like the rest of us, hidden beneath his ball cap, that doesn’t make me any less alert.
“You guys, wait!”
I hear Jill’s voice, and my heart lurches at the hint of panic in her voice. I look around, trying to find her, and spot her blonde hair almost instantly. How the fuck she ended up behind us, I have no clue. I don’t think twice about breaking away from Ashley to go after her. As soon as I’m in reaching distance, I take hold of her hand, gripping her tightly as I mutter, “What the fuck?”
She blushes, her eyes more frightened now than her voice sounded a second ago. “I’m—what?”
“Don’t get lost in this crowd, Jill.”
“Sorry,” she mumbles. “Not all of us are six-foot-five and made entirely of muscle.”
I glare down at her, then look over my shoulder, realizing that while Frank can hold his own, even Corie is sticking close to Ashley. Not able to argue against her point, I dip my chin in silent acknowledgement and turn us toward the group. I pull her in front of me before letting go of her hand, pointing in the direction I want her to go.
Focused on staying aware of our surroundings, not so much worried about Ashley, but those who bump into him as people try and move about, I take my gaze off of Jill for thirty seconds. Thirty goddamn seconds. When I look down, assuming she’ll be no more than a few paces ahead of me, my stomach drops when I don’t spot her ashy blonde ponytail. The thought of losing her in this crowd irritates me to no end. Even with the lights around the perimeter and those coming from the stage itself, it’s too dark; not to mention, she’s too small, slight, and fucking gorgeous to get lost out here. Any fucker could snatch her up, and she’d be gone in the blink of an eye. Grown woman or not—I trust no stranger in a setting like this.
“Jill!” I bark, my eyes scanning the area for any sign of her.
“Here!” she calls back, shooting her hand up in the air.
I spot her to my right, about three rows deep away from me. I bite out a curse as I force my way toward her, snatching her hand once more and tugging her against my chest. She collides into me, grabbing hold of my shirt with her free hand to keep her balance.
“Don’t do that,” I insist.
“Leo, I’m sorry. This is insane. People are everywhere. I—”
“I don’t want you out of my sight, do you hear me? As a matter of fact, don’t let go of my hand.”
Her fingers gripping my shirt tug at the fabric as she pulls her bottom lip into her mouth. She nods her head, repositioning her hand so that our fingers are laced together, and I have to stifle a grunt.
Without another word, I turn away from her, trying to find our group again. I spot them with little effort, and as I guide her through clumps of people, she squeezes my hand with all her might. I don’t think about how it feels to have her tethered to me. I ignore how predatory and possessive I feel—needing her close to me. Above all else, I don’t spare a single thought to the fact that I abandoned my post without even hesitating to look for her. Not because she’s Corie’s cousin. Not because I know Ashley expects me to keep an eye on her. But because a part of me knows the truth.
If circumstances weren’t what they were—she’d be mine.
AS WE ALL stand, our necks craned so that we can see into the night sky, a fireworks show the likes of which I’ve never seen sparkles above us. Every time a display lights up that takes my breath away, I nudge the back of Corie’s foot; and every time she sees one she loves, she chances a quick glance over her shoulder at me.
When my neck starts to get tired, I prop my head against Leo’s bicep. His hand spasms, gripping mine tighter for a moment before he relaxes. He hasn’t let go of me since I laced my fingers with his. As silly as it might be, the fireworks in the sky pale in comparison to the ones exploding in my stomach as we share this moment together. It’s the first time he’s ever openly touched me around other people.
I know that it means nothing—that it’s stupid for me to read into it at all—but it feels nice. Really nice. So nice that, for the first time since I let him carry me into his bedroom four nights ago, I’m beginning to question whether or not I should have slept with him at all. Tomorrow is going to suck. I’m not ready to say goodbye.
If I’m honest with myself, I know that he’s basically ruined me for life. I don’t know that my body will ever crave anyone the way it craves him. In such a short span of time, he’s learned how to to speak to my body, seducing me to bend at his will. It’s as if no man has been able to speak my language until Leo. I’ve experienced new heights, new depths, new everything. He’s woken me up. After all this time, I know what it really means to be touched by someone, and I’m afraid I’ll never be touched ever again.
It’s not just the sex, either. Granted, I don’t know much more about him now than I did Saturday night out on that dance floor—but as much as I felt our connection then, I feel it so much more now. In this very moment, with no words spoken, but merely the innocent affection we’re displaying in the midst of all these people, I feel like we understand each other in ways no one else can. We have secrets, Leo and I; and whether we want to admit it or not, there is intimacy in secrecy.
While I did tell Corie the details leading up to my first night together with Leo, my story ended the second he carried me over the threshold. She doesn’t know the ways in which he’s brought me to orgasm over and over and over again. Not just because a lady never kisses and tells, not just because bedroom secrets are meant to be exactly that—but because they mean something to me.
Shit. What Leo and I have means something to me.
There are many things I don’t know about him. If I allow myself to dwell on that truth, there’s an ache in my chest that I cannot simply brush away. Maybe if he was just above average—maybe if our time spent together wasn’t so earth-shatteringly intense—maybe if things were different I would feel better. However, as it stands, I wish I had more time. Though, a part of me knows that even another day or two wouldn’t be enough. There’s more to this guarded man at my side than I could ever think to unpack in a few extra hours. He’s kept his distance. He’s shielded his heart. As I stand here underneath the night sky, wishing upon man-made stars for more than I should ever dare to hope for, I know that I need to do the same.
Whatever exists between us has always had an expiration date. I can’t change that, and neither can he. The best thing I can do right now is to enjoy the time that we have left, making it last as long as possible.
I DON’T REMEMBER the last time I had this. If ever. Whatever the fuck this is.
What I do know is that I should let go of her hand. As we all walk back to the truck, the crowd dispersing in every direction, I’m sure Jill could manage to stay in my sights with no trouble. A better man would take it one step further, and upon returning to the house, escort her to her room and call it a night. An even better man wouldn’t be thinking of all the ways in which he intended to savor her on her last night in his bed.
But I am not that man. I cannot be that man. I couldn’t resist her before I knew what it felt like to bring her to orgasm. I sure as shit can’t now—now that I know what it sounds like to hear her scream my name at the peak of her pleasure.
I was right all along. From the very beginning, I’ve known what kind of woman she is. I thought I was being a dick inviting her into my bed, and I was—but I’m also an idiot for thinking that I wouldn’t start to want her for reasons that have nothing to do with sex. Even now, as we walk in silence, there’s a familiarity—a peace that I haven’t felt in…
I twist my neck as if wringing the thought away, reminding myself that it doesn’t matter. History cannot be changed. Not my life fourteen years ago, and not my life now. What I started with Jill, I intend to finish. Tonight. And I won’t regret it. It’ll be the last best mistake I’ll ever make, and I’ll cherish it—she deserves at least that much.