Four weeks.

That’s how long it has been since Maura and I began playing this game of tug-of-war. That’s how long it has been since she unofficially became mine.

In those four weeks, I’ve managed to meet with three other record executives and make a decision about whom I’m going to sign with.

Now I only have to hand over my signed contract.

The biggest thing holding me back from doing so is the blonde beauty I can’t seem to get off my mind. I know that by letting our future together be my deciding factor in signing, I would be breaking the promise we made to one another about working on ourselves and doing things for us. But I can’t help wanting to hold on to her for as long as possible.

Because I know signing will mean recording. Recording will lead to touring, and touring will lead to more recording, and then the cycle will continue. It will be a legally binding never-ending cycle. It’ll be exhausting and time consuming. And that will be a relationship not a lot of people are going to be willing to invest in.

That especially makes me uneasy with Maura, considering her history with long-distance relationships.

So it’s easy to understand why I’d be hesitant to embark on this journey. It will mean losing her, and I’m not ready for that. Not even close.

While I’ve been struggling with letting go, Maura has spent the last four weeks telling her parents to “suck it” in every way she can without talking to them. She sold her car and bought a nice used one with the money. She got out from under their cell phone plan and got her own (yes, sticking them with early termination fees). And she’s exploring possible careers because she’s decided to do something with her decorative business degree her parents forced her to get.

In the last year that I’ve known her, she has grown and changed so much. She used to bend at the will of others. Now, rather than bending, she pushes back and puts herself first.

I am so fucking proud of her for it.

Neither one of us has talked to Tanner since “the phone call,” as we refer to it. I’ve reached out to him a few times. A few to yell at him for what he did to Maura and a few to attempt to explain my side. All calls went unanswered and unreturned.

While we still tiptoe around bringing him up, being able to let things go and focus on the here and now is becoming easier by the day. We’ve just been trying, living for us and not for what happened before.

And it’s working so far.

“Ready!” she calls as she walks back down my hallway and into the living room where I am. “Let’s go. We don’t want to be late.”

I smile because she’s the one causing us to run behind schedule by showing up five minutes late and then taking another five in the bathroom.

Over the many days we’ve spent together, I have learned that Maura is perpetually late. We go bowling—she’s late. We go to the movies—she’s late. We go to dinner—she’s late. I say I’m going to meet her at her place—she’s late. How that last one is possible, I’m not sure.

But the best part about her lateness? She always makes up an excuse. Always. And they are ridiculously adorable.

Tonight it was that she couldn’t get her eyeliner to “even out,” whatever the hell that means. That was also the reason she rushed into the bathroom immediately after she got here. And then came out looking the same as before in her skintight jeans and loose top. As usual, she’s classy and casual all at once.

It’s a trait so small and quirky, but it makes her so irresistible.

“Yes, princess,” I tease.

She glares at me and walks over to the door to slip her shoes back on. “Scoot! You have a set to play, and I don’t want to miss it.”

“It’s not like I don’t know the owner or anything,” I tell her, pulling myself off the couch. “Bet I could sweet talk him into moving my slot around.”

“Poor Gary. He beats a tumor and gets you as the consolation prize. Doesn’t seem very fair to me.”

I swat her on the ass as I brush past her and open the door. Over my shoulder I say, “I consider him quite lucky, actually.”

“Lucky my ass,” she grumbles, following me down the hall.

* * *

“Who all is going to be here tonight?”

I wave at my father, who is behind the bar, as we walk into Mic’s. Grabbing Maura’s hand, I pull her toward our group’s usual table.

“Everyone,” I answer as we approach our friends.

I watch as Maura and Rae do their weird squeal/hug thing and immediately fall into easy laughter. Every time she smiles or giggles, my body is taken over with warmth and happiness, and my heart gets out of sync.

I must stare a bit too long, because when I finally peel my eyes from her, Hudson throws me a knowing look over the top of his glass as he takes a drink. Glowering in his direction, I take a seat at one of the empty chairs.

“It’s busy as shit in here tonight,” I say, glancing around and seeing a crowd that’s far bigger than it normally is.

“I hear this hotshot singer that’s damn close to signing on a recording contract is playing what may be his last gig tonight,” Gaige says.

I shrug. I know there are a lot of rumors swirling around about all of it, but I’ve yet to confirm anything since my brain is in limbo with it all. “Do you believe everything you hear?”

“Nah. Only things posted on the Net. The Net is always accurate,” he deadpans.

“Can’t believe you brought him out in public,” I say to Hudson.

He shrugs. “Your roommate.”

“Hey, Tuck, think you can move your slot up by fifteen minutes? Crowd is starting to get antsy, and the skit before you go on got canceled,” Gary asks from the end of our table.

It’s kind of strange to have Gary talking to me. We’ve never really interacted at the club before during gig nights because we didn’t want people thinking Gary was playing favorites or pulling strings to get suits in here. We’ve always kept our father/son relationship separate from our business one.

“Sure thing,” I say, and he walks off.

Hudson leans in across the table. “It’s still odd to see you two together. It’s like seeing into the future or some shit.”

“Truth,” Rae says. “Your dad is hot, Tucker.”

“Hey! No! We don’t say those things,” Hudson says, glaring daggers at his girlfriend.

She shrugs. “Whatever. All I’m saying is Maura is lucky. Her boyfriend is gonna be a looker when he’s old and grey.”

My eyes snap to Maura. It’s common knowledge that we have a thing going on, but this is the first time since it’s started that someone has been so vocal about it. I guess from the small smile she gives me she likes the boyfriend label as much as I do.

Hudson reaches his hand out and snips at the air with finger scissors. “That’s it, little lady,” he says to Rae. “You’re cut off.”

We all laugh because there’s no way he’ll stick to that.

As I’m about to go check whether my gear is ready for my show, Maura leans over and kisses me on the cheek.

“You doing an original tonight?” she asks hopefully.

Glancing around the club again, I see how much the crowd has grown in the ten minutes we’ve been here. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen it this packed before, and I know it’s because of me and the rumors going around. It seems my social media following is more dedicated than I thought. But as awesome as it is to have a full house for what could be my last gig here, I don’t think they’re ready.

Or it could be that I’m not ready.

“Not yet. But soon,” I tell her.

She gives me an understanding smile and kisses my cheek again. “Go get ‘em, stud.”

I laugh at how she drops her voice to a husky whisper, mimicking Sandy at the end of Grease.

I go into the closed off performers area and make sure my guitar is tuned to the song I want to sing to Maura tonight. The song I’m hoping conveys exactly how I’m feeling without having to say those three words out loud.

A few minutes later Gary hops up on the stage to quiet the house so the evening’s talent can begin.

“Welcome to Mic’s—the club with a name no one ever knows how to properly pronounce. We’ve got a few new acts and a few old acts tonight. But first, let’s welcome Tucker Bentley back to the stage.”

The crowd erupts, and Gary pats me on the back, muttering good luck sentiments as I take my place on my stool.

I sit down and squint against the brightness of the stage lights on the floor as they briefly blind me. Looking out at the crowd, I see several familiar faces from my new angle. Sitting up here on the stage and staring out at the faces of the people who have been with me since I began this wild journey a few years back makes me feel humbled.

Giving the audience my signature smirk, I lean forward toward the microphone.

“Hey, everyone! In case you forgot in the last thirty seconds, I’m Tucker Bentley, and I’m gonna play a couple tunes for you. I know there’s been talk of this being my last show, but the truth is, I don’t know if it will be or not. Guess it depends on how this one goes.”

“WE LOVE YOU, TUCKER! TAKE IT OFF! TAKE IT ALL OFF!” an obviously drunk Perry yells.

I give a somewhat strained smile and point down to him. “Someone get this asshole coffee.”

The crowd laughs, and I watch Rae yank him down, attempting to rein her cousin in. Guess he’s still hitting the booze hard.

“This first one goes out to a very special person in my life,” I say into the microphone. Finding Maura in the crowd, I watch her to make sure she knows she’s the one I’m talking about. “I want her to do me a favor and listen—really listen—to the lyrics. Because I mean them. All of them.”

She gives me a small smile, and I begin my set by clearing my throat just once.

“One, two, three, four…,” I breathe out, watching as Maura’s face lights up because she knows exactly what song I’m singing to her.

Man, do I sing it to her. Every single word is meant for her and her only. She knows it, and she’s responding to it. I can see it in her eyes from up here on the stage. I watch as they start glistening with happiness and tears.

That’s when I feel the shift in our relationship. We come to a silent understanding that this is it. This is the moment we acknowledge how involved we really are, where we commit to one another fully. This is the moment it all becomes official. We are an us.

I love this moment.

When I pluck the last chord, the club erupts in loud whoops and people start shouting.

“LUCKY GIRL!”

“SOMEONE BETTER GO UP THERE AND KISS HIM BEFORE I DO!”

“GO GET HIM!”

“DIBS!”

After the crowd settles, I glance down to start getting my guitar ready to go for the next song. But then I start hearing chanting. A lot of it.

“KISS HIM! KISS HIM! KISS HIM! KISS HIM!”

I look up to see Maura making her way to the stage. She’s taking small, tentative steps. I decide to save her trouble and hop down from my stool, jumping the few feet off the stage and striding toward her.

I don’t move when I approach her. I may have met her halfway, but I’m making her do all the kissing.

She grabs on to my shirt and pulls me closer to her. “Everyone’s staring,” she says quietly.

“I know.”

“You played Kiss Me by Ed Sheeran.”

I smile proudly because I knew when I decided to play it that it was her favorite song. “I know.”

“You asked me to kiss you.”

“I know,” I repeat.

She comes up on her tiptoes and brushes a feather-light kiss across my lips. “If I have to,” I hear just before she settles her mouth firmly on mine.

Before I know it, her lips are gone, and she’s backing away with the cutest smirk. The crowd laughs and cheers again as Maura basically runs back to the table.

I shake my head at her and climb back up onto the stage.

“Who wants to hear more music?”

* * *

It’s about five to midnight, and I’ve convinced Maura to stay over after my show at Mic’s. That means we are currently attempting to get ready for bed. Sober. For the first time.

Getting ready for bed sober is a lot different from getting ready for bed drunk.

Drunk is easy. Sober is hard.

Drunk, you don’t give a shit. Sober, giving a shit is all you do.

“Did, uh, did you want to use the bathroom first?” I ask.

“Um, sure,” she mumbles as she shuffles off across the hall, closing and locking the door behind her.

I lie back on my bed and let out an unsteady breath.

Don’t freak out, Tuck. It’s not like you haven’t had sleepovers in the past. And you’ve even had one with Maura before. Kind of.

“Fuck,” I whisper, covering my hands with my face and trying to calm my racing heart.

We’ve spent the last month holding hands, touching and kissing, so it’s not like I’m unfamiliar with Maura physically. But having her sleep over? Different ballgame. Sharing a bed with someone you have feelings for is intimate as fuck.

We’ve had a stellar night together. After I played her song, I finished my set and then spent the rest of the night hanging out with her and our friends. It was all so easy and natural.

Now? I’m nervous. I want to kiss her, hold her, touch her in places I’ve been longing to for months. I want everything with her. But I have no idea if she’s ready for that yet.

“I’m ready.”

I spring up instantly, terrified I accidentally said all that out loud.

“Huh?” I ask.

Maura laughs. “I said I’m ready for bed, you weirdo.”

Whew.

“Be right back,” I say, brushing past her and into the restroom.

After doing my business, I walk back into my room to find Maura staring out the window. I notice then that the only thing she’s wearing is one of my t-shirts. The only thing running through my head is how I want her to wear my clothes every day for the rest of my life, because that’s how flawless she is in the shapeless attire.

I also notice that my dick starts to get hard, so I attempt to will my boner down, but it’s not working. Too afraid of taking a chance on Maura turning around and seeing it, I hop into bed and bury my lower half under the blankets.

Good timing too, because as I finish getting situated, she turns around.

“This is one hell of a view,” she says.

I know she’s meaning the one out the window, but I can’t help raking my eyes over her body and suggestively saying, “It sure is.”

She moves quickly, jumping into bed, grabbing a pillow, and smacking me senseless with it before I know what she’s doing.

But what she doesn’t know is I’m quick too. Once I can get my bearings, I grab the pillow, toss it across the room, and pounce on Maura, throwing my legs over her and pinning her arms down to the bed.

“Get off me, you lard!” she says through her giggles.

I pull back and smirk. “Lard? Now that’s rude, Maura. You know what rudeness gets ya, don’t you?” I lean down close to her mouth, lightly brushing my lips over hers. I feel her shudder and watch as her eyelids flutter shut. I gently run my lips over her warm cheek, down to her ear. When she’s exactly where I want her, I whisper, “Tickles.”

And then I attack.

The sweet, sweet sound of her laughter assaults my ears, and I can’t help but smile at her. In this moment, she’s beautiful, stunning, perfect. She’s everything. And I want to kiss her.

So I do.

I steal the breath out of her when I crash my lips into hers. In seconds she’s kissing me back, and our tickle fight turns into much more.

Suddenly, I’m not nervous anymore. I feel comfortable.

And suddenly I’m hard again.

Maura breaks the kiss, gulping in air, chest heaving hard and fast.

“Is that your…” She trails off.

“My dick?” I grin. “Yeah, Maura, it is.”

“Did I…did I cause that?”

“More specifically, your laugh did.”

Her blue eyes are clouded with surprise. “My laugh?”

“It may be my favorite sound,” I say. Taking a chance, I grind my hips into her and get rewarded with the sexiest sound I’ve ever heard. “Fuck,” I spit out. “I lied. That’s my new favorite sound. You’re killing me, woman.”

“I’m killing you? How is that possible?” she mutters. “Do whatever you did again. Please. But more of it. A lot more of it.”

So I do. A lot. Each time I’m met with a sound of pleasure and eventually, she pushes back. Our mouths are now fused together again, and we’re pulling at one another in any way possible. I start trailing kisses down her chin, gently sucking my way down her neck, and finally reaching the swell of her breasts. I pause.

Fuck. Me. She’s not wearing a bra.

Before I fully realize what I’m doing, I’m closing my mouth around her hardened nipple through my shirt, eliciting a strangled gasp from her. Maura quickly grabs the edges of the shirt and pulls it over her head, falling back onto the bed within seconds. I guess that’s an invitation for more. I move my mouth to her other breast, drawing her pink tip into my mouth, applying the appropriate amount of pressure for her.

“Tucker,” she pleads. “More. Please.”

I kiss and lick my way down her flat stomach, stopping at the waist of her white thong. I peek back up to gauge her reaction to this, only to find her staring down at me with hooded eyes. Her tongue slides along her bottom lip, and she lets her teeth linger along the edge.

“Are you sure this is okay?”

Her response? She lifts her hips toward my mouth. Don’t have to tell me twice. I slowly peel her underwear down her smooth legs. I crawl my way back up to her mouth, pressing gentle pecks on her pouty red lips.

“You’re gorgeous,” I whisper, reaching my hand down between her legs and cupping her most precious spot. “So fucking gorgeous.”

And so fucking wet.

“Do you trust me?”

“Of course,” she says with zero hesitation.

She gasps as I gently part her folds and find her hot center. I slowly insert a single finger into the warmth and swirl my thumb over her clit, earning myself more moans between our kisses. She’s arching into my touch, silently begging for more. I oblige by adding another finger, ending each tender stroke with a slight twist, stretching her even more.

“Tucker,” she says, her breaths coming in short bursts. “Naked. Now.”

I love that she’s not forming complete sentences. I slowly withdraw my digits, giving her another languid kiss before I roll off the bed to grab a condom. I search my wallet in my discarded jeans but come up empty.

“Fuck,” I mutter. “Be right back.”

I quickly find my way to Gaige’s room in search of protection. I have no idea what he does in his spare time, so finding a condom in here may be a long shot.

I almost do a happy dance when I find an unopened box in his bedside drawer and then quickly make my way back to Maura.

Holy fuck. The scene I walk back in on is possibly the hottest thing I’ve ever had the pleasure of witnessing.

My quiet, shy, sweet Maura is lying naked on my bed, looking sinful as hell with her fingers inside herself. Inside herself. And she’s staring at me. She’s fucking staring at me.

If my dick weren’t already rock hard, that would have sealed the deal.

I quickly remove my black sweats and cover myself with the condom, her eyes watching my every movement. I give myself one, two strokes and crawl into the bed, holding myself above her.

We don’t speak as I position my cock at her entrance or as she lifts her hips and helps herself onto me. We don’t say a word as I push past her tight muscles and bury myself fully inside in her. In fact, the only sounds are our heartbeats, loud and erratic.

Maura meets every slow thrust, tightening herself around me at all the right times. She locks her legs around my ass, pushing me into her harder and harder, until our heartbeats are replaced by the sounds of our bodies slamming together in a synced rhythm.

Sweat beads its way down my back as I drop to my elbows, bringing us flush together and changing our position into shorter thrusts. I place my forehead against Maura’s and rest my mouth on hers. That’s all I do. I merely rest it. Every movement lets our lips brush. It’s soft and intimate, and it feels damn good.

“Tuck…,” I feel rather than hear her say. “I…think…oh!”

There comes a time in a man’s life when he learns that women have lied to him about his sexual prowess in bed. This moment is my time.

Because for the first time in twenty-four years, I feel a woman’s orgasm.

Maura’s muscles tighten and pull around my dick, and the feeling is fucking incredible. So incredible that I follow her into oblivion about two thrusts later, collapsing on top of her in a haze I’ve never encountered before. I assume that this time, this amazing, wonderful time, was so good because of the person it happened with. Maura. It always leads back to Maura.

After lying there for several moments, I pull myself from her body and roll away before things start getting messy. Walking across the hall butt naked, I clean myself and take a glance in the mirror. The first thing I notice is my flush. The second thing is my eyes. They’re glowing. They’re happy. I’m happy. Smiling to myself, I shake my head.

Finally. I finally got her.

My heart does that stupid beat beat skip thing it’s been doing since last year when I first couldn’t get Maura out of my head. I realize then how stupid it isn’t and how amazing it is.

Because I love her.

The apartment is still quiet as I make my way back into the bedroom. Maura gets up and takes a turn cleaning herself. She comes back in a few minutes later and crawls into bed next to me. At this point I’m worried that something’s wrong since we haven’t spoken a word to one another, but then she snuggles up next to me. I automatically welcome her warmth and wrap my arm around her.

“Tucker?”

“Yeah?” I say, my throat scratchy from being quiet for so long.

I wonder if she didn’t hear me since she doesn’t speak straight away. But then she does.

“That was incredible,” she admits quietly.

I laugh lightly. “I get that a lot.” I yelp when she pinches my nipple. “Okay, fine, I deserved that. Kind of.”

I grab her hand before she can do it again and hold it against my chest. She flattens her palm out over the hole sitting over my heart. I can feel her breaths on my chest. She’s trying to match her breathing to mine, and it’s the cutest thing ever. We lie there in the stillness of the moment, enjoying be wrapped up in one another.

“I’m sorry,” I hear her say.

My eyebrows pinch together. “For what?”

Maura doesn’t answer immediately, and I begin drifting off before she speaks again.

“For not picking you in the beginning. I let your appearance and my need for my parents’ approval stop me. I feel like we’ve missed out on a lot because of it.” I feel her blow out an unsteady breath. “And I feel like I gave away a part of myself that I should have saved for you.”

I want to be able to tell her it’s okay, but it’s not. I feel like we’ve wasted a lot of time avoiding our feelings and skating around something that could have been amazing from the beginning.

And yes, I’m jealous as fuck that another man has touched her. I hate it. But it’s not like I went into this untouched, so I can’t fault her for having urges.

Instead of telling her all this, I shrug the best I can in our position and say, “We’ve got the now together. Stop worrying about the yesterdays.”

She suddenly sits, hand still on my chest, and stares down at me with her mouth sitting slightly ajar.

“But it’s not okay, Tucker. Your tattoos are sexy as hell. I’ve always thought that. It’s just, my parents hate them. So yeah, at first they were part of the reason I gravitated toward…” She trails off, avoiding mentioning my brother’s name. “The rest was all me and my clouded outlook on the type of man I was supposed to be with. I was wrong though. I sort of fell into this bitchy, judgy version of myself, and I’m not proud of it. I hate that side of me. It’s a shitty excuse, but it’s ingrained in me.”

“Maura, I—”

“I’m trying to get rid of it,” she interrupts. Her head drops along with her voice. “I promise. I don’t want to be anything like them. I just want to be me.”

Part of me wants to tell her she should have been stronger and told her parents to go fuck themselves a long time ago, but I also get it. I’ve met them and can understand where they fucked up her perception of people.

But the Maura I’ve always known has fought against them from the minute I met her. And that’s all that counts for me.

Pushing her chin back up until her alluring, aqua-blue eyes meet mine, I tell her, “You’re nothing like them, Maura. I promise.”

Her eyes are still sad when she says, “How can you be so sure?”

“Because I wouldn’t love you like I do if you were.”

A gasp leaves her mouth, and I’m momentarily confused, but then I realize what I said.

Love.

I said I wouldn’t love her, not I wouldn’t like her.

But I’m not taking it back, because it’s true. Instead, I’m going to pretend I didn’t say it and see where that leads us.

Apparently she wants to ignore it for now too, because she lies back down on me with her head in the crook of my arm and her hand back over my heart. She begins tracing the lines of the tattoo, and I slowly start drifting off.

“Why don’t you have condoms in here?”

Random.

“I never bring girls in here,” I tell her honestly.

She flings herself up again. “Shut the freak up! You do too!”

I shake my head. “I don’t. Promise. I…I haven’t had sex in about a year.”

“A year?” she questions skeptically.

“A year.” I smile shyly. “There was this girl who was stuck in my head. She was all I wanted, so I didn’t see the need to find anything elsewhere.”

The look in Maura’s eyes is one I won’t be forgetting for a long time to come. She’s happy. Elated, even. Because she knows I’m talking about her. And she knows I mean every single word of it.

I do my best to convey to her what I’m feeling in this moment with my eyes. I think she gets it, think she understands, because a small grin pulls the corners of her mouth up. She curls back into me, and I bend down to plant a kiss on her head, holding my lips there for longer than necessary.

“Goodnight, Maura.”

“Goodnight, Tuck.”