That is much better than a speedo.

I lean back in my lounge chair so I can gawk properly. The soft orange glow of sunset falls over Tom's shaggy hair, his broad shoulders, his sculpted abs, the tiny scrap of fabric posing as a swimsuit. A thong swimsuit.

He turns to show off his toned ass. He's like a sculpture, all hard and defined. And he's on display for me.

"Do you wear that in public?" My words are punctuated with deep sighs of pleasure. It's hard to talk when he's wearing such a small amount of clothing. There's no way he dons that on the beach. It would cause a mob scene. Even without his celebrity.

"I have."

"Did you get arrested?"

"No." He takes a step towards me. "Garnered a lot of attention."

"I'll bet."

"Willow, my eyes are up here."

"Uh-huh." My gaze stays glued to the so-called swimsuit. Why do men wear board shorts? This is much better than a pair of board shorts.

"You're going to make me feel like a piece of meat."

"I'm a vegetarian."

"Not sure that's relevant, kid."

Finally, I look up into Tom's gorgeous green eyes. They're wide, enthusiastic. He delights in teasing me. Can't say I have any cause for complaint.

I manage to hold his gaze. "If you were a piece of meat, I wouldn't be interested."

"Is that so?"

I nod. "I lo—like you for your personality."

"I didn't realize my personality was between my legs."

I laugh. "Not many people do."

"Is that where your personality is?"

I nod.

He kneels in front of my lounge chair and pulls my legs towards the edge. "Better investigate this claim."

He runs his finger up the inside of my calf, slowing as he reaches my inner thigh. My body hums from his touch. I don't stand a chance.

Tom pushes my skirt up my thighs, one inch at a time. "You aren't wearing panties." He pushes the skirt to my waist. "Fuck, I love it when you're naughty." He nibbles on my inner thigh.

He moves closer. Closer. So fucking close but not quite there. Yes. This is exactly what I need. No thinking. No tomorrow. Just his body and mine creating a lightening storm of pleasure.

I dig my hands into his hair. "Please."

"Say it again."

"Please, Tom. I need you."

So much for just our bodies. The feeling crashes into me. I need him. I need him every way it's possible to need a person.

I love him.

Easy to love someone when his head is planted between your legs, but I don't have a single doubt I'll feel the same way tomorrow.

I reach for something that won't overwhelm me. "What if Pete comes home?"

"He won't."

"But what if he does?"

"He won't. But if he does then he'll see me making you come. Hmm..." He pushes my dress up my torso and over my head. "Let's try for three times.""

"Right now?"

"Unless that gets in the way of your plans." He flicks his tongue against my nipple. "We can take this to my room if you're feeling shy."

"Tom, I—" I bite my tongue. Nope. Not saying that yet. Not with us nearly naked. "I need you."

He groans into my skin. His kisses lower. Lower. Then his mouth is on me. Pleasure spreads to my fingers and toes. I'm already so keyed up I want to scream. I'm not sure how I'll survive three orgasms but I'm more than game to try.

I press my fingers against the back of his head, spreading my legs to give him as much access as he needs. The intimacy of it overwhelms me. We're close. It's like I really am giving myself to him.

He works his way up my sex, plants one feather light flick against my clit, then back to the bottom to start again. And again. And again. I lose track after ten. I'm already throbbing with desire.

"Tom, please." I rock my hips to press against his face. "I need to come."

He teases again. Again. Three. Four. Then his tongue is on my clit. No more teasing. He works me with hard, fast strokes.

I squeeze his shoulders and he goes harder. Faster.

"Yes," I breathe. "Please don't stop."

He licks me again and again. Until the pressure in my core knots tight and unfurls in a deep, intense orgasm. I groan his name again and again as I come.

Tom drags his lips up and down my inner thighs. My whole body shudders with after shakes. I'm so fucking sensitive that his teeth scraping against my skin is enough to make me groan.

And then he's licking me again. I relax into the lounge chair, spreading my legs wider. For a split second, my eyes flutter open. Everything about this is fucking beautiful. The light of the sunset dancing off the pool. The clean concrete. The flowers that line the backyard. The almost-a-mansion house behind us.

Tom looks up at me, this delicious mix of desire and mischief and satisfaction in his eyes.

My lids press together. It's too much to take. The rest of the world falls away until I'm nothing but the pleasure building inside me. More and more until I overflow with another orgasm.

This time, Tom doesn't relent. He sucks on my clit until I'm screaming. I dig my hands into his hair as he works me. It's intense. Almost too intense. But not quite.

My orgasm is hard and fast. One knot of tension, then it's all unraveling, flowing through me.

I pull him off by the hair. I expect a complaint but he smiles with the pride of a job well done.

"Three seemed about right." He presses his lips against my knee.

"You're amazing." I sink into the chair, still lost in a daze of bliss.

"I know." He kisses his way down my shin, over my foot. "Come on. I need to get wet."

"I'm not sure I can take any more sensation."

I pry my eyelids apart. When I look back to Tom, he's already gone. In the pool

His swimsuit on the concrete.

* * *

We swim in circles as the sun sets. Orange bleeds across the sky, casting the house in a beautiful glow. It sinks lower, the sky goes red, then the sun is gone, swallowed up by the horizon, and everything is a serene shade of indigo.

It's quiet here. Much more quiet than what I imagined.

Tom slides his arms around me. We're still naked, and he's still as sexy as the day is long, but there's more to the gesture than heat. There's affection. Love.

The words already want out of my throat. But I can't say them now, not with all this weight hanging around his shoulders. I press my eyelids together and soak in the feeling of Tom's chest against my back, his neck against my cheek. His skin is soft but his muscles are hard. I can feel them flexing against me as he shifts his weight, as he breathes.

Love might chase him away. Might end this for good. And then I'll have to spend the next month as miserable as I was at the last show. The pictures I took were total shit. I can't do that. I can't waste this opportunity.

Okay, I'm scared. I'm looking for excuses. I'm the one who told him this relationship was worth the risk of getting hurt. Maybe the words can wait. Maybe they don't matter as much as being with him.

"You're off someplace," Tom says. "Good or bad?"

Both. I turn around and stare into his gorgeous green eyes. Can my gaze say it for me? I try. I love you. Nothing in his expression changes. It's that same intense affection.

Screw the eyes. I let my lids flutter together and raise to my tip toes to kiss him. His lips are chapped from swimming all afternoon. He tastes like chlorine. And like Tom.

His kiss is that same intense affection. When it breaks, I can barely breathe. That wasn't enough. I need to tell him. I love you, Tom. I practice it in my head, but I can't do it. Not today.

Not tomorrow.

Not until after he knows whether or not his mom is going to be okay.

It's an excuse, I know, but it feels right.

Tom cups my cheek. "You hungry?"

"Yeah." Now that I think about it, I'm starving.

He leads me to the pool's steps and helps me out. "Let's order something. You want Indian or Thai?"

"Let's cook."

"Not sure we have much actual food. Mostly it's snacks. There hasn't been much cooking since Miles and Drew moved out."

"They used to live here?"

"Yeah." Tom leads me into the kitchen. He nods to the ceiling above the fridge. "Technically, that's still Miles's room." He points to the ceiling on the other side of the room. "And that's still Drew's. Our label rented this place for us way back when. Whoever was in charge of kicking us out forgot to do it."

"You live here rent free?" I ask.

He wraps his arms around me. "Yeah."

"Damn. Rock stars get all the breaks."

"You can stay here. If you decide to move to Los Angeles after the tour."

I look up into his eyes. "Really?"

"Yeah... till you find your own place."

Oh. I don't expect him to invite me to move in with him. We've only been in a not even official relationship for a few days.

I break his hug. Damn, where is my dress? I can't have this conversation naked. I excuse myself to the living room, find my suitcase, and change into the first acceptable outfit I can put together—a skirt and a tank top, underwear but no bra.

Tom follows me into the living room. He leans against the wall, utterly comfortable with his lack of clothing, and stares at me.

"What's going on, kid? What are you thinking?"

"You're naked."

"I can see how that would be distracting."

Yes, that's it. I'm distracted. Nothing more. I nod.

"Asking me to put on my clothes for once. That's new." His lips curl into a smile. "But anything for you."

He's teasing. The mood is light. I can't ruin that. It feels good joking with Tom. Everything with Tom feels good.

God, I love him so much. It eclipses everything.

Tom's eyes connect with mine. His gaze is penetrating. Maybe I was wrong about my eyes. Maybe he can see how much I love him.

"You sure you're okay?" he asks.

I nod.

He accepts my answer and makes his way upstairs to dress. I use the time to dig through the kitchen. It's clean and stocked with pots, pans, oils, spices. Aside from a little fruit and several different kinds of dairy and non-dairy milk, there's nothing in the way of fresh food. We'll have to go to the store if we want to cook anything beyond a TV dinner.

Tom's footsteps make their way down the stairs, across the living room.

"Hey." He presses his palms against the kitchen counter. "What do you want to cook?"

"You don't have any food here."

"There's a place at the bottom of the hill. We can get whatever you need."

I need you. I nod. Okay. "Pasta."

"What kind?"

"With tomatoes. And garlic. Pasta pomodoro." I stare into Tom's eyes. "I need to have it. I need to cook it with you. I need us to have it together."

"Sure."

"No, Tom, I..." I love you. "You don't understand. I... I love... I love pasta. I can't live without it. I hate going a single day without it."

He stares back at me. Understanding fills his eyes. "I love pasta, too."

"Yeah?"

His expression softens. "Yeah, but I've never made a point of eating it regularly. Of planning like that. Arranging my life around anything."

"Tom, I..."

He takes my hands and pulls me into a slow, deep kiss. It's there in the way he kisses me. Neither one of us can say the words, but right now, I feel them.

When our kiss breaks, he pulls me into a tight hug, presses his palm against the back of my head, holding me against his chest.

"I've never... made pasta before," he says. "Not sure if I can."

"That's okay. We can learn together."