“I’m listening.” His voice was like gravel against my awareness.
Too bad for the rock god on my couch I’d suddenly lost the power of speech.
My heel wedged against the softness of his balls. My arch was pressed against the root of what felt like a champion erection. A hall-of-fame arousal. I wanted to replace my foot with my hand, my mouth, my everything.
I could feel the pulse of blood in his flesh beneath my sole. Still he rubbed and soothed my other foot with his hands.
My senses were on fire, and he’d touched nothing but my feet. If this was what his penis could do to me just by touching my foot, I was worried about what it could do elsewhere.
“Brooke.”
My name caressed with his rough voice brought me back.
“You said you’re mid-transformation,” he prompted.
“Right. Yes. That,” I said. “After the divorce was final, I realized I’d organized my entire life around my family to the point that when they all left, I had nothing of my own. I didn’t even have a hobby. Nothing around me fit this new marriage-less, kid-less existence,” I confessed.
Vonn remained silent as his thumbs kneaded my foot.
“So I decided I was going start living for me. It started small. With a hair cut. My clothes. Got rid of the minivan. Started boxing lessons. Got a tattoo.”
His eyebrow quirked. “Where is this tattoo?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” I said archly.
“Very much.”
“We’ll see,” I said. “Things like the house, the horse, the job, those are bigger changes. They’ll take longer. Addy’s twenty-one. She’s in college, and it’s not like she could take Whinnie with her. When I mentioned that I was thinking about selling the house, downsizing, she and my son freaked.”
“Why?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know if they think they need this place to come home to or maybe they can’t imagine me as anyone but the mom who’s lived her their entire lives. You’d think I told them I wanted to burn down an orphanage when I mentioned selling. ‘What about Whinnie?’ ‘Where will I store my six hundred boxes of Legos and action figures?’”
“So you stayed.”
“For now. I shifted my focus to the job portion of the Becoming. I started taking freelance jobs about two years ago. With the concert venues here it was easy to specialize in music. The editor at the magazine told me if I could get an exclusive with you on your thoughts and feelings about the farewell tour he’d make room on the staff for me.”
“Is that what you want?”
“A full-time job with benefits that lets me interview musical artists from all genres? Yes, please.” I took a breath. “But enough about me.”
“I don’t think so.”
“You don’t think what?”
“I haven’t had enough of you.”
“Are you flirting with me, Vonn?”
“Yes. Is it working?”
I grinned at him, then changed the subject. “Do you want some tea? I have honey.” It had been with much amusement when I discovered that the tattooed badasses of hard rocking Sonic Arcade drank green smoothies in the morning and hot tea after shows. They did yoga, and some, specifically Vonn, even meditated before shows.
“Tea would be good,” he said.
I needed a few minutes of space. Because if I didn’t get it now, I was going to crawl into his lap and beg him to fuck me. And I was pretty sure that was a journalistic no-no.
Vonn rose when I did.