“I want everything,” she whispered, brokenly.
And he was already striding into the hotel room, the shadows of the dimly lit room dancing over his flexing jaw and neck. Yearning to press their bare skin together, Hope gathered his T-shirt, pulled it over his head and tossed it aside, immediately diving into a kiss that made her dizzy, made her inner thighs feel like vapor.
When she sensed they’d reached the bed and anticipated him laying her down, Johnny’s mouth found her nipples instead, sucking them one at a time with such intense, hollow-cheeked adoration that she could only chant his name, fingers burrowed in his hair to hold him close. Every draw of his mouth created an echo of lust low, so low in her belly and just when she thought she might climax from the perfection, Johnny freed her nipple from his mouth, lunged, and pinned her beneath him on the giant bed.
“Last chance to escape,” he rasped, nipping at her neck, suctioning his lips to the sensitive skin beneath her ear. “I mean that in more ways than one, Hope.”
“How else do you mean it?”
His eyes searched her face for a heavy beat and what she saw in the depths made her pulse kick into a furious pace. “I’m sorry, but I need to keep you.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “For how long?”
“As long as it takes me to write all the songs you just put in my head.” He dropped his head forward and pressed a line of reverent kisses between her breasts. “The thing is, there’s at least a million songs up there now. And if I write, let’s say, a hundred per month, you’d still be sticking around for quite a while.” His mouth closed over hers in a passionate dance of tongues, his hips parting her thighs with insistent writhes and settling in, like their proud new owner. “More songs are probably going to pile up, too, so we have to account for those…”
“Johnny.”
He lifted his head, his hair in a mess from her fingers. “Huh, baby?”
“Are you asking me to come on the road with you?”
“No. I’m begging.”
Above all else, Hope had always believed in magic—and if she’d been looking for some lately, she’d just been dropped into a cyclone of the stuff. This was…real. This man whose voice had been the soundtrack to her life for so long…his soul had nudged hers from up on that stage. She hadn’t been imagining it. And the way he was looking at her right now? Like his whole world was in the balance? Meant he’d experienced that same soul nudge.
Only now it was a full-on soul tackle. No more nudging.
If Hope closed her eyes, she could almost feel that deepest, innermost part of them trying to combine into one. Maybe it had already happened, because their heartbeats were pressed together, clanging in the same crazy rhythm. They breathed each other in and out and her body yearned to get closer, to be possessed and possess in return.
“I’ll go,” she whispered, a laugh fluttering up her throat. “Oh my God, I’ll go with you.”
Johnny didn’t move or breathe for a full three seconds, then his breath came out in a rush. “Hope.” He kissed her hard. “Christ, thank God. I’m not crazy, right? This is…”
She shook her head. “Not crazy. It is…magic.”
“Yeah.” He nodded, gaze intense. “That, too.”
Before Hope could question the implication of what he’d said, Johnny interlocked their lips and breathed in and out, while his hand tugged down her panties. His tongue teased hers with light touches, distracting her—almost—from the sound of his zipper coming down, the thud of his shoes and jeans hitting the floor. This morning, Hope would have hyperventilated at the idea of being completely naked with Johnny Scott, preparing to give him her virginity, but at that moment, he was the honest, caring, soulful man she’d met that night—not a world-famous rock God.
Although…he most definitely did look like Johnny Scott, guitar god and growler of words, as he licked the corner of his mouth and fisted his shaft, peering down at her through the hair that fell across his eyes before a tweak of his head sent it flying. His bicep flexed with a stroke of his erection and the tattoo painted on its surface danced. Suddenly Hope’s heartbeat was rapping against her eardrums, moisture coasting down her inner thighs…moisture that Johnny dragged his cockhead through with a hiss of her name.
“You’re ready for me.”
“Oh my god, yes,” she whispered.
He dropped down on top of Hope, tightly aligning their bodies, and they breathed laughter into each other’s mouths as he guided himself inside her, inch by inch, stretching her intimate muscles. And when he was about halfway in, Hope stopped laughing.
Johnny’s eyes were glazed over, but concerned, when he looked at her. “Hope,” he said gruffly, leaning down to kiss her jawline. “It’s going to be all right. Let me in.”