I sit at the piano and continue messing around.
“The storm’s ruffled all my feathers.
Where to shelter from harsh weather.
I’m caught in a blizzard
And can’t find my center…”
Eh, something’s missing.
“Why didn’t I see the winds of crazy barreling down on me?”
Too wordy?
I tap a few notes on the piano trying to find the right key. The thoughts, feelings, and words are all tangled up in my head. I just need to sort them out in the correct order. At the moment it seems like an impossible task.
A harsh rumble bursts me out of my bubble.
The music room in this mega-mansion is too far away to peek outside and see who’s coming onto the property. And I have no idea how to use Dawson’s fancy security system.
It could be Dawson’s bike.
Except he said he never rides it.
My heart thumps wildly.
I toss my stuff into my backpack. Damn it, I wish I’d left everything downstairs with my guitar. The studio is one thing, but it would be hella rude to start leaving my crap all over Dawson’s house.
Finally, I have everything and I rush out of the room toward the kitchen and the back door.
I race around the pool and up the gentle sloping land.
Yes!
Rooster’s bike is parked in front of the front steps.
He’s home…er, here.
I thunder up the porch steps like a wild racing pony. Darn it. I had a whole fantasy of waiting for him in my tiny blue outfit.
“Logan?” I drop my bag at the foot of the stairs. My gaze strays to the kitchen and then the stairs. Where’s he more likely to be?
Stupid too-big house.
I race up the stairs. The door to my room’s open and I hear the sound of the fifty water jets in the shower beating against the stone walls.
I freeze outside the bathroom door. Surprise him in the shower? Or surprise him in my new outfit?
Outfit wins.
I fling the dresser drawer open and quickly shimmy out of my clothes and into the pretty blue lingerie. A quick peek in the mirror boosts my confidence, but I’m still missing something.
Ah-ha. I brush my hair and tie it into twin ponytails. Perfect.
The shower stops running.
I skip over the plushy carpet and dive onto the bed and roll to my side, facing the bathroom door. I prop my head on my hand and try to look sexy but casual.
Rooster walks out of the bathroom a few seconds later and stops in his tracks when he sees me.
“Hey, chickadee.” He swaggers closer. “You’re a sight for sore eyes.”
“So are you.”
I kneel and shuffle to the edge of the bed. His mouth’s on mine so fast. Arms around my body, lifting and pulling me toward him. Our lips part, tongues meeting and licking like we’re both starving.
A hoarse groan tears out of him as he rests his forehead against mine. “I missed you so much, Shelby.”
“Me too,” I whisper.
He opens his eyes and pulls away without taking his hands off me. His mouth curves to one side. “What’re you wearing?”
I slide off the bed, prancing a few feet away to pose for him. “I bought you a little something when Angelina and I went dress shopping.”
“You bought that for me?” The appreciation in his tone affirms my shopping spree was a good choice. And now I’m extra excited to give him the second present I have stashed away.
“I sure did.” I push my lips into a playful pout. “I had a whole scenario in mind where I was waiting in the bed for you in nothing but this when you got home. But you ruined it.”
“Hardly.” He runs his hand over his beard, his eyes studying me like I’ll be handing out a pop quiz later. “Trust me, you wanted me to shower first. I couldn’t stand getting my road-grimy hands on your pretty little outfit.”
“Okay. I forgive you.” Maintaining a wide space between us, I circle around to the other side of the bed.
“Why are you so far away from me?” he asks.
I climb onto the bed and crawl over to him.
“Fuck,” he breathes out when I reach his side.
I trail my fingers down his hard, inked chest, following trails of lingering water droplets. His big body shudders, rigid stomach muscles tightening and releasing. I trace my fingers along the grooves of his hips. His breath hitches. His hard cock pushes at the towel.
“Happy to see me?” I tease.
“Every last inch of me.”
I tuck my fingers between the towel and his skin and glance up. “May I?”
His lips twist. “You may do anything you want to me.”
“Careful, Logan. Never know what I might come up with.” I fling the towel away. Except for his rapid intake of air sawing in and out, he’s completely still, watching my every move. I trace the head of his cock with my fingertips.