Authors: Alexis Summers
“There is no need to apolog
ize,” he says, surprising me yet again. “I understand Romeo’s relationship with my daughter well. My own ex-wife was—difficult, in much the same way. You—are different, yes?”
“She’s everything,” Romeo says.
Santiago looks me over once more and I finally find the courage to step up to Romeo’s side. I didn’t understand why this man was no longer angry, why he didn’t seem to
mind
my replacing his daughter, but when he smiles at me, it feels genuine.
“I…cannot condone this relationship during the tour. It
is
a distraction,” Santiago says. He holds a hand up when Romeo opens his mouth to protest, silencing him. “However, it is rare that I see this boy so happy—please, stay. Unless this begins to damage the band’s performance in any way, at which point I will—.”
“Sir, I understand,” I interject quickly, finding a burst of courage somewhere deep inside of me. I smile as well and take Romeo’s hand carefully.
Santiago watches me for a moment longer. Romeo squeezes my hand, practically radiating pride in his grin. Finally, after what feels like an eternity, Santiago nods.
“You are too good for this rascal,” he says to me.
Romeo muffles what sounds like a laugh.
Santiago stays for a while longer, talking business with Romeo—something about promotional gigs and new merchandise. He leaves before dinner even though Romeo invites him to stay, saying that he has to catch a plane to some other important meeting on the other side of the country. I watch the both of them as they work. I expect to feel out of place—they’re more than manager and singer, after all; they’re practically family—but don’t. Santiago is warm in the same way my own father is, and although he is very strict about the band’s performances, he is willing to give Romeo (and me, thankfully) the benefit of the doubt for now.
After he takes his leave, Romeo orders room service. We eat in silence for the longest time until, finally, he stands.
“Take the bed,” he says. He leans in to press a kiss to my cheek before making his way to the couch himself, settling in for the night.
I stare at him for a long time, nursing the iced tea that had come with my meal. He never apologized using the words
I’m sorry
, not even once, but I knew from everything he said and did that he
was
sorry. What’s more, I knew he meant everything he
did
say—that there was nothing between him and Louise, that he was truly committed to being with me.
For a while, I’m tempted to take him by the hand and pull him to bed with me—to forgive and forget. I knew that wouldn’t be the healthy thing to do, though. We needed time—even if it was just one night—to dwell on the events of the day.
I
needed time to truly forgive him, to truly begin to trust him once more.
I loved him, there was no denying that now, but it was an inhibited love. Only time would strip those inhibitions away, but I did trust that sooner or later time
would
strip those inhibitions away.
Chapter
Thirty
When I wake up in the morning, a perfect calm surrounds me. The bed in Romeo’s suite was more comfortable than anything I’d ever slept in and, having barely slept the night before, I was out like a baby the whole night.
Romeo is nowhere to be found when I step outside, but I hear the shower running in the bathroom. The spare pillow and blanket is bunched up at the foot of the couch, and a little twinge of guilt floods my stomach. Even though that couch was quite luxurious, it couldn’t possibly be as comfortable as a bed. That I made Romeo sleep on the couch, even though
he
offered, in his own hotel room was—.
I sigh and pad back into the bedroom to look at myself in the mirror. I’m still dressed in my clothes from yesterday and I still haven’t had a chance to reapply my makeup. I must look terrible, but Romeo didn’t mention it even once—in fact, he didn’t even seem to notice.
The little things like that strike up the old flame in my stomach, reminding me of all the ways in which Romeo had been
good
to me. Maybe he hadn’t regained my trust, and maybe we weren’t right where we were before I found out about Louise, but we were still together. I still wanted him, needed him—and I even loved him.
“Love you,” I say, whispering the words to my reflection as though I were looking at Romeo. They sound right in my mouth and excitement fills me, excitement for the day I get to say those words to his face.
When I exit the bedroom again, Romeo is just getting out of the shower. He still looks as tired as he did yesterday, but his skin glistens with a sheen of water and his hair is tousled in that perfectly accidental way. I feel myself warm to him—he’s still the most attractive man I’ve ever laid eyes on, after all, and I could never deny that.
He smiles when he sees me, tightening the towel wrapped around his waist and striding across the room to greet me.
“I hope you slept well,” he says, his husky tone as seductive as always. The words send a small shiver down my back. I hadn’t anticipated missing his voice so much. It ghosts over me like an invisible touch, making me suddenly hyper-aware of how much I did want him to
actually
touch me.
I do my best to ignore those thoughts, though. Now was
not
the time to be acting on rampant hormones. We weren’t exactly
fighting
, of course, but—it still didn’t feel quite right to jump his bones. Not yet.
So, instead, I smile back at him and say, “I did, thank you.”
“I took the liberty of getting a car last night,” he says after a second’s pause. “A rental. I’ll be driving to Jacksonville for the show tonight. I’d like you to ride with me.”
I blink, surprised by the offer. I had lost track of his concert schedule in the chaos of the past few days—of
course
tonight was the Jacksonville concert. How could I have forgotten? For some reason, I had been thinking today was another free day for him.
“Erin?”
His voice startles me out of my thoughts and I remember that he was waiting on an answer. I know the girls wouldn’t mind—they weren’t planning on attending tonight’s concert anyway—if I skipped out on riding with them, and driving with just Romeo would be…romantic, almost. It wouldn’t be as noisy as I imagine riding around in the tour bus would be.
“I’d like that, too,” I say, finally. “Will your band be driving as well?”
“They’re with the bus,” Romeo says, a grin overtaking his features. “They went ahead yesterday.”
I smile, too, enjoying the confidence that was flooding into Romeo’s posture once more. It had been a kind gesture of his to back off last night, to give me some time and space without leaving me entirely, and seeing him back to his normal self now—well, that was even
nicer
. It gave me hope that things could be like they were before, that this was something we could overcome.
A day alone with him in the car sounded like just what we needed.
As it turns out, spending several hours in a confined space with Romeo Ortiz was
not
easy. Don’t get me wrong—he’s a fantastic driver, his taste in music is impeccable, and he treats me to a private concert as he sings along to some of his favorite oldies.
He’s just
too
good, at
everything
, and he’s proving to be irresistible. Although I had told myself to take things slow with him, to map out the lines of our relationship more carefully this time, I couldn’t help but feel that same old dangerous attraction brewing in my chest again.
I glance over at him every once in a while. The way the sun catches in his eyes makes them shine even brighter than they normally do, and the flash of his white teeth as he smiles along to some of the songs he plays highlights the seductive curl of his lips.
As we tear down the freeway, I can’t help but skim my fingers along his hand as he taps his fingers against the gearstick. He looks at me, almost confused for a second before he catches sight of what must be something suggestive in my eyes. He grins at me, that familiar curl of his lips, and takes my hand.
We flirt, harmlessly and silently, as though we’re meeting for the first time. He keeps his eyes on the road for the most part, but I can feel him glancing me every once in a while and I know he can feel me looking at him every few minutes. I run my fingers down his shoulder and across his knee every once in a while, smiling every time he catches my hand to give it a little squeeze.
It’s like we’re meeting all over again, having our first date on the road. It feels strangely—freeing, surprisingly enough, as though doing this with all the cards out on the table is something completely new. Something exciting, something
loving
.
By the time we reach Jacksonville, my whole body is practically vibrating with anticipation, with all the promises we made one another without needing any words as we drove. I knew Romeo would have to head out to his sound check with the band as soon as we got to whichever hotel he chose for the night, but I could wait—or, rather, I would
have
to wait.
It would all be worth it. The next time would be like the first time: special, intimate, and
real
.
To my surprise, we pull up to the sidewalk outside of what looks to be a business area. There’s a bookshop and a few small restaurants lining the streets, but no hotel is in sight. I turn to Romeo to ask why we’ve stopped here, but he pulls me to him and kisses me insistently before I can form the question.
I breathe out contentedly against his mouth, stretching over the gearstick to kiss him back as he licks into my mouth. The kiss is careful, but passionate, and I feel my pulse quicken with every passing second.
“I need you now,” Romeo growls against my mouth, lowering his tone to almost dangerous levels. The sound of his voice sends shivers shooting down my spine, and all I can do is nod as he slides a hand down to the small of my back.
A small part of me still screams that this is probably a terrible idea and that I’m not thinking straight, but deep down inside I know that I
am
. I know that I need him just as much as he needs me, and that we’re too deep into this to
not
make things work.
He must sense that on some level because he nudges me back a bit to drop my seat back until it’s completely flattened. I gasp at the sudden movement, but lie back accordingly as he maneuvers himself over the gearstick to spread out above me. He catches my mouth again, our lips clashing together as he unbuttons my jeans and slides them down my hips.
A passing car reminds me that, even though we’re inside this fancy, probably soundproof sports car, we’re parked
right
in public where anyone can see us. The thought brings a deep red flush up to my cheeks as I move with Romeo to let him strip the rest of my clothes away.
“Something wrong?” he asks, pressing a line of kisses down my neck.
I shiver and shake my head, bringing my hands up to help him get out of his shirt. “Everything’s perfect—just remembering that we’re, well, in
public
.”
He draws back a bit to grin at me, wide and devious. “I’ve been thinking about doing this with you public—about showing the whole world you belong to me.”
I groan at the thought of that, those images filling my mind as he slides his fingers between my legs. I imagine the floodlights he performs with shining down on us at he enters me, highlighting our joining to an audience of thousands. I had never been much of an exhibitionist, but with Romeo—
God
, I just wanted to show him off, wanted him to show
me
off until everyone knew we belonged to each other.
“You like the thought of that?” he whispers against my ear, settling between my legs again once he’s stripped himself bare.
I nod, unable to form words for a minute. “But we can’t—it’d be unseemly,” I say, finally, half-jokingly.
He laughs, quiet and low, and he curls his hands at my thighs to spread my legs as far apart as he can in the confined space of the car. “Guess we’ll have to make do here, huh?”
I lift my hips eagerly for him, dropping my head back to watch his eyes trail down my body. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see the windows fogging up with our breath and I shiver again, knowing that anyone passing by would be able to see that steam, too. Hell, maybe they would even see the car rocking.
Romeo brings one hand up to tilt my head towards him. I look straight into his eyes and draw in a deep, slow breath as I nod my consent. It’s all he needs—I groan as he enters me, filling me with that familiar ache. His own groans mingle with mine as he bows his head to kiss me again, stealing my breath away as he begins to thrust into me.
I writhe against him, unable to help myself. The cool leather seats begin to feel heated as my whole body warms to him. Even though the seats begin to stick somewhat uncomfortably to my skin, I can’t bring myself to care in the slightest as he moves inside of me, each thrust drawing a sharp, needy sound out of my mouth.