“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” He chants as he pulls me back onto him and empties himself inside of me.
I don’t think I’ve ever come that hard in my life.
Jesus, what is he doing to me?
He collapses on top of me, pushing me into the mattress, and I don’t even care if I can breathe. I think he may have just killed me anyway.
And what a way to go.
He slowly pulls out of me and rolls to the side and off the bed to discard the condom, then crawls onto the bed and covers us both with the blankets, tucking me against his side, with my head on his chest.
“Meow.” Levine jumps onto the bed, eyeing Leo for a second and then nudges Leo’s hand with his head.
“He likes you,” I whisper and smile as Leo pets his head.
“Are you okay?” He asks.
“I’m fantastic, thanks. You?”
Leo laughs and shoos the cat aside, who then flips his tail at him and curls into a ball at the end of the bed and begins to take a bath.
“Fantastic is a good description.” He kisses my forehead lightly.
“Are you leaving now?” I ask, ready to put some distance between us, yet hoping he says he wants to stay.
He stills for a moment, and then tips my chin back so I’m looking him in the eye. “Do you want me to leave?”
“You can stay.” I shrug. “I might have a use for you in the morning.”
He lowers his face to mine and nibbles my lips softly, then rubs his nose against mine. “I want to stay.”
“Okay.” He’s running his fingers up and down my back, making me sleepy.
“You don’t have any tattoos,” he murmurs sleepily.
“Nope,” I confirm.
“No desire to?” He asks.
“Nope.”
“Gee, you’re so chatty.” He chuckles. “Why not?”
“I don’t know, I guess I just never found anything that I wanted on me forever.” I shrug and trace one of his stars again with my fingertip. “I like yours. I’ve seen them in photos, of course, but they’re better in person.”
“Thanks.”
“Are you gonna get more?” I ask.
“Maybe.” He shrugs. “Probably.”
“They photograph well.”
“That’s what I’m told.” He chuckles and kisses my forehead again.
“Are you starting to miss it?” I ask, and he doesn’t even pretend that he doesn’t know what I’m talking about.
“Sometimes, but I’m enjoying the break. I’m writing music, and I talk to most of the band just about every day.”
“You’re close to them.” It’s not a question.
“Yeah, they’re my brothers.” He turns on his side so we’re facing each other, wraps his arm around my low back and holds me close. “We spend a lot of time together.”
“Are any of them married?” I ask, although I already know the answer. Nash is my favorite band. I’ve seen interviews.
“Yeah, a couple are. It’s not easy for them to be away from their families for long stretches. We’re all enjoying the break.”
“Can’t they take their families on tour with them?”
“They do part of the time.”
I nod and trace his jaw with my finger. “How have you managed to stay single?” I ask. “You’re the most eligible rockstar bachelor in the US right now.”
He frowns and then laughs and me. “Whatever.”
“You are.” I push his shoulder and smile at him. “Spill it.”
“I don’t ever want to get married,” he replies, his eyes sobering. This surprises me.
“Never?”
He shakes his head, watching me closely.
“You don’t necessarily have to be married to be committed to someone,” I remind him.
“My job is really hard on relationships, Sam. Trust is hard to maintain, on both sides. I’m gone a lot.” He shrugs and looks sad for a second, but covers it up with a grin. “Why are you single?”
I just had to go there, didn’t I?
“Never been even close to marriage, and don’t intend to be.” I withdraw automatically, school my features, and give him a bland look.
And piss him the fuck off.
“You’re lying.” His gray eyes heat.
“No, I’m not.” I shake my head and focus on tracing the letters on his chest.
“Why did you just pull away?” He asks, watching me closely. I continue to trace the ink on his chest, and he stills me by gripping my hand in his.
“I’m sorry I asked,” I whisper.
“Sam, we’re just having a conversation.” I shake my head, but he leans in and kisses me softly and I relax instinctively.