Stage Dive 02 Play(46)

“Where they?”

“’Course they fucking were.”

I stared at him, a little taken aback. “Okay. I didn’t realize. But don’t rip my head off for crossing a few lines because I’m worried about you. I don’t like seeing you sad either.”

“Fuck,” he swore and his face stilled. He linked his hands behind his head, muttering some more expletives. Then he let out a long breath, never taking his gaze off of me. His mood had shifted, the anger gone from the air. Ever so gently he reached out and traced my swollen bottom lip. “Looks sore.”

“It’s okay.” My voice wavered.

“I overdid it. Sorry.”

I wilted, the anger seeping straight out of me. His eyes were sad again and this time, it was all about me. I had no defense for that. “If the worst thing to happen to me is that you think it’s fun to kiss me and lie to people about me being pregnant with your child, my life will probably be pretty sweet.”

His smile lacked commitment, there and gone in an instant.

“Mal, if you ever want to talk, I’m here.” I should probably have shut up but I couldn’t. “It’s okay.”

He looked away.

“To be honest, I’m not exactly great at sharing either.” My hands flexed and fisted, flexed and fisted, as if to demonstrate the point. Awkward as all hell, I hated feeling helpless. Why couldn’t he just spill so I could try and fix whatever was wrong already?

“Can we stop talking about this now?” he asked the wall.

“Sure.”

“Thanks.” He reached out, tugged on a strand of my hair. Then his hand slid around to the back of my neck and he drew me in against him. Damn, he smelled good. I got giddy. Maybe there was also a little relief over the argument ending, hard to tell which. With my cheek pressed to Mal’s chest, my brain malfunctioned. I wrapped my arms around his waist, getting a solid hold on him just in case he changed his mind and tried to peel me off of him.

“That was our first fight,” he mumbled.

“Yeah. I won.”

“Did not.”

“Did too.”

“Pfft. Okay.” His arms tightened around me. “I’ll give you that one. But only because you’re being so childish about it.”

“Thanks.”

He breathed out hard. “I don’t want to fight again.”

“No,” I agreed wholeheartedly.

“Is it safe to come out yet?” Lizzy asked, peeking around the kitchen door. She gave Mal a quick once-over and then realized what she was doing and looked away. I didn’t blame her, but I didn’t like it. Man, now I was getting jealous of my own sister. Ridiculous, especially given the man had an army of women after him. If I planned to hang out with a rock star I’d need to get used to this.

“Your sister and I have to go have make-up sex now. It’s very important for the long-term health of our relationship.” Mal started forcibly stepping us toward the spare room. “But you have a good breakfast and a very nice day. Just leave the dishes; I’ll take care of ’em later. It was lovely to meet you, Lizzy.”

“Mal, you’re strangling me.” Or that’s what I tried to say. With my face pressed up against his hard chest, it came out garbled. Most likely my words were completely unintelligible.

“What was that?” He loosened his octopus hold enough to allow me to take a good deep breath. Phew, oxygen, my dear old friend.

“Why don’t you put some clothes on? I’m going to help Lizzy cook breakfast,” I said.

Lizzy watched us with eyes popping out of her head. Fair enough, really. We’d apparently entered some alternative universe where Mal Ericson was all over me like a rash. How mind-bendingly breathtakingly amazing. I needed to make the most of this before he went on tour. Soak up all the memories I could.

“You’re the worst girlfriend I’ve ever had.” He pouted. It shouldn’t have been charming. But of course it was.

“Am I?”

“Yes. The very worst ever.”

“I’m the only girlfriend you’ve ever had.” Fake or not, it was the truth.

“Yeah, you are.” He held my face in his hands and covered it in kisses. Everywhere but my poor, sore lips. I don’t know what I’d done exactly to earn such an outpouring of affection, but I was profoundly grateful for it just the same. My heart up and keeled over; gave up the war. Hopefully my panties were made of sterner stuff. Given last night, I highly doubted it, however.

“We good?” he asked, lips brushing against my cheek.

“We’re great.”

“Okay.”

“Clothes, Mal.”