“Yes.” Finally opening her eyes, she flashed him a grin that was pure mischief. “It was absolutely glorious.”
He laughed again and wrapped his arms around her waist. Now her watermelon scent brought him peace rather than pain. Her hair smelled of wildflowers, just as it always had, and that too only sweetened the moment. “I’m glad you think so.”
“Oh yes. Give me five and I’ll show you what else I think,” she teased.
When she dropped back down to his chest, he caressed her cheek, her jaw, her shoulder. He couldn’t stop touching her. Maybe if he kept touching her he could stave off the morning that had to come. It always did. “This meant everything to me,” he said, voice ragged.
“Me too.” She lifted her head. Tears brimmed on her lashes, nearly spilling over. “All I wanted was this. Just this.”
Framing her face in his hands, he tipped his forehead to hers. “Yeah.” He smudged his thumb under her eye, catching one of her tears. “You deserve so much more than me. But God, how am I supposed to give you up now?”
“You’re not,” she said fiercely. “Understand me? We’ve both given up too much for too long.” She snatched one of his hands and held it between her breasts. “You and me, we’re a team. Nothing can hurt us again.”
There were so many reasons that wasn’t true. But he went with the easy one, the one she wouldn’t hate him for. “Lila—”
“Fuck Lila. This isn’t about the band. This is about us. We were us before Oblivion existed. And we’ll be us long after they don’t.”
He glanced away, wanting that to be true so badly that he couldn’t speak. Until she said the rest.
“This isn’t just a one-time thing. We’re together now. Get that, Duffy? No going back. Tonight we made a promise to each other.”
As much as he hated having to argue, he couldn’t let this go. She needed to know what she was getting into. What he’d brought her into, willingly, because he wasn’t strong enough to keep her out. “Baby, you don’t understand—”
“Shh.” She closed his lips with her fingers and kissed the cleft in his chin. “I understand you’re mine. And I’m yours. Isn’t that right?” she demanded, almost daring him to fight the point.
But he couldn’t. Wouldn’t. How could he fight something he’d craved for so long?
He exhaled, his self-loathing growing with every passing moment. “Yes.”
“And we’re overdue on proving that to each other.” She shifted over him, rocking along his swiftly rousing cock. “I hope you took your vitamins today.”
Worlds lived behind her glittering blue eyes, ones he wanted nothing more than to explore. With her. Nothing made sense when she wasn’t at his side. The music had stopped, and right now, he didn’t need it. She was his melody. His breath and his heartbeat.
His very life, and the reason he still wanted to live it.
“Ditto.” He snagged his hand in her hair and flipped her over onto her back. Her giggle flowed over him, warm and precious and worth every sacrifice. “Better get ready, because I’m about to make up for a hell of a lot of lost time.”
* § *
Jazz woke to a softly strumming guitar. Still half-asleep, she smiled and burrowed deeper into pillows that smelled like the man she loved. She’d know the sage-and-cedarwood scent of his aftershave anywhere. The slightest hint of sweet smoke layered over it, a reminder of what had occurred the night before.
As if she’d ever forget the best night of her life.
Gray started to sing, his voice still husky from sleep. But his fingers were magic, like always. She grinned at the double meaning of that—oh so true—and opened her eyes, unable to wait even a second longer to look into the eyes she adored so much.
He sat cross-legged beside her, his beat-up guitar held in a loose grip. He played with such grace that she fixated on his hand for a good minute before she realized he was singing Van Morrison’s “Brown-Eyed Girl,” except he’d changed the lyrics to fit the eye color of the girl in his bed.
She was in his bed.
She hugged that blissful reality to her chest, closing her eyes to allow it to fully sink in. He continued to sing, his deep voice caressing the words as deftly as the instrument he coaxed to life in his hands. Somehow he knew every word, though she’d never heard him play that song. When it ended, he slid effortlessly into his rendition of the Stones’ “Brown Sugar.” She tried to stifle her laughter but she failed.
“Okay. The first one I got. Lovely lyric change, by the way. I love it.” She popped up on one elbow. “But ‘Brown Sugar?’”