“Your baby sister is being drowned in luxury as it is. Now, if you’ll excuse me…”
I waved the toothbrush and toothpaste in his face.
He sighed. “Fine…just…keep your phone handy, would you? Don’t like not being able to get ahold of you.”
I released a small huff and gestured at myself again. “Not a child, remember?”
His grin was only half amused. “But you’re still my baby sister.”
“Royce.” I almost whined it.
“Mag Pie,” he whined right back, mocking me.
I sighed. “Fine. But it’s charging right now, so you’re just going to have to be satisfied that I’m in the powder room brushing my teeth and that I’m not in there bleeding and in need of rescue. Sound good?”
He scowled at my sarcasm.
I actually laughed and then mouthed, love you, before I dipped away from him and made a beeline for the small powder room at the end of the hall. I shut the door behind me, leaned against it, and tried to catch my breath.
I caught my reflection in the mirror.
My skin flushed.
My eyes wide.
And I knew I’d never felt so alive.
Fifteen
Maggie
About thirty minutes later, I slipped down the small stairway to the sound of chaos echoing from the kitchen.
Voices shouted and dishes clattered.
Taking a deep breath and smoothing out the printed floral sundress I’d slipped into, I did my best to compose myself as I hit the landing and moved down the hall, worried someone might be able to read what I was putting off.
What I was pretty sure was written all over me.
I just had my first orgasm, and it was freaking spectacular.
Was it wrong what I really wanted to do was walk into the kitchen and throw a fist of victory in the air? Or maybe start tossing out fist bumps? Pop a bottle of champagne?
Because this was undoubtedly cause for celebration.
It felt as if it needed to be recognized.
The way my smile seemed different.
The way my body glowed.
The way trembles kept ripping down my spine every time my mind drifted back to the place that was just for Rhys and me.
Chills lifted as I remembered the way he’d looked at me. At the feelings that had gushed from his spirit. At the connection we’d shared.
No question, I was wound up in the beauty of what had just happened.
The problem was, I doubted very much anyone else would see it the same.
It sucked because I felt like singing it from the rooftops. The way he made me feel. The goodness I saw in a man that I was sure was so misunderstood he didn’t even recognize himself.
And after him?
I wasn’t sure I fully recognized myself, either.
Or maybe I finally did.
Either way, I felt changed.
Like a dial inside me had shifted. Something intrinsic rearranged. A piece of me coming to fruition.
I hooked a left at the end of the hall and stepped into the circus that I’d heard from upstairs.
I smiled when I took in the mayhem that was going down in the main rooms.
At the gathering of family and friends. Old faces and new. People coming together to become something important to the other.
It was funny because if I told someone I was spending the summer in a mansion with a bunch of musicians, this was probably not the scene they would be expecting.
They’d be looking for a crew of wrung-out bad boys, passed out, face down in their own puke and still clinging to a bottle of Jack.
Most likely buck and tangled with a groupie or two.
At least that was a scene I’d witnessed plenty of times throughout the years, and I was getting the sense that might be the case when the rest of my brother’s band, A Riot of Roses, arrived next week.
But here and now?
With Carolina George taking up the space?
Not so much.
Leif was at the island, chopping onions and tomatoes, while Mia and Violet were at the counter near the stove cracking eggs into a big bowl for omelets.
A swarm of children buzzed at their feet, taking the island like a racetrack, sliding on their socks around the corners on the marble floors.
“You can’t get me!” Greyson had his hands thrown in the air as he blew around his daddy’s legs.
Greyson was Leif and Mia’s middle son. A handful. Adorable as could be. Dark hair and grins and sweetness for miles.
“Whoa there, little bud,” Leif called as the toddler skidded around his legs. “You better watch yourself or you’re gonna fall on your noggin.”
Case in point about these rockstars?
Noggin.
I hadn’t known Leif all that long, but I’d heard it said the hardened man had gone soft.
From where I stood at the entryway to the kitchen, affection bloomed. A rush of energy wrapping me in their comfort. This overwhelming feeling pulsing and crashing.
Love.
Devotion.
Loyalty.
I could feel each riding the air in the room.
So full.
So bright.
“I not gonna go crackin’ up my noggin, Daddy-O. I gotsta get away from Brendon because he’s so, so, so big.”