But here, with Brenna’s funny little snores buffeting my chest, it hits me with a calm certainty that music isn’t the entirety of my heart and soul. It no longer owns me completely. She’s there too, in my heart and soul. A touchstone in the darkness of uncertainty.
The truth of that overwhelms me, and I squeeze my eyes closed, press my lips to the top of her warm head, and just breathe. But it doesn’t help. There’s a hole opening up in my chest, getting wider and wider. Because this isn’t real. It’s stolen time.
Maybe I’m holding her too close or too tight because she stirs, flipping over to face me then letting out a small sigh as she stretches. I loosen my hold and watch her wake. Her lashes flutter, then her eyes open, revealing true amber irises flecked with gold. And I swear to God, sap that I’ve become around her, my damn heart clenches.
It takes a moment for her to focus, and I probably shouldn’t be lying here, staring, but I can’t help myself. She’s adorably mussed, soft and sleepy.
Given that I am staring, I don’t miss her slight confusion at seeing me. Maybe she doesn’t fully remember last night, or maybe she simply regrets letting me stay. It’s going to be awkward if she’s upset I’m here. Then she blinks again, her gaze growing clear. A small smile quirks the corners of her pink lips.
“Hey,” she says, her voice sandy with sleep.
Relief is a rush of air through my lungs. With the tip of my finger, I ease a strand of her hair away from her forehead. “Hey.”
Her palm is on my chest. I’m not certain she’s even aware of it. Her fingers drift over my pecs, stopping to toy with the silver bar piercing my nipple. Pleasure arrows through me, and I feel like purring. Yes, purring; I’d do it if I could.
I lean in, brush my lips over hers. Once. Twice. She sighs again, a soft sound that I feel all along my skin, and I pull back just enough to meet her gaze. “You want breakfast?”
“You making it?” she asks with an expression that is at once hopeful and doubtful.
I laugh lightly. “Of course.”
Her nose wrinkles as she peers at me. “You can cook? Because I have never seen it.”
“I can scramble eggs, dole out yogurt and fruit.” I kiss the tip of her nose, because I need that touch. “I can even blend up one of those health smoothies you seem to like.”
“They are quick and refreshing.”
My lips skim the line of her jaw. “We don’t need to be quick today, Berry.”
She makes a noise like she’s trying not to laugh. Her hand keeps drifting over my chest, along my side. God, she smells good, not flowery or fruity but pure, heady pheromones that work like a drug to my system. I burrow my nose in the warm curve of her neck and breathe deep.
Brenna chuckles then, her fingers threading through my hair. “I’m so tired. I don’t want to move.”
“So don’t.” I curl further into her, cuddling close. I’ve decided: I fucking love cuddling. “We make our own rules here.”
She’s running the tips of her fingers along my scalp. It feels like heaven. “We do, huh?”
“Yep. Here, we’re free.” A nice fantasy. One I want to make real.
She murmurs something, her touch already slowing. Her body is melding with mine, warm and relaxed. And then we drift, talk of little things, laugh at inside jokes only we know. Like I said, heaven. It occurs to me that I should talk to her about why I’m really here. But I can’t. Right now, everything is perfect.
After a while, I make her breakfast then offer to take her on a drive. I keep a matte chrome Harley Fat Boy at the house. At first, I worry that Brenna might want a car, but, when I tell her about the bike, she gives an un-Brenna-like squeal of delight and puts on stellar ass-hugging jeans, a baby blue tee, and a pair of purple wicked-high heels. My tongue is likely hanging out, but it can’t be helped; I love dressed-down Brenna.
“Nice shirt,” is all I can manage. I’m not lying, though. It has all my favorite qualities: it’s small, tight, and on Brenna. The phrase “Earth Girls Are Easy” stretches across her chest. “Jax give you that?”
“How did you guess?” Brenna smiles, as she slips on a brown leather jacket—seriously, the woman always has clothing for every occasion at the ready.
I hand her a helmet. “Remember that Jeff Goldblum kick he went on during our last tour? Do you know how many times I had to see that movie?”
“Ha! I actually like that one. He tried to get me to watch The Fly.” She makes a face. “Disgusting. I made him turn it off, but I still had nightmares for a week.”