Chapter Thirty-Seven
HENDRIX
It’s barely four in the fucking morning again, and I’m wide awake. My mind is racing, and I’m trying to resist the urge to reach for my phone and type in the words focal dystonia in the search bar on Google.
Zara offered to tell me whatever I wanted to know last night about the subject, but it was late. And I didn’t want to darken the mood after the words we’d just shared.
Because honestly, nothing else really mattered after that.
The moment she told me she loved me, I felt like I could overcome anything. But now, hours later, the fear is starting to set in.
What does this all mean?
Will I still be able to play?
What do I tell my family? My agent? The band?
I finally cave and reach for my phone, finding a string of unanswered texts from the night before that only add to the growing anxiety in my gut.
Cash
Have you decided yet?
Saul
Not trying to stress you out, but Seether is pushing for an answer.
Dad
Answer Saul.
Cash
Stop ignoring Dad.
I ignore every single one of them.
I turn to reach for Zara but find the bed empty and the sheets cold. I look around the bedroom, but she is nowhere to be found. What the fuck?
Sliding out of bed, I glance toward the bathroom, but the door is open, and the light is off.
Zara has an aversion to early mornings and the gym, so I’m usually the only one awake before seven.
We rarely make it downstairs for breakfast most mornings and often order room service so she has extra time to sleep in or get ready.
I have no idea how she survived early morning classes and hospital shifts, because that woman hates to wake up.
I walk into the separate living area, and it’s empty as well.
Finally, I notice a faint glow coming from the balcony.
I walk closer, and that’s when I see her.
In nothing but a fluffy white robe, she’s stretched out on one of the loungers with her laptop in front of her.
The screen illuminates her pensive expression as she types.
I pull open the door and step outside. It’s still dark, but the water glints under the moonlight, and you can see the outline of ships in the distance.
Zara turns her head. “Hi,” I say, closing the door behind me.
“Hi,” she replies. I notice a forgotten cup of tea on the table next to her. There are at least a dozen tabs open on her browser. She’s been up a long time. I wonder if she’s slept at all.
“What are you doing out here?”
“I couldn’t sleep,” she answers as I sit down in the empty lounger beside her. It’s summer in Boston, which means the morning air combined with the breeze coming off the bay is damn near perfect. I lean my head back and turn to face her.
“Why didn’t you wake me?”
“Because I wanted some time to do some research before we left for New York.”
“What kind of research?”
“Well, at first I just wanted to make sure I emailed Eric before I went to bed to ask for recommendations on neurologists who specialize in task-specific focal dystonia,” she explains. “But then he responded, and I kind of lost track of time after that.”
“What did he say?”
“He called me, actually.”
“Seriously?” Even three hours behind, it would have been late considering I was barely running on two hours of sleep.
“Yeah, that man is a night owl, apparently.” She clicks her mouse and pulls up a spreadsheet on her computer with a detailed list of doctors’ names, along with their locations, years of experience—and that’s just what I can pick out at first glance.
“Anyway, he gave me a bunch of names, and I did the rest.”
“This must have taken you forever.”
She doesn’t deny it. “I want to make sure you’re seen by someone knowledgeable in the field who can give a definitive diagnosis.
Because, even though Eric and I believe all the signs point to focal dystonia, I don’t want to take you to someone who will just nod in agreement with us.
I want someone who will do their due diligence and ignore us completely so they can make their own assessment.
” Her voice catches in her throat. “I want the best. Only the best will do.”
This fucking woman.
“Come here.”
She doesn’t hesitate. She just closes her laptop and climbs over the arm of her lounger into mine. Her legs wrap around my thighs, and she burrows into my chest. I don’t know how long we’ll stay like that, with her clinging to me, listening to the steady rhythm of my heartbeat.
“The first time I saw you play, it nearly took my breath away,” she murmurs. “It was that first night in Miami. I’d never been to a rock concert. Never seen anyone play live, except my mom.”
“Not really the same,” I interject.
“Not in the least,” she agrees, and when I glance down at her, I see the faintest hint of a smile.
“I’m not sure what I expected when I walked to the side of the stage with Elena that night.
I knew it would be loud, and the crowd would be huge and chaotic.
But I never expected to get so swept up by it all.
Seeing you perform was like a work of art.
It actually made me mourn all those times you came into our tutoring sessions with your bass locked tight in its case.
So many missed opportunities to hear you play. ”
She glances up at me, her brown eyes wet with unshed tears. “You can’t lose that gift, Hen.”
“I know, baby. I know.” I bend down and gently kiss her lips. “And I won’t lie and say I’m not scared. I’m not even sure I would have ever recognized the symptoms as anything serious if you weren’t here, and it’s scary to think how much worse it could have become.”
“I’m going to be honest with you. There is no cure for this. There are treatments and specialists. There are medications, but there is nothing that makes it go away. If this is truly what you have, it’s something you’ll have forever.”
“Will I lose my ability to play?”
Her gaze turns fierce. Resolute. “Not if I have anything to do with it.”
I kiss her again, but this time it’s anything but gentle or chaste. My fingers grip her hair as I tilt her head. Her lips are soft, and her cheeks are stained with dried tears. I hate that she’s cried so much over me, and I want to erase every single one of them.
I reach for the tie on her robe and tug it free. She pulls back. Her eyes are wide and a touch curious. “Here?” She looks around the stone patio. Walls on either side separate us from the other suites, but the iron railing is open to the harbor, and our only cover is the darkness.
“Here,” I confirm, kissing a path down the side of her neck. “I need to feel alive right now, Zara. So let me have you out here by the water before the sun comes up.”
Her mouth is on mine before I can take my next breath. The robe slips off her shoulder, and I take it as a sign just to tug the whole thing off and toss it to the ground.
I take a long look at her, and damn if she doesn’t take my breath away. Naked under the moonlight, she looks ethereal.
Like a fucking goddess.
My hands are everywhere. Every delicious curve, every inch of smooth skin. I can’t get enough of this woman. I don’t think I ever will.
I know we’re short on time, but I’m not leaving this balcony without a taste of her.
Gripping her waist, I lift her and in one quick motion, I have her beneath me.
She lets out a little squeal, which immediately turns into a breathy moan the minute my mouth closes over one of her rosy nipples.
Her fingers grip my hair as I shift and pay some attention to the other side, swirling my tongue around the hardened peak.
Her back arches. “Please, Hen. I need more.”
“I know what you need, Cupid.”
It’s exactly what I need too.
I kiss a path down her body, watching her breath grow ragged the closer I get to the valley between her thighs.
Yeah, I definitely know what my girl needs.
I grab one of her ankles and place her leg over my shoulder, spreading her wide. Even in the dark, she’s a sight to behold.
Pink, perfect, and so fucking mine.
I slowly run my hand down her inner thigh. She shivers in anticipation. If we weren’t chasing the sun, I’d draw this out, kiss every inch of her skin until she was begging me to make her come. But I don’t want to take any more risks than we already are.
Even though I’m down with the idea of fucking her out here where anyone could technically see us, I’m not about to do it in broad daylight.
Like I told her in the tattoo studio, all this is just for me now.
And god help me, I plan to enjoy it every chance I can get.
My first taste of her is divine. I swirl my tongue around her clit and suck hard.
“Oh fuck,” she cries.
I do it again, and she pulls on my hair and grinds her hips into my face.
“Fucking love it when you do that,” I growl.
“Don’t stop!” she protests, making me laugh. Two months ago, she would never have said something like that in the bedroom. Now she’s pulling my hair and taking control of her orgasms.
It’s sexy as hell.
I do exactly as I’m told and rub my tongue back and forth along her sensitive nub. When I slip two fingers inside her, she lets out a curse, and then she’s riding my face.
My cock is so hard, I have to keep myself from fucking the damn cushion so I don’t blow my load before I can get inside her.
Thankfully, I don’t have to wait long.
I curl my two fingers, and suddenly her back bows, and I feel her whole body go rigid just before she shatters. She moans my name as I carry her through every aftershock, licking her clit until it becomes too much and she’s pulling me up on top of her.
This time, when her fingers move through my hair, it’s gentle. Sweet. Reverent.
And when I kiss her, it’s slow. Purposeful. Loving.
No words are exchanged as she reaches for the waistband of my boxers and pushes them off my hips. When I slip them the rest of the way off and toss them to the ground, she only gazes up at me with a look of complete adoration.
This is what it feels like to make love, I realize. To know your partner so well that no words are needed. To be so deeply connected to another, feelings and emotions can be conveyed through physical touch.
When I slide into her slick entrance seconds later, I feel whole. Her legs wrap around me, and I bend down and kiss her. She moans into my mouth as I grind my hips and set a slow, torturous pace.
I run a hand over her smooth skin. I kiss her everywhere. I tell her how beautiful she is, and when we’re both desperate and covered in sweat, I grip her waist and flip us so she’s on top, giving her all the control.
“The sun is about to rise, Zara,” I say, causing her to look over her shoulder. Tiny streaks of amber and gold are cresting the horizon. “And you know I don’t share.”
She leans down and places a sweet kiss on my lips, then whispers in my ear. “Neither do I.”
Then she lifts her hips and nearly slides all the way off my cock before slamming her hips back down. My eyes nearly roll back in my head as she reaches forward and interlaces her hands with mine. And then begins to move.
It’s mesmerizing. The way her hips rock, the steady bounce of her tits, and the look of sheer pleasure on her face while she does it.
But it’s the confidence I love most.
She knows she looks good, and it’s so hot. I know I’m not going to last much longer.
“Zara,” I warn her.
She leans back, which only deepens the angle. She lets out a throaty moan I recognize well. She’s close. I let go of one of her hands and reach between her legs to rub her clit.
That’s all it takes.
She detonates above me, writhing and squeezing my cock as she cries out my name.
“Hendrix.”
It’s music to my fucking ears. I grip her hips and thrust hard. Heat races up my spine, and I feel my body tighten, and I come, letting out a guttural groan as I empty myself in her just as the sun breaks through the horizon.
Just in the nick of time.