Chapter 19
“Chills” - James Barker Band
Rhett
I can’t believe I once thought an insidion high was the optimal mountain peak.
Since then, I’ve discovered the euphoria that comes from performing for a stadium full of adoring fans screaming and flashing their boobs at me, my name scrawled across them in block letters.
Even seeing my dad in the greenroom, knowing he watched my show, flew me higher than any drug ever has.
Until he revealed that he’s as much of a jackass as ever, of course.
But even better than all of that is Saylor Elizabeth Jones.
Last night may have been the best night of my life. She slept in my arms naked after I gave her three orgasms (still patting myself on the back for that one), and when I woke up during the night, hard as a motherfucker, we had another go.
But god, it’s not even the sex. It’s her. I look at her, and the rest of the world goes black—just fades into nothing like a background vocal trailing off.
Now she walks out of the bathroom, pajamas clutched under one arm, wearing denim shorts and tights with a flannel tied around her waist. I shoot her a grin, and it only stretches wider when a faint blush rises in her brown cheeks. I waggle my eyebrows, hoping she’ll agree to another round.
She rolls her eyes, but a tiny smile plays on her lips. “Don’t you have rehearsal?” she says, stuffing her clothes into her closet.
“It can wait.” I grab her hand and tug her closer to the bed, which isn’t difficult given how little space there is in here. Tonight we’ll have an entire hotel suite.
She comes willingly, but only to drop a kiss on my lips. Then she spins away and opens the door. “I’m hungry,” she says before slipping out.
I growl, but the door’s already closing. “I’ll show her hungry,” I mutter, and swing my legs over the side of the bed.
By the time I’m done showering and have grabbed one of the breakfast sandwiches Noah had delivered, the roadies have our equipment set up in the practice room we’ll be using all day. I’m surprised to find Saylor talking to Jamal when I walk in.
“Hey, babe.” I wrap an arm around her waist and plant a kiss on the side of her face.
She turns to smile at me. “Jamal was just telling me about the party last night. Apparently, we missed Diego dancing on a table?”
“Thank god for small mercies,” I say, not letting go of her. Definitely not around Jamal, who looks at Saylor like he’d very much like to have his tongue down her throat, the bastard.
He goes to get his guitar, and Saylor pulls away from me. “I should go. Let you guys practice,” she says.
I tighten my grip on her waist. “You could stay.”
“And do what?” She bites her full bottom lip, and I want to pull it into my mouth.
“Watch,” I say, staring at it.
She blushes beneath my gaze, and I’m starting to realize how much I like the sight. “I don’t want to be in the way.”
I scoff. “That’s the last thing you’d be. I want you here.” I’m going to be throwing around some new lyrics this morning, seeing what the guys think and possibly adding music to some of them. I suddenly want her here more than anything. “Please stay?”
She blinks several times, her eyes wide and luminous. Her face has a glow to it that wasn’t there before. I put that there.
“Okay,” she whispers.
I add a new entry to my list of highs.