Chapter 15
Fifteen
HAZEL
Sierra left early this morning giving me a solid four hours to sit and write before the buses leave for Detroit.
Shockingly enough I was able to focus enough to get a couple chapters written without my mind wandering to a certain sexy rock star.
But he creeps into my thoughts as I finish zipping my suitcases and get ready to check out of my room.
No one is in the hall as I walk down to the elevator. Soft footsteps sound behind me as I tap the call button. I smell his intoxicating scent before I see him.
“Good morning, little Archer,” he says quietly into my ear.
Goosebumps race down my spine as heat floods my body just from his proximity. “Morning.”
The elevator doors open, and I step on with him following just behind.
He’s wearing a pair of perfect fitting jeans and a navy t-shirt that stretches over his leanly muscled body.
As the doors close our eyes meet, reminding me of the kiss we shared in this very spot.
From the flare of heat in his eyes, I have to assume he’s thinking of the same thing.
God the man can kiss .
The sound of my phone ringing pulls my attention away before I can do anything stupid, like pounce on him. It’s Greg calling.
“Hi,” I answer.
“Hey. What are you doing?” His voice is soft and sweet, the Greg I fell for.
“Just getting ready to check out of the hotel and onto the bus.” I glance up at Stone, expecting him to be looking away to give me some semblance of privacy.
He’s not.
“Where are you off to next?”
“Detroit.”
“That’s right. Have you gotten anything written?”
“Yeah, I’ve managed to get about ten thousand words written so far. It’s really starting to come together.”
“That’s great. Send me what you have, and I’ll take a look.”
“Really?”
“Of course. You know nothing matters more to me than your success. I know how talented you are.”
Tears prick the back of my eyes as his words sink in. I’ve been acting like such a bitch to him lately, and here he is, offering to help me. Reminding me that he does care, he just has high standards for himself and those he believes in. Guilt churns in my belly.
“Thank you.”
The elevator doors open, and Stone gestures for me to exit first.
“I need to drop my keys off at the front desk. Can I talk to you later?”
“Yes, and make sure to email me the chapters. I’m anxious to read it.”
“Will do. Thank you.”
“Bye, love.”
The line goes dead, and I slip the phone into my purse.
I bite the inside of my cheek as I think about everything I’ve done.
It was selfish of me to kiss another guy and flaunt it like I did.
Greg didn’t deserve that, not with everything he’s done for me throughout college and helping me navigate signing my contract.
I slide my key across the front desk and walk out to the street where the tour buses are parked.
The driver takes my suitcases and stows them away underneath while I climb up into the cabin.
I take my bags and toss them onto my bunk, so they’re out of the way and walk back into the lounge with my laptop.
I don’t want to be up front with everyone right now, especially when I need to clean up my document before I send it off to Greg. He hates having to correct typos, so I try to catch as much as I can. Muffled voices float back to me, but I can’t make out the conversation.
A few minutes after the bus starts moving, the door opens, and I see Stone. He has his notebook in hand and looks to me questioningly.
“Do you mind if I come back here and work?”
“Of course not. It’s your space.”
“As long as you’re on tour with us, it’s yours, too.”
“Thank you.” I smile at him and then focus my attention back on my screen.
A few quiet moments pass before he breaks the silence again.
“Was that the professor?”
“Hmm?” I ask, distracted by my work.
“On the phone in the elevator?”
“Yeah, it was.”
“You’re going to let him read what you’ve got?”
“Yeah.” I continue proofing as I answer.
“Why?”
“He reads all my work.”
Stone huffs in disbelief.
My eyes finally lift from my computer screen to his face. “What was that about?”
“What was what about?”
“The noise you made.”
“I just don’t get a good vibe from what you’ve told me about him.”
My back stiffens. “Listen, he’s my mentor and a brilliant writer. I trust him with my work. Also, I can be a little dramatic when I’m upset. It’s probably my worst flaw. Take my complaints with a grain of salt.”
“I haven’t seen you be anything but agreeable and accommodating in the time we’ve been in close quarters.”
“Of course that’s your impression.” I chuckle. “I’m so out of my depth here. My first book tour, and I end up with Blue Sunday. It doesn’t even feel like real life.”
“Are we making you uncomfortable?” He sets his notebook aside.
“No, you guys have all been great. It’s just me.” I point at my head and look away. “It’s all in here I guess.”
“Save your work.”
“What?” I turn and find his gaze locked on me.
“Save. Your. Work.”
“It autosaves every thirty seconds.”
“Good.” He reaches over and gently closes my laptop, putting it beside his notebook. “Have I made you uncomfortable?”
“No.” My eyes bounce back and forth between his ocean blue irises. “Except a little right now.”
“So you’re okay with the kissing?” He leans forward, his hand moving toward my cheek.
“Yes.” Any lingering guilt about Greg evaporates as a grin lifts Stone’s lips.
“Good. Because I’m not going to stop pursuing you.”
Just as I begin to lean toward him, the bus hits a bump in the road, and I’m tossed on top of him as we fall to the floor. I immediately try to scramble off him, worried I could have hurt him, but his fingers dig into my hips. He groans as I shift my weight, realizing I’m straddling his hips.
“I’m so sorry. Are you okay?” I run my hands down his chest absentmindedly.
“I’ve never been better.” His fingers slip under the hem of the little shorts I’m wearing. “Fuck, you feel good little Archer.”
I freeze as he kneads the soft skin, letting his hands pull me up until I feel his rapidly hardening cock straining beneath his jeans.
My lips part at the friction of denim against the two thin layers of cotton covering me.
His eyes lock on my mouth as he reaches up and tangles his fingers in my hair, pulling my face down to his.
As soon as our lips meet, my hips rock against his pelvis shamelessly.
Our tongues glide against each other’s as the kiss deepens.
The hand that is still on my hip slips back until he’s cupping my ass.
I gasp when he squeezes the handful of my cheek in his palm.
My hips continue to grind against him as my pussy contracts around the aching emptiness.
He pants against my mouth, his breathing becoming rougher with each rock of my pelvis over his cock. I can feel the wetness building between my thighs as my panties slip to the side, leaving my cunt to rub against the hot bulge in his jeans.
If he pulled his dick out right now, I’d slide down it without a thought. He moves his other hand from my hair down my chest, cupping my breast over my shirt. Then both his hands move to the bottom of my shirt, pulling it upward.
I jerk upright and tug the hem down. “I don’t let anyone see me without a shirt.”
He looks momentarily confused but quickly recovers and pulls me back down. “It’s okay, clothes can stay on.”
Damn.
I won’t take my shirt off, but I’d take everything else off.
“I want you to make yourself come just as you are.”
“With clothes on?”
“Yes, I want to hear you cum. I want to feel you tremble on top of me as you wish I had my cock buried deep inside you.”
Oh fuck, my core clenches.
His hands move back under my shorts, gripping my hips as he finds the same rhythm as me. I moan as I feel the first flutter of my orgasm. He arches his back, pressing his cock against me at the same time he pulls my face down to his.
“No one else gets to hear you cum,” he says against my lips with a grunt.
Warmth pools beneath me just as I reach the edge. My thighs squeeze his hips as I moan into his mouth with my lips. My body feels like it’s caught fire as pleasure rocks through me. He moans deep in his throat as we both go still.
I start to shift my weight to the side, but he wraps his arms around me, pulling my body flat on top of his.
“Don’t you dare fucking move. Not after making me cum in my pants like I’m a teenager again.”
I lift my head to look down at him. “You came? Seriously?” I move my hand down his body between us, unable to believe I just dry humped Stone Tyler until he came in his pants.
He groans when I cup his cock over the damp denim. “I did. Fuck. I want to do that again.”
I’m about to rip my shorts off and offer my pussy to him for round two when we hear footsteps approaching. I scramble off him as he sits up and shifts back toward the wall just in time to place the guitar in his lap and cover his mess. I slip back onto the sofa right as Xander walks in.
He nods at me and then looks down at Stone. “I have a few thoughts for the song you wrote last night.” He grabs another guitar and sits on the chair beside him.
I use Xander’s appearance as an excuse to go up front. I pass the beds and hear Tobias watching a movie in his bunk. That’s perfect because it means Jade and Darren are probably working up front. Just the type of quiet I need.
We have three days in Detroit, and I’m looking forward to spending most of them working. I’m energized and excited for the direction the plot is going in my mind, and all I want to do is get it all down. If only my thoughts could be instantly downloaded onto my computer.
This frenetic energy is wild. It’s a high unlike anything I have experienced, not that I have many experiences with which to compare, but that’s besides the point.
I felt similar to this when I was halfway through writing my first book.
If I had to venture a guess I’d say it’s happening earlier this time because I’m not trying to adapt fan fic to an original work.
The problem with this high, though, is the drop that will eventually come. I’m well versed in depressive episodes, having gone through them regularly for the past decade, but familiarity doesn’t equal ease.
Fuck.
I shake the worries off and remind myself that it’s a problem for future Hazel. Today’s Hazel gets to think about how she dry humped the lead singer of Blue Sunday until he came in his pants. I should take myself out for a drink for that accomplishment.
I glance down at my clothes, not in the mood to change for a fancy place. Thumbing through the hotel’s guest information binder, I see there’s a small bar down in the lobby. A glass of wine sounds like a good way to relax and get myself ready to spend the night marathon writing.
I slip the key card in my pocket and grab my Kindle, leaving everything else behind. I’ll give myself forty-five minutes.
I opt for a table tucked in the corner of the bar by a window overlooking the courtyard.
The server comes by and drops off a small bowl of pretzels before taking my order.
In the short amount of time it takes him to get my glass of merlot, I’m already engrossed in the thriller I downloaded when I couldn’t sleep the other night.
I sip on my wine and occasionally glance up, looking out as the sun begins to set.
A few groups trickle into the bar which increases the volume, but I’m so engrossed I hardly notice.
When I get to a good stopping point, because if I don’t stop now I won’t stop until I read to the end, I set my Kindle aside and people watch.
Charging the glass of wine to the room, I drain the last bit of wine and stand.
As I’m walking past a table of women, I hear my name called out. I turn expecting to see someone from the tour, but there’s no familiar face.
“Yes?” I stop beside the table.
“It’s really you. We weren’t sure.”
“Oh, yes. It’s me.” I’ve never been recognized and don’t know how to act. “How are you ladies?”
“We’re great.” One of the women reaches into her bag and pulls out a copy of my book. “I actually read it on the plane today. It was good. Will you sign my copy?”
“Of course, but I don’t have a pen on me.”
“I have one.” She slides me one over the table.
I stay and chat with them for a while. They’re in town for some sort of an annual conference. Each of them works in a different office for the same company, and they treat these weekends like a girl’s trip. I love that as someone who doesn’t have many friends.
My feet barely touch the ground as I go back up to my room, I’m so happy and content with how the day has gone. Being recognized makes me feel like maybe I deserve this type of success. Maybe it’s not a fluke or random stroke of luck.
I do a double take when I walk around the corner and find Stone sitting in front of my hotel room door. He’s leaning back against the wall and strumming his acoustic guitar with a pen hanging out of his mouth like a cigarette. No one should look as good as he does just existing.
“What are you doing?”
He looks up and lets the pen drop from his lips. “Waiting for you.”
“I see that. Why?”
He looks me up and down. “Where were you?”
“The hotel bar enjoying a glass of wine before I start writing.”
“Perfect. I need to work tonight, too.” He pushes to his feet with effortless grace. “My room or yours?”
I pause, my room is tight quarters when his proximity does funny things to my insides. I know he’s in a suite, so logically there’s more space in his room.
“Yours.”