Chapter 21
When Taylor steps off the stage, her legs are shaking and her ears are buzzing like there's a wasps' nest lodged in her head.
David's arms wrap around her and lift her off the floor.
He says something, laughing, but she doesn't even catch it; she just smiles and kisses his cheek before he lets her go.
"You did great, sis," Ethan says, passing by her with a grim expression.
That comment does clear her head a bit, not because he congratulates her, but because of how forced it sounds.
Taylor watches him walk away until she sees him heading toward their parents and sister, standing where Abigail had been before, whom she can't spot anywhere.
She runs to them and nearly knocks Tiffany over when she jumps on her.
Tiffany is the one who congratulates her properly, squeezing her hard while murmuring a rush of words so fast Taylor barely processes them.
"So much screaming, sweetheart," her mother says, astonished.
Her father is still bewildered by what they lived through a few minutes ago.
It took both of them a while to accept that all those ovations that nearly deafened them were for their daughter, but once they did, they almost fainted with emotion, even if they show it in their own way.
Taylor lets them hug her, but her eyes are searching for only one person.
"I saw her go out through the tunnel, phone glued to her ear," Tiffany whispers.
Taylor smiles at her sister, grateful for her understanding. She needs to see Abigail; she needs those eyes, the color of a mountain in the dead of winter, to confirm that everything that just happened was real before she has a meltdown.
"I'll be right back," she says, and starts running down the tunnel, dodging everyone in her way.
Taylor knows where Abigail's trailer is, and figures she can't be anywhere else if she wants privacy to take a call, so she heads there and throws the door open the moment she arrives, like a gust of wind.
Abigail has her back to the door, on the phone when she senses the presence behind her.
She smiles because she knows it's Taylor, the only person bold enough to invade her space like that.
She turns slowly and her body ignites. Taylor is still panting, her skin gleaming with sweat, and she watches her with dark eyes and parted lips.
"I can't schedule meetings right now," Abigail answers, not taking her eyes off her. "First I have to evaluate all the options before committing my client."
Taylor's smile twists. Her client. They haven't even signed, and Abigail is already fighting for her.
"No," she says, firm enough that Taylor feels the floor of the trailer tremble under that thunderous tone. "My assistant will be in touch as soon as possible, thank you."
Abigail hangs up and tosses her phone onto the table, not caring when she puts too much force into it and it skids across the wood and drops to the floor.
"That's the fourth call I've taken; you're going to have to make it up to me," Abigail growls.
Taylor goes quiet. Her chest rises and falls at a frightening speed until she suddenly lets out a euphoric shout and launches herself at Abigail, wrapping her legs around her waist. Abigail has to take a step back to keep her balance, but she has no trouble holding her, lacing her hands behind the small of Taylor's back while she smiles at her. Her gaze shines, too.
"How do you feel?" Abigail asks, arching a brow.
Her pulse goes wild when she feels Taylor's heat and the pressure of her legs cinched around her waist. In that moment she wants to tell her so many things that even she feels overwhelmed, but she holds them back because she knows they'd only make what's coming worse.
"I think I'm going to have a heart attack."
Taylor presses a hand to her chest, sure it's going to explode.
"I hope not," Abigail says without letting her go, drowning in her own emotions.
"I'm shaking all over, Abby," she whispers, closing in on her mouth.
I can feel it, baby.
That's what Abigail wants to say as she smiles at her and keeps holding that brown gaze that glints like melted chocolate dripping from a fountain, but she swallows the thought.
Not just because it could stoke the flame of what she suspects Taylor is starting to feel for her, but because the simple need to address her that tenderly sends panic through her.
"I can tell," she murmurs instead, feeling the air grow dense around her.
She tries to take a few steps with Taylor toward the door.
She means to slide the latch, but she doesn't get the chance because Taylor crashes her mouth to hers, seeks her tongue and tangles with it as she releases her and plants her feet on the floor.
The tables turn; Abigail feels the slam of the door against her back, violent, a jolt that nearly knocks the breath from her but arouses her in a way she doesn't recognize.
"Sorry," Taylor pants, pulling away from Abigail to look at her.
She looks like a starving wolf about to devour her prey; only Abigail isn't afraid; she's aching for her to do it. It's Taylor's hand that reaches for the latch and turns it with the same ease with which she unfastens Abigail's pants.
"Don't move," Taylor says.
Abigail doesn't like being told what to do, but her mind goes hazy when Taylor pulls off her T-shirt and pants, which takes effort because she's so sweaty, then unbuttons Abigail's shirt, frees her generous breasts, traces a line over a few freckles on her chest with her tongue, and takes one nipple into her mouth, sucking hard.
"Have I told you how much I love your tits?" she says, squeezing them with both hands.
"With how much you talk, it would be weird if you hadn't," Abigail replies, feeling like it's hard to think clearly.
Taylor smiles and, with a sharp movement, turns her to face the door.
"I want to come against your ass," she whispers in her ear as she presses against her back.
Abigail feels her small breasts brush her shoulder blades, the press of her chin on her shoulder when Taylor kisses her neck, and the sting of the bite she gives the back of her shoulder mixing with the explosion of pleasure the singer's fingers spark as they slide over her soaked sex.
All of that while Taylor rubs herself against her ass, panting with effort as Abigail pushes back into her and gets drunk on the sounds spilling from her mouth.
"I could come just thinking about you," Taylor confesses as she keeps rubbing against her.
She grabs her by the hair and yanks hard. Abigail growls, but she likes it.
"I'm close, Abby," Taylor pants, "I need your hand."
Abigail turns, pushes her onto the table, bends over her, and thrusts into her while taking her nipple into her mouth.
Taylor screams so loud that Abigail is sure they heard her from the stage, and she fucks her with the same precision she has for everything, feeling like she's losing her mind when the singer pulses around her fingers.
"You're so pretty," she murmurs, kissing the underside of Taylor's ear.
Taylor opens her mouth to say something, but Abigail covers it with her free hand, fixes her with a look that makes it clear who's in charge, and presses her thumb to the singer's clit at the same time she curls her fingers inside her, which Taylor can't withstand.
Her back bows in a sudden spasm, her abdomen tightens, and all her moans die against Abigail's hand while she keeps watching her, wondering if she'll ever experience anything this erotic again.
"Better?" Abigail asks minutes later, when Taylor has come a second time and seems relaxed.
They're sitting on the floor by the door in their underwear, sharing a beer.
"I'm still shaking a little," Taylor admits with a little laugh, stretching her hands out in front of her. "I guess that's normal."
"Some artists cry for hours after their first performance, especially when it's on this level. Others even faint, but that's the usual reaction," Abigail explains, gesturing to her hands, "so relax."
"So now what, Abigail?" Taylor asks, tilting her head toward her.
Abigail takes a long pull of her beer and takes her time answering.
"You know already. Now you have to decide: you can sign the contract and come with me to New York, or stay here," she says with a shrug.
The word New York hits Taylor like a hammer to the head.
It has a lot of meanings for her, all of them good—except one, and that's the one that unsettles her the most. Taylor knows perfectly well what it means for them: the moment she boards that plane, whatever she has with Abigail is over. Abigail was very clear about that.
"You know I'll sign," Taylor says in a low voice, hoping for some reaction from Abigail.
But that reaction doesn't come; Abigail is as cold as a block of dry ice.
"Good. Tomorrow we'll meet and go over all the details. Today, go home and celebrate this with your family."
It's not the answer Taylor hoped for, and her stomach drops like she's swallowed a rock, but it doesn't catch her off guard either.
"What are you going to do?"
Abigail cuts her a sidelong look and lifts a brow.
"Work, of course," Taylor whispers, though there's no amusement in her tone.
Abigail's phone starts ringing. It's the third time it's done that since the two of them have been here, only the previous times Abigail ignored it, but now she gets up and picks it up off the floor.
She looks at the screen and, seeing it's Liam, silences it and leaves it on the table before sitting back in a chair.
She can afford to call him in a bit; besides, she likes to torture him.
She's sure everyone who couldn't get through to her is calling him, and her partner will be desperate for details about the event.
"Well, I suppose I should go," Taylor says, starting to get dressed.
"There'll be music journalists out there," Abigail says as she checks her calls, once again cloaked in that signature chill. "If any of them try to talk to you, tell them to come talk to me; it's better if we control the interviews."
Taylor nods, torn between excitement at that possibility and the surprising sense of loss she's feeling with Abigail.
"I guess our deal still stands until we fly to New York, right?" she asks, leaning over Abigail, sliding a hand from her cheek to the nape of her neck.
Abigail is thrown for a moment; she didn't even see her coming, but she feels her heat, and her lips tingle when she feels her so close.
"Yes, it still stands," she answers, moving closer to her mouth.
Taylor uses her tongue to push between her lips, grazes her teeth, and crashes against Abigail's tongue. The executive, despite having drunk the same thing, tastes the beer in Taylor's mouth and wants to drink from her until she's dry.
"Will you call me tomorrow?" Taylor asks when they separate.
Abigail nods and fixes her gaze back on the phone screen, unruffled.