Chapter 25
IAIN
Ishould leave. I should leave now.
I must have told myself that at least two dozen times in the past hour.
Just get up out of Dawson’s bed and leave. Go back to your room and act like nothing happened.
It’s just sex.
So why, then, did I let him guide me to his shower? Not only that, but when he held my hand, interlocking our fingers tightly, Christ, it was more intimate than fucking. And I never imagined I’d ever be shaken by such a simple gesture.
Touching that led to sex was fine, but anything else was a no-go.
As a guitarist, my hands were a powerful tool. One I didn’t share lightly.
Dawson took charge, ushering me into the glass enclosure and cleaning me from head to toe. Then quick touches grew sensual, and we got dirty all over again. And fuck, the way that man kissed me? I was hungry for more, more, more.
Okay, so maybe this wasn’t a one-time thing.
Maybe we needed a few days to get it all out of our system. But it would let out.
I mean, that’s the way it was, right?
I didn’t do relationships, and he didn’t want to risk his career.
So while part of me was freaking out, the other was going along for the ride.
And by ride, I meant whatever this was between me and Dawson.
Once we’d used up all the hot water, he slapped my ass and told me to go back to my room and get changed.
Bossy fucker. And yeah, I liked it. But only with him.
Not that I would ever admit it.
Still, I did as I was told, got out, and started drying off. But I was unsteady on my feet, punch drunk from so many orgasms.
“You all right?” he asked me, concern etched on his face as he stepped out of the shower.
I nodded quickly and watched him grab a towel. It was a damn shame to cover up that body.
The thought of anyone else—man or woman—eyeing up Dawson in this way made me irrationally moody. Beyond his muscle mass and bossy attitude, the man was caring and sensitive. Sexy as hell.
And I wanted him all to myself.
“I’ll order breakfast while you’re getting dressed,” Dawson announced. “What do you want?”
Instead of answering him, I gave him what I hoped was a dirty grin.
Dawson shook his head. “Oh no. Go on, get. I need a break, rockstar. You’ve depleted every last ounce of my energy.”
“What about all your training? We’re going to have to work on your stamina, baby.”
Dawson’s mouth dropped open, as did the towel he was holding.
That didn’t help matters at all.
Despite my exhaustion, my cock began to fill.
“Go get dressed. Save that for later.”
“Yes, sir,” I quipped.
Dawson moved lightning quick, backing me up against the wall. His mouth hovered over mine, teasing, just out of reach. I longed to reach up and run my hands over his red stubble, but I held back. I was getting too caught up in my emotions, and touching him like that would surely only feed into it.
“Get dressed, sweetheart,” he murmured against my lips. “Then we’ll eat and go out for a bit.”
“Out?”
“Play tourist for an hour or two before we head to the venue.”
“Any particular reason?”
“I want to get Jaxon a gift. There are a couple of bookstores nearby.”
“So sweet.”
Dawson shook his head, and that telltale flush crept up onto his cheeks.
Fuck it, I couldn’t resist. Dawson’s shy smile had me reaching up to kiss him softly.
“Grab a hat to cover your hair, and wear a pair of sunglasses,” Dawson added. “I’ll text Lennie to join us.”
“Sounds like a plan. And I’d like crepes with strawberries and an omelet. And pain au chocolat.”
“Are you sharing any of that?”
“Nope, it’s all for me,” I replied, my breath catching as he cupped my face in his hands. “See, I worked up quite an appetite. I had this incredibly hot night with a sexy bear of a man. He fucked my brains out and then some.”
“Lucky guy.”
“I’m feeling pretty lucky myself.”
Dawson gave me one last kiss and then stepped back to open the bathroom door. I finally forced my feet to move and headed back through his bedroom to my adjoining suite.
First things first, I reached for my phone.
There were texts from the guys, of course, and one from Zoe asking me to call her today about the stalker headlines. Ugh. I’d do that later. I wanted to stay in my happy little bubble a while longer.
I checked the forecast, and while it was sunny today, the temperature was hovering around fifty-five degrees.
I slipped on a pair of dark jeans, my biker boots, and a forest green turtleneck sweater.
My leather jacket and scarf were a must. Then I tied my wet hair up in a bun and grabbed a black beanie and my favorite pair of wayfarers.
As I looked around my room to see if I missed anything, I fought the strange urge to grab all my stuff and move it into Dawson’s suite.
Man, I must really need food because I was starting to hallucinate.
Me wanting to share a room with a man I was sleeping with?
Ha. No. Not happening.
Okay, maybe just my guitar. I always kept one with me in case inspiration struck. And because playing was my form of therapy.
Without further thought, I grabbed my guitar case and hauled it into his room.
I placed it on the chair opposite the sofa.
Hopefully, he wouldn’t make a big deal of it.
I mean, given that we weren’t nearly done with each other, chances are I’d be staying here tonight.
It just made sense to keep my baby close to me.
Thankfully, Dawson was still in the bathroom. I could hear something buzzing.
I walked down the hallway and peered around the door. Dawson was standing in front of the sink, with a white towel around his hips and an electric razor in hand. He gave me a smile when he spotted me.
“Please tell me you’re not shaving that off,” I teased.
“Just trimming.”
“Good.”
“Any other demands?” he quipped as he looked at me in the mirror.
“Next time, you better eat my ass out like you promised.”
The trimmer fell out of his hand and crashed into the sink. “Fuck, Iain! Save that talk for later.”
“Why? I want you to eat me out, and you want to eat me. And I want to feel that beard on my ass. Fuck, you can rub it all over my body.”
Dawson closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Please stop talking. I’m trying not to get another hard-on.”
“Why?”
“Because you have a show tonight, and I don’t want to be the reason you collapse on stage.”
“You can die from too much sex? That’s a real thing?” I asked with a smirk.
“Out,” he ordered.
“But I like to watch.”
Dawson let out a deep groan. “Iain.”
I shivered despite the warmth of the room and my sweater. “Do you know how sexy it is when you say my name like that? Like I’m driving you out of your mind?”
“That’s because you do.” He shook his head and picked up the trimmer. “Out. Before I swat your ass so hard, you’ll be squirming on stage all night.”
Instead of responding, I turned around and bent over.
“You just have to be a fucking brat, don’t you?”
I wiggled my butt and chuckled.
Until Dawson made good on his threat.
The slap of his firm hand hitting my denim-covered ass was loud, and the sting had my dick jerking hard. Fuck, I wasn’t into that kind of thing, but with Dawson, it turned me on.
“I liked that way too much,” I admitted. “More.”
Dawson laughed softly and pulled me against his body.
He nuzzled his face in my neck and slid his arms around my waist, pulling me in tight.
“Our breakfast should be here any minute,” he chuckled. “Let me get changed.”
“Sure, but you have to let go of me first.”
Neither one of us moved.
Until there was a knock at the door.
“I’ll get it,” I offered.
“Nope. Not protocol.”
“I don’t think kissing me is either.”
Dawson grunted and grabbed his sweatpants from the nearby hook. Once he slipped them on, he walked out of the bathroom. Without a shirt on.
“Uh, you forgot something,” I grabbed his arm, holding him back.
“What?”
“How about a shirt? You want to give Georges a heart attack?”
“Oh, please.”
He stepped away and headed out to answer the door, and I followed.
Except it wasn’t Georges standing on the other side of the door with our order; it was some other guy—a young guy staring at Dawson like he was on the menu.
They were exchanging pleasantries in French, and the longer the guy talked, the more irritated I became. When Dawson finally closed the door, I glared at him.
“What?” he asked me, shrugging his shoulders.
“Don’t ‘what’ me. You know damn well what.”
“No, I don’t.”
“That guy was drooling over you.”
“No, he wasn’t.”
“Uh, I know a thing or two about flirting and attraction. Hello, sex appeal is part of my job. And yeah, he was eyeing you up like his next meal.”
“You’re ridiculous. Come on, let’s—"
His words cut off suddenly, and then I realized he’d spotted my guitar. He froze, practically tripping over the trolley cart.
“I brought my guitar in here because, well, I figured it was safer in here. If I’m in here, you know, overnight. Again. Sometimes, I like to get up in the middle of the night to play. But maybe I shouldn’t have assumed. I can just put it back—”
“No. Leave it.” Dawson turned and smiled at me. “It’s good.”
It was better than good. And I knew it.