Chapter 27
CHAPTER 27
I an
What Savi doesn’t know is that I’d do anything to protect her and Gigi, and Drake is the least of my worries.
“What do you remember about your overdose?”
“Wow.” The sharp sense of surprise snaps my eyes wider, hiking up my brows as I dab at my mouth with the napkin. “That came out of nowhere. Are we doing a ‘best day’ story to ‘worst day’ conversation?”
Savannah tips her head as a shadow of regret falls over her expression. “I’m making it awkward. I shouldn’t have asked.”
I dismiss the hint of remorse in her voice. “I don’t care. It’s just a topic as far away from sweet babies as you can get.” I dab my mouth with the napkin. “I’ve got nothing to hide from you, Savannah.”
A sweet smile fills her lips.
“Long story short, I was drunk and high—but that was nothing new. We were going on stage in half an hour. I’d tried making small talk with the guys, but they didn’t want to have anything to do with me. Nobody knew what to expect when I got on the stage.
I was depressed that day. I got hit with a sucker punch of grief and their shunning made it harder. Every step in front of an audience reminded me of what used to be. They accepted Dash’s death and were moving forward. I wasn’t. I couldn’t. To sing I had to be numb. I was screwing up. Messing up songs. Stumbling as I tripped over my own feet. I fucked up nearly every performance. If I ever had any real friendship with the guys, I tanked it. We lost the camaraderie we had when Dash was with us. I couldn’t hold a decent conversation with any of them unless I was high. All that did was piss them off.
“It sounds horrible,” she says, barely above a whisper.
“It was, but I deserved it. You feel it when you’re the outcast. It doesn’t take a genius to figure it out. I thought by joking around it would ease the tension and they wouldn’t feel so bad about Dash. All I did was irritate them.” I shrug. “Everybody deals with death their own way. All I could see was my own pain, but I could feel theirs. It was unbearable. I needed an escape.”
“What happened that night? What was different?”
“I fucked up. Like, big time, fucked up. The show. The meet and greet. After it was over, the guys let me know how they felt. It wasn’t so much what they said, but the passive-aggressive shit hit hard as a brick.”
“They didn’t see your pain.” Her blue eyes blind me with their charity. The tenderness I see there reminds me of her soft heart.
“I didn’t see theirs.” I pause. “After the meet and greet, we would grab dinner together. That night they left me out. I went to my room, my insides all twisted, knowing I’d no one left. I let them down. I let myself down. I didn’t want to be here anymore. I was having stomach pains, so I went to the vending machines.”
I push the chair back and take my plate to the sink. Savi does the same. She places her hand on my back. “You got any coffee?”
“Yeah. I’ll make some.”
Savi goes back to the window seat as I pull some beans from the freezer. As I measure, grind, and fill the machine with coffee and water, I digest the crux of the story. It’s crazy that it feels good to tell this story to her. Like confession must feel in a church.
I go back to my chair while the coffee brews and find Savi sitting quietly with her legs pulled up on the cushion.
“Is that all you remember?”
I’m shocked she wants to hear more. “No. I remember the vending machines; I couldn’t even get that shit right. The machine kept spitting out my money. I was about ready to toss it all and—I know this sounds crazy—an angel came and helped me. It was just like momma told me: Your guardian angel is always with you and will protect you and come to you when you need them.
She was more beautiful than I could have imagined and everything my mother described to me. Her voice was a melody and she led me to a box. At first, I thought she was taking me to heaven. The light was so bright. Then there was darkness. I thought we might be on the way to hell.” I throw up my hands. “Now I know it was an elevator.” I look up into Savannah’s eyes and clear my throat of sudden emotion.
“She loved me. Then she left me. Just like my mother.”
“What?” Her eyes widen. “Why would you think that?” Savannah asks.
“It felt real enough but I’m pretty sure I’m more suited for the company of demons. Not angels.”
Savi’s lips purse. “All this talk about angels and demons.” She goes to the beeping coffee pot and moves one of the cups I placed on the counter. “It’s nonsense. You’re a good person, Ian Stan— Oww !”
In an instant I’m at the counter, grabbing her hand, and placing it under cold water.
“I wasn’t paying attention.”
“It’s fine. Let the water run over your fingers for a minute.”
She obeys and moves close. After a few minutes, she pulls her hand back. I watch as she examines her fingers. Confident there’s no blistering, she slides her cold hand into mine.
I look down and meet her eyes. She goes up on tiptoe, her lips so close to mine I can feel her breath. Desire catches fire inside of me, but I have to stop, reminding myself that this is just dinner .
“Savi, you’ve had a bit to drink.”
“Shh. I’ve had one glass and I know what I’m doing.”
“Do you?” The deep tone of my voice is strained.
“Yes. I do.” Face to face. Eye to eye. She presses her lips to mine and parts them with a flick of her tongue. It’s a sultry invitation, and I accept. Nothing feels as good as the velvety feel of our mingling lips and twisted tongues. This is our second kiss and it is so much sweeter than our first.
I feel drunk.
I hook my arm around her waist and pull her into me. A soft moan as her breasts hit my chest sends a rush of blood to my cock. This is new. I’ve never been sober when with a woman, other than our kiss that firefly night. She pulls back, breathless.
“I …” Her gaze darts away then comes back to meet mine. “Ian.”
“Maybe we should stop.” I take a step, but she pulls me back.
“No.” The heavy whisper is sweet in my ears.
Her head falls back. I kiss her throat and inhale her scent.
“Woman,” the word rumbles against her throat. “What you do to me …”
“Shh.” She pulls up, the sound teasing my ear, and then runs her tongue along the shell. A sound deep and guttural steals my voice.
Her fingers play at my waist, then she slides a hand down inside my sweatpants. My thoughts go askew, and I suck in a breath. Does she realize I’m basically a virgin? That I’ve never experienced a woman’s touch without being fucked up or drunk? How could she? Why would she? This? This isn’t sex to me. It’s a whole new fucking experience.
There’s an intense but playful look in her eyes. I don’t expect it. Pretense isn’t her style. She doesn’t have to act at being slutty or sexy. She’s simply having fun.
She looks up at me with thick, dark lashes fluttering over sky-blue eyes and takes my cock in her hand. There’s no fabric to dodge between my pants and my cock. No boxers, tighty-whities, or other such bullshit. I don’t wear anything more than I need and prefer nothing between me and my balls.
“I want you to fu?—”
“I won’t. Don’t even say the word.” She pulls back, rejection making her blush, but I refuse to let her escape. “I want you; I do. But what I want to do doesn’t resemble the definition of fucking. For me, fucking has always been quick and dirty. I’ve had that. I want more with you.”
“But you said?—”
“I know what I said but you’re the first woman who means something to me. I want my first, sober, meaningful sexual experience to be with you. I don’t want to fuck you, Savi. I want to make love to you.”
“Tenderness softens her expression, and her posture slackens. She melts in my arms as I hook an arm around her back and the other beneath her knees and lift her. There’s so much testosterone surging through my body she feels as light as a feather.
I press my lips to hers, needing more of the taste that she’d awakened as I carry her into the bedroom.