Chapter 19
Nineteen
I snuggled down into the covers, enjoying the feel of the cool, stiff sheets on my bare skin. The sheets on Phillip’s childhood bed were the old kind that were full of starch and held a crease when you folded them. Most people preferred their sheets the softer the better, but I liked something crisp and cool. Phillip had told me these same sheets had been on his bed since he was a kid; they were a legit relic from at least the eighties, if not earlier. They were cream colored with a dusky-rose colored floral print. Hardly the thing you’d imagine a hardcore rocker to have on his bed, which made it all the more quaint.
I leaned into Phillip’s shoulder, sneaking a glance up at his profile as he lightly slumbered. I’d worn him slap out, apparently. We’d only stopped our marathon session to pack up the dressing room and make the short drive back to Jason’s house before resuming our steamy session.
I grinned and poked a finger gently into his shoulder. He didn’t move but let out a little sigh and turned his face further into the pillow. Once upon a time, scores of black hair would have fallen over that face, but now it just framed his defined cheekbones and fell behind his ears. God, he was handsome. It was like he was chiseled from stone by a sculptor commissioned by God himself.
“Never say—or think—anything like that ever again,” Phillip groaned, turning toward me and cracking one eye open. “That was the cheesiest thing I’ve ever heard.”
“I thought you were asleep,” I said, propping myself up on his shoulder, my chin on my hands. “And you didn’t hear me.”
“I hear your thoughts, pretty woman,” he said, one eye still cracked open, peering at me. “How many times do I have to remind you of that?”
“Well, you’ve been told to stop poking around in my noggin,” I said pertly, shutting one of my own eyes, mocking him.
“It’s hard to do that when you think so loud.” He propped himself up on his elbow and brushed my hair back from my face. “You should take a nap yourself while I pack up. You haven’t been sleeping well lately, and we’ve got to go in just a couple hours.”
“What makes you think that?” He was right, of course, but I thought I’d done a decent job of hiding the insomnia that had kept me walking the halls of Phillip’s family home the past couple nights. I’d tiptoed out of the room after Phillip fell asleep, not wanting to worry him. After all, there was nothing he could really do. My nerves and anxiety were just getting the best of me, like always.
“I’m not blind, Stormy. I do notice when you get out of bed in the middle of the night, when I roll over and your side of the bed is cold.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. Just tell me what’s giving you sleepless nights.” He looked at me seriously, his face softening. “Unless you’re just…needing some time away from me?”
“No, no, not that,” I said, leaning forward to plant a kiss on his lips. My cheeks still felt tender from where his stubble had rubbed me raw. “Never that. I just…I have a lot on my mind, I guess.”
“Like?” He reached out and caressed my shoulder, his hands warm. “Tell me.”
“Just…well, there’s a lot of things. Things with my dad, for one. Nikolai. What happened at your show with Shank. What’s going on with Roberta. Worrying about what Sloan is up to—because she’s always up to something .”
Phillip sighed. “You’re taking on everyone’s problems again; no wonder you’re exhausted.”
“I can’t help but worry about those I love,” I countered. “And, well…” I looked down at my lap. “I keep thinking about Tess too. All these memories rushing back, blindsiding me. I guess…I guess I miss him. Is that terrible?”
“Of course not, Stormy.” Phillip pulled me into his arms. “He was your husband. You loved him. Of course you’re grieving him. I wouldn’t expect anything less.”
“But he—we?—“
“As usual, you’re entirely too hard on yourself,” Phillip said sweetly into my ear. He placed a gentle kiss on my temple. “It’s going to take time. You’re still in shock; it’s only been a few days. The past few weeks have been a lot for anyone, but especially for you with all these new things you’ve got going on. Stormy, please, give yourself a break.”
“Thanks.” I felt tears spring to my eyes. I nuzzled my face in Phillip’s warm neck. He always knew just what to say to make me feel better, his unique mix of tough love and complete understanding that seemed to right every wrong, untie every knot.
“You do that for me too,” he said softly.
“Are we really going to do this?” I asked, turning and raising my left hand toward the lamp on the nightstand, admiring the ring on my finger. It felt strange there, but in a good way. Like something new that would soon become a part of me. “Are we really going to get married?”
“Yes,” he answered, raising his own hand and lacing his long, thin fingers through mine. “I want you to be mine, body and soul. And I want to be yours. I’ve been wanting to ask you since we were in Savannah. I kept waiting for the right time, for the right moment, and I realized…any moment is the right moment. As long as I have you.”
I kissed him on the nose. “So do we like…plan a whole wedding? Elope? How do we do this?” I laughed, enjoying the way his fingers felt intertwined with mine. “Nothing about you and I has ever been traditional, or easy, for that matter. I have no idea where to even start.”
“I’m happy with a big, gaudy wedding or dashing to the courthouse some boring afternoon,” Phillip said, his voice tender. He kissed me on the cheek this time. “Whatever makes you happy. And I mean that; I honestly don’t care one way or the other, so long as I get to marry you.”
“You’d wear a tux and cut a big, goofy cake and dance to Frank Sinatra with me in some hideous, tacky banquet hall?” I giggled.
“In a heartbeat.” Phillip grinned. “I’d throw the garter and let people pelt me with birdseed and even smile for the overly staged photos. I’d dance to The Police’s ‘Every Breath You Take’ and let you decorate the entire reception with nothing but burlap and lace and mason jars, far as the eye could see. I’d do anything for you, Stormy Spooner.”
“Be careful what you wish for,” I teased, my heart bursting with love. “You haven’t seen my Pinterest board.”
“What’s Pinterest?”
“Again,” I said with a laugh. “Careful what you wish for.” If he saw the wedding boards I’d already started, he might run screaming from me.
“What I wish for right now is for you to give me those lips.” Phillip growled, turning my head to face him and pressing his mouth to mine.
The sun was already shining bright through the windows, and we needed to get up, get packed, and get moving, but I couldn’t resist the way he tasted, how incredible his warm, strong arms felt around me. I nuzzled closer to him, pushing a hand under the covers and caressing his chest, letting my fingers trail down his ribs to his stomach, giggling against his lips as he gave an involuntary shudder. Phillip Deville was ticklish.
The last time I’d packed up in this room, it had been in a hurry when Phillip was in the shower. I’d left in the night, without telling him, to go back and clean up a mess I thought I’d made. While it might be true that I had made it, I hadn’t made it alone. What had resulted in that midnight solo trip had turned my entire world upside down. I’d almost lost Phillip as a result. It was hard to believe I was back here now, in the same bedroom that had so enchanted me when Phillip and I had been falling in love. It was even harder to believe it had only been a few weeks since those events had happened. It felt like I’d already lived a lifetime between then and now.
“Stop thinking.” Phillip said gruffly s he pulled back and stared at me fiercely. “Stop fretting.” His hand on the back of my neck was firm. He gripped me as though I were a baby kitten and pushed my face toward his, his mouth inches from mine. “You’re not going anywhere this time. You understand?”
I stared at him, my eyes wide, his rough kisses still burning on my lips. I ached for him to kiss me again, and at that moment, I would have done anything he told me, agreed to anything at all. His hand holding the back of my neck was gripping me hard enough to hurt. His eyes were glinting with steel, and his jaw was clenched tight. “Do you understand?” he said again, his voice full of cold fury.
I nodded, momentarily without words. My skin felt hot and clammy, my chest and arms pinned against Phillip as he held my head, forcing me to look at him. For a brief moment, a ghost of a smile passed across his face. “Is this okay?” he said in a whisper, as though he didn’t want anyone to hear. “Do you like this?”
“Yes,” I whispered back, and then the smile was gone, replaced with another expression of absolute fury.
“You will never leave me again,” he directed, his eyes staring holes in me, his mouth inches from mine. Oh, how I ached for him to kiss me. Instead, he pulled back a little, leaving me breathless and panting. “Will you?”
“No,” I said, my own voice moving from a whisper to a croak. “I won’t. Ever.”
“Good,” he said firmly, his fingers clenching the skin of my neck. Pretty soon, I was going to start purring. “If I make you my wife, that means forever, Stormy Spooner. No running off in the night to get away from me. No breaking up with me. No running after other hotter and younger rock stars. Capiche?”
I laughed then, but a quick shake of my head made me stop. “Capiche,” I said, but I couldn’t stop the grin from breaking out on my cheeks. “The same goes for you, Deville.”
“We’re not talking about me right now,” he growled furiously, but it was too late. I’d gotten the upper hand. I pushed him back on the bed, and with a quick movement, straddled him, coming to sit on his hips and pinning his arms against the bed. He could have easily overpowered me, but he didn’t try. Instead, he gazed up at me with wonder.
“You won’t leave me, either,” I said, matching his cold tone. “You won’t shake me over for some younger, prettier woman. You won’t abandon me if things get too weird or too crazy. And they fucking will, because…well, because that’s what happens. If I marry you, you’re stuck with me, Deville. Right?”
“Right,” he agreed easily, his lips curling into a sexy smile. “So now that we’ve established some boundaries, are you going to finally fuck me, Stormy Spooner?”
I grinned down at him and shook my head slowly, wagging a finger in his face. “No.”
“Why not?” His voice was almost a whine, and I shimmied against him a little, enjoying watching him squirm. As satisfying as that was, though, a shiver went through me at remembering how forceful he’d been just moments before.
“Because I just changed my mind,” I said playfully, letting my own voice drag out into a pouty sigh. “I think I do want to leave you, after all. I’m bored…greener pastures, yadda yadda.”
“Is that right?” Phillip’s voice had gone dangerously cold and quiet.
“I’m afraid so.” My voice was a squeak.
The next thing I knew, I’d been flipped over onto my back, and Phillip’s entire tall, muscular frame was hovering over me, his spiky black hair tickling my face, his arms holding mine down onto the bed. I didn’t try to resist but bucked my hips against him once, twice, and on the third time, he pinned them down with his knee.
“Tell me you want to leave me again,” he said in my ear, then started placing kisses slowly on my neck, agonizingly slow, down to my collarbone. His stubble tickled my skin.
“I’m going to … leave …”
“Say it.”
“… leave …”
“Or would you rather stay and let me fuck you?”
“…leave…” I panted, determined to win this round. But his lips felt so good on my collarbone, and now they were traveling down further, his warm, large hand cupping my breast. “…stay.”
“That’s what I thought.”