CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT COEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
COEN
I’m the happiest I’ve been this whole damn time. Maybe all I needed was to focus on her and cut loose, stop feeling so damn insecure about what I’ve built and use it to make her smile.
I’m lost in my problems.
She’s the road to clarity.
My head is the clearest it’s been. Even the thought of having to go to the studio when we arrive in Nashville doesn’t seem so bad. Not if I have a chance to be with her all night…her in that little lace thing I saw in the app shopping cart when I added condoms and lube to it.
Before that, though, I’d like to wine and dine her a little.
I don’t think anybody has ever done that for her, and I’d like to be the first. For that and a lot of other things.
The seriousness of what I’m starting to feel isn’t lost on me as we head into the hotel.
I’ve stayed in The Hardin a few times before.
Those visits were usually me hiding in the back suite for VIPs, so it was quiet while I worked.
Everywhere I’ve been was centered around my work, my shows, meetings.
This is the first time, for real, that I’ve stayed at The Hardin.
The clerk behind the counter smiles as we approach.
“Good evening, Mr. Taylor,” she says. “We’ve got you all checked in. The valet is bringing up your bags now. Did you need a dinner reservation?”
“I’d love one, thank you,” I say. “But make it late. We’re going dancing first.”
Sabrina is wide-eyed and waiting behind me, her purse clutched in her hands.
My dick isn’t behaving all that well in my pants, but I’m going to keep it down until later.
This isn’t about me; it’s all about her tonight.
I thank the clerk again and put my hand on Sabrina’s waist, ushering her to the left and all the way to the end of the hall.
It’s tall, with smooth white walls and a black floor and ceiling.
Along the right side runs a little fountain encased in glass.
She’s quiet until we get to the room, and I shut the door. Her eyes skim over the clean, minimalistic space, the fully stocked bar, the wine on the bedside table.
“Are you trying to impress me?” she asks, smiling.
I set the bags down and go to her, brushing her hair back. “I don’t know. Is it working?”
“Maybe,” she whispers, coming close.
I kiss her mouth. “You’ve been perfect this whole time. Thanks for…giving me what I needed.”
“Of course.”
Her voice is barely a breath. The tension between us ripples—not sexual, something far deeper and more delicate.
“Where are we going tonight?” she asks.
I brush her hair back, holding her face. “There’s a bar with dancing. It’s like upscale honky-tonk—luxury yeehaw, if you will. I’d love to take you there for your first Tennessee experience.”
A crease appears between her brows. “Wouldn’t it make sense to wait for Nashville?”
I shake my head. “Nashville means work. Once we get there, I won’t be able to just go out. Memphis is a safer bet for me. Is that alright?”
Her eyes soften. “Of course. I get it.”
“I promise I will give you the whole experience.”
She pulls back, trying to hide her smile as she heads to the bathroom.
I loiter in the hall, unable to tear my eyes away.
Her smile hovers in the door, and then she slams it shut, and I think I hear her soft laughter.
The shower comes on. I take a breath and hold it, leaning my head back to exhale.
Having her with me makes everything good. And clear. And normal.
In the silence, I let that sink through my veins.
In the last few days, she became a sanctuary.
Distantly, I can hear her singing off key in the shower.
It breaks me from how heavy my thoughts are.
My phone goes off, and it’s the DoorDash shopper arriving with our bags.
I grab my door key and head downstairs, retrieving the bags.
On the bed, I lay everything out, including the condoms and lube.
When she comes out, wrapped in fluffy white towels, she sees them and gives me a look.
Not a displeased one.
“Gonna go shower,” I tell her, touching her chin as I go by.
I hurry through my own shower—not because we’re running late, but because I want to see her get dressed.
When I come out, towel around my waist, she’s on the edge of the bed, putting lotion on.
Except…she’s in a little strappy lingerie set.
My entire body and mind shut down and do a full reboot that takes a couple seconds.
“Goddamn,” I say hoarsely.
She glances up. “You weren’t supposed to see yet.”
“Sorry, I was just….”
She stands, and all the blood leaves my head.
I want to remember this forever so I can look back on it in five decades.
Maybe, there’s a chance we end up together.
If that happens… God, if that happens, the slim chance it does, I want to hold this sight in my head forever.
When we were both young and dumb and dying over how much we want each other.
She comes closer, looks down, then up.
Then, she taps my nose.
“You be good,” she says. “You can have your dessert after dinner.”
She grabs her dress and skirts around me, scooping up her heels.
All the way through putting on my good pants and shirt, I’m walking on air.
It feels like it takes hours for her to reappear.
It might be ten minutes, enough time for me to call an Uber.
Then, she steps into the hall and does a little spin to cover up her shyness.
“You look fucking good,” I say, reaching for her hand.
She does, in a short dress that shows miles of leg, all the way down to her heels. I lean in and kiss the side of her neck so I don’t mess up her lipstick.
“You ready?”
She nods. “I’m so ready.”
It reminds me of our first night together, when I kept asking her if everything I was doing was alright, so terrified I would overstep. It’s so strange how quickly we moved beyond not knowing each other to this…this easy familiarity.
Like two bodies that have always known each other’s touch.
We step out into the hall. The lighting is dim, and I feel like I’m in a dream as I lead her downstairs.
Our car is waiting. I help her into the backseat and hold her close, my fingers intertwined in hers.
Everything feels like a dream. I don’t want to blink, and suddenly, it’s tomorrow, the Nashville skyline rising.
So, I keep quiet and hold her against my side as we move through the glaring city lights.
I don’t stir until the car pulls to the curb.
To our right is an upscale bar with blacked out windows. It’s sleek and dark, save for a single glowing neon cowboy boot above the door. I thank our driver and lift Sabrina out.
God, she is beautiful in the neon light, the wind from passing cars tousling her hair.
I reach for her, pulling her close. Not just for her safety, but to feel her against my body.
Inside, I duck around the line and head for the back room.
It’s less likely I’ll be recognized in Memphis, but it will happen at some point tonight.
I may have called ahead and told them I was coming, requesting to be put in the back room, where it’s darker.
“You have a table?”
I nod, leading her through heavy drapery. We’re in a half full area that looks like the inside of a western themed bar. The music is loud, and a group of people are line dancing in the corner.
“Mr. Taylor?”
We both turn as the bartender appears. He holds out his hand, and I shake it.
“You good with this spot?” the bartender asks, indicating the far right hand end of the bar. It’s halfway behind a pillar.
“Yeah, that’s perfect,” I say, hand on Sabrina’s waist. “I’ll have a whiskey.”
“A white wine, whatever you like,” she says.
I help her onto the stool and sit with my back to the entrance. The drinks arrive in record time, and she picks up hers and bolts it halfway. Gently, I run my hand up her back.
“You nervous, baby?”
She shakes her head and then shrugs. “Maybe. We’re on a date.”
“Yeah, we are.”
Her eyes rest on me thoughtfully. “How do you feel about that?”
I lean in, kissing her mouth gently. “Reckon it’s the best decision I ever made.”
It’s easier to pretend tomorrow will never come in the darkness of the bar.
She tastes like wine and pretending tonight could go on forever.
I smile, and she leans in, kissing me again.
Fuck, I love her being so close. My hand finds its way to her waist. I pull back and kiss beneath her ear.
The little hollow beneath her ear smells so good.
“You want to dance after this?” she murmurs.
Truthfully, yes. I pull back and reach for my whiskey.
“I want to fuck you, if we’re being honest, baby,” I say.
Her brows rise. “Oh yeah?”
Shifting my stool closer, I look down, nose almost touching hers. “Yeah. Maybe after we dance, have another drink…maybe we go in the bathroom.”
“Oh?” Her voice drops. It’s husky now.
“Maybe I pull those panties to the side and touch your pussy?”
“Just touch it?” Her lashes flutter.
“I can fuck it,” I murmur. “Quick, make you come on my fingers.”
She exhales, leaning away to empty her wine. Her face is flushed, eyes glittering. I shoot the rest of my whiskey and stand, lifting her from the stool. Her heels hit the ground with a sharp click.
“Dance with me?” I ask.
She smiles, and I pull her into the crowd.
I think all we both needed was a little liquid courage, some light flirting, and a dark room.
My body is loose, and she’s letting me hold her against my chest. The song is slow now.
I’m so aware of every sensation. Her soft breasts, the inward curve of her waist, the soft brush of her bare leg against my pants.
Will we make it back to the hotel before I fuck her? I don’t know, but I kind of doubt it.
I rest my chin on the top of her head.
God, I didn’t realize falling for someone could hurt this bad.
We sway for what feels like forever. It’s not long enough. Then, the music changes, and we’re on a faster song with a little more kick to it. I take her hand and swing her out, pulling her back to my chest. She giggles, face flushed from wine. It makes her eyes sparkle.
It’s nearly an hour later when we finally make it back to our seats. She has another wine. I make her drink some water with it.
“You want to go back and eat?” I ask.
She touches my thigh, running her palm up. God, my dick has a hair trigger tonight. It’s rock hard instantly, and when she touches it over my pants, I can’t bite back a moan. Our eyes lock. I lean in, and she falls into me, kissing me hard.
That’s it. We’re fucking in the bathroom.
I lift her off the barstool, taking her hand and pulling her into the back hallway.
There’s a fucking line for the men’s single stall.
And for the women’s to the left. Undeterred, I keep walking, even though I don’t know where I’m going.
Before I left, I put a condom in my pocket, just in case.
Turns out, past-Coen had the right idea, because present-Coen’s brain is shut off and his dick is wide awake.
We turn a corner at the end of the hall.
“There’s a closet,” I say.
Before she has a chance to respond, I pull her into a musty little closet and pull the curtain. We both go still, panting. There isn’t much space, but there is a stack of extra bar stools and a shelf. Gripping her waist, I heft her up, balancing her on the ledge. Big eyes find mine in the dark.
“Your pussy wet, baby?” I breathe, unzipping my pants.
“Yes,” she gasps, nodding hard.
I unleash my cock and take out the condom, rolling it on.
She watches my every move, breasts heaving against the bodice of her dress.
Then, we fall against the shelf, and my mouth finds hers, breathing in her scent.
Between our bodies, I find my dick and guide it between her thighs.
She moans into my mouth as I fill her pussy, thrusting deep in a single stroke.
“Oh,” she lets out, pulling back. “Oh—right there.”
I touch her clit. She grips the edge of the shelf as I fuck and touch her, angling my hips so the head of my cock hits the front wall of her pussy.
She bites her lip, and I brace her between my body and the shelf so I can put my other hand over her mouth as she comes.
Her eyes roll back, and the shudder through her hips sends me over the edge with her. We both go still, shaking lightly.
“Fuck me,” I whisper.
She laughs softly. “That might have been the hottest thing we’ve ever done,” she says.
I kiss her, long and deep. “Oh, it was. But the night’s still young.”