Chapter 14
Saturday morning hit far too fast.
It could have been any other day and other than my neatly packed suitcase, nothing had changed. I lay in bed with Lewis’s furnace-like body wrapped around me, his leg hooked around mine, one arm beneath my pillow and the other draped over my waist. The steady in and out of his breathing, the tickle of it against my neck – this had become my normal. It kept me grounded, tethered me to the present.
But even as I soaked in his nearness, the jitters started to stir in my belly, growing with each tick of the clock.
The big day, the opening night of the tour, had arrived. My first real chance to show I deserved to be on that stage.
My chest tightened at the thought. I knew I belonged there, I knew I’d worked my ass off to earn the privilege, but still…
I was human, right?
Everyone got nervous.
It was acceptable to be a little jittery before something as huge as this.
I breathed deep, trying to calm the butterflies turning me inside out.
I mean I’d have thousands of eyes on me.
The concert capacity for the Rose Bowl is over sixty-two thousand people.
Oh hell.
Careful not to wake Lewis, I slipped out from under the covers. He mumbled something I couldn’t make out but didn’t open his eyes, his handsome face all peaceful in sleep.
I paced the room, forcing myself to breathe.
My gaze fell on my suitcase.
Why did you pack your yoga leggings? You’ll want those on the bus. Or the cream sweater…
Groaning, I sank to my knees and started pulling everything out. Clearly, I needed to start again.
“Liv? What are you doing?” Lewis’s sleepy voice floated over from the bed.
I kept my eyes on what I was doing, smoothing out a stubborn wrinkle in my favourite sundress. “Just packing. Go on back to sleep now.”
For a couple of seconds, the only sound came from me unzipping packing cubes and I sank into it, blocking out everything else at last. Then the sheets rustled and the mattress creaked.
I blinked and his arms were around me, pulling me to my feet and holding me against him, his bare chest warm against my back.
“Didn’t you finish packing last night?” His voice was gentle, but he couldn’t hide the worry underneath.
“I did, but I just wanted to double check…” I squeezed the pair of jeans in my hands. Even to my own ears, it sounded weak as dishwater.
Lewis’s grip tightened, turning me around to face him. He stared into my eyes, his hazel gaze still soft with sleep but searching. “Liv, what’s really going on? Talk to me.”
“I’m scared spitless. What if I freeze up out there? What if I forget the words to my own dang songs? Lord almighty, what if my costume goes all haywire and I flash the whole arena?” Once I got started, it was like I couldn’t stop; all these fears just poured out of me. “And then it lives on forever on social media and no record label ever takes me seriously again…”
Lewis listened patiently, his thumbs rubbing soothing circles on my shoulders. When I finally ran out of steam, he cupped my face in his hands, his expression all earnest.
“Cariad,” he sighed. “None of that’s going to happen. You’ve got talent coming out of your ears, and you’ll be a natural out there. Lily wouldn’t have picked you if she didn’t believe in you.”
I wanted to believe him, I truly did. But the doubts just kept churning inside me. “But what if?—”
He cut me off with a kiss, his lips warm and insistent against mine. For a moment, I forgot everything else, lost in the slide of his mouth, the teasing flick of his tongue. When he pulled back, we were both breathless.
“You’re gonna be incredible,” he murmured against my lips. “Let me show you.”
His fingers made quick work of the buttons on my pyjama top. “Lewis, what in the Sam Hill are you…”
“Shh, just trust me.” He dropped a kiss to my collarbone as he slid the top off my shoulders.
Even as desire started to hum through my veins, the nerves wouldn’t quite let go. His hands skimmed down my sides as he tugged down my shorts.
Before I could ask him what he meant, I was naked as a jaybird, goosebumps rising on my skin. He took my hand and led me to the full-length mirror on the wall. Positioning me in front of it, he stood behind me, his hands settling on my hips.
I stared at our reflection—me, bare and vulnerable, him solid and sure at my back, fully clothed. “Lewis…”
“Shh. I’m proving a point here,” he murmured, his breath hot against my ear. “That you’re the perfect person to open for my band. That you can captivate an audience no matter what happens.”
His right hand skimmed down my belly, coasting over my mound and continued lower. He parted my folds, and I sucked in a sharp breath.
“I want you to sing for me. Sing like you’re up on that stage, pouring your heart out.”
“What? But I—” My protest turned into a gasp as his fingers found my sweet spot, circling it with maddening slowness.
“Sing,” he commanded, his voice low and rough with want. “And don’t stop, no matter what I do.”
No matter what he?—
He tapped my clit when I didn’t start, the jolt sending a spark of want through me.
“Oh,” I breathed.
“Now, Liv.”
And so, with my eyes locked on our reflection, I started to sing. The opening lines of my first song, the one I’d written late at night in my Nashville apartment, dreaming of moments like this.
But as Lewis’s fingers worked their magic, stroking and teasing, I faltered. Quick as a wink, he stilled his hand.
“I didn’t say you could stop,” he said.
I took a shuddering breath and started again, my voice wavering but getting stronger with each note. And as I sang, Lewis matched his rhythm to mine, his fingers dancing over my most sensitive flesh.
It was a strange kind of duet, my voice and his touch, both building in intensity. Each time I stumbled over a lyric, he would pause, silently challenging me to keep going. And each time, I pushed through, the words pouring out of me with more and more confidence.
Higher and higher he drove me, stoking the fire inside me until I was singing as sure and clear as I hoped I would on the stage tonight, my hips rocking against his hand. The pleasure crested and broke over me, but still I sang, my voice ringing out as pure bliss shook my frame.
As the final note faded, I sagged back against Lewis, my chest heaving. He wrapped his arms around me, holding me up, anchoring me.
“Do you get it now?” he whispered, pressing a reverent kiss to my temple. “You’re unstoppable. No matter what happens out there, you’ve got this.”
And looking at our reflection, seeing the satisfied glow on my face, the pride shining in his eyes, I started to believe him. The nerves were still there, fluttering around the edges, but they felt manageable now. Like fuel, instead of a roadblock.
I could do this. I would do this.
Turning in his arms, I looped my arms around his neck, rising up on my tiptoes to brush my lips over his. “Thank you,” I said. “For believing in me, even when I don’t believe in myself.”
“Always.” He kissed me, soft and slow.