Chapter 25
twenty-five
Josh
You would think that asking someone to spend ten days in paradise would be easy. Especially when that someone already sleeps in your bed most nights and moans your name like you’re her own personal god.
But no, my stomach is in knots like I’m back in high school and about to ask a girl to prom with sweaty palms and a half-dead rose.
I pace my room twice, stopping a few times to hop in place, psyching myself up like I’m about to take the stage. Funny thing is, I don’t even get this nervous before a show.
You can do this, I tell myself, taking one last deep breath and heading for Kate’s room.
“Hey, I—” I stop dead as Kate steps out of her bathroom in nothing but a towel. “Shit, sorry.” I mutter, scrubbing a hand down my face and looking away.
“What’s up?” she asks, going about her business like she’s not naked under a flimsy towel that barely covers her perfect body.
“I uh…I…”
I’m unable to form words, apparently.
“Is there something you want?” I look up just as she locks her eyes onto mine and drops the towel to the floor.
Fuck. Me.
I swallow as my eyes slowly roam down her body.
“I uh…” I say again, my eyes finally making their way back to hers, and the smirk on her face tells me she knows exactly what she’s doing to me.
I clear my throat as she turns her back to me and moves to the dresser.
I watch as she opens the top drawer and pulls out a pair of black panties, my dick growing harder by the second.
My hands curl into fists as my sides as I fight the urge to close the distance between us, throw her down on that bed, and bury myself inside her.
“I just wanted to, uh…” Whatever words I was about to say die on my tongue when she slides the underwear up her legs and over her ass, revealing that it’s not just any old pair of panties.
It’s a fucking black lace thong.
I groan.
“Seriously,” I say, steeling myself. “I did not come over here to…”
“Whatever you say,” she says, looking over her shoulder at me and smirking.
“Fuck it,” I murmur before crossing the room. I thread my fingers through the hair at the back of her neck, spin her around, and crash my mouth into hers.
I press her back against the dresser and when she moans into my mouth as her hand slides between our bodies and into my sweats and I groan.
Christ, this woman.
My hands slide from her hair down her back and to her hips, where I lift her off the floor and throw her over my shoulder. She squeals and lets out a sultry laugh as I carry her through the door joining our rooms and toss her down onto my bed.
“I would ask if you know what you do to me, but,” I say, looking down at the very obvious tent in my sweats. “I have a feeling you know exactly what the fuck you’re doing.”
Her cheeks flush, but there’s nothing shy about the way she arches her back and stretches her arms over her head like an invitation.
“I might have a tiny idea,” she teases, biting her lip.
I climb over her slowly, caging her in with my body, one hand wrapping around her throat as I lower my mouth to her ear.
“Then let me be real fucking clear, sweetheart.” My voice is a low growl, rough with need. “You don’t get to act like that and then expect me to play nice.”
“Oh, I’m counting on it,” she says, voice low.
She sucks in a breath as I slide down her body, eyes locked on hers the whole way. My hands grip her thighs, spreading her wide, and I feel her tremble under my touch.
“I want you to remember this,” I say, dragging my mouth slowly along her inner thigh. “Every single second. Every place I touch. Every sound I pull out of you.”
She arches beneath me, chasing more, but I pin her hips to the bed.
“Ah, ah.” I smirk, pressing a featherlight kiss to her center, right over the thin piece of lace that separates me from what I want. “You don’t get to rush me, sweetheart. You handed me the reins the second you dropped that towel.”
She groans and runs her hands through her hair.
I lick a slow, deliberate line up her center over the lace and her body jerks. Humming low in my throat, I slide her underwear to the side and lick her again—savoring the taste of her, the feel of her writhing, already coming undone with nothing but my tongue.
When I pull back, her eyes are heavy with need, and I grin.
“Now be a good girl and grab onto that headboard.”
The room is quiet as we lie here tangled in sheets and each other. Kate’s cheek rests on my chest, her fingers tracing idle patterns across my stomach. My arm is around her back, holding her to me like if I let go, she might disappear.
The haze and euphoria from moments ago are fading, and something else rises in its place—anxiety.
I roll onto my side, propping myself up on an elbow and staring down at her.
“What are you doing for the break?” I ask.
“Staying in Miami,” she says. “Might take a day or two and drive down to the Keys. Spending so much time indoors has me looking like a corpse, so I figured some Vitamin D might help me look a little more alive.”
“Solid plan,” I say, forcing myself not to make a stupid, immature joke about giving her a very different kind of Vitamin D. “But I’ve got a better one.”
She lifts a brow, already suspicious. “Yeah?”
“Come to Saint Lucia with me.”
Her eyes widen slightly. “Josh…”
“We have ten days off,” I say softly, tracing my fingers from her cheek to her neck to her shoulder, tracking the path I’m drawing with my eyes, watching as goosebumps pebble her skin. “And I can’t think of anyone else I’d rather spend it with.” My eyes move back to focus on hers.
She hesitates. “In public? What about the press?”
I shake my head. “They won’t find us. It’s where I go when I need to disappear.
It’s quiet, private, and has staff who know how to keep their mouths shut.
You don’t have to give me an answer right now,” I offer, cupping her face in my hand.
“I just want a chance to spend time with you in a place that doesn’t involve sneaking around or sound checks or interviews or someone yelling about load-ins.
Somewhere we can just relax for a while. ”
“You’re serious?” she asks, one hand reaching up to grip my wrist. I nod, unable to speak as my heart is lodged firmly in my throat.
“Yes.” She smiles up at me and it’s a good thing I’m already laying down, because that smile would have taken my legs out from under me. “Josh, yes. I would love to spend the break with you.”
“Thank fuck,” I say on an exhale as I kiss her.
I step up to the mirror in the greenroom hours later, still grinning like an absolute maniac because…she said yes.
My heart is thudding like I’ve just done a shot of espresso and chased it with a Red Bull.
I can’t stop imagining it. Waking up next to her in some giant, sun-drenched bed with white sheets and curtains blowing in the ocean breeze.
No alarms. No schedules. No keeping my hands to myself and acting professional when we’re in public.
We’ll eat food I can’t pronounce, and sip drinks served in coconuts.
She’ll wear a swimsuit that’ll ruin me forever.
I’ll pretend to be cool about it but then immediately walk into a palm tree, proving how utterly uncool I am.
I’ll offer to put sunscreen on her back and make it halfway through before forgetting how hands work.
We’ll lay on the beach and she’ll read some smart, emotionally devastating romance novel while I spiral about the fact that she’s even there with me.
I swipe another line of paint across my chest, trying to look intimidating and mysterious, when in reality I’m fantasizing about freckled, sun-kissed skin and green eyes.
I can’t talk about it because no one else knows, and I kind of love that. Love that it’s this glowing, secret thing I get to carry around with me. Her smile. Her yes. The way she said it like she was scared but brave enough to do it anyway.
My whole chest squeezes.
She said yes.
Our tour manager knocks on the greenroom door giving us the five-minute warning, but I don’t move. I’m too busy staring at the stupid paint I just smeared because I was too busy thinking about Kate’s legs in a sundress. Whatever. It’s good enough. The crowd’s not here to admire my symmetry.
I grab my mic pack, pop in my in-ears, and try to shake off the manic grin glued to my face.
Breathe. Be normal. Be chill. You are a grown-ass man. You are not going to combust just because the woman you’re in love with agreed to go on a romantic vacation with you.
I follow the guys into the hallway, and there she is.
She’s wearing all black tonight, and her hair is pulled up into a high ponytail.
She has her phone in her hand, and her lips are pressed together like she’s really focused on whatever she’s staring at.
Oblivious to the fact that she's been haunting my every thought for the last sixty minutes, and she didn’t just turn my entire world upside down with one softly spoken word.
She glances up from her phone and smiles.
“Hey,” she says, like nothing’s changed.
I nod, still grinning like a madman. “Hey.”
My voice is rougher than I want it to be. Like it’s still caught on the mental image of her in the ocean, laughing and dripping wet and wrapping her arms around my neck before she pulls me in for a kiss.
We walk beside each other down the hall toward the stage and she brushes her fingers against the back of my hand. I return the gesture, then hook my pointer finger around her pinky for a second before letting go, and the smile that grows across her lips steals my breath.
She said yes, and I get ten days to experience what it’s like when we can touch each other openly.
No hiding. No pretending I don’t look at her like she’s the center of my universe.
No more quick glances or “accidental” brushes of my hand against hers.
No more swallowing down the urge to tuck her hair behind her ear or press a kiss to the crease between her brows when she’s concentrating too hard.
Ten days where I get to touch her. To reach for her hand and actually hold it.
To wrap my arm around her waist when we’re walking down the beach and not give a single fuck who sees.
To kiss her whenever I want. In the sunlight.
In the moonlight. With the ocean behind us and not a soul around to ruin it.
Where I can run my thumb over the inside of her wrist just because I like how soft her skin is and I can pull her into my lap by the pool and not worry that half the crew is going to walk by and ask what the hell is going on.
Ten days where we can just be.
And I plan to make every single one count.