Skylar
Climbing out of the bunk, I stifle my grumble. For the third consecutive night, I find myself doing more tossing and turning than actual sleeping.
Only this time it isn’t due to childhood flashbacks or nightmares.
I’m worried Josh won’t keep his word about scaling it back. If he doesn’t, it’s only a matter of time before he overdoses again.
What if Chandler isn’t around next time?
What if he’s with a groupie who freaks out and leaves him all alone to die?
What if the Narcan doesn’t work?
What if I can’t save him?
Blowing out a heavy breath, I cross the threshold into the kitchen area. I stiffen when I see Memphis near the stove, making himself a cup of tea.
He’s not exactly freezing me out, but we haven’t spoken since the other day. And while I’m yearning for the incredible sex we have…it’s not the only thing I miss.
Not being able to talk to him about my anxiety regarding Josh’s overdose and the fear I have that it will happen again is killing me.
I used to be able to tell Memphis anything and everything.
Well, almost everything given there are certain secrets I have to take to the grave. Figuratively and literally.
However, we’re at a definitive impasse. One I’m not sure we can work through because his feelings on the matter are valid…but so are mine.
I’m about to turn around, but he pushes the coffee cup toward me. “Here.”
Raising a brow, I take a sip. The chamomile tea is both warm and soothing…and not something I recall ever being in stock.
“Since when do we have this on the bus?”
He merely shrugs.
“Okay then.”
I turn on my heel, but he reaches for my elbow, halting me. “I figured your sleeping issues would only get worse after…”
The unspoken part of his statement lingers in the air between us like a heavy fog.
Wanting to break the tension, I address the elephant in the room. “It’s not fair for me to keep putting you in these positions, especially after everything you went through with your mom.”
I tamp down the urge to defend my point of view as I walk over to the booth and sit. He may eventually come to understand my perspective, but he’ll never respect it.
He made that perfectly clear the other day.
“I’m a big boy, Sky.” He raises a shoulder nonchalantly. “Besides, it’s what I signed up for.”
That may be true, but it doesn’t make the situation any easier.
His expression turns serious, and he searches my face, studying me intently. “One of the things I admire most about you is your ability to feel empathy and compassion for others…even if they don’t deserve it.”
“You sure it doesn’t make me a fucking idiot?” I question, tossing his words from the other day in his face.
He has the good grace to appear sheepish. “That was a bit harsh.”
“A bit?” I scoff.
Closing the distance between us, he seizes my chin, forcing me to meet his gaze. “You’re the furthest thing from an idiot, Sky.”
His tone is every bit as earnest as his expression. Damn him.
Playing it cool, I gesture to the cup of tea. “Was that your way of apologizing? Because you still suck at it.”
The corner of his mouth tugs up. “Nah. That’s just tea.” Dark, smoldering eyes pin me to my seat as his hands bracket my inner thighs, spreading them. “This is my apology.”
My mouth goes dry as he drops to his knees and shoves my t-shirt up. “What are you doing?”
He presses his nose to the damp spot forming on my panties, groaning as he inhales me. “Tasting your pussy.”
Proving his point, he tugs my underwear off and drags his tongue along my clit, ending each lengthy caress with a teasing little flick.
My entire body lights up like the Fourth of July…but then a dose of reality comes in to crash the party.
We’re in a common space where anyone could catch us. Hell, Chandler already caught us once.
“Someone might see us.”
He mumbles something I don’t quite catch before shifting so he’s now hidden beneath the table. “Problem solved.”
“Smart ass—”
My mouth clamps shut when he begins fucking me with his tongue. I nearly whimper when he hooks his arms under my thighs and grips my ass, bringing me even closer to his talented mouth so he can delve even deeper.
He definitely doesn’t suck at apologies anymore.
I roll my hips when he adds a finger to the mix and curls it, stroking a spot that has my eyes rolling back.
I’m so lost in pleasure, I don’t hear footsteps or realize we’re no longer alone.
Until I open my eyes and notice Storm. He’s hanging back near the bathroom area, but his focus is solely on us.
I tap Memphis’s shoulder under the table and close my legs, but he tightens his grip, spreading them wider.
He obviously isn’t aware that we have company.
I frantically tap his shoulder again…harder this time.
He presses a tender kiss on the inside of my thigh before placing one of my hands on the back of his head.
Then he hesitates…like he’s letting me decide what happens next.
I look over at Storm who doesn’t appear the least bit surprised about catching us in the act. In fact, I’d say he looks downright indifferent if it wasn’t for the keen interest—and heat—in his expression.
That’s when I realize what Memphis’s apology really entails…making one of my secret fantasies a reality.
All while giving me the choice to decide if I truly want this or not…because there’s no doubt in my mind that if I chose to pump the brakes, neither of them would be upset or hold it against me. And they certainly wouldn’t force me.
I’m safe.
Not only because Memphis wouldn’t let so much as a fly ever hurt me in his presence, but because Storm has proven he’ll protect me.
Which is exactly why he’s the one standing here.
Half timid, half enthralled, I position Memphis’s head right where I want it. He wastes no time resuming his ministrations.
I’ve always been happy to let others take center stage, but there’s something exhilarating—and taboo—about one man pleasuring you while another watches.
In this moment, I’m the one in the spotlight.
The one with all the power.
Not someone’s pawn, bait, or puppet.
There are no ulterior motives or hidden agendas. Just one man looking at me like I’m an alluring and rare precious jewel…while the other worships me like one.
A wave of confidence I’ve never felt before washes over me. I feel sexy and bold. Wanted.
I dig my nails into the back of Memphis’s head, writhing my hips into his face as he explores every inch of me with his tongue.
Wanting to up the ante, I slip my t-shirt over my head and squeeze my bare breast.
If someone were to walk in right now, there isn’t a plausible excuse I could ever conjure up to explain why I’m naked…or why Memphis’s head is wedged between my legs while Storm watches…but that only adds to the excitement.
I glance over at Storm who’s not bothering to hide his arousal, but a low threatening sound snags my attention.
When I look down, I find Memphis glaring at me.
The jealousy—and possessiveness—in his eyes is unmistakable.
The damaged little girl inside me is devoted to Josh, and I so badly want to save him.
But no one’s ever had me like Memphis does. No one ever will.
Everything I am—good, bad, and gray—is his and his alone.
But for the very first time, I’m realizing it goes both ways.
Memphis wouldn’t just burn the world to the ground…he’d light the match and burn himself to the ground for me.
Everyone wants the hearts and flowers kind of love.
Because love is easy when it’s painless and serves your own interests.
But a love that requires you to be selfless and to sacrifice?
To give parts of yourself instead of take?
That’s true love.
Reaching down, I palm his cheek, silently letting him know exactly where my head—and heart—is.
The jealousy in his expression fades away, but the possessiveness remains…and it’s hot as hell.
A deep groan emits from him when I grab the back of his neck, keeping him right where I want him.
Storm is still watching us, but the only thing I can focus on is how good Memphis is making me feel. Every nip, lick, and suck brings me closer to the edge as he wrings every ounce of pleasure from my body like only he can.
My orgasm hits harder than a freight train. I quiver so hard the entire booth shakes, and I have to slam my own hand over my mouth to stifle my moan.
I’m still catching my breath when Memphis slides in beside me in the booth. Grabbing the back of my neck, he crushes my mouth against his, making me taste myself.
He goes to break the kiss, but I resist, pulling him in for another. Lips twitching against mine, he hands me my shirt. I’m putting it over my head when I notice Storm is long gone.
I turn to kiss him again, but a yawning Phoenix stumbles into the kitchen. “What are you two doing up?”
“Can’t sleep,” I murmur before taking a sip of my tea that somehow managed to stay on the table.
Grabbing a bottle of water from the small fridge, he yawns again. “Same.”
I’m about to ask if he wants to talk about it, but he points to the box of chamomile tea. “When did we get this?”
Memphis and I both shrug, feigning innocence. “No idea. I just saw it on the counter and decided to make myself a cup.”
Phoenix eyes the tea like it’s the murder weapon in a game of Clue, his eyes darting between Memphis and me. “Interesting.”
“Do you want me to make you a cup?” I offer at the same time Memphis blurts out, “I bought it.”
When Phoenix gives him a look, he adds, “Grams said it would help me sleep.”
Shaking his head, Phoenix heads back toward the bunks, but not before treating us to a show of him scratching his nuts while muttering, “This tour is turning us into a fucking boy band.”