True L̶o̶v̶e̶ Story (21 page)

“Baby!” he says, loosening himself from the leeches. My insides warm that he just called me ‘baby’ in front of these two. “Holy fuck!” he says and then lifts both hands high in the air. He’s trying to drag his eyes back up to my face but having a really hard time. He pulls me to him and grabs each side of my face. “Sorry. That just popped out.”

“You don’t need to apologize. I know you have a mouth on you.”

“I’m gonna have this mouth on
you
… all night long…”

My body takes on a few dozen degrees of warmth with that statement.

“You look—so—
effff!
” he laughs. “God. Whoever picked that dress out for you deserves a medal.” He grins at Tessa as he says it and winds his arm around my shoulder, kissing my hair. Tessa beams back. Whatever the two of them worked out in their phone conversation to set up this whole surprise visit has completely won over Tessa.

“Hey, man.” Jared is wrapped around Tessa, but Ian and Jared do the whole fist bump thing with their spare hands.

Ian has showered and is wearing different clothes. He looks even better than he did on stage. He has cologne on that I can actually smell and it’s like a direct pheromone to my nostrils. I want to ditch the after party and go straight to the hotel.

Ian looks as if he can read my mind. He gives me a searing grin that makes my stomach drop to the ground and settles back up in my lower regions. The
nether regions
, as my mom would say, although for the life of me now, I can’t remember why she would ever say that to me at all. I don’t want to think about it right now. It’s spoiling my sexy moment.

The models are skulking against the wall as we walk by, looking me over from head to foot and seeming none too pleased. I try to ignore the smug feeling that settles in my gut and just focus on walking by without tripping.

The whole night is like endless foreplay. Not that I’ve ever had much of that before now, so maybe actual foreplay is a lot better, but this is the next best thing. I’ll take it. For now. Ian and I dance all night. I’m decent on the dance floor, but with him, every move I make is the right one. I was made to dance with him. He anticipates my every move and is in tune with my body, an extension of it.

My favorite is when he flips me around and runs his hands down the front of me as he’s pressed against my back. I’m a puddle just thinking about it. On the way home, after our cab drops Tessa and Jared off, Ian doesn’t take his eyes off of me. He runs his fingers along my skin, and he looks like he wants to pounce. When it seems like he can’t take it anymore, his mouth is an inch away from mine … and the cab stops.

He asked me at the club if I would stay the night with him again, and I didn’t tell him, but I had assumed that was the point since Tessa brought over my suitcase.

When we reach the hotel and get in the elevator, he kisses along my cheekbone. His restraint is driving me mad. His eyes are roving everywhere his lips want to be. His fingers follow, tantalizing and promising more. The elevator dings and we fall into our room.

He backs me up against the wall and does things with his tongue that leave me breathless. Down, down my neck his mouth goes, his hands all over me. He loves my breasts and my bum and my legs. I know because he says so as he runs his hands along the edges of every part, never quite touching all the way, but just enough. His eyes are fiery and my legs feel like they’re falling out from under me.

I pull on his shirt and then yank it off. “I’ve wanted to do that all night,” I whisper.

“I’ve wanted to do a lot more than that all night,” he whispers back. He leans back and looks at me. He groans and gives my hair a slight tug as our mouths collide again. When I think I can’t take anymore without ripping all his clothes off, he pulls back and kisses my shoulders and his hands reach for the back zipper of my dress. He lifts his eyebrow, as if asking permission. I smile at him, giving it.

“I just want to look at you,” he says, as he slowly unzips and pulls my dress down, little by little. He kisses my body with each inch of skin he exposes. He skims over my breasts, kissing my bare stomach, skims over my panties and down my thigh. When my dress is on the ground, he stands back and stares. “Baby…” he says in a husky voice. “I’ve never wanted anyone so much, Sparrow. I want to do things right with you, though, okay? So we’re not—we’re just gonna—”

“You talk too much,” I whisper, taking him by surprise and wrapping myself around him. I then get the giggles at my aggression. Dang, I always laugh at the wrong time.

Like when we had to pick out band uniforms and Laura cried because they were so ugly and I laughed in her face, until I realized she was serious.

Or when my dad fell really hard on the ski slopes and had actually broken his wrist.

Or the time during Casey’s funeral, on stage, when the choir was getting ready to sing. Laughed so hard I couldn’t stop.

“You think too much,” he says, coming in for another kiss, but before he can, I reach up and undo my bra, letting it drop to the floor with my dress. His eyes go wide. He wasn’t expecting that. He looks stunned speechless. Take that. I have to bite the inside of my cheek. I will not wreck this moment with nervous laughter.

Fortunately, he’s too mesmerized by my chest to notice. It just might be the only part of my body that I’m completely happy with—I wonder what he thinks. I know he’s seen more than enough women.

“Sparrow…” his grin takes over his face, but he still hasn’t looked up. When he does, his pupils are dilated and he looks drunk even though he isn’t. “You’re perfect.” He reaches out then and lightly touches the tips of my nipples with his middle fingers. And then his huge hands cup my breasts. “Mmm, you were made for me. Look.” I look down to see how my breasts fill his hands. He leans down and glides his tongue where his hands have been, flicking around my nipples and then pulling one in to suck it. My eyes close of their own will and a whimper escapes. I can’t believe this is really happening.

His hands are everywhere, leaving traces of electricity wherever he makes contact.

Suddenly he flips me around, like he did when we were dancing and pulls my back into him as his hands run the whole length of my body. I can feel how much he wants me. He slowly leads me to the bedroom, kissing my neck the whole way. When my knees bump the bed, he turns me around and presses me to him, skin to skin.

After he hugs me tight against him, he pulls back and brushes my hair off my face. He takes a deep breath and something in the air shifts. His expression is confusing me. I look up at him, feeling vulnerable with my nakedness for the first time. He leans his forehead on mine. “Listen … I’m flying out tomorrow. So are you. Sparrow, I—I’m not gonna make love to you and then leave you. As much as I want to, I just don’t want our first time to be rushed in any way. Or you to be left to deal with whatever you might feel afterward, alone. You’ve been through a lot the last month. I don’t think it has all fully registered yet.”

I wrap my arms against my chest, embarrassed that I stripped off my bra. I look down and nod.

He lifts my chin up, so I’ll look him in the eye. “I want you more than anything.” He puts my hand on his chest where his heart is still beating so fast. He points down to the tent in his pants and grins. I flush and he laughs, tugging me into another hug. “When we do this, I want to have days and days where I do nothing but show you what you mean to me,” he whispers in my ear. Every single hair on my body stands up and takes notice.

Even though every nerve in my body is singing, I hear what he’s saying and I’m relieved. I would rather have sex with him right this minute, but I know the torment of being away from him. He’s right, it would be harder if I give that part of myself to him tonight and then have to say goodbye. I still have to see what will happen when he leaves—if this time will really be different.

I step away and grab my nightie out of the suitcase, putting it on quickly. It’s red and doesn’t leave much to the imagination.

“You’re killing me, you know that, right?”

I shrug and smile. “Too bad.”

We don’t get much sleep. We talk until the early hours of the morning and when we do try to sleep, Ian’s arms wind around me and his hands keep finding my breasts. Now that he’s touched them, he can’t seem to help himself. I don’t mind. It’s leaving an ache, though; I want more and my body is practically humming with need. We kiss. A lot. But it just keeps getting to a certain point and then he pulls back, reminding himself of the restraint he promised. I can tell it would be amazing: sex with Ian would be explosive.

The next morning, we drag ourselves out of bed. Sadness hangs over us. Ian even has a hangdog look about him.

“You look sad,” I state the obvious.

“I don’t want to leave you,” he says. “And I’m not used to feeling that way.”

I just leave that hanging in the air and don’t say anything back. My emotions are too close to the surface. I don’t want to say too much or even worse, cry. I can’t help but be afraid that all the progress we’ve made over the last couple of days will be over once we say goodbye.

“I’ll be in Detroit and Chicago the next couple days and then heading out to Seattle. I don’t want to interrupt your time at home, but…” He looks at me expectantly.

I don’t fill in the blanks for him.

There’s an awkward pause, and he clears his throat. “Would it be okay? If I come and see you while you’re home?”

I try to contain my smile just a touch, but I’m pretty sure my whole face lights up. “I’d love it.”

“I have a gig in San Francisco in two weeks. You’ll be there for three?”

I nod.

“I could come that last week before the 4th. I don’t have to play until Sunday night … the rest of the time, I’ll be free.”

I nod again, biting my lip because my stomach is doing the whole drop-to-the-floor thing. But I just say, “Sure…”

“Okay.” He lets a big breath out and looks relieved. He grabs my hand and pulls me in for a kiss. His fingers softly caress my cheeks and if I didn’t know any better, I’d think Ian Sterling adored me.

Hours later, when I’m on the flight with Tessa and telling her the highlights, she says, “I gave him a hard time, you know, on the phone.”

“You did?” I laugh. “What did you say?”

“Well, after he told me about some of his plans for you this weekend, I could tell he
really
likes you. I haven’t been sure of how deeply he felt. So, I told him if he really cares about you, to quit flaking on you. You could have any guy, but he seems to be the one you want. He said, ‘She’s the one I want.’ And I believed him.” She looks at me to see how I’m taking it. She crinkles her nose and then sheepishly says, “And then I said, ‘You better not hurt her or I’ll hunt you down and squeeze the life right out of you where it counts. It won’t be pretty.’” She lifts her shoulders and holds her head down, as if waiting for me to box her ears or something. “I
had
to nip it in the butt,” she says.

“Bud.”

“What?”

“The bud. Nip it in the bud.”

“I like the other way better.”

I can’t stop laughing. She finally starts laughing too, once she knows I’m not gonna kill her.

When we land, I turn my phone on, and there are two texts from Ian.

The first:
I miss you already, Little Bird.

The second:
Have you landed yet?

I grin. Already this is different than all the other times. Maybe this is really going to happen.

I text back:
I miss you too. Just landed.

My phone starts ringing and it’s him.

“Hello?”

“What have you done to me, baby?”

I laugh. “I don’t know. What?”

“You’ve bewitched me.”

“Hmm. Well, I can’t say I’m sorry.”

“Do you miss me?”

“I do,” I say.

“Okay, good. Have fun with your family. Tell Dave hi for me, if you have to see that toad.”

A snort sneaks out. Shoot. “I don’t know a Dave, but I will tell Michael you said hello, if I see him.”

He sighs. “All right. I’ll let you go for now. Bye, baby.”

“Bye.”

- 16 -

The next couple of weeks are restful and fun. It’s good to be home. My parents are their doting selves, and we spend every minute together. They break it to me the first night that Michael has resigned his position at the church and is moving back to Seattle. I’m not sure if I’ll see him, and I have to think maybe that’s all for the best. I’m sorry for my parents’ sake that it didn’t work out for him to stay. I know they’re going to have a hard time replacing him and are grieving the loss of him in their lives already. I wish I hadn’t wrecked that for them, all of them.

Ian calls almost every night, and we talk until we’re about to fall asleep. He texts throughout the day, too, and sends funny pictures of random objects, or gross looking food after it’s been sitting out too long in the green room, or fliers with funny typos. I also get a picture of a bookstore from every city and at least one a day of coffee in various settings. If I get a picture of him, it’s not an attractive one. It’s a funny face or a shot that’s way too close-up.