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I swallow hard and try to ignore the effect his words have on my body. “I’m not going to make recovery harder for you than it needs to be.”
He narrows his eyes and stands up taller. “I don’t want you to look at me as less than just because you can’t have a glass of wine in front of me.” The man practically fucking pouts and it’s kind of endearing. And annoying. And frustrating.
“I’ll never think of you as less than. Not because of this,” I sass him slightly and his lips curve into a beautiful smile that makes my breath hitch.
“Careful,” he warns me, his face—and his gloriously soft and plump lips—move closer.
“My mom was an alcoholic,” I blurt out the words. My eyes go wide in realization of what I’ve just shared. “I just mean that I’ve seen it, firsthand and it’s not easy.” I look away from him, unable to meet his piercing gaze right now. “She never got better. She was never able to be sober for longer than a few months.”
“Songstress,” he chokes out.
I shake my head fiercely, “It’s okay. I’m okay. It was hard to watch and even harder to feel like my siblings and I weren’t enough reason for her to not drink. We would be, for a little while, but then the cycle would start back up again.” I lick my lips, needing a moment to compose myself.
Even though he watches me, he lets me have a few minutes. The silence around us doesn’t feel oppressive this time. It feels tingly and that it should be happening to anyone else in this whole damn universe.
Langston gently leads me to the living room and toward one of the giant sectionals which is just as comfortable as it looks. I swear the damn thing is huge and it feels like you’re lounging on a cloud. When he sits down and immediately pulls me down to sit on his lap, I’m torn.
Part of me wants to leap off him and run for the hills.
The other part wants to snuggle into him and soak up how good it feels.
“One thing I learned is that my treatment and my recovery is my responsibility. Only mine. You don’t get to take that onto your shoulders, Cove, ever,” he growls the last few words and I have no doubt that my panties are soaked.
“I know, but there’s no reason to make it more difficult,” I try to point that out again, but he’s not having it.
“The drinking and drugs were a problem from the moment we hit it big, practically.” I still at his words, hoping he knows he doesn’t owe me his story. His nose runs up the column of my neck and he coos, “I want to tell you. Relax, Cove.”
“Okay. I’ll listen.” I want to tell him always; that I’ll always listen, but I keep that inside for the moment.
“Conley was always the one seeking the next thrill out of the two of us. He was a daredevil for years, but then to add in the fame, recognition, and celebrity was like pouring gasoline on a fire raging out of control already. I won’t try and blame him and say that he took me along for the ride. I was a willing participant, but I also tried to pull him back from the edge.”
I wrap my arms around his waist, wanting to offer some sort of comfort in whatever way I can. It’s not enough. Could it ever really be enough?
“Losing him was hard,” he whispers the words. He swallows hard and the pain in his eyes has me tightening my grip on him. “Finding him when he overdosed,” my heart stutters, “devastated me. I spiraled and lost my way. The guys from SO tracking down was like being able to see a light at the end of a tunnel again. It was far away at the time, but it was there.”
“I’m glad they went looking for you,” I confess softly.
The way Langston smiles down at me has me wanting to kiss him, to take away the lingering darkness in his eyes as he thinks of the past, to bring a little light into his life. I hold back, for now.
“Meeting you was like bathing in light with no tunnel in sight.” Some of those shadows melt away in his eyes and makes me feel seen, really seen. “I don’t want you to change your life for my addiction or recovery.”
I shrug one shoulder. “It’s not a hardship and it wouldn’t be for anyone who really cares about you, who cares about your trauma and who wants to do right by you.”
“Has anyone ever done that for you?”
It’s such a simple question, but it throws me off. I shake my head slowly and admit, “No.”
“I will, if you let me,” he vows right before his lips crash down against mine.
He kisses me with a sweet promise on his tongue this time, one that takes my breath away and has me clinging to him with everything in me. I don’t want to let go. Ever.
Maybe it’s the night surrounding the mansion. Maybe it’s the fact that we’re all alone out here in the middle of nowhere. Maybe it’s just because it’s him and it’s me.
When he lifts me, I let out a huff of surprise as I wrench my mouth from his, my eyes wide with shock. All the cocky rock star in front of me does is smirk as one of his hands dives into my hair, holding me right where he wants me. The other hand glides up my leg and underneath the sleep shirt I have on.
When his fingertips graze my panties, I shudder and my thighs part for him on instinct. Because I want what he’s offering even more than I want to hear songs I’ve written on the radio.
“Cove,” he growls against my lips, “if you want me to stop, you need to tell me. If you don’t I’m going to make you come on my fingers and then I’m sweeping you off to bed so I can wrap myself around you as we sleep.”
