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Chapter Sixteen
I'd never regarded myself as a prude, however being married to a very conservative academic man for over a decade had inadvertently conditioned me to accept certain standards of behavior.
This wasn't because I was a snob; it was due to the pompous asses Logan dealt with every day. I supposed my naturally reserved nature helped during their stuffy social occasions, and being in that environment for so long had inadvertently spilled over to my day-to-day life. I'd never been exposed to the Sawyers or Tricias of this world, and although respected by my peers through school, college and in my places of work, I was known to be shy.
Despite being aware of my failings, I couldn't make allowances for Sawyer's bandmates' unfiltered and uncouth remark.
Following Sawyer as he led me to the back of the bus suddenly felt like a walk of shame, and we hadn't done anything wrong to warrant it.
When he opened the last door at the back, I saw a bedroom with a disproportionately large bed for the size of the small space surrounded by flush-fitted shiny laminate cupboards and fitted nightstands. Concealed purple strip lighting illuminated above the headboard at the top of the bed, and I was instantly filled with shame.
How the hell do I lie in here with Sawyer knowing what his bandmates think?Another thought came to mind: How do they see me? Am I one in a long line of women Sawyer had taken into his bed? I'd hoped not, because it would have crushed my faith in all men if I had thought for one minute he'd humiliated me this way.
Panic rose from my stomach to my chest, making it feel so tight I could hardly breathe as I toyed nervously with my purse strap on my shoulder.
"Sorry," I croaked, fighting back tears that threatened to rise from my closing throat. "Th … this was a bad idea," I blurted, shaking my head vigorously as my anxiety grew. My heartbeat pounded erratically as I mulled over how stupid I felt. "I can't stay here. This …"
I gestured around the room, struggling to describe how cheap and aware of my age the situation had made me feel. When I saw the hurt dull Sawyer's eyes, it made my heart sink to my stomach and I knew he was disappointed with me. "I shouldn't have come. I don't know what I was thinking," I finally managed to say.
Stepping close to me, Sawyer held me by my forearms and slowly shook his head. Gazing into my eyes, his injured feelings poured out of him as his expression changed from the brilliant happy smile he'd had when he led me onto the bus, and he frowned in regret at my words.
For a moment the air between us, which usually felt electric, grew heavy until he blew out a forced breath and pulled me into him. He cradled my head to his chest, and for a few seconds, I listened to his heartbeat. Pushing me away to look at me, he sighed.
"You were thinking of me. At least, I hope that was what got you this far. Billie, I was so excited this morning when I knew you were coming and now that I've gotten you here, I'm not just gonna let you walk away. That idiot out there has a smart mouth and he's as mature as my sister's youngest at best. Remember what I told you, darlin', this isn't about anyone else. We're all that matters."
I wanted to believe him and when I looked up at him, I chewed the inside of my cheek, nervous again when I wondered for the umpteenth time how the hell he and I slotted together in life. I knew I wanted him, but I also knew there was a real possibility I might never feel confident about the world that he lived in.
My chest tightened again as I absorbed how deeply I had offended him, but the ache I felt there confused me and I considered why I couldn't meet him halfway. I knew he had continually tried to make what we had work.
"I know, and I know you keep making all these excuses for me, but …"
"It's new, you're old, and I'm in a band, so I can't possibly think this would work?" The way he boiled down my insecurities and thoughts felt like a knife to my chest.
"When you put it like that, yes. For all of those reasons. Plus, I have a child who's been through enough trauma to last him his childhood, and who knows what effect it will have on him as he grows and becomes a man."
Sliding my purse strap off my shoulder, he took it away from me and lay it down on the bed. He stepped back and unbuttoned my jacket, took it from me and he folded it neatly, beside my bag.
"Sit." When he saw my hesitation, he pressed his hands gently on my shoulders. "Sit down and hear me out." By the stern look on his face, I knew he wasn't asking—it was a demand. Taking my hand from my lap, he held it between both of his in a warming embrace and his touch instantly centered me.
"Billie, don't tell me what to think. The fact that you've come all this way tells me you want me, and the effort I made to come home to see you should demonstrate how I feel about you. Those pricks out there are only the beginning of what we may face. This isn't about their lives, it's about ours. We don't need anyone's permission to do this, and it doesn't matter how long we've been together; all that matters is we are. We set the pace. Five weeks or five years makes no difference to me either way. Listen, I've known people my whole life and never figured out what they were thinking or why they behave how they do."
"From where you're sitting, being with me sounds so easy. It's not as simple from my side of the track," I reasoned.
"What side would that be?" He scowled and studied my face for a beat. "Huh? What I see is a smokin' hot mom with a banging body and drop-dead gorgeous face. You have a clever-as-fuck mind and a fragile and vulnerable, beautiful soul." My heart squeezed when his thoughts spilled from his lips without a moment's hesitation.
"Smooth."
"Smooth?" He frowned, glaring at me with a look that was alien from him to me. "What is? Airing my thoughts about you? I could say more, how hard I am when you're near me, how addictive you taste, how your sweet pussy has me almost creaming my pants like some teenager in heat at the thought of your taste on my tongue …"
"Shh," I hissed, my eyes darted to the door. "Don't."
"Don't what, Billie? Don't be honest? Talk dirty? Say it is what it is? You're the one who keeps going on about how old you are, about the age difference between us. Personally, in terms of emotions and frank adult conversation, I'm way ahead of you."
For once his words stole my breath and my thoughts, and I felt firmly put in my place. I huffed out a defeated breath. "That's just it. You're confident, handsome—so handsome I can't stop looking at you—but the way that you are …" I shook my head, lost for the words to describe how amazing he was.
"The way I am?" he repeated, his gaze intensifying like the answer was written in my eyes.
"This … all the reasoning, your patience with me when I'm—" I replied, gesticulating at him with my hands.
