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He kisses me, his hips rocking into me for another moment. Then, he untangles himself and says he needs to get cleaned up. I lie on my side and wait for him in a delicious haze. His shoes crunch on the gravel. He’s gone for a bit, and the truck door slams, before he comes back in nothing but a pair of gray sweats. Perfect choice.

He zips the tent and stretches out beside me.

“Flip over, back to me,” he murmurs.

His hands are already on me, turning and pulling me back into his chest. Warm kisses press into the nape of my neck. I shiver and nudge my ass back into his groin. As far as I can tell, he is raring to go again.

“Now you can fuck me,” I say.

He laughs, reaching between us and pushing down his sweats, just low enough to release his hard, hot length. It feels like it takes forever for him to retrieve a condom and roll it on. Impatient, I arch my spine, and he finally guides himself into me, pushing deep and forcing a gasp from my lips.

I love this, especially with his forearm locked around me and his mouth in my hair.

Here, in this tent, in the middle of nowhere, we fuck like we mean something.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

COEN

I wake up feeling better than I have in at least five years.

Maybe trying to get home wasn’t the cure for all this burn-out. Maybe I just needed a little freedom, a chance to hit the road with the prettiest girl I’ve ever met by my side. Speaking of Sabrina, I roll over to look at her, propping my head on my hand. She’s fast asleep. She should be after how late we fucked last night. The sleeping bag slid down her shoulders, exposing the tanned expanse of her skin. Gently, I touch her spine, tracing it as far as I can see.

It’s been a long time since I slept with anyone. It wouldn’t matter anyway, because this feels all new to me. Back when I wasn’t so empty and exhausted, I at least got the thrill of discovering something new. Then, it wore out, and I felt nothing but a faint hollowness in my chest once I was alone again.

I don’t think I was built for casual anything.

I think I’ve always been too hungry, too all-consuming. That’s not a negative thing, as it got me to where I’m at with my career, but it’s burning me out hard. I pushed so hard, I forgot I was a human, and now there’s nothing left for me to hold when the stage lights are gone. Now, I’m nobody but Coen Taylor, a name credited on the back of an album cover. The man people call when they need something, but never the man they linger with after-hours.

I made myself too useful, too accessible.

Tired already, I pull on some sweats and leave the tent. It’s already pretty warm as I get my clothes and head to the bathrooms to dress for the day. The sun crests through the tree line. I pause and watch it, lifting my hand to see the golden rays filter through. Faintly, a bit of warmth hits my skin. Overhead, a crow dips down and shrieks. The waves lap at the shoreline from the lake just out of sight. Everything feels so…distant.

I feel it, though. It just hasn’t hit my brain yet.

Maybe that’s why I keep craving her the way I do. I’m balls deep in her, and I can’t quite feel it the way I need.

Sober, I put my pants, shirt, and boots on in the bathroom after a quick shower beneath the rustic spigot. Everything is a little better on the other side. I put my sweats away and head into the woods, intending on going down to the lake and see if I can find a spot to fish. If I do, I’ll grab the pole and supplies I picked up and see if I can’t get lunch together.

There’s already a man sitting on the edge of the dock. I recognize him briefly as one of the grizzled gentlemen from the rusted out camper. Not wanting to disturb him, I keep to the other end of the dock. He notices me and pulls the battered hat from his head, revealing a deeply lined face with a faint tattoo beneath his eye. I’m sure it was something once upon a time.

“Good morning to fish,” he rumbles.

I saunter over. “Yeah, I was hoping to catch something for breakfast.”

He nods. “Just you out here?”

I hesitate in saying no. Instead, I jerk my head up the hill. “Got the missus with me.”

I don’t know why the hell I said that, but it slipped right out. Now it’s a lie I have to keep up, but I don’t mind it. Maybe just for this conversation in this particular campsite, out in the middle of fucking no place, I can be some ordinary man with his wife sleeping in back at the tent. I like that.

“Got any kids?” he rumbles.

“Nah, not yet. Haven't been together long.”

He shifts with effort. “You don’t wait on it if you want some. Both me and Fred, he’s here with me now, married our ladies pretty late. Think of all that time we fucked away, huh?”

My gut wrenches. “Yeah, I won’t wait on it,” I say. “What was your name again?”