Page 33 of Lick
“I only woke up an hour ago.”
He pressed his face into my hair and even threw a leg over mine for good measure, pinning me down. “Bad luck. I’m tired and I wanna spoon. With you. And the way I figure it, you owe me. So we’re spooning.”
“Got it.”
His breath warmed the side of my neck, sending shivers down my spine.
“Relax. You’re all tense.” His arms tightened around me.
After a moment, I picked up his left hand, running the pads of my fingers over his calluses. Using him for my fidget toy. The tips of his fingers were hard. There was also a ridge down his thumb and another slight one along the bottom of his fingers where they joined the palm of his hand. He obviously spent a lot of time holding guitars. On the back of his fingers the wordFreehad been tattooed. On his right hand was the wordLive.I couldn’t help but wonder if marriage would impinge on that freedom. Japanese-style waves and a serpentine dragon covered his arm, the colors and detail impressive.
“Tell me about your major,” he said. “You’re doin’ architecture, right?”
“Yes,” I said, a little surprised he knew. I’d obviously told him in Vegas. “My dad’s one.”
He meshed his fingers with mine, putting the kibosh on my fidgeting.
“Did you always want to play guitar?” I asked, trying not to get too distracted by the way he was wrapped around me.
“Yeah. Music’s the only thing that ever really made sense to me. Can’t imagine doing anything else.”
“Huh.” It must be nice, having something to be so passionate about. I liked the idea of being an architect. Many of my childhood games had involved building blocks or drawing. But I didn’t feel driven to do it, exactly. “I’m pretty much tone deaf.”
“That explains a lot.” He chuckled.
“Be nice. I was never particularly good at sports either. I like drawing and reading and watching movies. And I like to travel, not that I’ve done much of it.”
“Yeah?”
“Mm.”
He shifted behind me, getting comfortable. “When I travel, it’s always about the shows. Doesn’t leave much time for looking around.”
“That’s a pity.”
“And being recognized can be a pain in the ass sometimes. Now and then, it gets ugly. There’s a fair bit of pressure on us, and I can’t always do what I want. Truth is, I’m kind of ready to slow things down, hang out at home more.”
I said nothing, turning his words over inside my head.
“The parties get old after a while. Having people around all the damn time.”
“I bet.” And yet, back in LA he’d still had a groupie hanging off him, cooing at his every word. Obviously parts of the lifestyle still appealed. Parts that I wasn’t certain I could compete with even if I wanted to. “Won’t you miss some of it?”
“Honestly, it’s all I’ve done for so long, I don’t know.”
“Well, you have a gorgeous home to hang out in.”
“Hmm.” He was quiet for a moment. “Ev?”
“Yeah?”
“Was being an architect your idea or your dad’s?”
“I don’t remember,” I admitted. “We’ve always talked about it. My brother was never interested in taking up the mantle. He was always getting into fights and skipping class.”
“You said you had a tough time at high school too.”
“Doesn’t everyone?” I wriggled around, turned over so I could see his face. “I don’t usually talk about that with other people.”
