Page 56 of One Time Only (One Time Only 1)
That’s what I latch onto—his passion.
Holy shit.
He’s passionate about me.
About this.
Whatever this is between us.
So passionate he’ll let it go because it’d hurt too much to play games.
And it would hurt like hell.
It hurts now to hear the words “never happen again.”
Anger rims Stone’s eyes. I know what it’s like to feel that kind of anger. And, moreover, to feel it because it’s masking hurt.
I flash back to what he said to me when he invited me in tonight.
I’m already involved.
I’m standing here in his bathroom. We’re both naked, and we’re looking at each other trying to solve a problem. The problem is we want to spend the night together.
And another night and another night.
Because he’s right. We’re already involved. And I do want to be involved with this guy.
Something in me softens and bends. I reach for him, cupping the back of his head and resting my forehead against his. “It’s not easier to leave. I don’t want this night to end.”
He lets out a long breath as his body sways toward mine. “I don’t either.”
I thread my hand through his hair, running it up the back of his head.
After he draws a deep breath, he pulls back and speaks again. “But if you need it to end, it needs to fucking end. I can’t have you walk out and then walk back in and think it’s going to happen again. Because I can’t do that. I can’t take that.”
I’ve never heard him sound so desperate. It floors me, and I’m not sure what to make of it. I didn’t expect it from him. “What do you want, Stone? Tell me.”
He grabs my waist with both hands, gripping me hard. “Isn’t it obvious? I want you again. I want you for the rest of the night. I want you for the rest of this tour. Can we just figure out a way to do that?”
Like that, he lays his cards on the table. He opens up, and I hear all sorts of things I want too—him, me, the next night, and the next, and the next.
Once wasn’t enough.
Once barely scratched the surface of my need for him.
I swallow, working a hand over my jaw, searching for a solution. But there’s only one, and it’s the truth. “I’m just going to have to man up and tell Cruz. He’ll have to know. And I have to do it now because . . .” I run my hand along his arm, adjusting to my new reality. An hour ago, before I walked in here, I tricked myself into thinking a single time would get Stone out of my head. That was a lie. This is the truth, and I tell him as much. “Because I want you for the rest of the tour too.”
Stone doesn’t smile. He just unleashes a long exhale. It sounds like a reprieve.
I turn around, splash some water on my face, and run my wet fingers through my hair, combing it. Then I pat my face with a towel, head out of the bathroom, find my boxer-briefs in the bedroom, and pull them on. Next, I grab my pants, tugging them on as well. I zip them and buckle the belt. Stone sinks onto the edge of the bed, his eyes full of questions, but hope too.
I can’t resist. I walk over to him. Clasp his cheek. Press a kiss to his lips. “I’ll be right back.”
“You better.” He smacks my ass. “I need more of this fine-ass body.”
“You’ll have it.”
I walk through the living room, grab my shirt from the floor, slide it on, button it, and tuck it in.
I pick up my phone from the coffee table where I left it earlier. Click on the screen. A text from Cruz blinks at me.Cruz: I’m guessing you’re in there.Then another.Cruz: I’m here. I got your back, bro.I grab Stone’s key card, open the door, and let it fall shut behind me.
I meet the eyes of my colleague.
He gives me a crisp nod. “How’s it going?”
That’s it. Just one simple question.
I take a beat, then answer him truthfully. “Good.” But that’s not enough. Words are so hard to get out, but I need to say them. I have to say them, since I’m about to ask for help. I draw a deep, fueling breath and find the courage to say, “It’s going really good.”
That’s a start.
That’s something.
Cruz reads between the lines easily. He lifts his chin. “Cool. What do you need from me?”
I breathe a sigh of relief, then dig down deep once more. “Listen. I’m going to be in there the rest of the night,” I blurt out, a little embarrassed.
Cruz nods. “I thought so.”
“You did?”
He cracks a grin. “I’ve thought it for ages.”
“Seriously?” I ask, furrowing my brow.
He rolls his brown eyes. “When I’m around the two of you, sometimes I just want to say, ‘Need a condom now? Here. Go.’”
