Chapter Three

CHAPTER THREE

TY

The clatter of cutlery on plates and murmur of conversations fills the hotel's dining room. Scents of sausage, waffles, and coffee waft from the breakfast buffet. I shovel in my final forkful of eggs and toast and eye my empty cup of coffee. A night of staying up late listening to all the songs I found by Craig and the various bands he'd been in and played with, and then listening to the ones for other artists where he's credited as the songwriter, followed by a few hours of fitful sleep led to a slow-moving morning. Now at ten AM, I'm already close to two hours behind schedule.

After returning to my room, I text Slater and Noah, and make plans to meet them in the lobby. The buzzed, floaty feeling that's nagged me since I rolled out of bed still lingers. Maybe it's due to the alcohol I consumed last night. Maybe it's the lack of sleep. Maybe it's Craig's kisses. Heat rolls through me as I replay each kiss in my mind.

The songs I downloaded last night from his original band, Falling Midnight, are my playlist while I shower, brush my teeth, and dress. I didn't pack anything except casual clothes, but the black T-shirt and gray shorts are fairly new, and hopefully will look good on me.

I make my way to the lobby. No sign of Slater and Noah, so I settle into a plush chair by a wide window. Hopefully, the sunlight streaming in will clear the cobwebs from my mind.

"Hey, bud." Slater claims the seat across from me, clutching a to-go cup of coffee from the shop at the other end of the lobby. "You look happy. How did it go with Craig?"

"Pretty amazing. Where's Noah?"

"Getting a refill on his tea. Now, back to Craig…" Wagging his brows, he gestures for more info. "Go on."

"We had coffee, then dinner, then went to a bar with really interesting architecture. I drew him a sketch. We did a little drinking, a little kissing…" Ears growing hot, I drain the remainder of my brew. "He's a musician, and he invited me, the three of us actually, to watch him perform tonight at a private concert in a club. He's filling in as a favor to a friend. Would you want to go?"

After taking a sip of his coffee, he nods. "Tonight sounds great. We're in. I'll tell Noah."

"Is it stupid for me to go? For me to want to spend time with him?" Worry and uncertainty rise, weaving a twisted vine up my spine. I push my hand through my hair. "I mean, we're only here for the weekend."

Head tilted, Slater regards me for a long moment, like a wise sage in a superhero T-shirt. "For as long as I've known you, you've been busting your ass working two jobs. You're on vacation. You deserve to have fun, especially with someone who makes you happy."

"I've never had a fling before." Admitting that isn't hard, not to Slater. The hulking hockey player might be a tough guy on the ice, but he's a gentle giant and a supportive friend.

His blue eyes are as kind as his smile. "Sometimes, it's good to just take the leap. Don't worry so much or overthink. Do what makes you happy. Yes or no, if you don't see him, will you regret it?"

Tapping my fingers on my thigh, I contemplate the advice. I've taken the leap in regard to work, in trying to take my art career to the next level. I know firsthand how regrets can fester over missed opportunities. "You're right. And I would regret it if I missed out on time with him. I really like him."

"Then, you have your answer."

Noah arrives holding two to-go cups. He hands one to me. "That one has coffee. I saw you when I was in line. You look like you need it. Ready to scour the halls for treasure?"

I gratefully accept the cup and sip the strong brew. "You're the best, Noah. I hope Slater appreciates you."

"I appreciate him, and he knows it." Slater pulls Noah against him for a fast kiss. "Let's get going."

The convention center is a fifteen-minute walk from the hotel. I don't mind walking instead of grabbing a ride. The bit of exercise gets my blood flowing and helps clear my head.

The crowds are bigger than yesterday. I hold tight to my list, caught between the desire to search for what I need and to see Craig. If he's working, I shouldn't distract him. So, finding comic books it is. We stop by the closest table. Slater and I reach for the same issue, laugh, and I gesture for him to pick it up. "How'd you make out yesterday afternoon?"

"I found a few things, but we cut out early to get dinner and relax by the hotel pool." With the heated way Slater's looking at Noah, I have zero doubt their time alone included more activities than simply relaxing poolside. Even now, my friends can barely keep their hands off each other.

We follow a snake-like path, working our way down one side of the rows and up the next, winding through the vendors, stopping at each one. I'm not having any luck, but Slater scores a few things he's wanted for a while.

The pull to see Craig grows too strong to ignore. I throw away my empty coffee, pop in a mint one of the vendors was giving away, and glance at the opposite side of the hall, where his booth is stationed. Maybe a quick visit won't interrupt him too much. Jerking my thumb in that direction, I address the guys. "I think I'll make my way over that way. I'll catch up with you later."

After exchanging a knowing look with his boyfriend, Noah pats me on the back. "Have fun."

"Tell Craig we said hi," Slater adds with a smile.

Nerves tightening my stomach, I walk through the sea of people. Anticipation increases with every step. I swipe a speck of lint off my shirt, then smooth a hand through my hair. Rounding the final corner, I slow my pace.

Craig's booth is busy. He stands in front of the table at one end, talking to a small group of attendees while four volunteers costumed as various Avengers characters chat with another group and pose for photos with little kids.

Waiting for a lull in traffic, I peruse the neighboring tables for comic books while I watch Craig. As great as the man looked dressed as a superhero, Craig out of costume can only be described as dangerously handsome. Dark, wavy hair streaked with lighter brown and blond frames a chiseled face. He has tanned skin, a sexy smile, a strong body, and eyes that seem like they can see into my soul. Jeans encase his long legs and a white T-shirt with the foundation's logo stretches across his chest, hinting at the muscles beneath the fabric.

Finally, the group holding Craig's attention breaks away and he returns to the area behind the table. I set the comic book down and head toward him, craving another kiss, another touch, another moment .

Craig turns in my direction. The musician's features lighten with what I hope are welcome and happiness. He beckons for me to join him on his side of the table. "You came. It's good to see you."

"Hi." I can't stop the smile beaming across my face. We're standing close to the spot where I landed in his arms yesterday. "No bodies have catapulted themselves into your space today?"

"Not yet. But there's still several hours to go." Grinning, Craig runs his hand down my arm, a brushing of fingers that's both casual and intimate. "How'd you sleep?"

My body sways toward him as if drawn by a magnetic force. Can I kiss him? Should I? What is Craig expecting? Uncertainty swelling, I gaze into those mesmerizing brown eyes. "I lay awake, thinking about you for a long while. I also listened to the bands you've played in and the songs you wrote for other artists. Caffeine and sugar are the only reasons I'm coherent right now."

"Same here." Craig jerks his head toward the large to-go coffee cup near the end of the table. "Drained that pretty fast, and I feel like my insides are vibrating. Still, totally worth it. Sleep is overrated. Thinking about you, thinking about last night, was a much better way to spend those hours." His voice roughens and his gaze turns heated and hungry. "Ty…"

"Yes?" The word rushes out, just as it did yesterday, filled with an eagerness I can't hide.

Craig's focus slips to somewhere behind me. "Be right back."

I turn to spy what's captured his attention and feel him step away. The crowd is too congested to yield an easy answer. I swing back to find Craig sliding a box sticking out from the table beneath it once more. An attendee from the other side had kicked it out of place. This booth doesn't need more incidents with tripping hazards.

Stepping toward me once again, he smiles at two people approaching the table wearing shirts with the foundation's logo, and lifts his hand in a wave. "My replacements just arrived, which means I'm officially done for the weekend."

If Craig doesn't have to hang around the convention center, will he want to be on his way? Struggling to maintain my smile, I shove my hands into my pockets and mentally kick myself for getting a later start than I'd planned. I'd hoped for more than ten seconds with him. "Oh. Okay."

While Craig greets the newcomers, I edge to the other side of the table, thoughts spinning for some way to prolong our connection. A small group of people who had posed for photos with the volunteers in the superhero costumes have now claimed the newly arrived volunteers' attention. I move over a few more steps until I'm standing in the five feet of space separating the foundation's table and that of another vendor.

"Mind if I tag along with you?" Craig joins me, his fingers plucking at the edge of the leather strap encircling his wrist. He did the same action a few times yesterday, once during dinner and twice during our time at the bar. I don't know him well enough to judge it as a nervous habit, but the hint of vulnerability in his gaze adds to my suspicions. What could a superhero rockstar possibly be nervous about? Does he really think I would turn him away?

"I'd love it." The thought of getting to spend more time with Craig, and the sexy musician wanting to spend time with me, brightens me like sunlight after a storm. I pull my list from my pocket and hold up the creased paper. "Hopefully, we can track down as many of these issues as possible. I didn't find any yesterday, and haven't had luck yet today. "

"I'll help you look. I've gotten to know a few of the vendors from doing the convention for the past few years." Craig scans the list and then looks at a map of the vendor floor plan. He taps one of the squares. "I know a guy who probably has all of these."

"All of them?" I gape at him, and the list falls through my grip, fluttering to the floor. I scramble to snatch it up. "You're kidding. That would be like the best thing ever."

"Then I really hope I'm not raising your hopes for nothing." A gentle smile curving his lips, he traces a path down my arm once more. When our fingers brush together, he lingers over the caress, as if tempted to link our hands together. Too soon, the touch falls away. "Let's find out."

We weave through the crowded aisles, Craig calling out greetings and waving to a few vendors along the way. He ducks his head close to my ear and murmurs, "We'll come back to those tables if the first one doesn't have everything. They won't rip you off."

"I really appreciate this." If any of these vendors have good stuff, I'll text Slater so he won't miss out.

Finally, we reach the vendor Craig first pointed out, tucked into a corner. Hundreds of comic books stacked in neat order dominate the shelves, accompanied by vintage figurines in protective packaging. Craig introduces us and I hand over my list.

Resisting the urge to drum my fingers along the table's edge, I lean into Craig's side and watch the vendor sort through stacks that are kept away from any attendee's reach. The warmth of Craig's palm grazes my back, but the fleeting touch fades far too quickly.

One by one, the vendor places the coveted issues in front of me. The small pile grows, along with the excitement swirling through my system. Scoring so many issues at once seems unbelievable, yet it's happened—thanks to Craig.

I take my phone from my pocket. "I need to text Slater. Let him know this guy has good stuff."

"Here, I'll point out the other ones we can visit, so he'll know they're all right." He unfolds the map and runs a finger along the page, pausing at three spots spread across the hall. I type the corresponding table numbers into the message. Text sent, I slip the phone into my pocket.

"I have all but three." The vendor sets my list on top of the books. He gives me a fair price, and I'm within the amount I've budgeted for books this weekend, which means I don't have to put anything back.

After I pay, I thank the guy, and with the bag holding my new treasures in hand, I turn away from the table and bump my shoulder into Craig's. "After how yesterday and this morning went, I was beginning to think I wouldn't find anything. You really are like my superhero."

He waves away the praise. The tips of his ears grow red as he falls in step beside me. "I'm happy you found almost everything you wanted."

We visit the rest of the vendors Craig knows, and I swing between the exhilaration of being with him and the wistfulness of sharing the experience with someone special, someone I might never get to share it, or anything, with again, once the weekend ends.

At the last vendor, we find the final issue I need.

Before I can pull out my wallet, Craig hands a credit card to the woman behind the table. "We'll take it."

I grab his arm, locking my fingers around his biceps. The vintage comic isn't the most expensive of the ones I've bought, but I wouldn't call it cheap either. "I can't let you do that. It's too much. "

"I want to." Something sweet and earnest flashes through his features. "Consider it a souvenir from me to you for this weekend."

Every time I see that issue, I know I'll think of Craig, but saying that out loud seems too sappy. "Thank you. Now I owe you a souvenir, too."

"You drew that picture of me." Craig switches his attention to the woman, accepts both the credit card and the bag holding the comic book, then hands the bag to me. He pockets his wallet, calls a thanks to the vendors, and then guides me away from the table. "What else is on your agenda?"

After glancing around to make sure we aren't blocking a path, I twist toward Craig and press a quick kiss to his mouth. The man smells like cinnamon and a hint of something darker. "That."

"That?" A smile plays across his lips. He shifts his body to protect me from the three children running past, brandishing light sabers. Their voices rise and fall as they fly by. "I liked that a lot. In fact, I think I need to experience it again."

Happiness and attraction bolt through my body, lighting up every cell. I link our hands together. "Then let's go."

I draw Craig through the crowded hall and out into the sunshine. Heat covers us like a blanket. We walk until we reach a semi-secluded area shaded by the building's shadow. I set my bags against the wall, then shift until I stand torso to torso with him.

Drawing in a breath, I cup my free hand around the back of his neck. Warm skin and silky hair meet my palm. For a moment, we watch each other. Then, Craig's hands grasp my back and urge me forward, into the circle of his embrace. Our lips meet, and I pour everything I have into the kiss .

Longing. Need. Desire. Want.

Angling my head, I take the kiss deeper. Craig battles me for control, tongue twining with mine as his fingers draw small circles on my lower back. The touches weaken my knees. Moaning, I press our torsos together. Firm muscle lines up against my chest and his semi-hard cock presses into my hip. I can't help a subtle thrust, wanting him to feel my swelling dick, and longing to shed the layers of material separating our bodies. Kissing Craig, holding him, touching him feels so good, far better than holding the most coveted comic book.

Strong fingers press into my body, drawing me even tighter against him, and our tongues duel and thrust, a dance of wet heat. The heady rush of desire makes me lightheaded. I lose myself in the free-fall sensation. Clutching the material at Craig's back provides me with an anchor.

Gradually, the kisses lighten. Craig raises his head and strokes his hand through my hair. I could gaze into his eyes for ages. Lips swollen, we watch each other, our chests pressing together with the rise and fall of our breaths.

A text alert interrupts our wordless admiration of each other with the sound I've chosen for Slater.

"I'd better check that in case he needs something." Sighing, I lower my arms and wait for Craig to do the same. Already missing the feel of his body, I step back, fish out my phone, and relay the message across my screen. "Slater said thanks for the heads up on the vendors. And sent a pic…" I burst out laughing at the image.

"What did he send?"

I angle the phone to show him, knowing I'll have to explain the I found you caption posted over a comic book about the Greek gods.

Craig's brows draw together. "I don't get it. "

"I'm on the cover. Well, not me, obviously, but my namesake. Typhoeus is my real name."

"That's unique. I've never heard that name before."

I slip the phone into my pocket, scoop my hair out of my eyes, and prepare for seemingly the millionth time, to tell my own origin story. "My dad was really into Greek mythology. Typhon, or Typhoeus, is a monster with one hundred dragon heads. He's known as the father of all monsters. Another name for him is the Storm Giant. I was born during a hurricane, so as the story goes, my father thought the name would be fitting."

"It is a cool name. And now, Slater calling you Hurricane Ty makes more sense."

"It's also why I have a soft spot for the villains in anything, including the comic book universes. Typhoeus wasn't one of the good guys. He was a grisly, mighty, deadly monster." Suddenly cold, I cross my arms over my chest. Countless times over the course of my childhood, I'd been teased about my name. And just as many times, I wondered if my parents had chosen the name of a monster because I interrupted and altered their life plans, much like a severely damaging storm can wreak havoc and cause drastic, lasting changes. They sure as hell made me feel that way.

Craig's forehead wrinkles and lines of concern crease around his eyes. He cups his hand over my shoulder. "You look sad. What's wrong?"

Forcing a smile, I lift a shoulder in a half-shrug. "Nothing. Just old thoughts. There were a lot of times I hated my name while I was growing up."

Sympathy softens his features. He closes the distance between us and cups my face in his hands. "I think you're a good guy, Typhoeus. And absolutely nothing like a monster."

Emotion wells at the serious tone and softly spoken words. The threat of tears shocks me. Obviously, old wounds haven't fully closed. But losing control here, now, won't do. Biting the inside of my cheek helps me gain command of my body. I drop my gaze from Craig's eyes to his lips, then return to getting lost in that deep brown. Forgetting the past is easy with this man in my presence. "I'm glad you think so. I wouldn't want to scare you off."

"There's no chance of that happening." His smiling lips hover close to my mouth. "You're definitely made of hero material."

Not a villain.

Not a monster.

A hero.

The surge of emotions swirls again, lightning fast. I wrap my arms around Craig's strong torso. Holding tight, I bury my face in the space where his neck and shoulder meet and breathe in deep lungfuls of that light cinnamon scent.

Hands caress my back in soothing swirls. The press of a kiss to my hair threatens to unravel me even more. I don't want him thinking I'm a mess. In his arms, I find comfort and feel a safety that surprises me, considering I've only known him a day. Feeling more in control, I raise my head.

Craig doesn't tease, or look at me with anything other than kindness. "You okay?"

I nod. "Sorry."

"Never apologize for that. I liked holding you." And then he kisses me. Soft and sweet, dragging me under to a place where need runs wild and desire roams free. A place where I could happily spend hours, days, years, centuries.

After a while, he raises his head and trails his fingers along my cheek. "How about we find some lunch?"

"Sure." My voice is raspy, and I pause to clear my throat. "My treat, as a thanks for everything today. "

Those fingers continue down my neck, then my torso, then over my side until they link with my hand. With a wink, Craig smiles. "We'll see."

I glance at our joined hands. Twenty-four hours ago, I hadn't even met Craig, and now here we are, holding hands, flirting, smiling, kissing, and connecting. A sense of belonging that thrills me.

I pick up my bags and let Craig lead the way, falling in step beside him.

Maybe I don't have anything in common with a mythological monster, but the way my feelings for Craig are forming faster and faster like a hurricane gathering strength is downright scary.