Chapter 32

Harley

Every time Tommy bottomed out,I tensed, so close to getting off but not quite able to get there. It felt so good I almost didn’t want it to end, but my body had a mind of its own, and I picked up speed, racing for release.

“I love you, Harley.” His soft voice against my ear, one hand at the back of my neck and the other squeezing my nipple was suddenly all it took.

Pleasure coiled in my lower abdomen, a slow, gradual build-up that exploded out of me unexpectedly.

“Oh, fuck!” I shrieked and bucked, riding him like a fucking rodeo star and bouncing so hard on his lap I nearly took us off the bed. It shook me from head to toe, but Tommy held on tight, keeping me upright.

I couldn’t tell if he called my name or just grunted, but his orgasm was right on the heels of mine, his fingers digging into my hips as he filled me.

“Oh shit.” I collapsed against his chest.

“I love how it feels when you cream all over my cock,” he whispered, pulsing inside of me a few more times.

“I fucking love when you’re inside me,” I murmured. “So, so good.”

“Uh huh.” He stroked my hair. “Apparently, all that spanking and choking is overkill. All I had to do was tell you I love you.”

I froze, slowly lifting my head to look into his eyes.

He was right.

This was probably the most vanilla sex we’d ever had.

There was barely any foreplay other than kissing and my mini strip tease.

He hadn’t done anything but squeeze my nipple a few times.

And kiss me.

Touch me.

Tell me he loved me.

A weird feeling of discomfiture washed over me, but it wasn’t a bad thing.

It was a tsunami of unfamiliar emotions that hit me with so much ferocity I burst into tears.

“It’s okay.” Tommy didn’t seem surprised, merely holding me tightly and stroking my hair. “Let it out. It’s going to be okay. I’m here now and we’re going to be okay.”

“What’s happening to me?” I asked, sniffling. “Why am I always crying?”

“Maybe because you’ve been holding it in so long, it was time.”

“I love you,” I said shakily. “I always have.”

“I know. That’s why I needed us to go slow this time. It was never about how wild we could get or how many limits we could push. It was always just about us. You and me. Harley and Tommy. I never cared about anything else. You and my band were all I ever needed.”

“I was the one who wanted babies,” I said after a moment. “You didn’t care one way or the other.”

He hesitated. “Almost everyone in my family dies young. Part of me thought maybe it was better not to have them, but you wanted it, so I wanted to give it to you. When I couldn’t, I guess I thought I had to compensate some other way. And it wasn’t the healthiest coping mechanism.”

“And now?”

“Now we’re going to find new ways to cope when things go sideways.”

“Does this mean we’re back together?”

“I hope so.” He was still holding me tightly. “Baby, if you say you love me and want to be with me again, I am never letting you go.”

“We have so many things to talk about.”

“River.”

I nodded. “I know you say you don’t resent him, and maybe you don’t, but if you come into his life now… you’re going to be the only father he knows. You’re not going to be Uncle Tommy. At some point, you’re going to become Daddy. You have to want it. And be prepared to take on that role.”

He was thoughtful for a bit. “I can’t imagine a scenario where I’m not up to the task. I’ve only met him a couple of times, but the idea of becoming his dad doesn’t scare me like I thought it would.”

“Are you sure? Because raising a toddler isn’t for the faint of heart. He’s smart and happy and generally awesome, but when he’s in a mood, look out.”

“How is that any different than dealing with you?” He deadpanned.

“Very funny.” I playfully smacked his arm.

“Seriously, babe—you don’t have to convince me. I’m all the way in. I already told you that.”

I rested my head on his shoulder, noting that he was hard again. “Yes. Yes, you are.”

He chuckled. “You’ve always had this effect on me. Two minutes and I’m ready to go again.”

“So, is this sweet, gentle style of lovemaking what we’re doing going forward?” I asked curiously.

“Sometimes.” He reached between us and tweaked my nipple. “But don’t worry, there’ll be plenty of the other stuff too. I just wanted to show you it wasn’t the sex that made us work—it’s the fact that it’s us. You and me, baby, we’re good together.”

“I know that. I’ve always known somewhere deep down. I just didn’t want to accept it because I thought I’d lost you.”

“Never.” He grabbed my hand and brought it to his lips, kissing the inside of my wrist. “We hit a really rough patch, for sure, but I see a light at the end of the tunnel. Do you?”

“I do.”

“Good. Because the minute you’re ready, I want to marry you again. In fact, once we’re on the European leg of the tour, what do you think about doing it in Paris?”

“We’re barely back together and you’re talking about getting married?” I laughed. “I thought we were going to stop all the extremes and try being a little more mellow?”

“We’re going to scale back the sexual extremes, because I don’t want me hurting you to be the only way you can get off. But extremes are part of who we are. That’s why we work. We each have our own boundaries that keep the other in check.”

“Can we be extreme and be good parents?” I countered quietly.

“I think we can. Just like we can make love without all the crazy and still enjoy the hell out of it.”

“Why does everything seem so easy now when it was impossible three years ago?” I asked.

“Because we fucked up. And we’re not going to do that again.”

“God, I hope not. I couldn’t stand losing you again.”

“You won’t.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.” He kissed me. “As much as it kills me to admit this, my knee hurts like a motherfucker right now.”

I quickly got off him, looking down with a grimace. “Oh, did I hurt you? I’m sorry.”

“No, it was just sore from sitting in that position for too long.”

“I bet I know what would help,” I said, holding out my hands to him.

“Are we going to fuck again?”

I laughed. “Yes, but that’s not what I had in mind. That soaker tub in the bathroom looks like it would fit us perfectly.”

“Now that sounds like fun.”

“Let me go run it.”

“And then I’m going to grab my guitar and play you something.”

“You mentioned that you’ve been playing guitar again,” I called as I padded into the bathroom to run the bath. “Have you been doing that since you’ve been here?”

“I brought one with me and I’ve been writing since I got here.”

“You never really wrote solo before. What changed?” I turned on the water and then walked back out to the room.

“Not usually, no, but I’ve been playing guitar a lot more. As a whole, the band has been trying to switch things up once in a while. King plays piano more, Kellan sings, and me on guitar, stuff like that. I thought maybe I’d try to play rhythm on one song for this tour.”

“You have a great voice,” I said. “Not like King’s, but still strong enough to sing one or two.”

“Yeah, we’ve talked about that too. Anyway, listen to this and tell me what you think.” He sat in a nearby chair, still butt naked, and reached for an acoustic guitar I hadn’t notice before now.

There’s nothing on the ground, just you and me

We’re laying down our prints, so everyone can see

We’re at the top of the world, workin’ on what’s free

That’s everything I need, baby, just you and me.

Was he singing to me?

Had he written this about me?

I was rooted in place as I continued to watch and listen.

I’d once thought there was nothing sexier than Tommy behind the drums, but I might have been wrong. Because there was nothing sexier than Tommy, naked, strumming a guitar and singing just for me.

Watching his long fingers move over the strings strangely erotic, and the muscles in his biceps flexed whenever he moved. It was sensual and intimate, just like him, and all I could do was stand there and drink it in, still wondering when he’d written this song and if it had been about me.

Did you see me try?

I couldn’t find the words

To show you what it takes

To cover up a lie.

Lies are what’s between us

They’re part of every day

I can’t keep telling half truths

And expecting you to stay.

I didn’t wantto cry, but I was on the verge, so I whirled and ran back into the bathroom to turn off the water.

It wasn’t the first song he’d written about me but this one was much more poignant and meaningful.

“Tempo in Reno” was an older hit that he’d written early on, with him on the floor of our Reno hotel room, his back against the bed. I’d been sprawled across it, leaning over his shoulder as he held a guitar in his lap and a note pad on the floor beside him, scribbling lyrics. In fact, I’d written two lines of that song, though I’d never officially gotten credit. It was the only time I’d ever seen him write solo.

Ironically, in the divorce, one of the things he’d given me had been all future royalties to that song. Neither of our attorneys had understood why that song in particular, since it wasn’t one of the big hits, but it still made a significant amount of money from album sales and such.

But I had.

“Harley.” His voice washed over me like a physical touch, my skin breaking out in goose bumps. “Babe?”

“When did you write that?” I whispered, my back to him.

“A couple of nights after the cemetery.”

“Why?”

“Why?”

“Why did you write about lies and half-truths, when you didn’t know anything yet?”

“I don’t know. The words just came to me. You know my writing process is pretty organic that way.”

I turned to him, searching his handsome face. “Did you know that you didn’t know the truth?”

He shook his head and shrugged almost helplessly. “Baby, I wish I could answer that. All I know is, it poured out of me like it came straight from my soul.”

“What’s it called?”

“I’m not sure yet. Liars and Lovers? Something like that. King tends to come up with better titles. And he’ll pretty it up too, when I bring it to the band.”

“It doesn’t need prettying up. That’s your next hit.”