“You can sleep in the car.” He kissed the sweet spot below her ear. “I’ll drive the first leg tomorrow.”

“Not a chance you’re driving my car.”

Chapter Twenty-seven

After taking a private plane to Jacksonville, Liberty could see why celebrities traveled that way. In Denver, they were the last two passengers to board the first-class section of their commercial flight. It helped Devin keep a low profile not to have an entire planeful of people filing past him. But it seemed no matter where they went, that aura of “I’m somebody famous” clung to him, even when he tried to disguise it.

Because face it—Devin McClain is a head-turning man. He’d get attention even if he weren’t a singing sensation.

“You okay?”

She looked at him. “Yeah. Why?”

“You seem tense.” Devin took her hand and brought it to his lips, placing a soft kiss on her knuckles. “Which is a cryin’ shame. I tried my damndest to relax you last night.”

“You did.” She’d been reluctant to bring Devin to her apartment, especially after staying at his not so rustic Montana cabin. But he’d just slipped into her space like he’d always belonged there. They’d ordered in from her favorite Thai place. They’d snuggled up on the couch and watched a few episodes of season three of Sons of Anarchy—a show she’d gotten him addicted to on the road. Their evening wasn’t much different from the nights they spent on his bus. She even did two loads of laundry, so the feeling was very domestic. Which Devin didn’t seem to mind.

But when they’d gone to bed, Devin became the sweet, soulful lover. Touching her all over. Kissing her all over and asking for the same type of slow foreplay from her. He didn’t show her his aggressive side, or his kinky side, or his playful side. He revealed his loving side and expected nothing less from her. Because even though neither of them had said it, there was love between them. Whether it was long-lasting love, or a bittersweet fling, she didn’t know. Apparently, neither did he. So it was easier not to put a name on what had grown between them. During their time at the cabin, they hadn’t mentioned what would happen when the tour ended.

“Baby, what’s wrong?”

Liberty leaned across the armrest and kissed him. She rarely showed public affection, and she had the urge to prolong the connection they’d cemented in the last week. The kiss turned into a mini make-out session—not the best way to avoid drawing attention to themselves. But there was no maybe about the fact she needed the familiarity of their intimacy as reassurance as they rejoined the real world. His world.

His hand cupped the side of her face and he drew her closer, following her lead until she ended the kiss. Devin pressed his forehead to hers. “Not that I’m complaining, but what was that for?”

“Just because. I don’t think I’ve ever told you how much I like kissing you.”

He smiled. “You’ve told me in other ways how much you like me kissin’ certain parts of you.” When she didn’t respond, he said, “Liberty?”

“Sorry. It’s selfish, but I don’t want to share you. I like the way it’s been between us during this break. It’s been . . . normal.”

“I liked it too, but that’s not my life. It’s not your life either.” He kissed her temple. “It’s remembering those private, normal moments with you that will get me through the next few weeks.”

“Fair enough.”

“Now, stop them gears from spinning and get a little shut-eye. Gonna be a long-ass day once we hit the ground in Portland, and we didn’t get a whole lot of sleep last night.”

“No way am I sleeping. I never get to fly first class. I’m loading up on free snacks when the flight attendant brings the snack tray by.”

The flight was uneventful except for the woman who’d wandered up from coach and recognized Devin. When Liberty returned from using the bathroom, she found the woman in her seat, practically sitting on Devin’s lap. Rather than toss the chick on her ass, Liberty sicced the flight attendant on her.

They made it through the airport without incident. But Devin was nearly mobbed at baggage claim—evidently the overly friendly chick had blabbed to her fellow passengers about Devin McClain being aboard.

Devin dutifully signed autographs while the chauffeur stowed their luggage. Then—she didn’t care if it was rude—she separated him from his fans and herded him to the Town Car.

When they were inside and leaving the airport, Liberty asked the driver, “How far to the event center?”

“Half an hour. I’m to drop you off at the buses, correct?”

“Correct.” She looked at Devin, but he was already on his phone. She checked her own messages. Made a few notes. Stared out the window when she realized Devin had started a phone interview with a local radio station and wouldn’t be finished until they reached their destination.

Crash opened the car door as soon as they pulled up. “Hey, guys. How was your break?”

“Good. Yours?”

“Fantastic. Took the wife on a five-day cruise.”

Crash was married? How had she missed that? How could he stand to be away from his wife for so long?

Unless that’s what the people in the industry were used to. Maybe it was no different from loved ones gearing up for deployment—except the people on tour weren’t worried about getting shot at.