I wasn’t chilled and I did worry.

It was hard to not interrogate him when he returned, but I kept all my questions inside. Not just because I didn’t want to be a nosy, demanding, clingy girlfriend, but because I didn’t want him to think he couldn’t leave the house alone without me thinking he was going on a drug run.

My trust and faith in him is vital—not just for his recovery, but for our relationship and our future together.

And for me. I can’t have an anxiety attack every time he leaves the house alone.

“Maybe I can convince you to stay….”

He rolls me onto my back , climbs on top of me, and kisses my mouth, deep and lazy. The kind of kiss that’s made for mornings that don’t have to end.

“What if I promise you amazing sex every day?” He moves his lips to my chin, then down to the hollow of my throat, pausing to suck my flesh between his lips. “Would that make you stay?”

I wrap my hands in his hair and arch my neck back. “That’s very tempting.”

He licks a trail down between my breasts, his hair tickling me as he descends. “And pancakes every day, too.”

“Mmm…pancakes.”

He looks up with a wicked grin on his face, his chin resting on my chest. “I think maybe pancakes turn you on more than I do.”

Laughing, I pull his face up to mine, my hands still tangled in his thick hair, and plant a kiss on his lips.

“Your pancakes are amazing, but they don’t come close to what you do to me.”

“Show me.”

It drives me wild how when we’re intimate his voice changes to a tone used just for me. It’s not the same voice he uses on stage—the voice millions have heard and love. This deep, husky, sensual version of his voice is mine only.

I reach down between us and slip his hard cock into my hand, palming the slippery tip. Groaning, he slides one hand under my body, cupping my ass and pulling my body up to his. My thighs are spread wide around him, and I guide him between my slick lips.

“Fuck me, baby. Take all of it.”

I move my hands down to his hips and ride his cock from below, thrusting up to take him deep, then sliding myself down to the tip. He’s completely still, eyes closed, his tongue at the edge of his parted lips, his hair hanging down over my breasts. He’s breathtaking, so lost in us. The sight of him drives me wild, makes me even wetter with desire for him.

Sitting back on his heels, he pulls me up to straddle his lap and holds me up in his arms, rocking me back and forth on him. I hang onto his shoulders and kiss him hungrily. I love our size and strength difference; the way he can lift and move me with his arms like I’m a doll turns me on like mad.

He thrusts deep inside me and catches my whimper with his lips. Slowing, he gently grinds my body into his. My clit rubs against him in just the right place, my body clenches around him, and we explode together, our bodies slippery with sweat, our mouths never parting.

“That was definitely better than pancakes,” I say breathlessly.

After a long shower together, we have breakfast on the back patio while hummingbirds flit around his flower garden. He excuses himself to take a call from his manager, and I go up to the guest room to pack my things. I’m leaving with more than I came with, because Blue took me out to dinner twice to fancy restaurants and insisted on taking me shopping beforehand for sexy dresses. One black, and one red—just like the one I wore that night years ago. He’s also sending me home with some of his band apparel—a hoodie, a T-shirt, black thong panties, and my very favorite item—a T-shirt he wore yesterday that still smells like him. Weird? Yes. But comforting to have with me at home when I’m aching for him.

I’ve missed Lyric like crazy this week and I can’t wait to see her, but I’m dreading leaving Blue. I feel like my heart is being torn in two, not being able to be with both of them. His schedule is going to be packed for the next few months, so we’re going to have to rely on phone calls, emails, and the occasional weekend together until he settles down.

Rock star dating life, Reece said yesterday. The true test of patience and trust.

I’m the Queen of Patience. Perhaps the Jester of Trust. But I’m trying.

“You packed?” Blue’s in the doorway, eyeing my suitcase on the bed.

“Yeah.”

“But your flight isn’t until tonight.”

“I know, I just wanted to get it done.”

He takes a deep breath. Clicks his piercing.

“I wanted more time.”