Her Anchor (9 page)

“You think?”

“Yeah. I’m pretty sure, then New Orleans tomorrow.”

She glanced from him to the bus.

“What do you in Houston and New Orleans?”

“I’m a musician.”

“And your band is called Thorn Crest?”

“Ever heard of it?”

“Nope.” That wasn’t terribly surprising, though. If it wasn’t country it wasn’t played in Shane’s house. “Are you any good?”

He smiled at her. “We have some fans, yeah.”

Realization dawned on her.

“So when you said we wouldn’t be alone, does that mean there’s going to be half a dozen rowdy guys on the bus too?”

A smile tugged at his lips again. “Nope. Just us and the driver. One of those luxuries that come with being the front man, I guess.”

“So everyone else?”

“Is on another bus, probably half way to Houston by now.”

We came upon the open door and entered onto the darkened bus. It wasn’t glamorous like she figured a tour bus would be, but it didn’t smell like booze and vomit either, so she wasn’t complaining. The front section held a bunch of amps and cases. Beyond that were the living quarters with a table and kitchen area in the middle of the bus and in the back a space for a queen sized bed. It was clear that Dylan spent many hours in this space, a temporary home. The clutter of a person trying to pack a life into an 8 x 12 foot space.

Dylan set her bag down on the floor near the bed and threw himself into the booth on one side of the table. With not much other choice, she sat down across from him at the table and prepared for a long awkward ride to San Antonio.

The bus rumbled to a start and the doors closed them in. Pulling out onto the highway, the bus pointed them deeper into Texas. As the bus got up to speed and the wheels below them started their steady rhythm, Emily began to fidget in the expanding silence until she couldn’t stand it anymore.

“So you’re the singer?”

“Yep.”

“You must love the freedom of it.”

“Freedom’s not something I lack. I do this because it’s all I know. All I’m good at.”

“You don’t seem too happy about it. You’re allowed to go wherever you want, whenever you choose.”

“And you aren’t?”

She didn’t answer. How could she explain to him that this was the first thing she’d ever done that was of her own choosing, without anyone’s hand guiding her. Forcing her. There were some things people would never understand.

“When I think of a rock star you’re not really what I had in mind.”

He looked back up at her, eyebrow cocked. “I’m not too sure I want to know, but tell me what you had in mind.”

“Well, don’t get me wrong, you absolutely look like a rock star. What with the broody sexiness thing you got going on.” She said, her finger making a circle in the air around him. “But I always thought life would be a big party. No worries, living the dream and all that.”

“Well I guess you caught me at a weird time, then. A couple years ago that would have been the case.”

Getting him to talk was like pulling nails, but she was too curious to find out more about him. And the fact that no one was there reigning her in was a bonus too.

“But not now?”

“Not now.”

“I’m sorry. I talk too much. My dad and my boyfriend are always telling me that.”

“Ex-boyfriend. And why should you care if I think you talk too much. You don’t, by the way, but if I did that’s my problem. Don’t censor yourself around me.” She was stunned into silence. No one ever stood up for her. Hell, with the exception of today, she never really even stood up for herself.

“You really don’t think I talk too much?”

“Don’t get me wrong, you talk a lot. But I don’t mind it.” Dylan settled back into the seat, his features relaxing and his long legs sticking out into the aisle.

“And you don’t think I ask too many questions?” She knew she was pushing her luck, but since he brought it up she needed to know.

“I’m pretty used to getting asked tons of questions. The difference is that most people don’t take time to ask me the normal kinds of questions you are. They do a google search on me and figure they have all the basics figured out so they can skip all that and jump straight into all the weird questions, like what do I wear to bed, or what’s my favourite sexual position.”

“What makes you think I don’t want to know that too?”

“Oh, I’m sure you do, but I appreciate the fact that you want to know the other stuff too. I’m not used to people asking this kind of stuff, I think I’ve lost my ability to have a real conversation with someone.”

“This isn’t an interview. You don’t have to answer me. I’m just curious.”

“No, I want to. Maybe we’re more alike that you realize. I might be living a dream here, but I’m not as free as you think. Some days it’s just as confining as a regular 9 to 5 job.” She very much doubted that, but she like watching him relax a little, liked letting him talk unprompted. “I get so sick of monitoring what I do and say. When we started out we didn’t give a shit about what our managers tried to get us to do or what kind of reaction we got from people. We were in it for the ride and it was great. But now we’ve been in it for so long and it’s more about the numbers and followers and not offending anyone. This is my livelihood and the only difference between being a singer and being homeless is what comes out of my mouth. One wrong move and we’re finished. I can’t even talk to you without trying to monitor what I’m saying so that it doesn’t come back to haunt me.”

“But you’re talking to me now.”

“Yeah.” He half smiled. “I’m finding it hard not to. Like in the diner. I couldn’t help but watch you, clearly oblivious to anything going on around you. I tried to mind my own business, but after a while I realized that even when I was trying not to I found myself watching you. So much so that I finally had to talk to you, just to see what it felt like to have all of your attention turned on me.”

Emily felt the full force of his attention now and she found it hard to keep steady under it. To not look away

“If you’re not happy why don’t you make a change?”

“It’s not that simple. The band is in the middle of a recording contract that would be more hassle to break than its worth. But once that contract is up that’s exactly what I’m going to do. The other guys will be pissed, but it’s time I look out for myself. And anyways, we’ve peaked. Things are on the downhill and it’s only a matter of time before our label drops us. I know the guys don’t think so, but I can see the signs. It’s time to start moving on.” He turned his eyes from her and looked out the window. “Besides, you can’t have anything permanent when you’re never in one place for very long. Not too long ago that didn’t seem to matter, but it does now.”

“But sometimes you find yourself without anything permanent because you’ve been in one place for
too
long.” She said, the weight of the day settling onto her shoulders.

Night had settled outside the windows while they had been talking and the glow from a light above the kitchenette was throwing shadows across their side of the bus. Back home the fallout of what she had done would be in the open, the damage done. Ahead of her Marin and the prospect of starting all over again was waiting.

Sitting here in the semi darkness, in the purgatory of her decision, right and wrong seemed to get muddled up. She pressed the heels of her hand against her eyes, holding back the regrets of her wasted years. The exhaustion of it all was heavy.

She felt the seat beside her dip, Dylan’s weight settling next to her. She turned to look up at his shadowed face, the dip of his worried expression.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to cry.” She said with a smile. “I think it just hit me how royally I screwed up my life.”

“But you’re not in that life anymore. You’re starting a new one where you’re a little wiser, a little tougher.”

“Starting over is hard.” She whispered, closing her eyes against the truth.

She felt Dylan’s hands on her shoulders, fingers gently rubbing away the weight she carried there. She forced her body to relax, to give in to his hands. She let his fingers travel up the column of her neck to knead into her scalp. She could feel his breath against her cheek and she opened her eyes to see him watching her.

She recognized the interest she saw there and maybe if she’d been someone else he would have moved in, kissed her. But he wasn’t doing that. He wasn’t pushing her to do anything, just waiting for her to choose.

She warmed under his touch and his hungry eyes. It was an easy decision to make. Emily leaned in, her lips brushing against his. With her hands on his arms she pushed herself closer and flicked her tongue against his bottom lip, seeking entrance.

Dylan’s fingers laced into her hair, his mouth on hers. In that instant a need started burning, echoed in his actions. She couldn’t get close enough, his arms moving down to her waist, molding her against him. The taste of him, hot and needy, had the thoughts in her head evaporating leaving only what she was feeling for him. In this moment he was the only one who understood what she needed.

Her hands tunneled through his hair and she brushed away the niggling thoughts that evoked. The ones that told her this was too new. She was never to take these kinds of liberties during sex with Shane. But she didn’t want to think of him right now. She wanted to surrender herself to the feeling of Dylan’s callous-fingered hands inching their way along the bare skin under her shirt. The feeling of him pulling her out of the booth without so much as an inch of space between their bodies. The feeling of the cool air kissing her skin as her shirt hit the floor.

Her hands balled into the front of his shirt and, just because she could, pulled it over his head. His hands were at the clasp of her bra and in seconds it joining her shirt, his mouth on hers again.

Dylan’s lips moved down the column of her neck and across her shoulder, his lips making a perfect trail along her skin. His hands palmed her breasts, her nipples beading against his warm touch. His lips and hands continued their worship of her body. And that’s how she felt. Worshiped, sexy, worthy. He touched every part of her like he wanted to know it. When he ducked down onto his knees, hands at the button of her jeans and lips on her stomach, Emily’s heartrate tripped. She could only stand there, hands buried in his hair, while he licked and kissed. She was so far beyond her comfort zone, but the way he was making her feel was amazing. There was no way she was letting herself feel awkward enough to care that never before had anyone made her feel adored. She was too turned on to make him stop.

After her pants were long gone, Dylan put his hands on her hips, moving her back the few steps to the edge of the bed. She sat and moved back to the middle, watching him discard the rest of his clothes, watching him stalk after her. His eyes were unwavering on hers, possessed and lust filled. He climbed until he was settled completely over her, the thick ridge of his erection pressing against her thigh.

His perfect body rocked against hers, teasing her. She allowed her hands to trace up his arms, over the colored ink and thick muscles. She allowed herself a freedom with him that she was never allowed with anyone else. In her touch and in her words she felt liberated. Maybe it was the moment or maybe it was the man, but whatever it was she was going to take full advantage.

Emily raised her leg, pressing her foot against his lower back and pressing him closer. He smiled down at her.

“Greedy little thing, aren’t you?”

The words came out thick, playful. They weren’t meant to embarrass, and it took Emily a second to interpret that. But when his hand slipped under her, raising her hips to meet his, she fully understood their intention.

His other hand reached between them and positioned his cock at her entrance. The tip entered her and pulled back over again until he was coated with her wet heat. Just when she thought she couldn’t take any more, her nails pressing into his shoulder, Dylan pushed into her fully.

She ground out a groan when his hips were flush against her thighs. Her hands pressed against his waist, holding him there until her body had a chance to get used to him. He didn’t demand, didn’t take. He gave, though. It was a welcome change. Emily stretched up and kissed his throat, then rolled her hips against him.

He pulled back and started to move. It was fluid and steady, his exhales and quiet grunts filled her ears, her senses. It made her feel possessed, urgent. She liked how sure he was of his movements. She liked how his eyes had strayed down to her chest to follow the movement of her breasts with every thrust of his hips.

Dylan bent, his lips covering hers while his hands covered her breast. He squeezed gently while his mouth sucked at her neck, before he slid his hand along her ribs, her hip, her ass, pulling her leg up over him. She opened herself up to him, her hips rising to meet his as their pace became frantic.

“Tell me what you want. What do you like?”

She didn’t know what she liked, only that she liked this. “Faster?” She whispered.

He braced his arm beside her head and his hips moved with more purpose. His other hand gripped behind her knee tightly. Emily could feel that elusive sensation dancing around the edges of her senses. Her body was coiling tightly underneath him and it gathered power with each of his strokes. He let go of her leg and braced himself with both arms, hands balled into the sheets.