Page 88 of Reckless

“Play that song you’ve been writing the last few days,” she says.

Whenever she’s been writing, I’ve been working on the song, sometimes outside, up here or occasionally while she’s in the room. I take the guitar out, running my hand over the smooth wood. I focus on the instrument, on the smell and feel of the strings as I rest it on my thighs. Krista closes her eyes and doesn’t say a word while I play.

The lyrics are coming together in my head, but I haven’t finished them, so I just strum the melody.

I watch Krista the whole time. How did she know this would be the best way to calm me down? I was intending on getting on the phone and finding out what the fuck is going on, how long Luther has been following me around. Everything slips away as I play and watch her.

Her eyes remain closed. She looks peaceful, breathing softly. My fingers move with no thought, and I segue into 'Every Time You Leave' by I Prevail, then other songs. Ones I loved to play when I was a kid, mixed in with some of my own, until my breathing is back to normal and my head is clear.

Well, clear enough to know that Krista Benke is doing something to me. To my way of thinking, to the way I deal with my emotions. I feel raw and exposed, but she’s burrowed her way in without me realizing.

That’s not true, I’ve realized. I’ve felt it. My hardened heart has slowly been opening to her. I’m safe with her and I’ve never had that with a woman before. She doesn’t judge me, she doesn’t care about my status, she’ll do anything to help me.

Will it last? After this, will she change her mind? Want me gone?

Fuck knows if any of those pictures slipped by Luther and Riggs. How different will she treat me if the world finds out where I am and who I’m with?

That thought terrifies me. My chest feels tight again at the thought of her not being in my life.

My eyes squeeze shut, and I focus on the music again. Even without looking at her, I’m fully aware of her at my side. I’m stunned to realize it’s like I’ve known Krista for a lot longer than we’ve been around one another.

“What’s it called?” she asks into the silence. "The song you first played."

I’ve stopped playing as my mind turns over the thoughts and feelings I’m experiencing for her.

“To be confirmed,” I reply.

She peeks one eye open and looks at me. “It’s lovely.”

Only she could call the beginnings of a rock song lovely. Staring at her sends a heady rush through me. My cock stirs as the hunger grips me. It would be wrong to move over her and fuck her on the top of the RV in broad daylight, but it takes a hell of a lot of restraint not to move.

Krista says nothing as she watches me. Can she possibly feel the same way I do? Looking into her eyes, I can tell she does. We move at the same time, and I set the guitar aside as she climbs into my lap.

The kiss doesn’t help the situation in my pants any and especially with the heat between her thighs pressed up against me, but we only kiss. All her calm flows into me as her fingers tease the hair at the nape of my neck.

She arches into my hands roaming between us, gripping her breasts, and squeezing them. Maybe I am going to fuck her on the roof. Her little moans encourage me, and I push my hips up, grinding against her.

It’s fast becoming obvious Krista doesn’t seem to mind about getting dirty with me in public.

The sound of a car pulling up right beside the RV breaks me out of the trance. Krista licks her damp lips. They’re full and flushed red. She looks so God damned beautiful.

But the inevitable is here. Part of my old life has just crashed into the peace of my new one.

Chapter 22

The thought of them coming into the RV makes me baulk, even if Krista welcomes them. Instead, I make them walk away from that space. It’s mine and hers. I don’t want them in there.

We head to a picnic table where there is no one around. Luther doesn’t like it. I can read him like a book, but he doesn’t say anything. They hesitate to sit, but they look like idiots standing over me. So, I tell them to fucking sit their asses down.

Luther is slow to follow the order, but Riggs sits on the end of the bench, not putting his legs under the table. Eventually, the older bodyguard sits at the other end, also keeping his legs out. Easier to get up and deal with any threats, I guess.

“The place is full of old couples in RVs. I think we’re safe,” I tell them.

The RV is still in my line of sight. I can’t see Krista. I imagine she’s in there writing or cooking. She won’t be spying through the window. That isn’t who she is. Even if her curiosity is getting the better of her.

I love that about her.

Fuck.

---