Page 161 of Forbidden Lyrics

“Mm-hmm,” he hums, his gaze dropping to my mouth.

“And how’s that?”

“Josh is still waiting for our answer, remember? He specifically requested we join him for their European tour, and now that I know I’m not a dad…” His fingers graze my cheek. “I think it’d be good for us to get away for a while. It might be good for Milo and Em to have their space so they can sort their shit out. You in?”

“With you? I’m up for anything.”

A low chuckle vibrates through his chest. “Well, when you put it that way…”

Then he kisses me, sealing our promise and our future with a kiss that beats our first, and our second, and every one after that. But it won’t beat our next one. Because with Gibson by my side, life just gets better and better.

Epilogue

Dove

After shooting the entire shot of vodka, my nose wrinkles. I set the shot glass against the hood of the tour bus Hawthorne rented for us when we accepted the offer to tour Europe with Organized Chaos.

“It burns,” I choke out.

“It’s alcohol. It’s supposed to burn,” Gibson returns, a crooked grin plastered on his handsome face.

“And people like this?”

The cool night air tickles my bare thighs as we stand in the open field surrounding us. We’ve been on tour for three months, and while it’s been amazing and unforgettable, it’s been exhausting, too. I’ve been looking forward to a quiet night like tonight for weeks.

With a dry laugh, he pours me another shot of clear liquid. “You said you wanted to get shitfaced––”

“Only because you said it’s a rite of passage.”

“And it is.”

“But I don’t wanna puke––”

“Two shots won’t make you puke, Dovey. They’ll make you loose––”

I snort and roll my eyes. “‘Cause that’s what I need in my life. To get more loose around you.”

Another dry laugh escapes him. He nudges my drink closer to me. “Hey, it’s not my fault you can’t keep your hands off me. Now chop-chop, Dovey. Drink up.”

“Oh, so we’re in a hurry again? I thought this was our night off.” But I pick up the drink anyway and take a sip. My expression sours before I shoot the rest of its contents like a champ.

“Guess it’s just a force of habit now,” he notes as he brings the entire bottle to his mouth and swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. Leaning forward, I suck on the tan flesh, loving the low growl that it pulls from him.

The bottle dangles from his left hand as his right tangles in my hair. The slight tug against my scalp spurs me on before he pulls me away from him and connects our mouths in a toe-curling, panty-melting kiss.

“Mmm,” I hum, savoring the moment.

“I’ll never get over how good you taste,” he murmurs against my lips.

With a lazy smile, I grab the half-full bottle of vodka from his fingers and take another swig, not bothering to use the shot glass he’d rummaged for before Stoker and Phoenix left with Josh.

Which leaves us alone. Blissfully alone. For the first time in weeks.

“What are you thinking about?” he asks.

“Oh…the chaos of the tour and its lack of privacy.”

He grunts and plants a quick peck against my lips, grabbing my hips and lifting me onto the hood of the RV before joining me. The old vehicle creaks in protest before succumbing to our weight like a patient old mare who’s used to rolling with the punches. Once situated, Gibson grabs the bottle and drinks a bit more as I take in the gorgeous, quiet ambiance surrounding us.

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