Page 64 of Fractured Rhythm

“But he’s not.”

“No. And,” he started.

I put my hand on his chest. “I know, Bash. I’m sorry for always going back to this. He would want the band to keep playing, and you guys are going to be amazing. I can’t wait to see you in concert again. It’s just weird, you know?”

“Believe me. It’s so weird it robs my breath sometimes,” he said. “Come on tour with us.”

“How long? I can’t take time out of work last minute. I’m assuming it’ll be soon since Josh never was good at being patient and waiting for the right moment.”

Bash snorted. “You know Josh,” he said, shaking his head. “I don’t have dates, but it’ll be short. Two weeks. Maybe six to ten shows in New York and Connecticut. Keeping it local for now until we finish the album and release it.

“I know your job is important to you. I’m so proud of what you’ve accomplished already. Culinary producer at Scrumptious. Not many of us get to do something we love and get paid for it.”

“It’s a sweet job. Get me the dates, and I’ll see if I can swing any of the ones upstate. I would love to see your mom.” I missed his mom all the time. Seeing her would be bittersweet, but I think I needed that. Especially now.

“Great. I’ll pester Josh about it tomorrow. The guys will be stoked that you’re coming for at least part of it. We’ll tell them tonight,” he said.

“Whoa. I need the dates first before I can commit to anything,” I said.

“We’ll work around your schedule, Cas. I want you there,” he said, rocking me against his body and humming the song he was working on this morning.

It was sexy as hell when he did that.

And then my stomach rumbled again.

BASH

“That was amazing,Cas,” I said an hour later, after I took my last bite. “I would’ve helped more, you know.”

“Then we would’ve ended up in the ER,” she said with a smirk as she motioned toward my bandaged hand.

“That’s harsh, Cas. It’s a small cut. Fucking bled like hell, but it’s small,” I said, pressing on the Band-Aid on the side of my palm. Maybe I’d been too focused on her, and after dicing some rather fine rosemary, if I did say so myself, I might’ve tried to scoop it up with the knife and nicked myself. I’m sure it happened to everyone at some point.

“I don’t know. You did bitch and moan about it for a while,” she said.

I wanted to kiss that smirk right off of her face. I set my fork down and pushed back from the table, loving how wide her eyes had grown.

“Bash,” she warned.

“You want to talk about moaning?” I asked, tugging her up from her chair. My hand snaked around her waist and I pressed her flush against my body. She’d been taunting me all night with her exaggerated moans with each bite of food. She made a humming noise when she liked the taste of something—always had—and it was sexy as hell.

“Bash, we can’t start something. We have to meet the guys.”

But her last words were breathy as I leaned in.

“They can wait,” I said before I gripped my hands under her ass and lifted her up. She wrapped her legs around me without thought, her hands instantly diving into my hair. Our lips crashed together, and I swallowed her gasp. Her thighs tightened around my hips, her hot center branding me through my jeans, and I wanted to clear the table of our delicious meal and feast on her.

Our tongues tangled, our mouths shifting for a better angle as we equally devoured each other. Her nails scraped against my scalp, sending bolts of pleasure down to my toes. Fucking hell. I needed her now.

Then her door buzzer rang.

“Ignore it,” I said, in between kisses.

It buzzed again, in a long-drawn-out—rhythm. Wait.

“Who the hell is that?” she panted, breaking the kiss.

I pressed my forehead to hers. “I hope I’m wrong, but I have a pretty good idea. It didn’t sound familiar?”

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