Page 70 of Finding Home

I grab Aubrey’s ass as she comes, reveling in every sensation. The sweet taste of her. Her intoxicating scent and sounds. Until, finally, Aubrey’s body stops rippling and her loud groans subside.

Purring, she breathlessly slides off me and flops onto the mattress next to me, a satisfied pile of flesh and bones. “I’ve never come that hard in my life,” she gasps out between pants. “I thought I was going to pass out.” She turns her sweaty face toward me and beams a smile at me that quickens my heart rate. “Did I hurt you?”

I snicker. “If that was you hurting me, then call me a masochist, baby.”

“Seriously, though. Tell the truth. I feel like maybe I was too rough on your face.”

I laugh. “Baby, no, you didn’t hurt me at all. That was the hottest thing, ever, and I can’t wait to do it again.”

Relieved, she throws her forearm over her forehead and giggles. “You’re amazing at sex.”

Well, yeah, I’ve had a lot of practice,I think. Although, come to think of it, I’m not normally much of a giver, when it comes to sex with someone I don’t give two shits about. So, in that sense, I can’t honestly say I’ve had much practicedoing what I just did to Aubrey. I’ve done it before, obviously. But not for a very long time.

Aubrey snuggles close, interrupting my thoughts. “Before I came to you that first night, I didn’t expect you to be all that great at sex. You’ve really surprised me.”

“Excuse me? What about me made you think, even for a minute, I’d suck at sex? Also, why come to me at all, if you expected me to suck?”

She’s giggling uproariously. “I wanted to find out for myself. Honestly, I wanted you so badly by that point, I didn’t care if the report card on you turned out to be true or not.”

Shit. I don’t need to ask who supplied the “report card” to her.Claudia.Surely, Aubrey’s bestie had already told her every fucking detail about our brief encounter, so Aubrey assumed I’m always a wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am kind of guy. “Is Claudia always going to be lying here in bed with us?” I ask, feeling annoyed. “No matter what I do or say, am I never going to be able to shake my past sins, when it comes to you?”

Aubrey looks up at me, her features stricken. “No, I . . . I shouldn’t have said that. I’m sorry.”

I close my eyes. “It’s fine.”

“No, it’s not. You’re right. That was out of line.” She pauses, apparently waiting for me to say something. When I don’t, she traces a fingertip down my bare chest and whispers, “If it makes you feel any better, Claudia also said you’ve got a massive dick.”

“It helps a bit.”

Aubrey giggles. “She also said she had the time of her life with you, despite you not giving a crap if she got off, too. So, at least, it wasn’t all bad news.”

I rough a hand over my face, realizing I’ve got toconfront this latest ghost of my past, head-on, or I’m never going to stand a chance of leaving the past behind me, once and for all.

I tug gently on a lock of Aubrey’s hair. “Unfortunately, there are probably lots of women out there who’d give me the same report card as Claudia.” I sit up onto my elbow and look down at Aubrey’s moonlit face. “I’ve been pretty jaded about sex for a long time. Pretty jaded about women, in general. Once I got famous and rich, it felt like . . . I don’t know. It wasn’t possible to find someone who wanted me for me, so why bother? I’d already blown it with the only girl who’d ever loved me for me. The only girl I’d dated seriously before the band took off. Once I got famous, I knew I’d never have another chance at connecting with someone on a deeper level again, so I embraced that fact and accepted that I was now a trophy. A bucket list item. A story to tell friends. I know the world thinks it sounds fun to fuck a different woman in every city?—”

“Who thinks that? That sounds gross.”

“It is. That’s my point. Sex for me hasn’t been fun or fulfilling for a very long time, so I’m not surprised my partners, including Claudia, were less than impressed.”

Aubrey processes that for a moment. “Remember when you wouldn’t tell me what you did to the only woman you’ve ever loved? I did some internet sleuthing to try to piece it together, and I think I’ve figured out the story. Is she Violet Morgan, the wife of the lead singer of 22 Goats?”

Welp, here we go. I didn’t mean to lead the conversation here, but that’s exactly what I did. “The internet’s got the story mostly wrong,” I say. “There was never a love triangle between Dax, Violet, and me. Violet had already broken up with me, long before she met Dax. Dax never ‘stole’ Violetfrom me, and I never horned in on his relationship with her.”

“Did Dax really write that song ‘Judas’ about you—in response to your ‘Fuck you, Judas’ tweet? You posted it around the same time photos of Dax and Violet were first splashed all over the gossip blogs.”

“You’ve done your homework.”

Aubrey shrugs. “Seems like it was big news, at the time.”

I roll my eyes. “It was huge news, unfortunately. At least, in my corner of the world.” I gather my thoughts. I never envisioned myself telling Aubrey this story. Not in a million years. But suddenly, it seems necessary, if I want to have any hope of forging a relationship with her in the future. “I was never pissed at Dax for stealing Violet away from me, because he didn’t. It was more that I was pissed he stole theopportunityfor me to try to win Violet back, which was never going to happen, anyway. It was that Dax hid his relationship with Violet, while our bands were on tour together, after Dax and I had grown super close. I trusted him like a brother during that tour. Confided in him about a bunch of stuff, including Violet. So, when I found out what was going on behind my back, I felt betrayed.”

“Understandably.”

“Not really. Looking back, I acted like an immature little prick. A big baby.”

“No, you trusted Dax, and he didn’t tell you the truth about what he was doing.”

“How could he? His band was the opener. It was their big break. Their first tour. And Dax knew I was an unpredictable, immature hothead. Was he really supposed to risk me kicking his band off the tour? He’s got two bandmates who would have fucking killed him if he did that and blewtheir big break over a girl. He was stuck between a rock and a hard place. Looking back, I can’t blame him for choosing his bandmates, his career, and his new girlfriend over the feelings of his new, hotheaded, immature friend.”

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