Page 86 of Country Music Cowboy
His hand caught hers, holding it against his chest.
The roar of the crowd was deafening, a sea of flashes rippled across the auditorium, and with a shake of his head, Travis let go of her hand to play first few notes of the next song.
He sang each word like he meant them. Like he was singing for her alone. And when he reached the chorus, Loretta was spellbound by the hunger in his eyes.
***
Travis wasn’t sure he’d ever wanted a woman more than he wanted Loretta Gram.Right now.He stalked off the stage and headed toward her dressing room, a man damn near possessed. He knew he had two songs. Two. And he’d have to be back onstage. But between then and now, he needed Loretta. If he couldn’t touch her, he’d damn well look his fill.
He’d spent the whole damn day chasing down the worst of her life, looking for any threat or wound or person that Momma could dredge up and use against Loretta. If he needed to hold her close and know that she was okay, he had good reason.
He’d deal with his mother soon enough.
But now that he was standing outside of her dressing room, he wasn’t sure what to do. Loretta Gram was the first woman his heart had wholly committed to. He’d had no choice in it. It was done. Immovable. Permanent. And he was more than okay with it.
Would Loretta want a recovering alcoholic with a womanizing past and a family worthy of their own reality television show? She sure as hell deserved better.
When the door opened, he wasn’t sure who was more surprised—him or her.
“Travis?” She stepped back, her voice soft and husky.
“You…” He cleared his throat.I love you.
“Come in?” She stepped aside for him. But once he was inside and the door clicked shut, she grabbed his shirt front, her hand twisting the starched pale blue cowboy-cut button-up.
She was mad? Upset? He couldn’t tell—the roll of emotions kept going. He’d never meant to hurt her. She’d been hurt too much already. If it was up to him, he’d stop her from ever hurting again. Or, at the least, shouldering the hurt with her so it wasn’t her burden alone.Ifshe’d let him love her, that is. Because, damn, when it came to this woman? There was no end to the amount of love he had to give. “Loretta?”
She shook her head, her hold tightening so that two of the snaps on his shirt popped open. Her gaze zeroed in on the exposed patch of his stomach and a switch was flipped. The heat from her topaz eyes incinerating any protest his brain conjured.
Her fingers slid across his skin, his hand tangled in her hair, and there was no stopping either of them. The taste of her was like a match to gasoline. The touch of her tongue. The rake of her nails. Her gasp when he spun her around and pressed her back against the door.
There wasn’t enough time.
His lips trailed along her neck, sucking and clinging until she was all but panting.
When his mouth covered hers, he pulled her in close. If he couldn’t love her body, he’d love her mouth. Explore the heat and softness and taste that inflamed him until there was nothing but her.
Like now.
Fitted against him.
Soft and warm.
He tore his mouth from hers, groaning. “I have to go.”
“I know.” She wasn’t touching him now.
“I don’t want to go.” He needed her to know that.
“I know,” she whispered, her gaze locked with his. “I don’t want you to go.”
“Good.” He had to smile then. “Remember that later. When this is over and I come looking for you.” He pressed a kiss to her temple, cradled her head in his hand, and sighed again. “Dammit, woman, you make it hard for me to do the right thing.”
She turned into his hand and pressed a kiss against his palm. “You better go. I think you’d be missed by, oh, several thousand screaming fans.”
If he didn’t look at her, it’d be easier for him to leave. Not that there was anything easy about leaving. He took comfort in knowing they’d have more time later. After Phoenix, they had a lot more time. Three days. Granted, his father’s surgery had been scheduled so they could all be there, but there was a whole hell of a lot of them to share the load. He and Loretta would have the time to hash things out—without concerts or tour buses or the lack of privacy to interrupt them.
Knowing that buoyed him through the rest of the concert and gave him something to hold on to.
