Page 74 of Drive
“Okay,” I said, kissing his chest, eager to get as close as I could. I offered him my lips, which he took and devoured, igniting the flame. We got lost, and I got naked. I clawed and tasted before I met his hungry eyes and kneeled at his throne in worship. He hissed through his teeth as I took him in my mouth. I gripped, sucked, licked, and stroked, starved as he cupped my chin, his eyes on fire, and began to thrust his hips. His mouth parted. I moaned and felt him thicken with each pull. Massaging his sack, I bobbed and gagged, taking him fully, and felt his whole body shudder. “Fuck, goddamn,” he said, guiding my head as I felt the heat grow in my belly and spread between my thighs. I’d never been so turned on in my life. The sound of our mixed sounds had me dripping in anticipation. I drank and drank until he clutched the back of my head and his orgasm rolled down my throat. Still kneeling, I looked up at him with my hands on my thighs. He gripped the top of my arms and pulled me to stand before he lifted me to straddle him, a wicked gleam in his eyes. “Grenade.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
“Santeria”
Sublime
The next morning, I made Reid eggs with chorizo and fried potatoes. Because of the heat, we both decided to stay in and do nothing until our shift. Reid was at his counter eating a second helping while I dug through his lyrics.
“Oh, I love this one. God, Band Nerd, you really are a poet.”
“Which one?” Reid said, shifting on the counter to glance at the notebook.
I thrust the notebook at him. “‘Trust’, I love it. It’s really good.”
“I have to rename that,” he said. “And I don’t like the guitar riff I wrote with it. It’s too mainstream. I have to have Rye work that out.”
I gave him my best snooty French accent. “And zee guitar riff is too mainstream.” I picked at a non-existent piece of lint on my T-shirt and flicked it before I deadpanned, “Could you be any more pretentious? And, hey, Ace, when are you going to learn to take a compliment?” I faced him head-on as he smiled before he took a mammoth bite of his eggs, his hair covering his dimple. I hated when that happened. But I loved it when he smiled.
“Well?” I said.
“God, you love to argue,” he chided as he threw our dishes in the soapy water I had waiting.
In a few days, I’d be in my own place, and I savored every moment we played house. I was under no illusions our living situation was permanent. We’d been forced together, but I had to admit, we were thriving under those conditions.
Take that, Paige.
“Change of plans, we have to hit the music store. I need a new set of sticks.”
“Oh,” I said as I moved to my duffle bag. I threw on my Vans and a John Lennon “Imagine” T-shirt.
“Let’s roll.”
Reid eyed me through the head hole of his fresh T-shirt.
“You spend the least amount of time getting ready than any woman I’ve ever met.”
“I dress up when the occasion calls for it. It’s August in Texas. I can either go fresh-faced or end up looking like I just left a funeral.” I pulled out my peppermint lip gloss, coated my lips, and smacked them at him. “Happy?”
“You’re so rough around the edges. You should have been a man,” he said while he stared at my glistening lips. “But fuck if I’m not glad you aren’t.”
We walked through the store like a couple. It was our first official outing together, though no words had been spoken. It was a given, especially since we couldn’t keep our hands off each other. It wasn’t so much hand-holding as it was body language. He would lean into me as we walked down the aisles. We’d share an intimate smile. He’d grab my wrist to get me to stop while he browsed. He didn’t want me far away, and I didn’t want to be. When we made it to the display aisle, Reid paused in front of a set ofDWdrums.
“Drummer’s Workshop,” I said, “these are kind of like the Cadillac of drums, right?”
“Fucking Ferrari,” he said, eyeing them with appreciation. I glanced at a white plastic table in front of them. There was a fishbowl full of narrow strips of paper.
“They’re giving them away,” I pointed out and gripped the pen. “Let’s enter.”
“They’re gathering email addresses,” he said. True to form, he looked at me with a raised brow.
“Fine, if I win them, I’ll give them to some other drummer.”
“The hell you will.” Reid gripped the pen and filled out the form, tossing his own entry in.
We walked out twenty minutes later with a fresh pair of sticks, and I caught Reid’s smile as he looked over at me once we were seated in the truck. I was rummaging through my tiny backpack when I felt his hand on mine. “Hey, Stella?”
“Yeah?”
