Page 13 of The Roadie
She stared into his expressive brown eyes, and her heart hurt. He looked so sad. His hard and confident gaze turned soft and pleading, and she couldn’t hurt him with the truth. She cupped his face in her hands, purposely running the tips of her fingers through the grain of his beard. She rubbed her cheek against it so she wouldn’t forget what it felt like. It was a soft, bristly feeling that she would reminisce about for a long time to come.
“Call me when you get to New York,” he whispered in her ear.
She nodded. “I will.”
With his hands pressed against the small of her back, he brushed his lips against hers in a soft kiss filled with passion. His probing tongue pushed deeper and bathed her mouth with a last kiss. She savored it, memorized every swirl of his tongue, the way his arms felt around her, and the way his chest pressed against hers. She moaned at the way his facial hair tickled her cheek as he rotated his mouth in a slow circle.
She swore she wouldn’t cry, but she had no control over the tears that swelled on her lower lids. It was crazy that he had this effect on her after only two days. “I’m gonna miss you.”
“This isn’t goodbye.” His voice was shaky with emotion and barely audible as he repeated, “This isn’t goodbye.”
It was, but she didn’t want to say it out loud. “Thank you,” she whispered. “For reminding me life was passing me by.”
He kissed the tips of her fingers on each hand, hurriedly, as if he wanted to taste every bit of her before she left.
“Is the tour coming to the East Coast at all?” she asked, against her better judgment.
“No. We’re headed back west.”
“Oh.” She dropped her gaze, and he lifted her chin with his knuckle.
“This isn’t goodbye.”
She nodded, although she knew it wasn’t true. With one last soft meeting of their lips, and a hug that conveyed everything in her heart, she left this wonderful man standing on the curb in front of O’Hare Airport, and she knew she’d never see him again.
