Page 147 of Unspoken Words
“Fate, Connor,” I explained, kissing him softly. “Fate would have me in your arms, regardless.”
He swallowed, heavily, and nodded once then peeled my shirt from my shoulders, the wet cloth falling to the floor with a thud. Trailing his finger down my arm and back up again, his eyes followed the movement, his touch gentle and controlled but incredibly intimate. Heat danced along my spine and across my breasts, igniting a need so strong I thought my body had been set on fire.
I grabbed the hem of his t-shirt and lifted it over his head before running my hands across his delicious chest, shoulders, and down his arms, my finger stopping when it skimmed his ampersand tattoo.
I paused and caught my breath, tracing the pattern before looking up at his hazy eyes.
“Are you here for good?” he asked, bringing my wrist to his lips. He kissed my heart and closed his eyes.
“I’m here forever, Connor Bourke.”
*
In the month that followed,“Ever After” debuted on the ARIA chart at number forty then steadily climbed, peaking at nineteen. It was crazy. The second single “Whispering to You” did even better in the month that followed and sparked an invitation for Saxon to be the opening act for Alanis Morissette during her national tour.
“Isn’t it Ironic … that we’re here today,” I said, as the town car Connor, Jackson, and I were sitting in pulled into the back entrance of Melbourne Arena.
Jackson smirked, but Connor kept his attention fixed to the window, his knee continuously bouncing.
“Seriously, You Outta Know that I’m Head Over Feet excited right now.”
I received a not-bad tilt of the head from Jackson, but still nothing from Connor.
“Fine. I’ll just put one Hand in my Pocket and pretend I was Uninvited then.”
Connor flicked his eyes to mine, a small smile curling his lips. “Will you stop with the Alanis puns already?”
“Come on, loosen up.” I held his leg still and flexed my fingers, massaging his stiff thigh muscle. “You’ll be amazing. Youareamazing.”
Truth be told, I was probably more nervous than him, I just didn’t want him to see it. I’d drunk a bucket of water, pee’d a dozen times, and had even been sick after rushing around to get ready—my fault for not eating breakfast or lunch.
Connor turned my arm over and began tracing my tattoo, something that always soothed him.
“Tell me what you’re thinking,” I asked.
“I’m thinking about opening this car door and jumping out.”
“Why?”
“Because this is as raw as it gets. Being up on stage, in lights, performing stories that were forged from the soul—in front ofallof those people—is really fucking confronting.”
“Good.”
“What she said.” Jackson leaned forward and handed the driver our credentials when he pulled up to a security checkpoint and wound down the window.
“What? Why is that good?” Connor gave the security guard a quick nod, and I waved.
“Because you’re supposed to be nervous. Nerves are good. It means your releasing adrenaline.”
He focussed on what was happening outside the car and murmured under his breath, “I’d rather release adrenaline in a different way.”
Heat bloomed in my cheeks. He was a rock star now. So maybe I should treat him like one when we get to his dressing room. My heart thudded like mad, and I clutched my chest, a wave of dizziness hitting me.
“Are you okay?”
I waved off Connor’s concern. “Yeah, I just had an idea.”
“Must’ve been some idea,” Jackson added.
