Page 118 of Madden

Epilogue

Madden ~ Three Months Later

“Look at the color of the leaves.” Brielle stares in awe out the window.

A cool breeze whips her hair around. She holds her camera up, quickly snapping photos.

This right here is what life is all about for me.

We wrapped up our tour a couple of weeks ago after spending the past four months on the road. It’s been a whirlwind, to say the least. It’s hard to believe when we packed up the bus and left for our first show in New York, we weren’t together.

I don’t want to think about what it would’ve been like without her next to me. The thought alone has put a lot of things in life into perspective.

“I swear, it looks like something out of a magazine.” She sags against the seat, flipping through the photos she’s taken, each one making her smile bigger.

While out on the road, we spent a lot of our downtime going out and exploring. I guess you could say the days of me hitting up bars and clubs after a show to drink and pick up women are long behind me.

When we weren’t visiting the local tourist stops, we were talking about what our life would be like after the tour ended.

The guys and I all agreed after this tour was over, we’d take a break and enjoy some downtime. Something we haven’t done in a few years, not since before we first signed with our label.

I’ve been planning this trip with Brielle since before we got back home.

I think she thought I was crazy when I suggested we go out on the road again, only this time just the two of us. It was risky traveling alone, but we knew it was something we wanted to do.

Over the past week, we’ve driven through Tennessee up to Nebraska, through South Dakota to where we are now in the backroads of Montana.

“Have I told you how sexy you look in that flannel jacket?” She presses the button on her camera, stuffing it back into the bag.

She reaches over the center console to wrap her hand around my forearm and leans in to trace her lips along the side of my neck.

I hiss, tilting my head to the side to give her better access.

We’ve been on the road for most of the day, and at this rate, I’ll need a pit stop if she keeps this shit up. We’re not too far from our destination, though, so I try to chill and stay the course.

It’s taken a lot of planning for this night to come together, and I don’t need her distractions ruining it now.

“What do you say we pull over in the middle of these woods and you fuck me in the back seat?”

I clench my jaw, flicking my eyes over to her. They lock on her lips when she slips her tongue out to wet them.

She knows all the ways to tease me, and dammit if she’s not driving me fuckin’ crazy right now.

“We’re almost there,” I mutter, my voice breaking.

Shaking my head, I turn my eyes back to the road and squeeze the steering wheel so tight, my knuckles turn white.

It takes everything in me not to take her up on it, but she won’t let me go so easily. Not when she knows what she’s doing to me.

“How much longer is ‘almost there’ exactly?” She drags her hand over my chest, unzipping the jacket to rake her nails down to where my hard dick threatens to bust through these jeans.

We pass a sign signaling Whitefish is only a few miles away. Judging by the GPS, we’re about twenty minutes out.

Twenty minutes is a long time when Brielle is dead set on tempting me in every way she can to get what she wants.

I grip her wrist, knowing if she keeps rubbing her fingers over my pants, those twenty minutes will seem like two hours.

I trace my lips along the back of her hand, and she exhales a sigh, and mutters, “Fine,” under her breath, leaning her head on my arm.

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