Page 106 of Taming the Rockstar

I breathe through my nose and focus on responding to my text messages. One of the booking agents for tonight texted me asking when we’d be there.

Vince strokes my hair. “You just have to make it to next week, then it’ll get better! We’ll be in second-trimester territory!”

His relentless optimism about fatherhood is both endearing and incredibly annoying, seeing as he’s not the one with his head in the toilet for seventy percent of the day.

“I never thought you’d know what a trimester is,” Apollo says.

“Well, you learn when you need to! I seem to recall you made all of us read a bunch of books when Char was pregnant.”

“Those diagrams haunt me to this day,” Henry says, “I salute you, Lyndsey.”

I groan and fight another wave of nausea, “Thanks, Henry.”

My stomach calms when we finally get off the bus and walk into the venue. The band’s playing one last outdoor Festival before the weather turns for the Fall. Everyone sets their stuff in their outdoor trailers. I run back onto the bus to grab my printer, hitching it onto my hip until someone grabs my wrist.

“Nuh-uh,” Vince says. Before I can protest, he grabs it from me.

“A printer’s not heavy! I’m fine!” I protest.

“No way, Lynds. Let me help you.”

I groan, “Fine, but only because I need to go check what time you’re sound checking,” I insist. Vince kisses my cheek.

Later that night, I watched the show from backstage feeling grateful that I’m fine as long as I’m not in a moving vehicle. While the other bands played, I managed to catch up on the work I would normally do on the bus.

“Thank you, Washington!” Priya exclaims as they finish the last song.

They run offstage and I hand them their post-show essentials, grateful to feel normal for a bit. Vince rushes at me and scoopsme up, capturing my lips with gusto thanks to the post-show adrenaline.

My tongue finds his, and I groan as he cups my ass. I’m finally feeling well enough to get some of my sex drive back, and I’ve missed Vince. He smells like pine. He runs his tongue along my lips as his hand squeezes my breasts.

“Your tits are bigger,” he whispers.

I swat his shoulder, “They are not!”

“Yes, they are! I know them well, I know when they’ve changed,” Vince jokes.

We keep kissing, and Priya coughs, “Save it for your suite!”

Even though I insisted that I’d be fine in my bunk, Priya gave Vince and me the bedroom on the bus for this tour. She insisted it would help my “condition” and I was too tired to argue. Now, I’m thrilled that Vince and I have access to a bed and a door that closes.

Back on the bus, Vince accidentally elbows me in the ribs as we attempt to brush our teeth in tandem in the tiny bathroom.

When we’re ready for bed, I settle back into his arms, stunned that I’m sleeping on an actual mattress on a tour bus. Vince kisses me, lazy and sweet.

I turn to face him and wrap my arms around his neck. He thumbs the hem of my T-shirt, and I nudge my crotch toward him encouragingly. He tosses my T-shirt up and to the side, and grins when he sees my (supposedly) bigger tits. I guess they have been feeling sensitive lately, and my nipples are larger.

“Has anyone ever told you you’re the hottest person alive?” Vince asks.

He takes a nipple in his mouth and sucks, it feels divine as his hand squeezes my other breast. I whimper, pressing his head against my chest.

“Lay back, love,” he whispers, “I want to taste you.” I can’t say no to the prospect of laying back and luxuriating in the feeling ofVince between my legs. I lay back and kick off my pajama shorts and underwear.

Vince trails kisses down my abdomen, stopping near my belly button. “I swear, you’ve got a bump already,” he says.

I shake my head, “Nah, you’re just seeing things. It’s still too soon.”

“Well, regardless.” Vince kisses my stomach and caresses it,

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