Total pages in book: 37
Estimated words: 33965 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 170(@200wpm)___ 136(@250wpm)___ 113(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 33965 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 170(@200wpm)___ 136(@250wpm)___ 113(@300wpm)
"Jesus." I'm surprised no one has shown up at the hotel yet.
"It's all good. We've got it under control."
"Thanks." I hold my fist out for him to bump and then place my hand on the small of Ireland's back, shuffling her around him before he can try to shake her hand or hug her or some shit. I'm acting like a possessive asshole. I recognize that. But I can't help it, either. I don't want anyone touching her. Or looking at her. Or fucking making her smile.
Xander chuckles behind us like he knows exactly what's up. He doesn't call me on it, though. He's a good dude.
"What do you want to see, Éire?" I ask, leading her down the hallway.
"Well, I saw your dressing room last night," she says, tapping her lips like she's really thinking about it. "It did not live up to the hype. There wasn't even a single naughty thing in it."
"That's a damn lie." I tip my head down, hitting her with a look that says, 'Don't bullshit me.' "You were in it, and we both know you started every naughty thing we did this morning."
She beams at me, her laugh bouncing off the cinderblock walls. Christ, I could listen to her laugh all day and not grow tired of it. It's the sweetest, most carefree sound I've ever heard.
If I can't convince her to stay, she's going to rip my heart out of my chest when she goes. I'm not going to survive it. She's been my wife for all of twelve hours, and she already owns me, body and fucking soul. I don't know how it happened. I don't even know when it happened. But somewhere over the last twenty-four hours, I've fallen hard. I have no intention of slowing down or stopping the free-fall, either.
"Oh! Can I see the stage?" She grabs my arm, looking up at me with big, hopeful eyes. "I want to live out my rockstar fantasies while no one is looking."
"You have rockstar fantasies, Éire?" I ask, grinning.
"Duh. Doesn't everyone?"
I lead her toward the crossover space backstage, helping her over the electrical cords taped to the floor all over the place. The area is crammed full of equipment and gear. She gapes all around as if she didn't just see half of this shit when she was backstage last night.
I love how fascinated she is by everything. I've spent so much time around it that it lost its appeal a long time ago, but seeing it through her eyes brings back a little of the magic it lost long before we called it quits a decade ago. I felt like a fraud telling the guys that shit wasn't all bad because I didn't even really believe it when I said it, but it was true. We had a lot of good times, and things weren't all terrible. It's nice to remember that.
"Wow," Ireland whispers when we step out onto the stage. We walk to center stage before she draws to a stop, taking it all in. "It's so much more intimidating than I expected."
"It's definitely intimidating."
"How do you do it?" She peers up at me, avidly curious.
"Practice," I chuckle.
"Don't you get nervous?"
"Only every fucking night, but it's a lot more manageable now than it was back then. The first time we got on a stage, we were all shitting bricks. I thought Mason was going to pass out on us." I smile at the memory. Fuck, that was a lifetime ago.
"I love that," she whispers.
"What?"
"How much you love them. You smile every time you talk about them. It's really sweet, Crue."
"They're like my brothers." I sigh heavily. "But we haven't always been close, Éire. When we went on hiatus, Jax and I were barely speaking. We were all sick of each other. It was rough."
"It usually is when you fight with family." She slips her hand into mine, linking our fingers together. "Shelby is my best friend, but we fight too. It always sucks. But sometimes, you fight the hardest with the people you love because they matter more than anything else. Growing and changing is uncomfortable. They help us do more of it than anyone else. Family loves us at our worst to teach us how to be our best."
I hook my arm around her waist, pulling her up against me. "You're pretty fucking smart, you know that?"
"I know," she says, tipping her head back to grin at me. "It's that fancy college education."
"No, it's you, sweet girl." I dip my head, brushing my lips against hers. "It's all you."
Her soft sigh washes across my face before she kisses me back, melting into me. Before I can pull her closer and devour her like I want, she dances out of my arms, laughing.
"No way, Crue. I have a fantasy to live out," she says, throwing up a hand to halt me when I stalk after her. "Microphone, please."