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  She felt his fingers dancing over her wrist and smiled against his temple.

  “You’re playing chords on my wrist.”

  “Huh?”

  “Your fingers. You’re playing chords like on a guitar. Were you even aware of it?”

  Dillon chuckled and smoothed his hand up her arm, leaving a trail of goosebumps behind. “Not really. I guess it’s just what I do. Sorry.”

  “No, I like it. I love your hands. Your fingers. I love watching you play. I used to watch you play and dream about you touching me the way you touched your guitar.”

  He groaned, a low sexy sound rumbling through his body. “When was this?”

  Justine shrugged. “Back when we were on tour together. And maybe last week, too.”

  An instant later, she found herself on her back and Dillon hovering above her, forearms arms braced on either side of her face. His dark, heavy eyes stared down at her. She melted. His face was so intense, nothing but sex and hunger. Her legs gripped his hips on instinct, pulling his body into hers.

  “God, when you say stuff like that…”

  Her eyes lit with mischief and arousal. “What?”

  “It makes me want you again.”

  She smiled softly. “You have me.”

  He raised an eyebrow, a rakish hungry expression she’d never seen on him before. Apparently it was one he’d been saving up for her. “I’m about to,” he said, his voice a rumble that lit her insides on fire.

  The first time had been fast. After years of wanting and waiting, they’d both been beyond desperation. This time, Dillon took it slow, exploring her thoroughly with his hands— those hands— and his mouth. Every time he elicited a sound from her, a gasp, a sigh, a moan, he stopped and explored. She shouldn’t have been surprised he was just as much a perfectionist about her as he was about music. It turned out he was just as talented, too. He set her body humming and stretched her nerves taut with every brush of his fingertips or press of his lips. When she couldn’t take another moment of his gentle, incendiary touch, she fisted her hands in his hair and pulled his mouth up to hers. The kiss was deep and hard, carnal in a way nothing had been until now. He shifted over her and she arched under him, her body aligning with his.

  “Dillon…” she began, but then he pushed into her and she gasped instead.

  “Jesus,” he breathed into her hair.

  Then there were no more words. He’d spent so long working her slowly towards the edge that she was nearly there in seconds. With relentless intensity, he pushed her over, holding her as she fell apart, shaking and murmuring his name. He wasn’t finished, though. Justine could only hold on tight as he put all the endurance he’d developed cycling to better use. And by the time he was pursuing his own release, he’d brought her back to hers again.

  Breathless, sweaty and shaking, he collapsed down on her. Justine floated in a sun-drenched sea of contentment, holding his weight against her as she ran her fingertips up and down his spine. He shivered.

  “Remind me again why we haven’t done this before now?” he moaned against her shoulder.

  She chuckled. “You were getting plenty of service from alternate sources, if you remember.”

  He raised his head to look at her, his eyes suddenly serious. One hand came up to cup her cheek.

  “Hey, listen. None of that— none of it— mattered. It was no different than the booze and the blow. And this with you? It’s not even in the same universe. Understand?”

  Her eyes welled with tears at his intensity and she nodded. He closed his eyes and pressed his forehead to hers, still cradling her face.

  “I’m so sorry,” he whispered.

  “For what?”

  “For all the times I hurt you. I know I did.”

  She was silent for a moment tracing the shape of his shoulder blades. “I got over it.”

  “I know you did. But I’m still sorry. I… I’ve always loved you, you know. I wasn’t ready to love you, but I did anyway.”

  “I know you did. I think I knew then. That’s why it hurt.”

  “I’ll never hurt you again.” He pressed a kiss to her lips, so soft and gentle in the wake of the frantic sex before.

  “I know that, too. You’re not him anymore.”

  “I’m still the guy that fell in love with you the moment he set eyes on you. It was always you. And it always will be.”

  As the morning gave way to afternoon, they stayed right where they were, tangled in sheets, bathed in sunlight, telling each other over and over with words and touches, that this love was real, it was deep, and they’d make it last forever.