Chapter 36: Chapter 35: Hippie Chics Know What Drummer Boys Feel Like

Well, now that Leed and Ashlynn are in sync are moving forward to reconcile her past,  and there are no bad guys in Nashville, it's time we  detour a little to the BIG BAND PICTURE. Guess who's back? Bodie. And Marley. And Riley...and it's a circus like usual when the gang's all together...

The song Love Me Like You Do is for the Lash mini-love scenes at the beginning and end of the chapter. Yes. You heard me. I went crazy and broke their love scene in half. So you get a tease at the beginning...and you have more at the end. It's not real graphic this time though, so I didn't do a radio edit/album cut thing. But we'll have one of those coming up soon....

Well, let's see what's happening in the Madam Mansion as Lennon is getting welcomed home...

Ashlynn

"How does that look?" I ask from atop the ladder.

"A little higher on the left," Adam's sister Alex says, gesturing with her glue gun, and Kat lifts her end of the "Welcome Home Lennon" banner and slaps it against the wall with the poster glue dot thingies that won't damage Mac's designer paint. We hustle down the ladders before somebody can disagree with Alex's judgment call. Which happens alot in Heartleyville, I've learned over the last few days.

But even though they snark and get in each other's business a lot they are also helpful. Alex's husband Luke and Janie's oldest son Blake are already putting the ladders away.

Kat has snagged a pink cake pop from the kitchen but is wagging it at the professional portrait of Madam and Lennon that was taken yesterday and has already been hung in the living room. I stop to admire. It's gorgeous...a picture of Adam and Mac in shades of beige lying face to face on pristine white sheets, with Lennon between them in a dusty rose and beige paisley blanket. Lennon is asleep, Mac is in profile kissing her head and only Adam's eyes can be seen, staring down at his wife and daughter.

He looks like a man with a view to forever.

Kat sighs dreamily, then says. "I want to hate her, but I can't, because she's too happy."

"Hate her? Mac?" Leed asks as he props two lazy arms over our shoulders and admires the portrait with us.

"Look at her, she doesn't even look like she gave birth twelve hours before that portrait was taken," she transfers her disgust to the cake pop. "Eat this, I can't, I'm getting fat," she pops it into Leed's mouth

Leed, ever the cool cat, collars Kat in a tight hug as he brings the arm that is around her to pull the cake pop from his mouth. He hasn't bitten in. "Pink lemonade cake? Nah. To me it's not worth the indulgence if it's not chocolate. But you are not fat, Little Sister. In fact, you could use a few cake pops on that booty. Trace has run your ass off all winter. Eat up," he shoves it back into her mouth and clamps her jaw, on the treat, but she splutters and slaps at his hand.

"Gwoss," she mumbles around the cake pop.

"What?" Leed says.

"She said gross," I supply. He still looks confused. Leed is not used to anyone woman thinking any of his fluids are gross. "I think she means, because it was in your mouth first."

She nods, her cheeks puffed with cake, refusing to swallow Leed-laced-confections.

He whispers low. "You shared a joint with me last week, how is that different?"

"It... jus... is!" She garbles, holding out her hands like a plea for help. Leed sighs and holds a cupped hand in front of her face. She spits the cake out in his palm and walks away.

"Kids. The shit you do for them," he jokes as he winks at me and strolls off to the kitchen sink.

I find myself following him to the kitchen. I want to be near him constantly right now. Probably because of what happened in bed this morning...

Yesterday, we spent the day at the hospital, hanging in the VIP birthing suite, helping Adam take care of Lennon while Mac mostly slept. And last night, Leed came to my bed and proceeded to chastely sleep the night away with me. Well, there were a few soft kisses and snuggling, and he rubbed his hard-on against my butt a little as he settled in to spoon me. He put his hand over my heart again, but after a few minutes, he curved it around my breast, sighed in bliss and...went to sleep. Holding my boob. With his erection pressed against the crack of my ass.

The whole thing left me super...horny. Which is something I have hardly ever felt.

I mean, a long time ago, I guess, when I was like fifteen and I was learning how all the sex stuff worked with Cam, and we were still exploring and teasing...before the awkward fumbling act of us losing our virginity together left me more sore and unfulfilled than amazed, and wondering if that was as good as sex got, and the five minute quickie car sex that became a routine part of our dates convinced me that it did get better...by a few shades, but that sex gave me less good feelings than Cam and I snuggling and watching a movie together, and was less exciting than me cheering him to a Friday night victory. Yes, somewhere way back before that, I remember being lusty and fairly obsessed with the idea of sex with the guy I loved.

Now, I feel that all over again, except ten times more eager...because now I know all the things we can do together, and I'm pretty sure that unlike any other man's, Leed's touch is the exact right vibration to unlock my ecstasy.

So this morning, when I woke from a night of torturous sexy dreams of Leed and it was obvious Leed was even more in the mood than last night--Good lord, that thing felt like a steel pipe against my backside—I explained to him that although I appreciate the idea that he's giving my some space after my trauma re-telling, that there was no good reason to wait anymore.I told him that I was more than ready to have sex with him. I asked him if he wanted to see my STI testing and stuff, and then I asked him if he had any condoms in his bags.

He smirks at me through my matter of fact propositioning, and then says, "Why the hell would I have condoms, Sunshine? I haven't had sex in nearly five months."

I blush. "I get that, but I mean...weren't you thinking maybe...we were going to have sex this week?"

He gives me a level look. "I was not thinking we would need condoms. I was all for glovin' the lovin' with strangers, but we're next level here. We're clean, we're committed. I want to feel you, baby. Unless...I mean...you still have your IUD, right? You didn't change you mind about using long-term birth control sometime in the last two weeks since you told me about it?"

"No, of course I still have it." I blink. Surely he doesn't think I would try to get pregnant, right? "Why would you think I would have my IUD taken out? Now?"

He shook his head, instead of answering. "I didn't...I just......I mean...if that's the case, why do you want to use condoms?"

"I thought relying on my birth control—that you can't see any evidence of— might freak you out...because of the whole Tam situation. I just wanted you to feel...covered." I wince. "No pun intended."

He smiles and shakes his head, but there is a small sigh that I can't quite read. "I trust you to manage your birth control, Ash. Tam getting pregnant was just...one of those rare things, you know. The pharmacy switched her brand of pills and didn't tell her the hormones were different. She didn't know she needed to use a back up."

"Right. Of course. Well...I...do...definitely still have my IUD...and its good for years and years...so I guess...if you don't want to use condoms...I'm okay with that if you are...and...I mean I have my last STI test results somewhere on my phone if you want to see them..." I stammer. "And I could show you the website of the kind of IUD I have...if you want to look at the efficacy rate and stuff..."

"Sunshine, we don't have to force this, baby," Leed says softly. "Is this really how you want this? All this talk about birth control and exchanging emails with STI test results? Our first love making to be grungy morning sex with half the damn house awake? It's not very sexy. Or romantic."

I look at Leed's lap. I've killed the mood.

Dammit! See! I'm bad a sex. Always. When it matters.

But I can fix this. Because I'm skilled at knowing what men like. It won't take much to put Leed back in the mood, I'm sure.

I crawl onto his lap. He smiles tenderly at me, pushing my hair off my shoulders. He's bare chested, reclining against the headboard. I lean forward and press kisses to the swirling tribal tat on his shoulder. "You know what I think? I think adulting...sucks sometimes. Especially at sexy times. So let's not, right now, okay?" I slip the strap of my tight fitting camisole off my right shoulder and then more slowly off my left. I run my own hands over my breasts, very, very slowly pulling the top down to reveal my hardened nipples. I take Leed's hands, and pull them to my breasts. "Will you be my rock star, baby?"

"Damn, that's a challenge if I ever heard one," he says. He rolls me over on my back, his body meeting mine. My bare breasts feel so hot and full, with his hard chest pressing down on them. He gently raises my arms above my head, locks his legs to mine and kisses me breathless.

The way he's incapacitated me—pinned my legs with his weight, gripped my forearms with his large hands, it surprises me he would go there, given everything I told him two nights ago.

Surprises me, but not in a bad way. I feel myself slicken at once. Somehow, it's exactly what I need.

He knew that, when I didn't. How he's holding me down is perfect. I don't want him to be afraid of my past and he's showing me that he's not. It's almost like, he's freeing me from it, by pressing a new version of his own strength and sensuality into my experience.

Not to mention, being pinned beneath Leed Lawson?

It's not just hot. It's a freaking volcano, seconds from eruption.

I buck my hips, rubbing up against his erection in encouragement. Yay!! See!?!? I did turn his mood around.

"You like this?" he whispers in my ear. "You like my body on yours?"

"Yes," I confess.

"You want me to take you?" he noses the shell of my ear, forcing my hips back down to the bed with his.

"Yes," I whimpered.

"You want me to put my heat inside you?"

Oh wow. I feel my cheeks burning. It's not that I'm a stranger to dirty talk, but this isn't a BDSM scene. This is Leed, showing me how he likes to get in the mood. It's not surprising he likes to talk during foreplay. He's a frontman, a performer. They need...the crowd reaction. So I can meet him there. The real me. Not the sub or sex worker who would say whatever filth she thought was expected. The me that loves this man and wants to show him.

"I never wanted a man inside me like I want you," I swear. "Please, don't make me wait."

"Where?" he bites my earlobe softly.

"Here. Now." I pant.

"No." He growls and then he puts his teeth to the tender skin below my earlobe, not biting down, just scraping, teasing, pulling at my skin. "Where inside you? Where do you want me? Where can I have you?"

His teeth and the way his fingers are slowly pressing and releasing my forearms, then repeating, is flooding me. I feel loose, on a natural high like yoga but so much better—so much more swirly and exciting. I get lost in the feeling and forget to answer.

"Tell me. The truth," his precise words are somewhere between a coax and a command.

I speak my truth before I could even stop myself. "Everywhere. Anywhere," I admit, and I am not ashamed.

He groans a little at my answer. "So I can put myself anywhere I want?" his whisper is harsh.

"Anywhere," I promise and I mean it, but I know he's just making this hotter with talk. I know this man already. He's too sweet and too romantic not to start with a traditional joining. I can feel wetness pouring from exactly where I know he wants to put himself, where I need him.

I'm wild at the idea that the man I love is going to put himself inside me and make me come at the same time, because I have no idea what that feels like, to come undone beneath loving eyes.

I need to know. So, so much. And for the first time in my life, I trust my lover can give me what I need.

"I told you you would say that," he says

Then he sticks his wet wiggly heat—his damn tongue!- in my ear and burrows it all around. I shriek and buck but only for a second because the truth it...it doesn't actually tickle or feel uncomfortable, I was just freaked out about it before because it seems kind of sketch, hygiene-wise. I decide...screw it. I'm in love with a hippie. If he's got a taste for ears...well, I do wash them and it does feel good...

I fully relax beneath him, letting him explore the creases and folds. Before I realize it, I am actually more than liking what he's doing. The sensation of his hot breath trickling down my ear canal and the cooling trail where he is gliding his tongue...I want more of his tongue. Everywhere on my skin. On my most sensitive skin. Even on my most vulnerable skin.

With him licking my wounds, I think they might finally heal.

"You're right, I can't wait for you to put your tongue anywhere you want, too." I pant.

He releases my forearms, lacing his hands into mine and looked down at me tenderly. "I thought maybe you were just trying to please me, but you really are ready for me, aren't you, Sunshine?"

"Yes."

He groans in agony and lays his head on my shoulder. His words are muffled and disappointing. "Now, I actually feel guilty, for playing like this, but I want to stick by my word. I want our first night together to be special. This is not good enough, for me to show you what you mean to me. I need you completely to myself for hours and hours. I need you somewhere where you can scream if you feel like it. I want you bathed in moonlight, baby."

I grip his hands because he's about to pull away. "What? No." I lean up to his ear. "Please...bathe me in your sweat and your cum now, and you can bathe me in whatever you like come Friday night."

Leed laughs—that low sexy rumble that I feel all up and down my spine. "Damn. it didn't take much to bring out the fiend in you, did it? One night of pressing your pretty little clit and popping you off like a firecracker and a few dry nights since, and now my shy Sunshine is begging for it."

Is that what he wants? For me to beg for it? As if he reads the question in my expression, he shakes his head. "I'm not trying to mind fuck you. I've got something special planned for us. I'd like to wait to make love. But if you need me to take care of you, I'm happy to give you round two of my magic hands."

I bite my lip. "Inversions really work?"

"To cure horniness? Yeah, pretty well," he smiles.

"Let's do yoga, then. But you better be worth the wait, Lawson."

"If you need testimonials, I can put you in contact with the officers of my fan club. Hey! Kidding! Kidding! Watch the nose!" he protests as I pretend to head butt him, and he raises up off me, springing away.

He rolls off me and stands on his damn head for ten minutes. Well, the second time he hold the pose for ten minutes.I tickled the backs of his knees until he fell out of the first headstand, laughing.

In the end, I grumbled and scolded through forty-five minutes of yoga, but Leed is right—inversions drained me of my resentful lust and restored my composure.

Now, as I follow him into the kitchen and watch him wash Kat's chewed cake off his hands, I muse that it's a cruel irony that sex has been something I've thought of with dread for at least three years and now that I'm anxious to have it—with the sexiest and most sexually driven man I've ever known—he's content to let it ride.

I guess I'm enjoying it too, because I'm following him hoping for a stolen moment of kisses or maybe even a glancing brush of our intimate parts. In the kitchen where half a dozen Heartley children could race through at any moment.

What is wrong with me? When did I become...sex-obsessed?

I walk to the sink and stand behind Leed, just watching his shoulder blades move through his tight t-shirt as he manipulates his arms. He turns to me with the drying towel. He playfully puts it over the lower half of my face, like a veil. "So much of you still a mystery," he says wistfully speaking low into my ear. He picks up another cake pop and pops it lightly against my lips, playing percussion. "I'm dying to eat your cake, Sunshine."

I purse my lips against cake pop, taking the tiniest bite. "You could have had your dessert for breakfast, but you want to wait for date night," I remind him.

"I am a fool" he continues to feed me the cake pop, watching with glittering green eyes as he pushes the cake pop between my lips. I make a show of rounding them, taking the whole treat into my mouth, sucking it off the pink stick and moaning as I chew.

Leed backs me against the island, bracing his hands on either side of me. "A goddamn fool," he repeats.

"Got that right, using that kind of language in a house that follows the Lord," Joely says tartly from across the kitchen as she carries in crate of grapefruit. God, what did she hear? I didn't see her come in.

I jump. My face flashes beat red all over. Leed doesn't even take his eyes off me as he addresses Adam's mother. "You better pray for me, MJ," he says mildly. "Pray for Ashlynn, too. My intuition tells me the devil is going to have hold of her, come Friday."

He pinned me earlier with his body, but his gaze right now is doing just as good of a job. He wipes a crumb from my lips with his thumb and finally his gaze cuts to Joely with a cute grin.

"That's very specific intuition," Joely says dryly. She's pulling a brand new, state-of-the-art juicer from one of Mac's kitchen cabinets—an appliance I would be very shocked to see Mac ever use.

"Maybe I just have a better connection with the powers that be?" He folds his hands in prayer, bows to her, then points one finger to the sky. "When the mind is quiet, one can hear the Universe. I'd be happy to meditate with you, show you how to sharpen your intuition up. You didn't see Babycakes coming down the pipe last summer, did ya?"

"Neither did you."

"Saw it before you. You only caught wind because of your little snitch grandbabies."

She snorts and shakes her head, but her smile creeps up on her. "You think you are my favorite rock-star-in-law, 'cause you're so pretty...but that Matt del Marco has way better sense...and manners, too. And that hair of his...it's just perfect. Not too long...not too short..." The mischief in her voice is hardly disguised.

Ah, lust is one thing, but wounded pride is another. The possessive glitter in Leed's eyes dyes, as he cuts Joely a sharpish, hurt look. He stalks over to her and plucks the grapefruit from her hand, pulls a large bowl toward him, and begins to peal the fruit. "Everyone thinks del Marco is the greatest guy that ever was. I ask you...did Matt del Marco offer to do your juicing for you? Huh?"

She smiles and pats his arm. "No, but it's not for me, dear. It's for your sister. Nursing mothers need a lot of water and fresh juice to stay hydrated, and grapefruit juice is her favorite..."

"I know that," he says defensively. Then he adds. "Anyway...I'm growing my hair back out."

Joely and I both laugh. Joely strolls over to me and whispers. "You have to learn how to put a man with that much magnetism in his place or he will overpower you. Peter used to be the same way, in his twenties—man thought he was God's gift to the pulpit. I don't know where Adam got his humility..."

"From being raised by you, maybe?" I tease her.

She winks. "Probably."

Five Heartley children skid into the kitchen. "They're here!"

Everyone rushes to welcome baby Lennon into her new home.

————————————————

Three days later Lennon has proven to be an angel-baby, Madam is rocking the new parent thing, the Heartleys have mostly all gone back to their jobs and normal schedules, Tam and Ben are taking advantage of all the helping hands to enjoy a day out together in Nashville, and I'm probably happier than I have been in years. For the first time since my accident, I feel...at home. I think it's partly because...Leed is over the moon.

Lennon has already gripped Leed's heart in a way that I think is even surprising to him. He loves Ollie like crazy, but I don't think he was prepared to share his heart with another baby Lawson so fiercely. Lennon is going to be a very special little girl to her Uncle. Whenever he looks at her, he nearly cries. Last night in bed, he told me his earliest memory, as near as he can figure, was at three years old—meeting his baby sister for the first time and how he felt immediately connected to the squirming wiggling baby. "I remember my dad sitting me in his lap and helping me hold her," he says. "I was fascinated. She was better than a toy, a puppy, anything. All I wanted to do for a long time was watch her little face and hands move. Christ, Ash...when I held Lennon, is was...like holding Macaroni all over again."

Consequently, he calls his baby niece "Cheese" for a nickname. So far, her nickname has been expanded by her adoring Uncle to Cheesey-Weesie, Cheesey-chic, just Weesie and also... Cheddar. Mac loves it, Adam laughs at him and tells him he won't be Lennon's favorite Uncle for long if he sticks with that group of nicknames. Leed tells him that Lennon is not going to be some chic in the crowd, that she's a star that can obviously front a stupid nickname and make it cool.

Leed is obsessed with talking to her and playing with her and holding both her and Ollie at the same time, inventing pretend conversations with them. It's pretty hilarious, especially the conversations he creates in which the two babies roast all five of their parents for babycare goof-ups.

"Hey Ollie, can I ask you something" Leed mimics a little girl voice.

"Sure." Leed replies to himself, in another childlike voice that is somewhat deeper than the first. "I'm your BC," (That is the nickname Leed has given his son in honor of becoming Lennon's Big Cousin.) "You can ask me anything, Cheese."

"Okay, well my dad did something really weird, and I'm not sure if I should tell him or not. I don't want to destroy his parenting confidence."

"What did he do?"

"He put my diaper on backwards. It's kind of uncomfortable..."

Mac is sitting beside him and she snickers. For a brand new mom, she's incredibly cool. She's obviously been aware of the diaper issue since Adam handed Lennon over to Leed a couple of minutes ago, but she's been playing along with Leed's set-up to give Adam shit about it.

"You should definitely tell him," Leed continues as Ollie. "Before you have a wardrobe malfunction..."

Adam overhearing the conversation, comes over to Leed and paws at the blanket his daughter is draped in. Beneath, she is dressed in a custom-designer black kimono shirt that says, "Madam's Little Miracle" in gold script, the prettiest satin gold booties I've ever seen—and a backward diaper.

"Shit. How did I do that? I know how to diaper a baby..." he gestures at the portrait of all his nieces and nephews on the wall. "And I mess up on my own kid?" He looks at Lennon tenderly. "Sorry, Baby Girl."

"Lack of sleep, man," Leed laughs, shifting Ollie to Mac, who is sitting beside him as he rises from the couch with Lennon. "Take a breather, New Dad. I'll straighten it out."

Adam's eyes follow Leed out of the room. He shakes his head, like he's disappointed in himself.

Mac rises with Ollie in her arms and reaches up on tip-toes to kiss Adam on the cheek. "You're an amazing dad. It's just a diaper. We will both mess up a lot bigger than that, but it won't matter. Love is what matters."

Adam nods in acceptance of Mac's comfort.

Trace, who is messing around with his phone over by the large island that separates the open kitchen space from the living area, throws it down on the granite in disgust. "That and knowing when to give her a little kick in the heiney when she really needs it, or else she'll be a little monster like Row. I cannot believe this fucking text justshe sent me. She says she's giving me a head's up before Riley gets back from LA...they broke up. Says if she has to choose between her and him, and Strut's greater good, then they need to keep it professional. Can you fucking believe that?"

"I thought you hated the idea of Riley and Row," I say, confused. Kat definitely told me he was grumbling about it.

"I do...I did...fuck, I don't know anymore. It's just...it's fucking Riley we are talking about. I don't want to see him all gutted and broken up because my immature idiot sister can't decide what she wants..."

"Fortunately I'm holding my guts and other broken bits in place," a clipped British voice says dryly. "But thanks for the concern."

"Right on time," Adam sighs as he goes to clap hands with Riley. "Shit, man. Sorry about Row. You all right?"

Riley shrugs. "Disappointed. But not surprised. Row can say it's about the choice Matt demanded she make, but really...she's just...too young. Not ready to play by the rules."

Adam slaps him on the back. "Been there, man," he gives his wife a grin. "It might still work out."

Riley sighs. "Adam, I'm afraid I don't have your tolerance for bullshit."

"Hey!" Mac points a finger at Riley.

He shrugs. "What, dearest? You dare to deny the hell you put Adam through?"

"Okay, fine, I tortured him." She shrugs, bouncing Ollie. "But now I'm a perfect wife."

Adam snorts. "Shorty, you tried to smother me in my sleep last night. I woke up short of breath with two pillows on my face."

"You were breathing too loud. I couldn't get back to sleep after I nursed Lennon."

"So suffocating me was the solution, obviously. You heard her, she admitted it. She tried to kill me. I knew I did not cover myself with pillows in my sleep to ignore Lennon's cries like she suggested." He slings a hand around the room, making us all witnesses.

"Oh shut-up Adam. You're alive aren't you?" she rolls her eyes at him, with a grin, as she hands Ollie to me and comes to embrace Riley. "Fuck Row. Do you want me to kick her ass and knock some sense into her?"

"Do I want you to pummel the girl whom, despite her decision, I'm still rather fond of, who is also Trace's sister, not to mention the front for the other band I manage, that is set to open for Orion's tour beginning next week?"

Mac shrugs. "Is that a rhetorical question?"

Kat laughs. "I would pay to see you two fight. Well, once you've had a couple of weeks to get back on your feet..."

"There's a punching bag downstairs in the gym," Mac notes. "Want to train with me, a little later?" she asks Kat.

"Nobody's fighting," Trace says. "I was just joking about kicking butt. Jesus, violence is not the answer people."

"Who's fighting?" a familiar, but slightly subdued voice, calls from the foyer.

Everyone in the room quiets, and for some reason, we all look to Trace, to see his reaction. I guess because it's his band...and his prodigal drummer returned.

For once, Trace's rock star face betrays him. A wide grin spreads across his face and he puts his head in his hands, looking down at the bar to compose himself quickly. When he looks up, he's Mr. Cool again, but Kat and I exchange a quick smile as he yells, "The voice sounds familiar. Like somebody I used to know. Adam, who's at your door, man?"

Leed is striding back in the room, passing off Lennon to her nanny, not caring at all about hiding the look of joy on his face. "Sounds like that asshole we used to hang out with in college that got us arrested in Savannah on Saint Patrick's day."

Bodie strolls into the living room carrying an album wrapped in paper, looking very thin, but maybe even more handsome than ever, due to the dramatic angles of his face, and longer dreads. He walks up to Leed, standing face to face with him. "Man, that was not arrested. That was unduly harassed. My color got us busted, my brain got us released. Was it not me who pointed out to the charge officer that nobody read us our Miranda Rights, and that we had a witness," he pointed at Mac. "We walked out without even getting printed."

"You really should have been a lawyer," Leed laughs.

"Then who would play your skins, man?" Bodie retorts coolly but even from across the room, I can see his throat moving convulsively. He's either holding back emotion or really agitated right now. Or both.

"Nobody like you, man," Adam slaps hands with Bodie, but doesn't look as surprised as Trace to see him. Mac doesn't look surprised either. Just happy.

Bodie hands Mac the album—a copy of The Beatles White Album, still wrapped in it's original plastic, which is indented with scrawling ink. "Combo housewarming/apology gift/inheritance for Lennon. From me...and Arabella." He looks from Mac to Adam and back to Mac.

Mac pales as she looks down at the album. She and Adam exchange a look. "Signed by all four Beatles."

"Fuck," Leed whispers.

"Invaluable," Trace says, coming over to reverently touch the album.

"Yeah, well. We're both...really sorry. For...everything that happened. This doesn't make it right, I know. It's just...a gesture," he mumbles. His hand moves jerkily to scratch the side of his neck, but then, like he realizes what he's doing, he closes his fist and slowly lowers his hand. His shoulder twitches, like it's moving on it's own to brush against his neck.

I wince in sympathy. Heavy opioids can make you itch all over. It's worst within the first couple of hours of taking too much. Bodie doesn't seem altered, but his tolerance, like mine used to be, is probably extremely high. Instinct, more than his demeanor, tells me he's on serious drugs right now.

Mac puts the album carefully on the bar, and takes him by the shoulders. "It's like I told you at the hospital, it's okay. We're family." Adam nods solemnly beside her.

Leed looks surprised. "You were at the hospital? You've been in town for days?"

"I wasn't in good shape. Wasn't fit for this," Bodie says. "Trying to detox on my own. I'm...better now."

"What like...outpatient rehab?" Mac asks. He looks away... "Uhhmmm, something like that. Listen...Kade's not here, is he?"

"No," Adam asks, "Why?"

Bodie pulls out his phone and hits a contact. "It's all good," he says into the phone, walking back toward the foyer. Another set of footsteps, and Bodie returns with an extremely pretty brunette. For a second I'm confused, because I was expecting Arabella Burns, and although this woman has that same sort of glowy, exotic tan skin like Kat and Arabella—the kind that my sister gets from our mother's Mediterranean heritage and Arabella from a Native American ancestor, I think—this girl is definitely not Arabella. She's older and more...casual. She's wearing black yoga pants, a long pale grey hoodie, with a short jean jacket thrown over, and red Hunter rain boots. And it's not raining.

I smile at her boots. I don't know why. I guess I appreciate the fact that she doesn't follow the rules, because even though I've been a drug addict and woman who trades sex for survival, at heart, I'm not rule-breaker. Not a quirky red-rain-boot-on-a-sunny-day kind of rule breaker, but I really admire a girl who is that...free, in herself.

"Marley," Trace and Adam say together, with the same kind of surprise.

Ooooooohhhhhh. Marley Watkins. Trace's counselor, and Adam's...near-miss. I haven't met her, but of course Kat has told me all about her. I watch Mac, to see what she'll do, because I know there was some history there. To my surprise, Mac hugs her. "Hey, girl." Mac peers at her suspiciously. "Have you been crying?"

Marley waves a hand. "Yes, I'm sad, but I'm fine."

There's an awkward pause. "The counselor needs some counseling," Bodie says to no one in particular, with the quick edge to his voice that often comes with addiction. "Talk some sense into her. Somebody tell her that Kade is a keeper and you don't throw away a dude like him for a sketch temporary job opportunity."

Marley looks exasperated. "This is ridiculous, Bodie. My personal life is not...a group forum. And anyway, it's done."

"What's done?" Mac asks.

"Kade and I...broke up. It just wasn't going to work out."

"Tell them why you broke up," Bodie says.

Marley glares at him. "You are not respecting my boundaries. This is not going to work if we don't keep it professional."

"This is not going to work because it's not going to happen," he corrects. He turns to Riley. "I'm here. I did what you wanted. Today. But I'm not playing your bitch, man. Your are our manager. You work for us. My life is not yours to run."

"What the hell is going on?" Trace growls.

Ollie makes a fussing noise in my arms, and I shift him but everyone looks over at me. Bodie's expression goes from scowly to thoughtful as he takes in Ollie. I don't think he was really aware of him before this moment. He grips Leed's shoulder. "Look, I'm sorry. I'm acting like an asshole, coming in here like this. Introduce me to your son?"

I come forward, and Leed puts his arm around me. "Yeah, a lot of shit has changed for me. I don't just have son. Ash and I are together, now."

Bodie looks at Leed sharply. "Shit," he says softly, looking at me with wide eyes. "Ashlynn the Lion Tamer, huh?" I shrug and smile. "Heard you were..." he fades his words, gesturing with hands up and down me. "All good now. That's...great. I'm glad, I know how hard it can be..." he looks down at Ollie in my arms. "Wow," he grins. "Leed Junior." He cups Ollie's head and kisses him. "Gonna get to know you. Real soon. Soon as I'm...straight."

Then he turns around and looks at Marley and Riley. "But it ain't going down the way you two think it's going down, okay?"

"Beg to differ, Mate," Riley says lightly.

Bodie points a shaky finger toward Riley. "I told you, no. And you did this anyway. And I'm fucking pissed. Like this close to laying you out, Riley. This is...not...the way I need to handle this, okay?"

"It's exactly the way you need to handle it. You're a mess and no one else can do a bloody thing with you," Riley snaps.

"Time-out," Leed says casually. "This is turning into a band meeting. Page, would you mind taking the babies?"

"I'll help her," I offer...giving Kat a look to indicate she should come to. For once, Kat understands how serious this is and she rises.

"No, hold up," Trace puts out a hand to her. "I want to propose band meetings to allow for attendance of our significant others. All in favor of allowing them to stay and enter in discussion?"

"Wait..." Adam says automatically. "Attendance, but not voting rights, correct?" He and Mac exchange a glance and I know they are both thinking of the disaster with Arabella.

"Of course. Still five votes. But girlfriends can offer advice, input. All in favor?"

"Aye," everyone says but Bodie. Page has already taken Lennon upstairs and is returning now for Ollie. I hand him over and join Kat quietly at the island. We exchange wide eyes and remain silent. It feels like something huge just happened.

"Point of clarity," Bodie sneers, "Do I get to bring two attendees? Because apparently I have a girlfriend and a live-in companion now."

"You're kidding," Adam is catching the vibe, turning to look at Marley.

"No, he's not. I hired Marley to be Bodie's live-in sobriety companion," Riley says lightly. "She'll be living with him for the next year."

"Right, cause that works," Trace sighs.

"It can work, when the companion is a professional trained in mental health and drug treatment," Riley says.

"I don't want a live-in sobriety companion. Especially...not her. How the fuck am I going to explain that to Arabella? And worse than that...Marley is what...just supposed to give up her life to babysit me?" Bodie turns to Adam. "Talk to her, man. She's messing up, big time. She's quit her job, she broke up with Kade."

"Did you really break up with Kade? I don't get why helping Bodie and dating Kade are mutually exclusive." Adam says, looking between Marley and Riley.

"Because it's not fair to Kade. I'll have to focus most of my time on Bodie and what little personal time I have...I do have other family...my parents and...personal commitments. Anyway, this job is not the only reason I broke up with Kade," Marley says. "It just wasn't going to work."

"Hold up. Time-out," Trace says. "Marley, I'm really sorry for your break-up but there's like...an elephant in the room here. Riley, man, I know you are our manager, but you can't just hire band personnel without running it by us. What the hell?"

Riley sighs. "Look, I didn't want to tell you all, with Mac so close to delivery, but Moran has issued a mandate. Bodie has ninety days to get clean and Soundcrush get back to being the world's next biggest band or the label will file for breach of contract."

"We aren't in breech. We didn't have a contract for all the shit Moran asked us to do. That was a verbal agreement," Leed says automatically.

"No, they can't file against you for that. But they are unhappy about that and they can demonstrate that unhappiness in other ways. Unfortunately each one of you signed professional conduct agreements."

"You mean the one that said I wouldn't get fat and Leed wouldn't cut his hair?" Mac laughs. "Yeah, obviously the label doesn't really enforce that one..."

He smiles at her. "Well, they don't always enforce the appearance clauses, no, but there were a lot of other things you agreed to in those professional conduct agreements. You agree not to conduct business against the interest of the label, or take endorsements without label approval, nor release social media content counter to the label's vision for you—which they hold over your publicists head like a noose. You all agreed that you would have an annual physical for your life insurance and that you would test biannually for STD's—which you know they do enforce. Then they are the things that seem to get you all in trouble but you barely skate out of—the not having sex with minors clause" he looks at Trace, "the not getting arrested clause" he looks at Adam, "and the drug testing clause. You know, the one that says if drug habits are suspected that are impairing your individual responsibilities within Soundcrush that you can be randomly drug tested. Do you all remember that contract now?"

"Vaguely," Trace says tightly.

"And do you remember the last and most important section of that contract?"

The band members look at each other blankly.

Riley sighs, cleans his glasses and replaces them. "No, I suppose not. Christ, perhaps Row made the right call after all. God knows Soundcrush could have used someone like me looking out for you before you signed. Not one of you over twenty-two, no one in the industry mentoring you, you signed everything they put in front of you. Your professional conduct clauses gave the label the right to amend your recording contract retroactively if individual band members commit 'career-impacting acts'. Like felonies or violations of the conduct clauses that are deemed 'high-risk behaviors impacting branding.'"

"What does that mean?" Mac asks.

"He's saying the label can kick out band members," Trace says tersely. "That is not in the contract, man. I went over every section of every contract with the lawyers. No fucking way."

"It's in there. I just saw all five personal conduct contracts on Moran's desk. And the rider in the recording contract. Each one of you signed it."

"I'm telling you, it was not in those contracts. There's no way I would have given the fucking label the right to fire anyone in my band."

Riley gives Trace an exasperated look and looks around at room. "Trace, who handed you all the papers the day you signed them at the label? Did they come straight from the lawyers hand that read them to you?"

"Motherfucker," Adam growls. "Dawes."

"Right," Riley says tersely. "The old sneak in one more page move. Classic Dawes. Moran knows it's bullshit but he says he's getting pressure from above. Either Bodie drug tests today, or they will execute their right to exclude him from promoted performances, albums and profits, no matter how you feel about him personally."

"He already tested. I took him to the lab that the label mandated," Marley says. "And I took him straight from the lab to the appointment with the drug treatment specialist you made him. Then we went to the clinic to pick up his prescription. I gave him his first dose. He's done everything he's supposed to do today, so far."

"Excellent," Riley says.

"I only went through with all that to get steady enough to come here and calmly tell you guys this is not the way I want to go. I mean, this is fucking crazy. What-- Marley is going to spend the next year reporting daily on me to Riley so he can give reports to Moran?"

"Yes," Marley and Riley say together.

Leed is rubbing his jaw. "Presciption. Clinic...what's all that about? What are the test results going to show, Bodes?"

Bodie looks at his shoes. "You know the answer to that. All of you do."

Marley grabs Bodie by the arm, and he looks at her, almost like he can't help himself. "Which is why you need me. This is not something you can quit on your own."

"Okay, I need...a little help. I don't need a drug treatment specialist. I don't need you."

"That's not what you said three days ago," Marley objects. "Three days ago you asked me to help you detox."

"Yes, I asked you to help me quit. Cold turkey. Because I know I've fucked up, okay? I've traded a few minutes of fucking heaven a day for hours of hell and I'm a fucking mess. But this..." he goes to her purse and pulls a tiny vial of clear liquid, "Is not quitting. This is just more of the same. This is just prescribed heroin. That fucking doctor said I'll be on it for a year...Marley. A year of drawing out my hell and then in the end, it will still be a fucking struggle to get totally clean. Think, girl. I'm looking at a year of being under this. Are you really going to put your life on hold for a year just to shoot me up with methadone every day and make sure I don't take more than I am supposed to? Not to mention that doesn't square with what the label wants. What happens in ninety days when I test and still have opioids in my system?"

"We'll cross that bridge when we get there," Riley says. "I'll convince Moran that you are following a prescribed therapy. By then, you'll be back to work. You'll be demonstrating your worth."

"Plus...You can't quit cold turkey," Marley says.

"I can. I've done it before."

"This is different."

"It's not. I can quit..."

"You can't!" Riley interjects. "You are a bloody junkie shooting up every day!" He takes the tiny vial of methadone from Marley, and holds it out to Bodie. "It's either this or you're going to be dead in a year! So fucking choose, mate! Either get with the program or get the fuck out now, because I know what it is to watch someone you love kill themselves with drugs while you stand by helpless, and I'm not letting you do this to him," he grabs Leed by the shoulder, "or her," he moves on to Mac. "Or these two," he gestures at Trace and Adam, standing shoulder to shoulder.

"It's not your goddamn place to deliver ultimatums, Riley!" Bodie shouts. "Five members! Five votes!"

Leed grips the back of a chair. He looks like he's about to speak, but Adam interjects, "I'm calling a vote" he says quickly. "A mandate that Bodie has to get clean. Either he does this—Riley and Marley's way, with methadone—or...he's out, at least until he gets clean. He can always...come home."

"I vote yes," Mac says softly, "Not because of Adam, because of you, Butters. Because I'm afraid Riley is right, you're on a path to destruction."

Trace cracks his neck and looks at Bodie for a long time. "You need to hear me, brother. I want to vote yes. I really fucking do. But...I vote no...because as much as I want you clean..." he cuts his eyes to me. "I already tried to force a plan like this once...and it backfired."

Everyone looks at Leed. With Bodie and Trace aligned, and Mac and Adam voting the other way, his vote is the deciding one. Adam looks annoyed—I think he was trying to avoid Leed having to speak up at all but he didn't see that Trace would vote against his proposal.

Leed silently slinks around the chair and takes the vial from Riley. He walks up to Bodie. "You are my brother. We were together when we were broke as shit. We were together when all we had was our wits and our drive and our optimism. Now we are here, on top of the fucking world. We're living the dream, and you're throwing it all away on a sickness you can cure. I know it's hard as fuck for you to fight this disease in you, but you gotta try, man. For your momma. For your auntie. For all your family, that you take care of. What the fuck are they gonna do without you to look out for them? Not just them, either. My son is your cousin, and you are his godfather. I don't want Ollie to grow up with the hole you will leave in me and his momma if we find you dead with a needle in your arm. Swallow your fucking pride, man. Let Marley help you." He holds out the methadone to Bodie.

Bodie stands still for a long moment in front of Leed, not looking at him, his eyes cut at Marley as his jaw flexes in anger. Finally, he swipes the vial from Leed's hand and strides toward Marley, gesturing toward the foyer with an impatient hand. "Let's go," he says.

"Where are we going?"

"Househunting. In Atlanta."

"Bodie..." Marley says in exasperation. "That's not the plan."

"Nobody said anything about where I have to live, while I'm doing this."

"The A is a bad city for you, man..." Trace warns.

"Like LA isn't? And this isn't what you think it is. Marley will be fucking up big time if she runs out on her life in Atlanta. So if she has to be with me twenty-four seven, we need to be in Atlanta."

"Marley, what's that about?" Adam asks.

"That's Bodie thinking he knows me. Thinking he knows what's best for me."

"I do know you, Jaz. And I know you are making a huge mistake. I'm not the one whose life you need to get on track. You should be worrying about yourself."

"That's not me. That was never me. Don't call me that," she says calmly, but the way she clenches her fists, it's easy to she he's angered her. My eyes go unconsciously to Trace. He feels the weight of my stare and looks at me, smiles ruefully. He feels it too. Someway, somehow, Bodie and Marley have the same kind of connection he and I do. The kind that got us into a big confusing mess of shared history and obligation and frustration and daily battles...and love for each other that wasn't romantic love, but the kind that wouldn't let him quit on me.

Bodie and Marley glare at each other. The undercurrent is so strong I can feel it pulling from across the room. There is something there...something that has gripped them both and is apparently dragging them in the exact same direction—sweeping them off to Atlanta. Possibly to disaster.

Finally, Marley stuffs her hands in her jean jacket and nods. "Fine. We can make this work in Atlanta, if you are really committed to getting clean."

He gestures again for her to move toward the door. She looks around the room. "It was good to see you all. I'm sorry it was under these circumstances. Congratulations on..."she waves her hands between Adam and Mac and Leed, "everything."

"Thank you," Adam murmurs. "Bodes...man...stay a few days. I know your transition to a methadone regimen might be rough. You and Marley can have all the space you need, man. Or we can help. Whatever you need."

"Arabella is welcome, too," Mac sounds grim, but sincere.

Bodie just shakes his head and says. "Let me know the practice schedule for the Grammy performance."

He pushes Marley out of the room by the small of her back, and I see her speed up to avoid his touch. Wow. Those two are really angry with each other. Again, I find myself looking at Trace. He's just shaking his head.

When the front door slams, all eyes look to Riley. Trace slides up on the kitchen island beside Kat and puts a hand on her shoulder. "You always wanted to know, what is was like between me and Ash? It was like that. Difficult as fuck." Kat meets my eyes, and I shrug ruefully. Trace continues. "Riley, this is a terrible idea, man. Marley and Bodie have rubbed each other the wrong way since the day they met. It's going to be armageddon between them."

Adam nods slowly. "I don't know about armageddon, but there is definitely something...hostile, there. First from Marley, the moment we first met her in the Lava Lounge parking lot, and now from from Bodie." Adam looks at Riley, speculatively. "You've spent a lot more time with Marley than any of us, looking for Bodie in Atlanta. What do you know that we don't know, Riley? There has to be a damn good reason you hired her, without even talking to us..."

Riley throws himself down on the couch looking exhausted, and tosses his glasses on the table. "Marley is the key. To giving Bodie a reason to get clean. Bodie will get clean so he can help her clean up her mess of a life. They don't realize it, but they need each other. They have a common interest."

"How's that?" Kat leans forward. "What's going on between them? Why did he call her that—Jaz?" She looks at Trace. "Remember last summer in The Vineyard when Bodie and Marley almost hooked up but Bodie said something about her surprised him and their hook-up fell apart?"

"Yes," Mac whirls to Kat pointing a finger in agreement. "I saw them the next morning in the kitchen and there was a crazy weird vibe between them. Marley was completely freaked out, but Bodie...he wasn't at all hostile to her then. It was like...he felt sorry for her. But now he seems angry with her."

"Yeah, there's definitely some history we are missing," Trace says grimly. "What's the story, Riley?"

Riley is looking at the ceiling. "Explaining that would betray Marley's confidence, I'm afraid. She's SCIC now, at least for a year. All the secrets I've kept for you all, I've never betrayed. Would you have me start now?"

"Yes," Kat and Mac say automatically. Adam chuckles. "Naw, he's right, Ladies. Anyway, something tells me we will find out...naturally. Secrets have a way of outing themselves." He wraps his arms around Mac and pats her belly, which is rapidly shrinking to her former flatness.

"Oh my god, Adam! Do you think Marley is pregnant with Bodie's baby!?!?" Kat shrieks.

Adam shakes his head. "Naw, that's not what I meant at all."

"Let's think about this through..." Mac says slowly, "He has been missing in Atlanta for a couple months now...and Marley does live in Atlanta..."

"Oh shit! She broke up with Kade..." Kat asks looking around the room, seeking someone to follow her train of thought. "Having another man's baby would be a good reason."

"Or not," Leed says dryly, and I find myself strolling to him, wrapping my arms around him in sympathy. He chuckles and kisses my forehead, right where he thinks my third eye is. I feel a thrill of belonging and ease and happiness, even in the middle of sadness over Bodie's problems.

Everyone looks at Riley expectantly. He sighs. "You people are obsessed with secret pregnancies."

"Well, it does seem to happen a lot in this band," I say lightly, winking at Leed. He raises an auburn eyebrow and half his grin in agreement.

Silence. Then Mac erupts with exasperation. "Well, Riley? Because if that's the secret, you definitely need to tell us. Marley will need security. Arabella will try to have her strung up from a tree and gutted by her backwoods, gun-toting, SUV-riding, redneck Tennessee relatives."

"Hey, don't hate on Tennessee," Adam murmurs. "You live on a farm. We hunt. We ride SUV's. In the backwoods. You are one of us, now, Shorty."

Mac reaches back and puts a hand over Adam's mouth. "Hush Adam. We are trying to find out if Marley is knocked up."

Riley rubs his face. "Marley is not pregnant. At least, not as far as I know. And if she were, I highly doubt it would be Bodie's. From my interaction with them over the last few days, that's the very last scenario I would expect. He's quite put out with her, now that he fully understands the way in which their paths crossed in the past."

"But why?" Mac presses.

Riley groans and lifts his head. "Christ, is there no gin at all in this place?" He taps his chest with spread fingers. "Bloke with a broken heart here, remember?"

"Awwwwww!" Kat and Mac leap from there respective fellas and rush Riley on the couch, flanking him on either side as they hug him. He puts his arms around them but still looks miserable. Adam is already splashing gin into a crystal glass, Trace is experimenting with the fancy soda gun in Madam's main bar, trying to figure out the right burst for the perfect splash of tonic water, and Leed is moving toward the kitchen. "I'll get the lime..."

I sit on the coffee table in front of Riley. "Can I make you something to eat?" I ask. "MJ surely has a recipe for a broken heart..."

He shakes his head. "Can't eat, love. I'm that kind of sad sap..."

"You'll regret the gin," I say gently. It's true. I've been with a lot of drunks and for whatever reason, that particular spirit makes for the worst hangover, in my experience. Not only that, Riley is one of those rare people that has been through recovery and has returned to social drinking without problems. Addiction is a sliding scale of craving and coping and for whatever reason, Riley has the ability to stop at a few drinks, though he was once way in over his head with pills. Maybe he doesn't really have the brain of an addict, but just got caught up in a lifestyle, I don't know. Still, I hate to see him coping in this way—numbing a broken heart in a bottle of gin.

"I'll add it to the list of regrets," he clips and accepts the tumbler from Adam, and I know it's not my call to police SCIC's lifestyle choices. Riley knows his own limits better than I do.

————————————

Much later, Alone in the dark sanctuary of our bed, our arms wrapped around each other, my head pressed to Leed's chest, I murmur, "I have so much respect for you, you know."

Leed stops stroking my shoulder. "Why?" he asks cautiously.

"The way you handled the vote today. The way you convinced Bodie to accept the mandate, and yet you didn't vote against him. You spoke from the heart. He was caught between high and hurting, and you reached him when maybe no one else could have, in that moment."

He makes a noise of surprise. "I thought maybe you would think it's a bad idea, like Trace."

"No. Everyone has their own path. Bodie is going to have a very hard fight to overcome his dependency. His needs someone to monitor his methadone therapy...it can be nearly as dangerous as the drug it's replacing you know. And each step-down will put him into withdrawal. He's right. He's facing a long road of painful detoxing steps. In a way, I understand his irrational desire to quit all at once, but it's so unlikely he will be able to do that without relapsing. His drug of choice now is just too dangerous and too consuming. Which is why he needs replacement drug therapy. He needs someone there to care for him, physically and emotionally, during the whole process. He can't do it alone, he'll relapse. And Marley has really helped Trace emotionally, so I hope she can help Bodie, too."

"I hope so, too, baby. I really do." After a quiet moment, he asks hesitantly. "How do you feel about spending time in the A? I mean...we both have family there, and if Bodes is going to be there..."

"Atlanta doesn't give me bad vibes. Not anymore. My parents and I are doing better. I was thinking I should visit more anyway. So we can go, and check on Bodie, some, if that's what you mean."

"Yeah, and now that you've met my mom—who loves you, by the way--I also want you to meet my dad."

"Sounds like a plan."

A long moment of quiet follows and I think Leed is asleep, but he finally says, "You know...I can't remember anyone ever saying that to me before. That they respect me. Thank you, Sunshine. It was a nice thing to hear."

"It' true, Leed. You're an amazing man with an amazing heart. Every day, I love and respect you more and more."

"You ain't seen nothin' yet, baby. My heart ain't the only one of my parts worthy of respect." He takes my hand from his chest and places it lightly on his hard-on.

I laugh and cup him lightly. "You can't live like this all week...it has to be much more miserable for you than me."

"This morning I did have the worst case of blue balls I've ever had," he admits. "Date night is just too fucking far away."   He places his hand over mine, encouraging me to stroke him. That's when I know he will let me relieve him. It makes me happy. I've stroked a man off lots of times, but with Leed it's totally different. I love knowing he's getting pleasure at my hand.

I climb between his legs and reach for my hand lotion that's found a home on the night stand. He makes no move to stop me, just watches me with heavy lidded eyes as I coat my hands with a heavy layer. I peel down his pants. "Talk me through it. Tell me exactly how you do it."

"No..." he murmurs, closing his eyes. "What you did before...it was the best I ever had. Love me like you do, Sunshine."

I pleasure him silently, reverently, and he comes hard in my hand, hissing my name. And then, because my Lion can't really be tamed, he demands his equal opportunity to pleasure me. I'm already slick from the excitement of him groaning and flexing , so it's a demand I give into easily.

In the dark he takes off my pajama bottoms and panties then surprises me by settling us under the covers, in a spooning position. He wraps one arm beneath me, gripping me tight across the ribs and pulling my leg back over his hip, immobilizing me and spreading me at the same time. He doesn't try to delay my orgasm this time, he works me up hard and fast. I cry out in shock as euphoria floods me and I shudder intensely, the after effects of pleasure washing over and over me. He stills his hand and whispers in my ear, "I love you, and I love the way you come for me and no other man."

"Me too," I whimper dreamily and he laughs.

"We're sleeping in tomorrow, Sunshine. Don't plan on getting up before noon."

"Why, are you that tired?" I murmur lazily, my brain already wanting to drift from the pleasure of orgasm to sleep.

"No but you will be," is the last thing I hear Leed say.

Sometime later, I wake to the sensation of Leed trailing his fingers lazily down my slit. I lay still, letting him play with me until I can't lay still anymore and I give in to my need to thrust myself into his hand. The pleasure he gives me this time is the longest and most wonderful build-up to ecstasy I've had yet. I find myself murmuring embarrassing confessions of love and adoration to him but he doesn't seem to mind the things I say, not even when I say, "Oh god. I love you. Oh...god...you...you're...a...god."

In fact, I guess he likes it, because he whispers softly. "Whose god?"

"Mine," I gasp. "My god."

"That's right. And you are the brightest Sun in my Universe," he tells me, and I explode into light.

He wakes me two more times in the night—once making me come again and a final time, rubbing against me and murmuring, "I need you again, baby."

When I turn toward him, and try to take him in my mouth, he grips my head softly and tells me no.

"Soon, but not tonight. This slow, sweet learning each other is too much fun, Sunshine," he whispers, pulling me up his body and kissing me instead as he brings my hand down into his pajama pants again.

Now it's his turn to whisper and moan intimacies. His velvet confessions of love are sweeter than even his songs.

Thoughts?

Who loves Leed and Ashlynn's sweet beginnings? Who loves Leed's mix of tantric discipline and play?  Or are you ready for them to stop messing around and get down to serious business?

Who wants to murder Row? Who thinks Riley just avoided a train wreck?

Who can guess what the heck is going on with Bodie and Marley? Ideas about their "past intersection" that Riley alluded to?

What do you think is going to be happening in Drastic? Yes, we will probably be doing the Urgent thing--backtracking a little in the timeline. Right now...I have in mind that Drastic will have a Prologue that is in their past and that the Drastic timeline starts here--when Bodie and Marley and Arabella all begin dealing with Bodie's mandate to get clean. However, the main plotline in Drastic is not Bodie's struggle to get clean...it's Marley's past "mistake"  that both Bodie becomes determined to help her "make right". And the Love Triangle that develops, more so than in any other book. Because we know...or maybe you don't...Bodie is the most loyal band member in the book. He's been with Bells nearly a year now, and he's  not the kind of guy just to toss Bells aside because they've got struggles. Probably some DRASTIC events are going to take place along the way! I think we will see more REAL TIME drama and trauma in this book than any of the others, where as the other books have had their drama mostly in the backstories of their characters. Who is interested in this story?