She nodded and rolled back to face him. "I've been thinking that someone has to be helping the stalker. How else is he able to get into my dressing room and bus? And get a security guard uniform at the stadium? It's probably Donny, but if not, then it has to be someone else, and I don't know who." She held up her casted arm. "Or how far they'll take it."
Brody wrapped his hand around the cast and lowered her arm. "Have you contacted the police?"
"Yes, but we move from state to state, so they can't really help. We're gone before they can find anything."
"How long has this been going on?"
"The stalker surfaced a year ago, but he's been getting bolder and bolder. Reaching closer and closer to me. More and more aggressive." She chewed her lower lip. "Between him and Donny, I'm on edge all the time. I can't sleep. I have nightmares. The only time I feel alive is when I'm on stage, but even that...when I look over and see Donny standing there…I just want to walk away."
"From him?"
"From singing. From touring. From that whole life." She laughed softly. "I meant it about living in your barn, Brody. That sounds like such a gift to me now." She paused. "Sleeping today with you was the first time I felt safe in a very long time."
And yet she'd still had a nightmare. He pressed a kiss to her cast. "Is that why you sent the ticket?"
She nodded. "It was a spontaneous idea. Nora, my tour manager, told me our next stop was Portland, and I thought of you, and I asked her to send you the ticket. I didn't know if you'd come or how you could help me…" She shrugged. "But as it turned out, I'm very glad that I asked her to send the ticket."
"Me, too." He rubbed her knuckles over his jaw, thinking.
She smiled. "You still do that?"
"Do what?"
"Rub my knuckles over your whiskers when you're thinking."
He stopped. "Sorry."
"No, it's okay. Keep doing it. It makes me feel like I've come home."
Brody met her gaze, losing himself in her familiar brown eyes. "I missed you, Tatum. Every fucking day."
Her eyes darkened. "I missed you, too, Brody. You were my world once."
He wanted to kiss her. He wanted to kiss her so fucking badly.
Tatum's gaze flicked to his lips, and then back to his face.
Silence stretched between them, long, taut silence filled with longing, need, and fifteen years of wanting.
Brody knew he should get out of the bed. Right now. She'd come to him for help. She was scared. On edge. Vulnerable. He needed to be the hero she needed and take himself out of the equation.
But he couldn’t. There was literally no way he could make himself walk away from her.
Tatum searched his face. "How can I need you to kiss me so badly, when I haven't seen you for fifteen years? We knew each other as kids, Brody. Kids. We're strangers now, but—"
"Not strangers. Never strangers. Not us." He brought her hand to his lips and kissed each knuckle. "I feel the same way, Tatum." His voice was rougher than he meant, raw with need he could barely even grasp. "I should get up."
"No!" She gripped his shirt with her right hand. "Stay." Without any more words, she pulled him toward her, drawing his face down to hers.
He went willingly, meeting her halfway.
The minute his lips touched hers, his world exploded.
Chapter Nine
Brody's kiss seemed to reach inside Tatum's heart the minute his lips touched hers. It was everything she'd dreamed of for so long, and so much more.
She wrapped her good arm around his neck, holding him close as she kissed him back. She felt starved for him, for his kiss, for his touch, for the feeling of safety she felt in his arms.
Brody draped his leg over her hips and drew her against him as they kissed. The feel of his body against hers was incredible. It had been so long since she'd been held, since she'd wanted to be held.
She was afraid to break the kiss, afraid that if she gave him a chance to think about what he was doing, that he'd stop. He was always the good guy, the responsible one, the one who did what was right, and she knew that this wasn't right.
She was a mess.
He was in protector mode.
Their parting fifteen years ago had been a hell from which her heart had never healed.
There was no way that making love with him right now was a smart thing to do.
But now, in his arms, kissing him, none of that mattered. All she knew was that she needed to lose herself in him, one more time, one more glorious time.
She slid her hand under his shirt and spread her palm over his chest. She felt his muscles tense, and excitement soared through her at his response. He might have tossed her aside fifteen years ago, but the connection was still there. Their bond might be threadbare and neglected, but it was still there, holding onto the faintest bit of light.
"Take it off," she whispered into the kiss, tugging at his shirt. "Please, take it off."
His eyes were dark as he ripped it over his head. Before she could worry that he'd realize they shouldn't do this, he was back kissing her, his fingers unfastening the top button on the flannel shirt he'd given her.
Her heart began to race. His knuckles brushed over the swell of her breast as he worked his way down the buttons. He kissed her collarbone, then traced kisses down her sternum, between her breasts, following the path of his hand as he unfastened each button.
He reached the bottom, and the shirt fell open. Brody pulled back to look at her. She watched his face, suddenly nervous. The last time she'd been with him, she'd had a seventeen-year-old body. Fifteen years had changed her body, given her curves, scars, and softness that she hadn't once had.
But then he smiled, a reverent smile that made her relax. "Beauty that still takes my breath away," he whispered, as he bent down and kissed her breast.
Tatum ran her fingers through his soft hair, closing her eyes as he evoked sensations in her that she'd forgotten even existed. She was so lost in his touch that she barely even noticed when he untied the drawstring of her sweatpants and tugged them over her hips. His moves were pure seduction now, slower, savoring, relishing as he explored her body, taking his time, until she couldn't hold back, moving under him. "Make love to me, Brody."
"Tatum." Her name was a rough growl on his lips as he rolled off her and ditched the rest of his clothes.
When he came back, it was skin against skin everywhere. She ran her foot over his muscled calf as he moved over her, her hands roaming across his chest, biceps, and shoulders, unable to get enough of him.
He kissed her again. Long. Deep. Tender.
Then he slid inside her. They both sucked in their breath, and her eyes snapped open. The expression on his face was raw and vulnerable, matching the painful crack in her soul. She pulled him down to her, showering him with kisses as he began to move inside her, kissing him until she couldn’t. Until all she could do was hang onto him, completely consumed by the sensations whirling through her, more and more and more until—
The orgasm tore through her, and she bit her lip to keep from screaming. But when Brody whispered her name as the orgasm took him, she felt her heart tumble again, right into his hands, into his everything, stripping her of the shields she'd spent fifteen years building.