Page 28 of Pretty When It Burns (When The Lights Go Down #1)

Chapter twenty-five

"Good Love" - Aly & AJ

Mia

We’re so completely tangled together on the old leather couch, I’m not even thinking about how many other people have probably had sex on it.

My face rests against Grayson’s chest in the perfect position to listen to his heartbeat as he traces random shapes on my bare back.

It’s the calm after the best storm of my life.

I feel him press a soft kiss to the top of my head and exhale as if he’s trying to come back down to Earth.

“That was…” I begin wistfully, not even sure if I have words to describe what I’m feeling.

“Yeah,” he says breathily, his voice low. “It was.”

I tilt my face up to meet his gaze. His eyes are soft, his lips curved into a dazed, happy, but sleepy smile.

“Do you always talk this much after sex?” I tease, and he grins wider.

“Only when I’m trying to wrap my head around the fact that the woman who just wrecked me is the same one I’ve been in love with since she walked back into my life after twelve years.”

I laugh, shaking my head, still in disbelief that I really have this much of an effect on him.

“Good,” I whisper, settling back against him. “Because I don’t usually have life-changing revelations after sex, but what just happened would definitely qualify as such.”

His laughter rumbles beneath me, and I smile as it gets louder and the sound fills the room. God, I wish every room could sound like this.

We fall back into the blissful quiet rhythm again, feeling each other’s breathing and pretending the world beyond the dressing room door doesn’t exist.

“I could get used to this,” Grayson says quietly.

“Don’t jinx it—” I start to say just as the door bursts open.

“Hey, have you guys—OH, JESUS CHRIST!”

Eric’s voice.

Deafening horror.

Dramatic screaming.

He whips back around so fast, I think he might’ve given himself whiplash.

“NOPE! Nope, nope, nope. I didn’t see anything! God, Grayson, have you ever heard of, I don’t know, locking the fucking door?!”

“Oh my god,” I gasp, scrambling for something—anything—to cover myself, burying my ever-reddening face in Grayson’s chest, completely mortified.

“I didn’t think we’d need a damn bouncer,” Grayson replies, somehow unfazed.

“Well, clearly, you were wrong!” Eric shouts, still shielding his eyes and refusing to look at us as if we were still mounted on each other.

“I’ll be out in a few,” Grayson says calmly as I shake against him to keep my laughter to myself.

“Might be more than a few,” I whisper, not daring to look up.

Eric groans loudly. “I’ll let Jake know that we have to burn the couch.”

The door finally slams shut behind him. I peek up at Grayson, who’s grinning like an idiot.

“Think he’s going to go tell everyone now?” I ask, already knowing the answer.

He looks down at me, kissing the top of my nose. “Definitely.”

We had the luxury of staying in a hotel after the show last night, granting us what should have been a good night’s sleep.

A reprieve from the adrenaline of the show and the high we never really came down from.

But in reality, it just gave us the privacy to continue what started in the dressing room.

By the time we get to our room, I can barely keep my hands off him.

Even with the embarrassing interruption, I want more—need it—and I want it now.

The second the door shuts behind us, I’m already pressed against it with a possessive groan.

His mouth finds mine like he’s been starving for it all night, like we hadn’t already given in to each other just hours before.

“Still not done with you, baby,” he whispers. “Not even close.”

I barely get a breath in before he’s leading me to the bed, shedding his clothes and mine like they’re just an unnecessary annoyance.

It’s like he can’t stand the thought of not being able to touch me for another second, and I’m already aching for him again.

I’m still soaked and breathless even though I’m also still half-wrecked, sore, and throbbing from earlier.

None of that matters. It’ll never be enough with him.

Grayson doesn’t rush. Not this time.

He lays me down on the edge of the bed like I’m something precious—something he can’t believe he gets to touch.

My legs dangle off the side and he pushes them up to my chest and spreads apart my thighs with his hands before settling himself between them.

He leans over and kisses me like he owns me, like every move I make belongs to him as he drags the tip of his cock against my heat.

It’s just enough contact to make me start writhing beneath him, craving more.

“Grayson, please—”

“I know, sweetheart,” he murmurs against my ear, a hand wrapping gently around my neck. “I need you, too. I just want to savor it.”

When he does slide inside me again, it’s deeper, slower, and more intentional.

Almost agonizing. His forehead presses against mine like he needs this as much as I do.

Maybe even more. Every inch of him stretches me open, filling me until I’m gasping his name like a prayer as I dig my nails into his shoulders.

Round two is slower. Rougher, but in a way that isn’t hurried—not frantic with need and desperation to close the distance like before.

It’s focused.

Intense.

It’s about me.

Because now there’s no audience outside of the door and no time limit. He has all the time in the world to make me fall apart again and again and leave me wanting more every single time—and he knows it.

“You feel like fucking heaven,” he moans, his voice trembling. “You have no idea what you do to me, sweetheart.”

I cling to him as he rocks into me, slow and relentless, every thrust bringing me closer to the edge.

One of his hands remains on my neck—a gentle grip, commanding without fear—while the other laces his fingers with mine above my head, pinning me to the bed like he has no intention of ever letting me go.

He grinds deeper, harder, his rhythm now relentless, priced, and focused.

His hips rock with devastating control at just the right angle with just the right amount of pressure—and I shatter beneath him.

“Look at me, Mia,” he says, his voice low and dangerous. “I want to watch you come.”

And I do—with him inside me, above me, surrounding me—holding on like I’m the only thing that’s ever made sense. The orgasm rips through me like lightning, intense and electric. It makes my toes curl and steals my breath away. I cry out his name again like it’s the only word I know.

He follows over the edge a moment later, his body tensing as he comes with a deep, guttural sound that makes my entire body pulse with satisfaction. I did that for him, and my name is the only thing on his mind.

Coming undone together—it feels like more than sex.

It feels like surrender.

Something sacred.

He collapses beside me, dragging the duvet cover over our tangled limbs as his fingers trace random strokes across my chest and down my arm before curling protectively around my hand like he’s afraid to let me go.

I’ve always hated the term making love.

But sex feels too basic.

Because, the thing is—this feels like coming home.

The next morning, I climb into the front booth in the common area of the bus. I pass my luggage off to the band’s production crew, clutching a cup of hot tea and wearing the most comfortable thing I can think of—leggings and one of Grayson’s tour t-shirts. It’s soft, worn, and smells just like him.

Grayson slides into the booth next to me, pressing a kiss to my cheek. When he pulls away, that smug grin is already in place—like he isn’t the least bit embarrassed about being walked in on after the most intimate moment of our relationship the night before.

“You look so damn good in my clothes,” he murmurs in my ear.

I blush wildly, but I know I’m certainly not looking forward to seeing everyone’s reaction to our recent activities. My sex life is something I prefer to keep private, but that line blurs fast when you live in a rolling tin can, albeit a luxurious one, with seven other people.

Eric walks in first, dramatically shielding his eyes then slowly sneaking a peek at us.

“Oh good, clothes! Wouldn’t want to be traumatized twice.”

Grayson stifles a laugh into his coffee. “You were the one who came in without knocking.”

“It was a band dressing room!” Eric shouts, though I can tell he’s enjoying the banter. “Not a Motel Six!”

The rest of the gang arrives shortly after. Rylee plops herself into the booth across from Grayson and me, a mischievous sparkle in her eyes.

“It’s about damn time you two sealed the deal. I’m just saying.”

“Did you tell Jake about the couch?” Johanna asks from the kitchenette as she makes one of her disgusting, green power smoothies.

“Oh, I told him,” Tony laughs as he tosses his backpack on his bunk. “You know the little forehead vein he gets when we’re late for soundcheck? That thing was popping. Like… level ten.”

Brandon shakes his head and takes his seat next to his sister. “I’m pretty sure it’s always on level ten.”

Grayson leans into me and murmurs under his breath, “They’re not going to shut up about this, are they?”

“Not a chance,” I smile into my mug. “It’s all your fault.”

“I’m pretty sure you were an equal participant in last night’s… escapades.”

“Escapades?” I giggle. “Who are you, James Bond?”

He grins. “Only for you, beautiful.”

Rylee leans across our table, looking between us knowingly. “So… Can I start planning the wedding playlist now?”

“Rylee,” I groan, a knot forming in my chest.

Not even a month prior, Grayson finalized a divorce. The last thing I want is to spook him with the marriage talk so soon.

“I have, like, at least five options for a first dance song already,” she says, totally unfazed as I kick her leg sharply under the table. “What can I say? I’m nothing if not prepared.”

Grayson takes my hand under the table and laces his fingers through mine as if we’ve been doing it for years. He looks over at Rylee, then turns back to me.

“When we’re ready to take that step, Rylee,” he says, voice steady. “You’ll be the first to know.”

My heart trips over itself. There’s no hesitation in his voice, no doubt in his eyes. His thumb brushes against mine, grounding me again. He’s always grounding me.

The bus lurches gently as the wheels begin to move and we head away from the venue, away from the best night of my life. I lean my head against Grayson’s shoulder and he presses another kiss against my temple.

“Alright, you knuckleheads,” Jake calls from the driver’s seat. “Next stop: Charlotte. Let’s try not to deface any public property this time.”

Laughter erupts behind us, and I know we’re ready for whatever comes next.