Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 60482 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 302(@200wpm)___ 242(@250wpm)___ 202(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 60482 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 302(@200wpm)___ 242(@250wpm)___ 202(@300wpm)
“What would the lovely ladies like us to sing?” Travis asks, his eyes twinkling with amusement.
“Sweet Home Alabama,” I cry out, slightly tipsy from all the cocktails the air hostess has been serving.
“Anything for my lady,” Travis replies, a soft smile playing on his lips.
They start singing.
It’s fucking bliss.
When the boys join in, I realize they all sound amazing together. The song finishes, and I clap my hands, then press a hand to my heart. “Sing me something, rockstar. Blow my heartstrings to pieces,” I breathe, eyes locked on his.
He winks at me and begins strumming lightly on his guitar. When he starts singing the song he sang to me on the beach that night, he really does blow my heartstrings to pieces. It was beautiful then, but with the music, it has the whole plane going silent, staring in awe. It takes you to another moment, another place, making you forget who’s around when Travis sings like that.
I stare into his eyes as he sings, and it’s at that exact moment I realize I am totally in love with Travis Phoenix. I have always loved him, of course, but this... this is something else. This is real and deep and has the potential to absolutely destroy me. His eyes, his gaze, tell me he’s far ahead of me, that I’ve trapped his heart, his soul, and I could break him as quickly as he could break me. When the song is over, everyone is silent, staring at the eye contact Travis and I didn’t even realize we were making.
Reagan clears her throat, and I spin around to stare at her, blinking to clear my gaze. It feels hazy. Am I crying? I stand, mumbling an apology before dashing into the back room. Reagan knocks on the door a moment later, and I let her in.
“Are you okay?” she asks, her eyes scanning my face.
“Sure, I just needed a minute,” I reply, my voice barely a whisper.
“You’re in love with him, aren’t you?” she smiles, her voice low but gentle.
“Yeah, I think I am. I think this time, it’s real and it’s terrifying.”
“Love is terrifying, but what you have with Travis is worth it. Come on, wipe your eyes, this is a good thing.”
I nod, and she helps me clean up. We walk out, and when we get back to the seats, Travis is sitting and staring out the window. He turns to look at me as I walk past, our eyes meeting for a moment before he pulls out his phone and breaks the moment.
What that tells me is that he’s feeling what I am, and it scares the hell out of him too.
12
THE HOTEL TRAVIS BOOKED is spectacular.
The kind of thing I could only dream of.
Two adjoining rooms lead onto a broad balcony, dominated by a steaming spa tub built for a dozen people—our instant obsession. There are three bedrooms in each suite, so we have ample space. It’s only for tonight, but I’ll take it. Travis doesn’t hang around too long; he has to go sort some things out for the show but promises to be back as soon as he can. So I do the only thing that makes sense: I head for the hot tub, where the others are already sloshing drinks, laughter trailing through the humid air.
Within minutes, the sweet sting of alcohol ignites my pulse. We spiral into giddy, tipsy chatter—Reagan straddling Harley’s lap like a teenager sneaking cigarettes behind the school. Even stoic Janice has loosened up. A few hours later, Travis returns. We’re all well on our way to being incredibly drunk and have been in and out of the hot tub all afternoon.
It’s epic.
He slides in, pulling me closer to him as his body sinks into the water.
“I see you’ve been having fun without me,” he murmurs, voice low and edged with something fierce.
A laugh bubbles from my lips. “I’m... maybe a little drunk.” I run my hand along his jaw. He smiles—half joy, half pain—and sheds his shirt in a fluid motion. The tub goes silent for a breath. Reagan whistles; Janice’s cheeks bloom red. Travis moves behind me, drags me onto his lap. His chest is solid, unyielding; I melt into him, every nerve alight at the press of his skin.
Janice’s gaze sears into us. She is plotting my accidental death right now, I’m quite sure of it.
I swallow the thought as Travis’s hand snakes beneath my bikini. My breath hitches—no, he wouldn’t dare... but he does. His thumb finds my clit, his fingertip pressing down over it, slow and deliberate. I grip his arm until I can feel his muscles twitching, flexing under my fingers.
Across the tub, Marcus decides now is the perfect time to start a conversation. “What do you do for a living again, Violet?”
My cheeks burn hotter than the steamy water. “Huh?”