Chapter 40

The low hum of the off-air beep on the TV slowly filtered into his conscious. Groaning with the sudden stiffness of his neck, he cracked an eye open. What the hell? Where the shit was he? The soft murmur next to him followed by a hand low on his jeans, reminded him just where he was.

Richie’d finally gotten his head on straight. Breaking the speed barrier to find Elena hadn’t been on his schedule, but if the end product included Katy, he couldn’t exactly complain. His head dipped as he pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, grinning when she didn’t move a muscle. Kate, his brave little doctor, had finally let go just a tiny bit, letting him see the woman beneath the stethoscope.

Lifting his arm to check his watch, his eyes widened at the time. "Kate,” he shook her shoulder gently, loathe to wake her, but he had a plane to catch in a few hours. “Kate…baby, you need to wake up."

"Mm-nnnnmmm. Sleepin'. Go away." She rubbed her nose into his chest before she burrowed deeper.

He hugged her closer, his voice low and insistent. "Baby, I know you’re tired, but did you hear Elena come in?” Looking around the apartment, he didn’t see anything to tell him Richie and Teensy had made it back home. “It's—dammit, I hate this,” he growled as she tucked herself deeper into his side. He’d like nothing more than to carry her into her room and sleep with her for a week. Well, at least be horizontal. “We’ve got a plane to the UK that we can’t miss."

With a start, training from ER catnaps kicked in and she popped up. Immediately awake, she frowned as her fingers curled into hair roughened, warm flesh. Definitely male flesh. Trying to snatch her hand back, she groaned when his t-shirt twisted around her hand. Sweet, Mary when had her fingers slid under there?

Part of her wanted to smooth over the interesting ridges and see just what was under the dark cotton. The other part snapped back and drew her hand away without looking at him. "What?" She blinked, had he said the UK? Early dawn light crept into the Bat Cave she called her living room. She looked down at their prone positions...yet again...on a couch. "This is getting to be a habit when we get together. At least our clothes are on this time," she said and detangled herself from him.

He grinned. "I’m not complaining. Matter of fact…it’s probably the first decent sleep I've had in a couple of weeks." He glanced around the room trying to find some indication that they’d come back some time in the night. "Thing is…we were right here.” He sat up, his skin missing hers already. “If they came in we would have heard it, right?” God, he hoped to hell she’d taken him back. Standing, he stretched out the worst of the kinks, taking in her sleep mussed hair and sharp green eyes. "I hated to wake you…” but she didn’t look tired. “I know you’re probably exhausted—“

“I’m good,” she interrupted, standing beside him.

“Okay, good. I don’t know this area and if I have to hunt him down, I'll need your,” he paused, gritting his teeth, “help." Asking for the Good Doctor’s help was a little easier when she looked like a sexy co-ed. His eyes dropped to her chest. The shirt had twisted in sleep, leaving her more-than-a-handful breasts on display. His fingers itched to tug the cotton just a little lower to see if her nipples were just as pretty as he remembered.

She hiked the shoulder straps of her tank until her breasts were under control. For God's sake she'd slept on him. Again. Trying desperately to ignore the glint in his eyes, she bit back a groan. On top of that hot look, it had been the most thorough sleep she'd had since...the last time she'd slept with him. Mercy, pull it together. Glancing around the room, carefully avoiding the mouthwatering bulge pressing on his fly, she tried to think. "I don't see Elena's purse, but that doesn't mean anything. She rarely carries one when she's partying." She was babbling. This is what that stupid man reduced her to.

Watching her stalk the room, the unusual wildness of her hair reminding him of a feisty lioness, he felt a little calmer. She was just as freaked out by the situation, maybe more so.

Kate checked the front door and found it unlocked, then backed up and headed for Elena's room. She pushed open the door and stopped. Richie was curled around her best friend; his feet and a good three inches of leg were hanging off the end of her bed. White socks were twisted in powder blue sheets while pretty pink toenails lay against his denim clad legs. Richie surrounded Elena both with body and arms until her friend lay snuggled in a perfect little nest. They both shared the same pillow. If she had to make a guess, there wasn’t a bit of Richie NOT touching her.

The intimacy was staggering. More than enough to have her beat a hasty retreat. He'd certainly sweet-talked his way back into her good graces with little effort. She backed into Jon with a muttered curse.

Jon's fingers slid along the slice of skin that gaped between her shorts and tank. Pulling back at her flinch, he stuffed his hands in his pockets. "What? She’s not there?"

"Oh yeah she is," she muttered and turned away. She banged her toe into a small cosmetic drawer, knocking a prescription bottle onto her throbbing foot. She swore viciously, both from the eye crossing pain and her all over body flush at Jon’s touch. She picked it up, automatically scanning the script and the drug. Her crazy reaction to Jon immediately forgotten. "Well that explains that," she said darkly.

He peeked his head in, seeing Richie nearly exploding off the little bed, he came in the rest of the way. "Damn. That’s the first time I've seen him sleep in weeks." He spoke in a regular voice. You could scream into Richie’s ear point blank and he wouldn’t fucking hear you. Turning back to Kate his eyebrow rose. "What explains what?"

She shook the pills at him, her anger growing at the lack of rattle. Looking back down at the count she saw red. "Fucking amphetamines." Tucking the bottle into her shorts pocket, she pointed at the blissfully sleeping couple. "That's what he did to her.” The rage blew through her. “We did hell week without the help of uppers and she fucks him one time.” She whirled on Jon, stepping into his space. “One time and she's fucking using to get over him!” She brushed past him, the force backing him to the doorjamb. “Get him outta here," she growled.

He followed her out, grabbing her upper arm. An answering anger caused him to grab her harder than he intended, backing off when she twisted away. "What part of last night did you miss when I told you he was just as bad?" He watched the anger turn her eyes dark as emeralds. He glanced back at the bedroom. "It seems to me they are both content at the moment.” He turned back to her, the way she vibrated and yet stayed perfectly still seemed more of a warning than even her earlier shouts. "Don’t they deserve to make that decision for themselves?" Cautiously, he moved closer, his hand reaching for her waist. "Do you hate him that much?"

She pushed at him, even as he gathered her closer. "You didn't see her. Didn't see what he'd done to her with one or two careless words." When his fingers tangled in her hair and held her against him, she growled at him. "One night and he wrecked her. I can't watch her go through that again,” she whispered. “She doesn't deserve it."

"Katy, he made a mistake.” His tone went soothing as he pulled her in tight. “A bad one. And believe me, he paid for it as well.” The fear still churned in his gut. He’d never seen Richie so close to the edge before. “He’s trying to make it right."

The rich, cinnamon smell he associated with her pushed through the anger. The way her body fit into his reminded him of his own restless nights without her. Flatfooted, her mouth met his neck and he could feel her breath. Trying to ignore the way his body instantly reacted to her, he blocked out the way her unencumbered breasts flattened against his chest. They felt soft and he could still remember her taste.

This had to stay about Richie. He pulled back, banking his own fury and attraction. He knew her anger was due to her loyalty to her friend. He could understand that, and he sure as fuck respected it. "Just talk to him.” He watched the anger melt away. Seeing her wavering he went on. “You’ll see that he means it, I promise.” When her back went up again, he sighed. “Talk to her, Katy. See what she says.” When her mouth opened to interrupt him he held up a hand. “Don’t just dismiss it. We need to do what’s right for them…not us."

Her knees dissolved with the heat of her anger as she sagged into his arms. Everything inside of her told her to get Elena as far away from Richie as possible. She pressed her nose into his chest and took a deep breath until her head swam with that indefinable scent that haunted her dreams. Not every night, just the ones where she felt the loneliest. "Just give me a second," she said with a very sad and very tired sigh.

His cock wrestled with his zipper. Each time he took her into him for comfort he wanted just a bit more. Forcing his voice to stay light, he murmured, "take all the time you need."

She pressed her cheek into his shoulder, looking out across the room so that she could see inside Elena's bedroom. "She does look peaceful," she said mournfully.

"So does he, I actually hate the idea of having to wake him."

His voice was low, rumbling against her cheek. Suddenly very aware of her near naked self, plastered to him, she eased back. She cleared her throat, needing to change the subject. "Where are you guys headed?"

Knowing the moment was gone, yet again, he sat back on the couch. "London first, concert at Hammersmith Odeon, then Holland.” Already exhausted just at the thought, he sighed. “I can’t keep track of the stupid schedule. It’s ever changing,” he bit back his bitching. He knew he sounded like an ungrateful shit. He knew a dozen guys that would kill for the position he was in. He rolled his eyes. “More interviews than I want to think about and," he shivered a bit, "photo sessions. Should be gone a couple of weeks this time."

At his crooked grin, she gave him an answering smile. "Pictures, huh?" She fluffed his curls. "Gonna get all pretty for the camera, Sugar?"

"Something like that. And of course, it’s always, ‘Wear the ripped shirt Jon, or don’t wear a shirt, Jon.’ Dammit, you’d think all I am is a—“ He shook his head ruefully, "Listen to me bitch. Whatever gets our music out there."

“Sounds like you're convincing yourself.” Without thinking she let her fingers glide over his chest, feeling the crisp hairs under the cotton, then the real thing as the rip in his shirt curled around her finger. When his sky blue eyes heated at her touch she cleared her throat and stood. Obviously, she couldn’t be that close to him without thinking naked thoughts. "I can't trust myself not to kick your other half in the head, so why don't you wake them up?" She headed to the small kitchenette. "I'll have coffee ready for all of us."