“There,” she said as she ran her hands over his skull, brushing his wet hair back from his face. “Perfect.”

He didn’t want to open his eyes yet, wanted nothing more than to pull her closer and lay his head against her chest and hear her heart beat. And when he did, her arms came around his shoulders so that she was holding him.

Ford didn’t know how long they stayed like that, but it was long enough that the water started to cool.

“Looks like shower time is over.” He could hear the same regret in her voice that he felt. “Fortunately, your shampoo was sudsy enough to get both of us plenty clean all over.”

“That’s what I missed while my eyes were closed?” Ongoing—and ever increasing—need had his hands instinctively tightening on her hips. “Soap bubbles running over your naked body?”

“Just a few hundred or so,” she teased, but before he could grab a bar of soap to create a few hundred more, she gave a little yelp and jumped away from the stream of water. “It’s freezing!” By the time she turned off the faucet, he had already opened the door to grab a thick towel.

It was his turn now to give her the comfort of wrapping the plush cotton around her and rubbing his hands over her curves to dry her off.

She closed her eyes and leaned into his touch. “Mmm, that feels good.”

Did it ever.

Now that he had her wrapped up in the towel and fighting his reaction to her nakedness wasn’t taking every ounce of his concentration, he could see the dark smudges beneath her eyes. She was tired, and he knew he was the reason. Not just because of her long drive to Eugene today, but because he doubted she was getting much more sleep than he was. At least, she was relieving a little bit of the pressure by touching herself—

No, that was exactly the wrong road to go down. Later, when she wasn’t right here tempting him, he’d let himself fantasize about how she might have touched herself. Although hopefully soon she’d trust him enough with her heart that he wouldn’t have to fantasize...because he’d be right there with her in the bed.

He picked her up, grabbing a towel for himself as he headed from the shower into his private bedroom at the back of the bus. Without opening her eyes, she reached out to wrap her arms around his neck and nuzzle his still-wet skin.

“Time for bed.”

Her heavy eyelids fluttered open. “Not yet.”

Of course, he also wanted to spend more time talking, teasing, laughing with her, but he was trying to think of what was best for her as he said, “You must be tired after your long day and drive.”

“No,” she swore as he gently laid her down on the bed, “I’m not the least bit tired.” He’d barely wrapped up in a towel and come behind her to draw her against him, her back to his front, when she said, “I want to hear all about your show.”

“It was good.” He stroked her wet hair as it lay spread across his pillow. Her skin smelled like his shampoo, but her hair still held her signature rose scent. “I played the new song I wrote for you.”

She ran her hand down the arm draped across her waist until she could cover his hand with hers. She lifted it to tuck it between her br**sts as she said, “They must have loved it.”

Her head fit perfectly beneath his chin, and he barely stifled a groan as she wiggled her bottom more tightly against his hips. “They did.”

“How does it feel to be up there in front of so many people who all love what you do so much?”

“Lucky.” She shifted slightly to look at him over her shoulder as he thought about how to explain it better. “There are millions of kids with guitars. A million more who are trying to get away from their current lives into a better one. I think about that every time I get up on stage, how everyone in the audience is willing to part with time and money they don’t have any extra of to spend a night with me. I’d be nothing without them.”

“Yes, you would.” She gripped his hand tighter against her heart. “Even if you’d never hit it big, even if your songs had never been on the radio, even if you were playing dive bars instead of stadiums, you’d still be amazing, Ford.” She spread his hand flat against her heart so that he could feel it beating against his palm. “Amazing inside and out.”

If he’d thought it was difficult not to make love to her, he suddenly found it was a thousand times more difficult not to scare her off by telling her exactly how much he loved her...and to keep from begging her to love him back just as much.

“How many houses did you sell today?”

He couldn’t see her smile, but he swore he could feel it as she said, “Just one, before I decided to hightail it to Oregon. It was for a family that is going to be really happy with the neighborhood and the nearby beach. Even better, we were able to close the deal without breaking the bank. I hate to see people overextended.”

He would have expected most Realtors to celebrate the higher priced sales, because those sales meant an automatic rise in their salary. Mia had gone from being fairly new in the business to having her own thriving brokerage since they’d first met. But he could easily guess that the reason she had been able to build it so quickly was because she matched people up with the properties that were right for them, regardless of how much they cost or how small her percentage might end up amounting to.

“Having a home is important.” It was something he’d only just learned.

And yet, as she slipped into sleep in his arms, even though they were in his tour bus rather than his new house, just holding her made him feel like he was finally home.

Chapter Twenty-four

Mia had always been a big sleeper. She loved waking up on cool mornings warm and cozy beneath a thick duvet, and would often linger long past the first ring of her alarm clock. But this morning she felt so good, so warm and safe, that she didn’t want to wake up all the way.

No matter how long she’d tried to fight the truth, everything was better with Ford.

Especially this.

After a shower that had teased them both nearly senseless with naked skin neither of them could touch, she’d loved the way he’d curled up with her on the bed. At some point, she must have fallen asleep and he’d tucked them both beneath the covers.

Just enough light was coming into the bedroom of his tour bus through the edges of the blinds that, as she slowly turned in his arms to rest her head in the crook of his shoulder, she asked herself yet again, what did being Ford’s friend mean? A bond of mutual affection is how the dictionary defined friendship, but that wasn’t even close to big enough for what she was starting to feel for Ford. Affection was there, of course, but so was intimacy and attachment and empathy and comfort.