The Tule fog was gone when I cracked my eyes open. Through the tour bus sunroof was a sea of stars with the last rays of sun painting a hint of gold in the sky. The sound of a lone guitar woke me up. But Zoey was still fast asleep next to me. The guitar rift was bluesy but modern at the same time. It balances new and old on a knife edge. But that guitar riff was dirty in all the best possible ways.

I followed the music with my barefoot, not making noise. And I imagined this is how all those mariners died to sirens. Asher was seated on the small circle couch right next to the kitchen. His leather-bound journal was unwrapped, with notes scrolled in it. His head was leaned back against the headrest. His fingers moved of their own accord, finding a way to make the dirtiest guitar rift dirtier.

Shirt off and all those tats on full display wearing just a pair of black jeans. One foot on the tiny table and a tumbler of whiskey. Hips pushed forward into his guitar as he chased the sound. With the spicy scent of his cigarillo in the ashtray in front of him. The slim cigar holder has one single cigar left in it. If he only gets those cigarillos a year, he's really burning through them.

His normally perfectly styled hair was a mess in front of him. The kind of messy haircut people pay and spend hours making. His expression was in a grimace as he plucked and tease the guitar. But if I'm honest, I couldn't say if Asher like this was in pleasure or pain. Trap in a loop of almost getting there, but not. I could hear it wasn't done as well as it could have sounded. He was close though and anyone else would have been happy with close.

Smoke rose from the little thin cigarillo rising to the open window. The last rays of the day I missed finally fell from the sky. The parking lot lights came on and still, he played. I felt that the rift found a way like magic to get dirtier. To find a way to sound like unmet sexual expectation. Until the sound changed and got darker, and richer. The thing about Asher is it's almost as if there are three Ashers. The guy who says treat me like a regular guy. He's nice and considerate. The Asher that writes in his journal. He trades information about himself for information about me. He's a normal guy, with a mischievous, playful smile. Then there's Asher the Rock Star, and it's like he's a sun on fire. He's nebulous in possibilities and almost unreal. He fills up a room, a stage, and he burns bright. Finally, there's something else that's always on the edge. Almost seen, almost out of control. When he kissed me in the parking lot before the anger.

So hard to describe. It was like when I kissed him; he was a powder keg ready to explode. Couldn't tell what that explosion was. I don't know who that Asher is. But I do realize it isn't pretty. But I'm not sure it was my place to ask about it. If I thought he was looking for something more than a casual hookup, I would. But Asher isn't known as a relationship star. Rock Star he's called even though he raps sometimes is very true. He always appeared on social media like that.

He groans in frustration but he didn't mess up. At least it didn't seem like he did. It sounded good. Still, the frustration was plain to see his face was in his clenched teeth grimace. I held my breath and began backing out of the little kitchen.

Maybe I was louder than I thought. Or, it could be, he just knew. But Asher's eyes were open and his hazel eyes locked on mine.

Shit.

The person looking at me wasn't Asher, the regular guy. It wasn't Asher, the rock star, with hints of something more. It was that on edge.

Edge of what, I still wasn't sure. It almost reminded me of that look on stage with his older brother Dustin in the last performance. Dustin's eyes and Asher's eyes have almost the same look in them, but not quite the same. Asher's isn't as blown out as Dustin's was. His have only the edge of it widen and darken. That little bit blown out could be a trick of the light. I still had to stop myself from taking a step back. The similarity was striking.

The reality was it was time for me to put big girl panties up. Thankfully, I was wearing my big girl panties. I wasn't going to act like a mouse and then run off to bed, all embarrassed. Although the tour bus was huge, it had two different parts. Plus, it had more floor space than my mother's starter home. But all the same, the bus didn't really have too many places to go. Everything was practically on top of everything else. I couldn't help but listen.

Asher's long, sure fingers didn't stop moving on the guitar. His dark wild hair moved with the tilting of his head to the side in a wordless question. The dirtiest little rift is still in the creation process.

Say something Sabali.

Anything!

Don't Wheelz out!

"One left." I pointed at the cigarillo.

"Yes." The answer was short, concise, and painful to hear. I'm not sure he meant it to be aching on purpose, but it the way he said it gave me that impression all the same. I'm a total nerd feeling. Not in a mean way, but in the same way, my college friends called me Wheelz. I'm not sure he was going for the same effect, but I did interrupt him.

I took a step back. "I should probably get out of here. You're working."

"Stay." Another short answer in his deep voice. Maybe he's just frustrated, not at me, but at the rift? To me, it sounds wonderful if a little incomplete. He shifts over onto the small couch. I move to sit next to him.

The music soaks into me, sinking. It reminds me so heavily of when we were in the back of the van together. My fingers automatically tap out a beat on the table and hum along. I was taken away by the music.

Then Asher stops playing and sets his guitar to the side. He leans forward and hits a button on his phone. "Playback the last eight minutes of the memo and loop it." He says to the phone. I listen to it with him and it sounds sexy. He shifted things a little and with the beat, it has a thicker tone to it.

"What does this sound like?" He asked me.

"It sounds like-" I was about to say hot sex but stop myself. All of a sudden, my brain caught up with my love of music. I remember that I was in his tank top without a bra and shorts. Worst of all it was too big and the armholes and neck hole hung loose. So it deep way too low. Thankfully, I put on panties. I look down and notice my hard nipples poking against his tank top. I've been squirming around since I woke up to this sound. I'd been doing the same thing on the couch while the music was playing. When I sat next to him, we weren't as close together either. It's a small couch, but I moved into his space as I listen. I wasn't on top of him, but our knees were touching.

"Are you going to finish the thought?" Asher questions.

I lick my lips as my nerves pressed in on me. At the same time, I felt like a big ball of frustration in my belly. I needed...

"I'm not sure."

"I think you are Birdy."

He was right. I was ready to bounce off the bus's walls. It was like that time in the parking lot with the kiss before it got weird and he got angry. I wanted to know where it was supposed to go. I wanted-

I leaned over and kissed him.

My hold body felt wound up so tight but it wasn't as forceful a kiss as I thought it would be. Maybe that's all Asher needed because it unlocked something in him. He lifted me and shifted me to his lap. He slipped into my mouth, taking the kiss over. I followed his lean like it was a duet. I sucked on his hot tongue, rocking my hips against him. We went from zero to a hundred so fast, my hard nipples rubbing against his bare chest through my thin tank top.

His big hand on my hip moved me just a little bit so I could sit on top of something hard and thick in jeans. I wanted more; I wanted all of it. Wasn't a single part of me that wasn't taken away. I realized I was right when I woke up. My first thought was of sirens and shipwrecks. Being completely honest with myself, I'd be happy to crash as long as I got this feeling. This burning in the low in my belly. This rush in my heart and mind. As long as I got this sound coursing through me. But then....

...............He stopped.

My brain caught up to what he did. He stops kissing me again and everything on the moving train of my horny stopped in its tracks. If I could have burnt this bitch of a world down, I would have. This was completely unfair. I lick my kiss-swollen lips, tasting his smoke, burnt honey, and whiskey. My emotion spun in a daze. I lift my eyes from Asher's pretty lips up to his lush lashes. Why do men get lush lashes? I mean, what's the point? They don't appreciate it. It's completely wasted on men, but it's so pretty to look at. My brain buzzes with a riot of emotions and odd pinging thoughts. The loudest of which was, oh lawd, not again? This man is going to get me racing and then try to leave high and dry. I shift on top of his hardness, feeling the creamy wetness between my thighs. Well, maybe not dry.

Frustration finally won the battle in my mind, and nebulous hazel eyes drew me in. The light from the parking lot was the only single soft beam in the RV. A wicked smile barely lit stretched across Asher's face. I stopped worrying about him stopping. That wicked smile wasn't a stop smile. That smile said to me you better worry about what's next.

Oh shit.

"Finish the thought." He made the words a dark command. As if he could pull out that needy little fiery place deep in my belly. If I'm honest, he probably could.

I squirm on top of him and heat spreads to my limbs. I rest my forehead against him, my eyes entranced in his hazel stardust. I want so badly. One big jumble. His thumb brushes against the dark skin of my tummy. I moan against his lip. The words he wants to escape my brain. I want more. I chant it in my mind like a prayer. My greedy hips work against that hardness, wanting so much. The way I'm breathing, you would think I'm running a marathon.

"Say it Birdy."

"I want to..."

"To?"

"... cum," I confessed to him in a whisper. "It-it makes me want to cum." I feel Asher's wicked smile against my lips. His hand goes down my panties. His fingertips brush against my wetness. I moan into his lips. He plays me as smoothly as he plays that guitar.

I ride his fingers, searching for it. With my head against his, it feels like the world is so tiny. That everything that ever was exists in two places. My head is against his forehead and his finger circling my clit. My hips chased his fingertip. We share the same hot breath back and forth. Finally, he brushes his thumb against my clit. His mouth recaptured mine. His thick two fingers slipped into me deeply.

Asher gave me what I needed. I came with his insistent touch, running out of me for what I needed. He swallowed my moan. Our kiss broke, and I was completely out of breath. I was done, but my hips didn't stop. As my core clenched around his finger, he slid it out. Wet with me all over it, he put it in his mouth. His eyes closed around my taste and he savored it. I watched him so close, the haze of my climax still hanging in the air between us. With me, still sitting on the hardness under me.

I didn't need flowers and promises what I needed was right now. So, I slip off his lap and reached for his zipper. But Asher stopped me. The confused, frustrated expression came back on his beautiful face. He grab his guitar and headed for the studio, leaving me behind on the couch.

Fuck...What is up with this man? I think I might end up burning this world down after all. He did it AGAIN.

A/n: I dunno why but I feel like the story is starting to cook.