Chapter 27

I want you he had told her and yet, she reached for him and his side of the bed was cold.  Again.  What the hell?  Shoving back the blankets Stephanie got out of the bed and pulled on her robe.  This shit has got to stop she mumbled to herself as she made her way out of the room.  If he truly meant what he said, why had he not made it up to bed?

They had resolved so much earlier she thought.  The day had been practically perfect after they found their footing.  Their calendars were mostly in sync, they had a plan going forward, though it had been made in pencil so changes and alterations could be made.  They had even set a plan in motion to take a family trip once Ava was done with school.  She had been thrilled with that announcement at dinner.  And Lily had been over the moon happy to have her daddy play with her and take over her bedtime routine.  Even if it ended up being for only a night, at least Lily had had her father’s undivided attention for that time.

A loud sigh escaped her.  So why was she wandering the house in the middle of the night to find her husband?

Rounding the corner from the stairs she paused, the music floated to her from down the hall.  The soft strumming of the guitar and low tone of his voice drew her closer.  At least he wasn’t crashed out on the couch again.  She stopped at the door and watched, waited.  He had one bare foot propped on the ottoman in front of him and his head rested against the back of the couch.  His notebook sat open next to him, the pencil lay askew on the page.  He strummed idly now, his eyes closed. 

And seeing him like this, the irritation that had driven her to go searching for him in the middle of the night disappeared as if it had never been.  She was reminded again of the man she had married, the man to whom music was as essential as breathing.  The corner of her mouth kicked up with a hint of a smile.  He always seemed happiest and the most at peace with a guitar in his hands.  

Shifting, he opened his eyes and lowered his gaze, catching a familiar bit of pink as he eyes slid to his notebook.

“Sweetheart, what are you doing down here?” 

“I could ask you the same question” she replied from her spot at the door.  When he didn’t say anything she moved into the room.  “Rich?”

He scribbled something in his notebook and closed it before setting the guitar aside as well.  “I was working, writing.”

She nodded and moved to sit on the ottoman.  “Do you even know what time it is?”

He shook his head, he knew it must be late, but he had no idea how long he had been noodling around in here.  A glance down at his phone told him it was later than he thought and he’d been at it longer than he intended. 

Chagrined, one side of his mouth kicked up and a single dimple flashed, “sorry, darlin’.  I lost track of the time.”

“it’s okay” she murmured.  Even after all they had talked about today, here and now, seeing him so caught up, she found it near impossible to be upset with him.  He was a musician, an artist and they never knew when inspiration would hit.  She was just going to have to learn to go with the flow when the music wrapped itself around him hung on with an iron grip.  This was the life she had signed on for, for better or worse.

Reaching for her hands he pulled them to his lips, kissing the backs of them.  “I should have been paying better attention to the time.”

Pulling one of her hands from his, she pressed her fingers to his lips, “it doesn’t matter.”  She shook her head for emphasis.  “Every time I see you so lost in what you’re doing it reminds me why I’ve always been drawn to you and Jon--well not him anymore--but what you do, where you go when you play, it’s, God, I can’t even find the words to describe it.  You have such passion for what you do, when you’re in that place where nothing and no one matters, that’s where the magic happens.”  That was also why she tried so hard to not be upset with being last on his list of priorities lately.  But as much as she knew he had an inexplicable need to do what he did, she had needs too.

“Magic?”  This was the first time he could recall that she openly talked about the fan side of her.  He had always been curious but she never seemed to want to talk about it.  He was intrigued and didn’t want to discourage her from talking.

She moved in on him, wrapping herself around him and settling on his lap.  “I’ve been a fan for a very long time and there are certain performances that stick out for me more than others.  The very first one that comes to mind is MTV, you and Jon front and center, acoustic guitars in hand.  The way you two played and sang together, the connection that the two of you had, that was the magic.  You have a rare gift and if you need to be here with your guitar and notebook instead of in bed with me, well, I’m not going to stand in your way.”

His hands gripped her hips and his gaze locked with hers, “but earlier you said…”

“I know what I said” she interrupted him, “and you still need to be better about managing your time, but I can’t stop you from being who you are.”

“Oh” he eyed her carefully, “and just who am I?”

A slow, sexy smile curved her lips, “Richie Sambora, guitar play extraordinaire.”

He shook his head even as he turned and tipped her off his lap and she landed on her back on the couch.  “You got that wrong darlin’.”  He knelt over her, his fingers loosening the tie on her belt.  “I’m Richie, your horny husband.”  He spread her robe open, taking in the picture she made in her lacy sleep tank and boy shorts.  His cock appreciated the view and made itself known by nearly strangling itself trying to get out of his pants.  He popped the button open on his pants to give himself a little relief even as he stroked the lacy edge of her panties.  “It’s been a while darlin’.”

She nodded her head, “too long.”  She angled up and pulled the robe off and reached for the hem of her tank, “you know we have a perfectly good bed upstairs.”  She paused and watched him unbutton his shirt, “a very large bed.”

“We can use the bed for the second round.  Right now,” he tossed his shirt aside and tugged at her panties, “I want my mouth on you.”  His eyes met hers.  "Now."

She lifted her hips and he slid the underwear away. Who was she to argue?