Track 34 - Stop This Train

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Paul sat alone on the terrace fiddling around with the guitar as dawn broke, silently mocking himself that he was writing a song about love while the most beautiful girl in the world was curled up in bed in the room behind him.

He gave himself a challenge: one more verse and he'd reward his brilliance by crawling back into bed with her to finish what they'd started the night before, the horizontal samba they'd been perfecting the past couple of days.

He felt himself stirring to life, growing hard again just thinking of the way she would smell, the way she would feel, her body soft and pliant beneath him.

The sun, the sea, the sex, this woman... He'd written three songs for the new LP in two days. Good songs, in fact. He couldn't wait to play them for John, to see if there was anything more he could add. Being here with her had opened him up, stirred his creative juices, without benefit of alcohol or grass. Away from the rat race of his life he hadn't felt the need to have his senses dulled.

It had been nice to detach from life for a bit. Even when they were walking through town and he was being recognized, he felt like he was letting the chaos happen around him for a change, instead of inside him.

He'd been more relaxed these past few days than he'd been in months, and Lainey had been amazing. He never grew tired of her. Hell, he couldn't keep his hands off her.

Unfortunately for him and his creativity, their little interlude in the sun was drawing to a close. He took the pencil from behind his ear and scrawled another phrase in the notebook.

Back in the room, he crawled into bed behind her, her back to his chest, his arm snaking around her waist, his hand moving under the little silky shirt she wore to squeeze her breast.

"What are you doing?" she pretended to complain, pushing his hand away. "Can't we ever sleep?" He knew she was pretending, because she wriggled her perfect little heart-shaped ass against him and made that little moaning sound that drove him crackers. He was immediately and fully aroused. He licked the back of her neck and she gasped and turned in his arms.

"Hey you," he said, smiling at her.

"Hey," she said, burrowing her face against his shoulder and pushing a lovely long leg between both of his.

He ran his fingers through her soft curls and blew out a sigh.

"What is it?" she asked.

And then he couldn't seem to stop talking. "Things are going to get crazy when we get back. Only two days off for Christmas and Boxing Day, then twenty nights of Christmas shows, two shows a night, and we have to have another LP recorded for the movie. Another dozen songs."

"Well that sucks," she said, rubbing his arm from shoulder to elbow. "No wonder you wanted to get away."

"Yeah, it's a drag. But this..." He shifted a little, so he could watch her reaction. "This has been amazing, and good for me, and good for my writing, and I don't want it to stop."

She blinked, her brows drawing together in an adorable picture of sleepy confusion. "What do you mean?"

"Lainey, I want you to stay. I want us to move forward with this."

She rolled away from him, buried her face in the pillow and groaned.

"What kind of answer is that?" he demanded, feeling more than a little miffed. What the fuck? Any normal bird would be thrilled that he was asking her to stay with him. What was with this girl?

She rose onto her knees, pushed her hair back and looked around the room as if she'd never seen it before. "Shit. I just woke up, I need to pee and I need some water."

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