Sacha shook his head, smiling huge. "He told me earlier that if I knocked you up while on tour, we'd have to get married and name the baby after him."

I threw my head back and laughed. "Oh God."

He shrugged. "I'm okay with the terms." Sacha kissed my cheek before lowering his voice. "Let's get started tonight," he teased. At least I think it was a tease.

"What?" I squeaked because the whole baby thing kind of scared the shit out of me. I loved kids, I just wasn't sure if I wanted them anytime soon. Or ever.

"I'm kidding," he smiled gently, reaching out to hold my hand and squeeze it. "At least about the kids. We’ll have to figure out something when I have to leave again."

The reminder that this between us was so new, that he lived in one state and I lived in another, sat oddly in my chest. I was so used to seeing him nearly all-day every day that I wasn't sure what we were going to do once the tour was over in a couple weeks. I didn't want to bring it up right then. Sacha saying that we'd have to figure out something gave me a sort of reassurance that he was willing to have something to work on once life went back to normal.

When we got to the hotel, I followed Sacha to his room, flicking off my brother when he started moaning from down the hall, "I'm going to be sick."

I hadn't gotten used to how much smaller everything seemed to be in Europe. The rooms were more compact, and even the shower stall was narrower than I was used to. But I wasn't going to complain as I dropped my backpack on the floor next to the double-sized bed.

"You want to shower first?" Sacha asked.

"You can go first. You're faster than I am," I told him.

He nodded, digging through his backpack for his clothes and toiletries before slipping into the tiny bathroom. In less than ten minutes, he was out, and I thought I'd died. Wearing only a pair of his beloved black basketball shorts, it was a miracle I wasn't standing because I would have fallen over. Sacha had some serious definition to his upper body; there were planes and crevices of muscles over his frame had me drooling in approval.

And the bastard knew it because he just smirked in my direction.

"Shut up," I mumbled as I slipped past him only to reach back and pinch his butt cheek before closing the door. I could hear him laughing from the other side while I showered quickly.

Once I finished getting dressed, I opened the door to find him sprawled on top of the bed, still shirtless, flipping through the channels on the small box television. I smiled before taking a seat next to him. He looked over at me before reaching out to place his hand on my thigh, rubbing up and down the length of it.

I took the time to count the solid bands of ink that striped up his arm. There were thirteen of them total, starting at his wrist and going up his shoulder in perfectly even spacing. "Was there a reason for these?" I asked, knowing his gaze was still on me.

Sacha took my hand with his free one, and placed it on his forearm. "Each band is a reminder of the number of labels that rejected us before we got a yes," he answered. "I like remembering that no matter how successful I might be now or in the future, it wasn't an easy journey." He paused for a moment. "Is that cheesy?"

"No," I snorted, because it wasn't. This was my pretty humble guy who didn't act or look in the way I'd expected him to in the beginning. "I think it's neat." I slid my fingertip around the band covering his elbow. "And the one on your chest?"

He looked down at the thick swirl of black on his pectoral. "I just thought it looked good," he laughed.

I shook my head, snorting. "You're an idiot." I poked his taut stomach. “The one on your neck?” I grazed the piano keys with my fingers and watched as his tipped his head to the side to capture them against his skin.