It was a rainbow, a unicorn, a million-dollar lottery ticket and happiness incarnate all rolled into one thing.

"I love you. So much."

His smile was the size of Jupiter and brighter than the sun. "I—," he stuttered, flushing. "I—"

"You can get it out," I teased him.

Sacha smirked. "How much?"

"How much what?"

I rolled my eyes. "I just said ‘so much.’ A lot. Too much." I hummed in my throat. "Why?"

"Because if you don't love me very much, I have a lot more work to do until you do," he stated.

That was suspicious. "Why?"

"Because I don't think I'm going to like being away from you when the tour is over." He tugged on my earlobe, wrapping his arm around my waist to hoist me on top of him. He was hard already, pressing against the thin material of his boxer briefs.

"I don't think I'm going to either," I admitted to him, trying not to rock over his thick erection but failing miserably. "You don't have to tour again for at least a few months after this, right?"

He nodded against me. His fingers slipped underneath the hem of my shirt. "No. We're just writing until we're ready for the next album. This is the last tour for the cycle."

"We'll figure it out," I promised, letting him peel off my shirt. His thumbs brushed over my nipples slowly. Looking away from the movement of his fingers, I smiled, taking in that handsome face. "We have to."

* * *

"Twelve men?" The van driver, who was also our translator, confirmed with Julian our group number before relaying the information to the receptionist working at the front desk of the hotel in Muenster.

I shot a side-glance over to my brother, who was standing next to me. "Pretty sure I'm not a man," I whispered.

Eli snickered, throwing an elbow out to catch me on my lowest rib. "Notice how no one bothered to correct him?"

"Jerk."

"Just speaking the truth, Flabby. You're pretty much a dude." He laughed. "Except Sacha thinks you're pretty, and I guess you do have nice hair."

"I think your hair is nicer, you douchebag.” I elbowed him back. "But thanks for telling me you like my hair."

Eliza rolled his eyes, poking me in the forehead before we followed Christof, our translator extraordinaire, down the hallway that led to our hotel rooms. "Want to go eat at that little restaurant we passed on the walk over here?"

I nodded at him, pausing at a door that Christof explained would be my room. My brother followed after him. I’d barely opened the door when a presence came up behind me. "Princess,” Sacha said as he reached over me and pushed the door open wider.

"Sas," I grinned up him, stepping inside.

He followed in after me, dropping his bag right by the door. "I missed you today."

"Me too," I said, dropping my bag alongside his and wrapping my arms around his waist.

He'd been busy all day. There'd been two interviews with German magazines, a television interview, then a soundcheck in a venue with bad PA equipment that took twice as long as it should have. We'd only seen each other when we’d woken up and had breakfast, and then in passing during the day. I'd spent the afternoon at the Prinzipalmarkt and the Pablo Picasso museum with Carter before we headed back to set up merch.

How the hell was I supposed to cope with not being around him in a few days? Instead of being separated by doors and fans, it was going to be thousands of miles and mountain ranges that separated us. It made my heart ache thinking about it.

"I'm really tired," he murmured, kissing my nose. "My throat is starting to hurt, too."