I hurried through the security turnstiles of the Crossfire and grinned when I saw Cary waiting for me in the lobby.
“Hey, you,” I greeted him, admiring how he managed to make worn jeans and a V-neck T-shirt look expensive.
“Hey, stranger.” He held out his hand to me and we stepped out of the building through the side door hand-in-hand. “You’re looking happy.”
The noonday heat hit me like a physical barrier. “Ugh. It’s hot as hell. Let’s pick somewhere close. You up for tacos?”
“Hell yeah.”
I took him to the little Mexican place Megumi had introduced me to and tried not to let him see how guilty his greeting made me feel. I hadn’t been home in a couple days and Gideon was planning a weekend trip away, which meant it would be another few days before I hung out with Cary again. It had been a relief when he’d agreed to meet me for lunch. I didn’t want to go too long without checking in with him and making sure he was all right.
“Got any plans tonight?” I asked, after ordering for both of us.
“One of the photographers I’ve worked with is having a birthday bash tonight. I figured I’d pop in for a bit and see how it goes.” He rocked back on his heels as we waited for our tacos and blended virgin margaritas. “You still planning on hanging with your boss’s sister? You guys wanna come with?”
“Sister-in-law,” I corrected. “And she’s got concert tickets. I’m her last hope, she said, but even if I wasn’t, I think it’ll be fun. At least I hope so. I’ve never heard of the band, so I’m just hoping they don’t suck.”
“Who is it?”
“Six-Ninths. Know ’em?”
His eyes widened. “Six-Ninths? Really? They’re good. You’ll like them.”
I grabbed our drinks off the counter and left the tray with our plates for him to carry. “You’ve heard of them and Shawna’s a big fan. Where have I been?”
“Under Cross and his hard place. You taking him with you?”
“Yes.” I hurried to grab a table as two businessmen stood to leave. I didn’t tell Cary about Gideon’s assertion that I couldn’t go without him. I knew that wouldn’t go over well with Cary, which made me wonder why I’d let it go as easily as I did. Usually Cary and I agreed about stuff like that.
“Can’t see Cross liking alt rock.” Cary sank fluidly into the chair across from me. “Does he know how much you like it? Especially the musicians who play it?”
I stuck my tongue out at him. “I can’t believe you brought that up. Ancient history.”
“So? Brett was hot. Ever think about him?”
“With shame.” I picked up one of the carne asada tacos. “So I try not to.”
“He was a decent guy,” Cary said, before slurping up a hefty swallow of margarita-flavored slush.
“I’m not saying he wasn’t. He just wasn’t good for me.” Just thinking about that time in my life made me want to squirm in embarrassment. Brett Kline was hot and he had a voice that made me wet just hearing it, but he was also one of the prime examples of an unfortunate choice in my previously sordid love life. “Moving on . . . You talk to Trey lately?”
Cary’s smile faded. “This morning.”
I waited patiently.
Finally, he sighed. “I miss him. Miss talking to him. He’s so fucking smart, you know? Like you. He’s going to that party with me tonight.”
“As friends? Or as a date?”
“These are really good.” He chewed a bite of one of his tacos before replying. “We’re supposed to be going as friends, but you know I’ll probably screw that up and fuck him. I asked him to meet me there and to head home from there so we’re not alone, but I can always bang him in the bathroom or a goddamn maintenance closet. I have no willpower and he can’t say no to me.”
My heart hurt at his dejected tone.
“I know what that’s like,” I reminded him softly. That’d been me once. I’d been so desperate to feel connected with somebody. “Why don’t you . . . you know . . . take care of it beforehand. Maybe that’ll help.”
A slow, mischievous smile spread across his handsome face. “Can I get you to record that for my voice mail message?”
I threw my wadded-up napkin at him.
He caught it with a laugh. “You can be such a prude sometimes. I love it.”
“I love you. And I want you to be happy.”
Lifting my hand to his lips, he kissed the back. “I’m working on it, baby girl.”
“I’m here if you need me, even if I’m not home.”
“I know.” He squeezed my hand before releasing it.
“I’ll be around a lot next week. Gotta get ready for my dad’s visit.” I bit into a taco and my feet did a little happy tap dance at how delicious it was. “I wanted to ask you about Friday. I’ve got to work, so if you’re around, would you keep an eye on him? I’ll stock up on the food he likes and leave him some city maps, but—”
“No problem.” Cary winked at a pretty blonde as she walked by. “He’ll be in good hands.”
“Want to see a show with us while he’s in town?”
“Eva honey, I’m always game to hang with you. Just let me know where and when, and I’ll keep things clear as much as possible.”
“Oh!” I quickly chewed and swallowed. “Mom told me she saw your pretty mug on the side of a bus the other day.”
He grinned. “I know. She forwarded a pic she’d taken with her phone. Awesome, right?”
“Beyond. We’ll need to celebrate,” I said, stealing his signature line.
“Hell yeah.”
* * *
“Whoa!” Shawna paused on the sidewalk outside her Brooklyn apartment complex and gaped at the limousine idling in the street. “You went all out.”
“Not me,” I said dryly, checking out her tight red shorts and strategically slashed Six-Ninths screened T-shirt. Her bright hair had been pulled up and teased, and her lips were painted to match her shorts. She looked hot and ready to party, and I felt vindicated in my clothing choice of ultra-short black leather pleated skirt, fitted white ribbed tank top, and cherry red sixteen-eye Doc Martens.
Gideon, who’d had his back to us while talking to Angus, turned to face us, and I found myself as dumbstruck now as I’d been when I first saw him after he had showered and changed. He wore loose-fitting black jeans and a plain black T-shirt with heavy black boots and somehow made the severely casual combination look so fucking sexy, I wanted to jump his bones. As Dark and Dangerous as he was in a suit, he was even more so when ready to rock. He looked younger and every bit as mouthwateringly gorgeous.
“Holy shit, tell me that’s for me,” Shawna whispered, gripping my wrist like a vise.
“Hey, you’ve got your own. That one’s mine.” And it gave me a huge thrill to say so. Mine to claim, to touch, to kiss. And later on, to fuck to exhaustion. Oh yeah . . .
She laughed when I rocked onto my tiptoes in anticipation. “All right. I’ll settle for an introduction.”
I did the honors, then waited for her to hop into the limo first. I was about to climb in after her when I felt Gideon’s hand slide up beneath my skirt to squeeze my butt.
He pressed against my back and whispered in my ear, “Make sure I’m standing behind you when you bend over, angel, or I’ll be spanking this pretty ass.”
Turning my head, I leaned my cheek against his. “My period’s over.”
He growled, his fingertips biting into the flesh of my hip. “Why didn’t you tell me that earlier?”
“Delayed gratification, ace,” I told him, using a phrase he’d once tormented me with. I was laughing at his curse when I dropped onto the bench seat beside Shawna.
Angus slid behind the wheel and we headed out, breaking into a bottle of Armand de Brignac on the way. By the time we pulled up to Tableau One, a hot new fusion bistro that had a healthy line out front and energetic music pouring out onto the street, the combination of the champagne and Gideon’s hot gaze on the nearly indecent hemline of my skirt had me feeling giddy.
Shawna slid forward on the seat and stared wide-eyed through the tinted windows. “Doug tried to get us in here before he left, but the waiting list is two months long. You can walk up, but the wait can be hours and there’s no guarantee you’ll be seated.”
The limo door opened and Angus helped her out, then me. Gideon joined us, taking my arm as if we were dressed for a gala and not a rock concert. We were escorted inside so quickly, with the manager being so gushy and welcoming, that I looked at Gideon and mouthed, One of yours?
“Yes, in partnership.”
I just sighed, reconciled to the inevitable. “Is your friend going to meet us for dinner?”
Gideon gestured with an easy nod of his chin. “He’s already here.”
I followed his gaze to an attractive man sporting blue jeans and a Six-Ninths T-shirt. The gentleman was acting as the focal point in a photo op with two pretty women on each side. He smiled wide for the person wielding a smartphone camera, then waved at Gideon and excused himself.
“Oh my God.” Shawna bounced on her feet. “That’s Arnoldo Ricci! He owns this place. And he’s got a show on the Food Network!”
Gideon released me to clasp hands with Arnoldo and engage in the backslapping ritual of close male friends. “Arnoldo, my girlfriend, Eva Tramell.”
I extended my hand and Arnoldo grabbed it, pulled me closer, and kissed me straight on the mouth.
“Back off,” Gideon snapped, tugging me behind him.
Arnoldo grinned, his dark eyes flashing with humor. “And who’s this vision?” he asked, turning to Shawna and lifting her hand to his lips.
“Shawna, this will be your escort, Arnoldo Ricci, if he manages to survive dinner.” Gideon shot his friend a warning look. “Arnoldo, Shawna Ellison.”
She practically glowed. “My boyfriend’s a huge fan of yours. I am, too. He made your lasagna recipe once and it was. To. Die. For.”
“Gideon told me your man is in Sicily now.” Arnoldo’s voice was flavored with a delicious accent. “I hope you can make the time to visit with him there.”
My gaze darted to Gideon, knowing damn well I’d never given him that much information about Shawna’s boyfriend. He glanced down at me with a look of mock innocence and an almost imperceptible smirk.
I shook my head, exasperated, but I couldn’t deny that this would be a night Shawna would never forget.
The next hour passed in a blur of excellent food and fine wine. I was polishing off an extraordinary zabaione with raspberries when I caught Arnoldo watching me with a wide smile.
“Bellissima,” he praised. “Always a joy to see a woman with a healthy appetite.”
I flushed, slightly embarrassed. I couldn’t help it; I loved food.
Gideon draped his arm along the back of my chair and toyed with the hair at my nape. His other hand lifted a glass of red wine to his mouth and when he licked his lips, I knew he was thinking about tasting me instead. His desire was charging the air between us. I had been falling under its spell all through dinner.
Reaching beneath the tablecloth, I cupped his cock through his jeans and squeezed. He went from semihard to stone instantly but gave no other outward indication of his arousal.
I couldn’t help but see that as a challenge.
I began to stroke the rigid length of him with my fingers, careful to keep my movements slow and easy to prevent detection. To my delight, Gideon continued his conversation without a hitch in his voice or change of expression. His control excited me, made me bolder. I reached for his button fly, turned on by the thought of releasing him and stroking him skin on skin.
Gideon took another leisurely sip, then set his wineglass down.
“Only you, Arnoldo,” he said dryly in response to something his friend had said.
My wrist was caught just as I tugged at the top button of his jeans. He lifted my hand to his lips, the gesture appearing to be an absentminded show of affection. The quick nip of his teeth into the pad of my finger caught me by surprise and made me gasp.
Arnoldo smiled; it was the knowing and slightly mocking smile one bachelor gave to another who’d been caught by a woman. He said something in Italian. Gideon replied, his pronunciation sounding fluid and sexy, his tone wry. Arnoldo threw his dark head back and laughed.
I squirmed in my seat. I loved seeing Gideon like this, relaxed and enjoying himself.
He looked at my empty dessert plate, then at me. “Ready to go?”
“Oh, yes.” I was dying to see how the rest of the night would go, how many more sides of Gideon I’d get to discover. Because I loved this side of the man as much as I loved the powerful businessman in the suit and the dominant lover in my bed and the broken child who couldn’t hide his tears and the tender partner who held me when I cried.
He was so complex and still a huge mystery to me. I’d barely scratched the surface of who he was. Which didn’t stop me from being in too deep.
* * *
“These guys are good!” Shawna yelled as the opening act barreled headlong into their fifth song.
We’d left our seats after the third, working our way through a writhing crowd to the railing that divided the seating area from the mosh pit in front of the stage. Gideon surrounded me, his arms caging me on both sides, his hands gripping the rail. The audience pressed in around us, collectively pushing forward, but I was cushioned from it by his body, just as Shawna was by Arnoldo beside us.
I was sure Gideon could have gotten us way better seats, but I didn’t have to tell him that the way Shawna had scored her fan-only tickets and the fact that she’d invited us meant her seats were our only option. I loved him for understanding that and for going with the flow.
Turning my head, I looked at him. “Is this band with Vidal, too?”
“No. But I like them.”
I was stoked that he was enjoying the show. Lifting my arms in the air, I screamed, feeling pumped by the energy of the crowd and the driving beat. I danced within the circle of Gideon’s arms, my body drenched in sweat, my blood raging.
When the act was done, the stagehands quickly set to work breaking down the equipment and setting up for Six-Ninths. Grateful for the evening, for the joy, for the awesomeness of going wild with the man I loved, I turned and threw my arms around Gideon’s neck, mashing my lips to his.
He lifted me and urged my legs around his waist, kissing me violently. He was hard and pressing against me, luring me to grind into him. Around us people whistled and catcalled things that ranged from “Get a room” to “Fuck her, man!” but I didn’t care and neither did Gideon, who seemed as swept away by the sensual craziness as I was. His hand on my buttocks rocked me into his erection while the other fisted in my hair, holding me where he wanted me as he kissed me as if he couldn’t stop, as if he were starving for the taste of me.
Our open mouths slid desperately across each other. He tongued me deep and fast, fucking my mouth, making love to it. I drank him in, licking and tasting, moaning at his insatiable need. He sucked on my tongue, the circle of his lips sliding along it. It was too much. I was slick and aching for his cock, nearly frantic with the need to feel him filling me.
“You’re going to make me come,” he growled, before tugging on my bottom lip with his teeth.
I was so into him and the ferocity of his passion for me that I barely registered when Six-Ninths started. It wasn’t until the vocals kicked in that I was jolted back to where I was.
I stiffened, my mind clawing its way up through the fog of desire to process what I was hearing. I knew the song. My eyes opened as Gideon pulled back. Over his shoulder I saw handwritten signs held up in the air.
BRETT KLINE IS MINE! And BANG ME, BRETT! And my personal favorite, BRETT, I’D HIT IT WITH YOU LIKE THE WRATH OF GOD!!!
Hell. What were the chances?
And Cary had known, of course. He’d known and hadn’t warned me. Probably thought it’d be hysterical for me to find out by accident instead.
My legs loosened from around Gideon’s hips and he set me down, protecting me from the frenzied fans with the shield of his body. I turned to face the stage, feeling a mad fluttering in my belly. Sure enough, it was Brett Kline at the mic, his deep, powerful, sexy-as-hell voice pouring over the thousands who’d come to see him in action. His short hair was spiked and tipped with platinum, his lean body clothed in olive cargo pants and a black tank top. It was impossible to see from where I was, but I knew his eyes were a brilliant emerald green, his face was ruggedly handsome, and his killer smile revealed a dimple that drove women crazy.
Tearing my eyes away from him, I looked at the other band members, recognizing all of them. They hadn’t been called Six-Ninths back in San Diego, though. They’d been called Captive Soul then, and I wondered what had led to the name change.
“Good, aren’t they?” Gideon asked with his mouth to my ear so I could hear him. He had one hand on the railing and the other around my waist, keeping me pulled up tight against him as he moved to the music. The combination of his body and Brett’s voice did insane things to my already raging sex drive.
I closed my eyes, focusing on the man behind me and the unique rush I’d always felt while listening to Brett sing. The music throbbed through my veins, bringing back memories—some good and some bad. I swayed in Gideon’s arms, desire pounding through me. I was achingly aware of his hunger. It poured off him like heat waves, sinking into me, making me crave him until the physical distance between us was painful.
Grabbing the hand he had pressed flat against my stomach, I urged it downward.
“Eva.” His voice was harsh with lust. I’d been pushing him all night, from the moment I told him my period was over, to the hand job beneath the restaurant table, to the scorching kiss in the intermission.
He gripped my bare thigh and squeezed. “Open.”
I set my left foot on the bottom of the railing. My head fell back against his shoulder and a heartbeat later, his hand was under my skirt. His tongue traced the shell of my ear, his breathing hard and fast. I felt him groan as much as heard it when he discovered how wet I was.
One song blended into another. Gideon rubbed me through the crotch of my boyshorts, moving in circles, then vertically through my cleft. My hips rolled into his touch, my core clenching, my ass grinding into the hard ridge of his erection. I was going to come right there, inches away from dozens of people, because that was what Gideon did to me. That was how insanely he turned me on. Nothing mattered when his hands were on me, his attention completely riveted to me.
“That’s it, angel.” His fingers pushed my underwear aside and two sank into me. “I’m going to fuck this gorgeous cunt for days.”
With bodies pressing in all around us, music pounding over us, and privacy granted only by distraction, Gideon slid his fingers deep into my soaked sex and stayed there. The solid, unmoving penetration drove me wild. I ground my hips into his hand, working toward the orgasm I needed so desperately.
The song ended and the lights went out. Drenched in darkness, the crowd roared. Anticipation weighted the audience, building until the strum of guitar strings broke the heavy expectation. Shouts rang out, then lighters flickered to life, turning the sea of people into thousands of fireflies.
A spotlight hit the stage, revealing Brett sitting on a bar stool, shirtless and glistening with sweat. His chest was hard and defined, his abs ridged with muscle. He lowered the height of the microphone stand and the piercings in his nipples glittered with his movements. The women in the audience screamed, including Shawna, who jumped in place and gave an earsplitting whistle.
I totally got it. Sitting there as he was, with his feet propped on the rungs of the chair and his muscular arms covered in sleeves of black and gray tattoos, Brett looked insanely sexy and extremely fuckable. For six months nearly four years ago I’d debased myself to get him naked every chance I could, so infatuated with him and desperate to be loved that I took whatever scraps he threw me.
Gideon’s fingers began to slide in and out of me. The bass kicked in. Brett began to sing a song I’d never heard before, his voice low and soulful, the words crystal clear. He had the voice of a fallen angel. Mesmerizing. Seductive. And the face and body to enhance the temptation.
Golden girl, there you are.
I’m singing for the crowd, the music’s loud.
I’m living my dream, riding the high,
But I see you there, sunlight in your hair,
And I’m ready to go, desperate to fly.
Golden girl, there you are.
Dancing for the crowd, the music’s loud.
I want you so bad. I can’t look away.
Later, you’ll drop to your knees. You’ll beg me please.
And then you’ll go, it’s only your body I know.
Golden girl, where’d you go?
You’re not there, with sunlight in your hair.
I could have you in the bar or the back of my car,
But never your heart. I’m falling apart.
I’ll drop to my knees, I’ll beg you. Please.
Please don’t go. There’s so much more I want to know.
Eva, please. I’m on my knees.
Golden girl, where’d you go?
I’m singing for the crowd, the music’s loud.
And you’re not there, with sunlight in your hair.
Eva, please. I’m on my knees.
The spotlight went dark. A long moment passed as the music faded. Then the lights came back on and the drums exploded with sound. The flames winked out and the crowd went crazy.
But I was lost to the roaring in my ears, the tightness in my chest, and a confusion that had me reeling.
“That song,” Gideon growled in my ear, his fingers fucking me forcefully, “makes me think of you.”
His palm pressed into my clit and massaged, and I climaxed in a rush that took me by storm. Tears came to my eyes. I cried out, shaking in his arms. Gripping the railing in front of me, I held on and let the unstoppable pleasure pulse through me.
* * *
When the show was over, all I could think about was getting to a phone and calling Cary. While we waited for the crowd to thin, I leaned heavily into Gideon, drawing support from the strength of his arms around me.
“You okay?” he asked, running his hands up and down my back.
“I’m fine,” I lied. Honestly, I didn’t know how I was feeling. It shouldn’t matter that Brett wrote a song about me that painted a different light on our fuck-buddy history. I was in love with someone else.
“I want to go, too,” he murmured. “I’m dying to get inside you, angel. I can barely think straight.”
I pushed my hands into the back pockets of his jeans. “So let’s get out of here.”
“I’ve got backstage access.” He kissed the tip of my nose when I leaned back to look up at him. “We don’t have to tell them, if you’d rather get out of here.”
I seriously debated it for a moment. After all, the night had been great as it was, thanks to Gideon. But I knew it’d bother me later, if I denied Shawna and Arnoldo—who was also a Six-Ninths fan—something they’d remember for the rest of their lives. And I’d be lying if I didn’t admit to myself that I wanted to catch a glimpse of Brett up close. I didn’t want him to see me, but I wanted to see him. “No. Let’s take them back there.”
Gideon grabbed my hand and spoke to our friends, whose excitement over the news gave me the excuse to say I’d done it solely for them. We headed down toward the stage, then off to the side of it, where Gideon spoke to the massive man acting as security. When the guy spoke into the mic of his headset, Gideon pulled out his cell and told Angus to bring the limo around to the back. While he spoke, his eyes met mine. The heat in them and the promise of pleasure took my breath away.
“Your man is the ultimate,” Shawna said, eyeing Gideon with a look of near reverence. It wasn’t a predatory look, just an appreciative one. “I can’t believe this night. I owe you big-time for this.”
She pulled me in for a quick, hard hug. “Thank you.”
I hugged her back. “Thank you for inviting me.”
A tall, rangy man with blue streaks in his hair and stylish black-framed glasses approached us. “Mr. Cross,” he greeted Gideon, extending his hand. “I didn’t know you’d be coming tonight.”
Gideon shook the man’s hand. “I didn’t tell you,” he replied smoothly, reaching his other hand out to me.
I caught it and he pulled me forward, introducing me to Robert Phillips, Six-Ninths’ manager. Shawna and Arnoldo were introduced next; then we were led back through the wings, where activity was high and groupies loitered.
I suddenly didn’t want to catch even a glimpse of Brett. It was so easy to forget how it’d been between us while I was listening to him sing. It was so easy to want to forget after listening to the song he’d written. But that time in my past was something I was far from proud of.
“The band’s right in here,” Robert was saying, gesturing to an open door from which music and raucous laughter poured out. “They’ll be excited to meet you.”
My feet dug in suddenly and Gideon paused, glancing at me with a frown.
I pushed up onto my toes and whispered, “I’m not all that interested in meeting them. If you don’t mind, I’m going to hit the backstage bathroom and head out to the limo.”
“Can you wait a few minutes and I’ll go with you?”
“I’ll be okay. Don’t worry about me.”
He touched my forehead. “Are you feeling all right? You look flushed.”
“I’m feeling great. I’ll show you exactly how great as soon as we get home.”
That did the trick. His frown faded and his mouth curved. “I’ll hurry this along, then.” He looked at Robert Phillips and gestured at Arnoldo and Shawna. “Can you take them in? I need a minute.”
“Gideon, really . . .” I protested.
“I’m walking you over there.”
I knew that tone. I let him walk me the twenty feet to the bathroom. “I can take it from here, ace.”
“I’ll wait.”
“Then we’ll never get out of here. Go do your thing. I’ll be fine.”
He gave me a very patient look. “Eva, I’m not leaving you alone.”
“I can manage. Seriously. The exit is right there.” I pointed down the hall to the open double doors beneath a lighted exit sign. Roadies were already transporting equipment out. “Angus is right out there, isn’t he?”
Gideon leaned his shoulder into the wall and crossed his arms.
I threw up my hands. “Okay. Fine. Have it your way.”
“You’re learning, angel,” he said with a smile.
Muttering under my breath, I went into the bathroom and took care of business. As I washed up at the sink, I looked into the mirror and winced. I had raccoon eyes from sweating so damn much and my pupils were dark and dilated.
“What does he see in you?” I asked myself derisively, thinking of how awesome he still looked. As hot and sweaty as he’d been, he looked none the worse for wear, while I looked damp and limp. But more so than my exterior, it was my personal failings I was thinking of. I couldn’t get away from them. Not while Brett was in the same building with us.
I rubbed a dampened square of paper towel under my eyes to get rid of the black smudges, then headed back out to the hall. Gideon waited a few feet away, talking with Robert, or more accurately, listening to him. The band’s manager was clearly excited about something.
Gideon spotted me and held up a hand to get me to wait a minute, but I didn’t want to take the risk. I gestured down the hall at the exit, then turned and headed that way before he could stall me. I hurried past the green room door, chancing a quick glance inside to see Shawna laughing with a beer in her hand. The room was packed and boisterous, and she looked like she was having a great time.
I made my escape with a sigh of relief, feeling ten times lighter the moment I left. Spotting Angus standing next to Gideon’s limo on the far side of the line of buses, I waved and set off toward him.
Looking back on the night, I was tantalized by how uninhibited Gideon had been. He sure as hell hadn’t been the man who’d used mergers and acquisitions as parlance for getting me into bed.
I couldn’t wait to get him naked.
A burst of flame in the darkness to my right startled me. I jolted to a halt and watched Brett Kline lift a match to the clove cigarette hanging from his lips. As he stood in the shadows to the side of the exit, the flickering light of the flame caressed his face and threw me back in time for a long minute.
He glanced up, caught me in his gaze, and froze. We stared at each other. My heart kicked into a mad beat, a combination of excitement and apprehension. He cursed suddenly, shaking out the match as it burned his fingers.
I took off, struggling to maintain a casual pace as I made a beeline for Angus and the limo.
“Hey! Hold up,” Brett shouted. I heard his footsteps approaching at a jog, and adrenaline surged through me. A roadie was pushing a flat hand truck loaded with heavy gear and I darted around him, using him as cover to duck between two buses. I pressed my back flat against the side of one, standing between two open cargo compartments. I cringed into the shadows, feeling like a coward, but knowing I had nothing to say to Brett. I wasn’t the girl he knew anymore.
I watched him rush by. I decided to wait, give him time to look and give up. I was hyperaware of the time passing, of the fact that Gideon would be looking for me soon.
“Eva.”
I flinched at the sound of my name. Turning my head, I found Brett approaching from the other side. While I’d been looking to the right, he’d come up on the left.
“It is you,” he said roughly. He dropped his clove smoke on the ground and crushed it beneath his boot.
I heard myself saying something familiar. “You should quit.”
“So you keep telling me.” He approached cautiously. “You saw the show?”
I nodded and stepped away from the bus, backing up. “It was awesome. You guys sound really great. I’m happy for you.”
He took a step forward for every one of mine backward. “I was hoping I’d find you like this, at one of the shows. I had a hundred different ideas about how it might go if I saw you at one.”
I didn’t know what to say to that. The tension between us was so thick it was hard to breathe.
The attraction was still there.
It was nothing like what I felt with Gideon. Nothing more than a shadow of that, but it was there nonetheless.
I retreated back out into the open, where the activity was high and there were lots of people milling around.
“Why are you running?” he asked. In the pool of light from a parking lot lamp, I saw him clearly. He was even better looking than before.
“I can’t . . .” I swallowed. “There’s nothing to say.”
“Bullshit.” The intensity of his glare burned through me. “You stopped coming around. Didn’t say a word, just stopped showing up. Why?”
I rubbed at the knot in my stomach. What was I going to say? I finally grew a pair and decided I deserved better than to be one of the many chicks you fucked in a bathroom stall between sets?
“Why, Eva? We had something going and you just fucking disappeared.”
Turning my head, I looked for Gideon or Angus. Neither was anywhere in sight. The limo waited alone. “It was a long time ago.”
Brett lunged forward and caught me by the arms, startling me, briefly frightening me with the sudden aggressive movement. If we hadn’t been so near other people, it might have triggered panic.
“You owe me an explanation,” he bit out.
“It’s not—”
He kissed me. He had the softest lips, and he sealed them over mine and kissed me. By the time I registered what was happening, he’d tightened his grip on my arms and I couldn’t move away. Couldn’t push him away.
And for a brief span of time I didn’t want to.
I even kissed him back, because the attraction was still there and it soothed something hurting inside me to think I might’ve been more than a convenient piece of ass. He tasted like cloves, smelled seductively like hardworking male, and he took my mouth with all the passion of a creative soul. He was familiar, in very intimate ways.
But in the end, it didn’t matter that he got to me still. It didn’t matter that we had a history, painful as it was for me. It didn’t matter that I was flattered and affected by the lyrics he’d written, that after six months of watching him enjoy other women while nailing me anywhere with a door that locked, it was me he was thinking about when he seduced screaming-for-it women from the stage.
None of that mattered because I was madly in love with Gideon Cross, and he was what I needed.
I wrenched away with a gasp—
—and faced Gideon charging at a dead run, his speed unchecked as he rammed into Brett and took him down.
