I strum the last chord on my guitar, the noise reverberating through the sold out arena as I wail the last angsty, screaming lyrics into the microphone.

“Thank you and goodnight!” I thrust my fist into the air as the crowd goes insane, the noise level deafening. Pure euphoria riots through my body, adrenaline and the energy coming from the audience mingling together for the best high ever.

I fucking love my life. Why wouldn’t I? I’m Evan Fucking Anderson, lead singer of one of the hottest rock bands in the country. Shit, probably the world.

I have money, looks, fame, and a line of girls a mile long waiting for me in every city. Just begging to fuck me. Doesn’t get much better than that.

I give my signature cocky grin to the audience, then jog off stage with my boys, ready to celebrate yet another kick-ass show.

We laugh and high-five each other, me and these guys that I’ve been with since we were practically kids, and amble into the dressing room to change out of our sweaty shirts before we head to the VIP meet-and-greet.

I hate the damn things. But it’s all part of the gig. And who knows? Maybe I’ll find a hot chick who’s interested in getting a little extra VIP attention.

I chuckle as I pull a fresh t-shirt over my head and run my fingers through my mop of dark hair. The night is young, and the women are easy. At least around Gravity they are.

The guys and I make our way to the backstage area where the meet-and-greet is set up, taking our place behind the ropes.

“You ready?” the bouncer asks.

I grin. “Send ‘em in, man.”

Five at a time, he brings them in and lines them up, and we spend the next fifteen minutes signing autographs and taking pictures with fans. It’s not the highlight of my evening—at all—but I take my time, making sure I give each fan plenty of attention. If it weren’t for them, we wouldn’t be where we are. That’s something I always try to remember.

“Here’s the last group,” the bulky guy says, pulling the door open again.

Only three file in this time, and my eyes roam over them, taking them in. A young kid that looks like he’s totally awestruck, and two girls.

I try to give the kid my full attention, signing the guitar strap he managed to get in with and giving him some encouragement about keeping at it with playing, but I can’t seem to focus. My eyes keep returning to the girl hanging back behind the rope with the black and pink hair. Like I’m drawn to her. I can’t look away, hard as I try.

It’s not just that she’s so fucking hot I want to know just what it would be like to sink inside her. Though she is, don’t get me wrong. It’s that she looks like she isn’t sure if she wants to run towards me or bolt in the opposite direction.

I tilt my head, halfway listening to what the kid is telling me, but my eyes rake over her. Ripped black skinny jeans, tight gray t-shirt, the hint of a tattoo peeking out from the low neckline, and a cropped black leather jacket. And fuck me. Full, round tits I want to bury my face in and never come up for air.

I mumble something to the kid, sending him on his way with some cliche words, then it’s her turn. She and the girl she’s with walk up to me, her friend gushing and smiling at me.

“This is so great. I can’t believe we’re meeting you. We’ve been fans for so long. Well, I mean, Tatum here has been your fan the longest. And really, she’s the one who’s the real fangirl.”

This chick continues to ramble on and on, but I latch onto the name like it’s gold. “Tatum.” I grin, turning the full force of my infamous cockiness on her. “Nice to meet you.”

She looks at me, her eyes wary, still seeming like she’s debating making a break for it. Huh. That’s a new one for me.

She’s still hanging back a bit behind her friend, so I reach for her hand and pull her closer, arching a brow. “Fangirl, huh?”

Tatum glares at her chatty friend and says, “Not quite.”

The sound of her voice hits me, and I’m instantly intrigued. Low and a little throaty, it’s sexy as hell. I can just imagine it screaming out my name as I make her cum and cum and cum and cum…

I snap out of the fantasy when her friend snorts. “Not quite? Please. Tatum here has been practically in love with you since she was fifteen.”

Tatum gives me a wry smile and rolls her eyes, mouthing, “Drama,” as she tilts her head toward her friend.

My grin goes wider. “Yeah, you definitely don’t give off the typical fangirl vibe.”

“Thank fuck,” she says, totally deadpan. “I think I’d die if I did.”

I laugh. “I don’t know whether that should hurt my feelings or not.”

She arches a brow, looking only slightly less likely to run out the door than she did before. I don’t know what to make of her. This is probably the first meet-and-greet ever where I’ve had to work to get a girl to smile.

Her friend jumps in—and her? Total fangirl—and says, “Don’t listen to her. She loves you guys, like I said. See?”

She shoves her phone in my face at the same time that Tatum gasps. Her whole body seems to heat, a flush creeping its way up her neck. Fucking adorable. I look down to see the cause of her reaction, then smirk.

“Sorry, Tatum, I’m going to have to agree with your friend here. This picture is pretty damning.”

“Oh god,” she says, covering her face with her hands and looking like she wants to melt into the floor.

It’s so cute that I can’t resist. “Maybe we should recreate it? What do you think?”

Without waiting for a response, I wrap my hands around her wrists and pull her hands away from her face. She looks absolutely mortified.

“I will kill you for this, Ana.”

But all her friend—Ana—does is smile and holds her phone up, ready to snap the picture. She nudges Tatum. “Go on. Get next to him. What are you waiting for?”

I pull her toward me, still holding her wrists, and wrap her arms around my waist. She looks up at me in surprise as I tuck her against me. “Don’t worry,” I tell her. “I won’t bite.” I wink at her, and she rolls her eyes. Actually rolls her eyes.

A laugh rolls out of me. This girl. I truly have no idea what to make of her.

“Let me guess,” she says, mockingly. “At least not hard?”

“Only if you want me to.” I lower my head to her ear, inhaling the cherry blossom scent of her hair as I do. The smell goes straight to my cock. “And definitely hard.”

She stares at me like she can’t believe I just said that to her. But I don’t miss the flare of desire in her eyes. Thank fuck. I was starting to wonder if I had zero effects on this girl. Because she sure as hell is affecting me.

“Smile for the camera, gorgeous.” Just because I want to know what she’ll do, I slide my hand down into her back pocket, pulling her even closer to me.

A little gasp escapes her lips, and I want nothing more than to do things that make her make more of those little sounds.

Ana snaps some pictures, and I know it’s time to wrap things up, but I can’t seem to make myself say goodbye, thank her for coming, or whatever meaningless nonsense I usually say.

I turn fully towards her, still not letting go, and say the first thing that comes to my mind. “You want to go get a drink with me?”