My lips are a spark, his are gasoline.

We combust into a burning flame as soon as they brush, on fire in the middle of a screaming crowd of strangers. I’ve never been kissed like this — kissed like I’m something vital to existence, like air or food or shelter. Something he might die without, if he went too long in its absence.

His hands find my cheeks, sliding back into my curls. His fingers flex to pull me in closer.

Closer.

Closer.

Never close enough.

Was it only moments ago that I was angry with him?

Was it just earlier today that I was cursing his name?

I can’t remember why. All I know is that this, here — his mouth on mine and his hands in my hair — is the purest, most poignant moment of my life. I never want it to end, never want to stop touching him. I want to tear his shirt up over his head and trace each muscle; slide my bare skin against his and create a whole different kind of music, with gasps and sighs and moans instead of beats and notes and melodies.

When he’s touching me, it’s far too easy to forget we’re standing in the middle of a packed bar, on display for the whole world to see. At least… until the catcalls grow so loud, they’re impossible to ignore.

Ryder finds the strength to pull back first, tearing his lips away with a pained grunt. His forehead comes down to rest against mine. His breaths are choppy pants of desire. His eyes are so dark with lust, I get lost in their depths for several long seconds before I manage to form words.

“That song,” I whisper, voice breaking. “I can’t believe you did that song. When I heard it, I thought I was in a dream…”

“Half-convinced I’m dreaming now.” His words are almost a growl. His hands slide out of my hair, skim down my shoulders and find the small of my back to pull me closer, removing the small sliver of space between us. I gasp at the contact, sparks of lust flickering to life inside me. His erection is hard as steel against my hips. My bones suddenly feel a bit watery.

“It’s not a dream,” I whisper, staring at his mouth. “A fantasy, maybe. But not a dream.”

“Felicity.” He drops his forehead against mine again with a low groan. “Come with me.”

“Where?”

“Anywhere. Your place. My place.” His eyes are desperate, drinking me in. “It doesn’t matter. I just need… I need…”

The words cut off sharply as his nostrils flare. He seems to be searching for control, searching for the right words. Even without them, I understand him perfectly.

I need you.

To touch you. To taste you. To tangle my limbs with yours until we’re lost in each other.

I don’t even hesitate.

“Let’s go.”

Hands clasped tightly, we start cutting through the crowd toward the exit, more than eager to get out of here. I catch sight of Carly standing with Lincoln and Aiden by the base of the stage as they break down their equipment. All three of them look equally stunned as they watch us walking past. I give a small wave with my free hand; Carly returns it limply. The expression on her face couldn’t be clearer.

Forget to mention something, Felicity?

A laugh bubbles up in my throat. I turn my face up to look at Ryder, about to call his attention to our friends, when I feel a set of claws sink into the flesh of my arm. Before I have time to so much as gasp in surprise, I’m yanked away from his side. Our hands lose hold as I go stumbling off balance in my high heels, straight into a cluster of strangers holding beer bottles. Their drinks fall to the ground as they catch me, soaking our feet in a shower of foam and shattered glass.

Stunned, I manage to right myself as my eyes fly toward Ryder. They go wide as I take in the scene unfolding several feet away.

“You son of a bitch!” A girl screams in an all too familiar whiney soprano, her hands swiping at his face like claws. “You goddamned son of a bitch!”

Looks like Lacey has finally shown up for their set.

Ryder ducks the worst of the blows, holding his hands out to keep her at bay. I’m frozen in place, unable to do anything except watch as Lincoln and Aiden charge toward their deranged lead singer. Carly, close on their heels, gives the fray wide birth and runs to my side.

“Shit! Are you okay?” she yells, eyes wild as they lock on my arm, where five angry red streaks mar the ivory flesh. “The bitch scratched the shit out of you!”

I nod vacantly. I couldn’t give two figs about my arm. I’m too busy watching as Lincoln grabs Lacey around the midsection, picks her up like a toddler throwing a tantrum, and hauls her off of Ryder. She flails in his grip, arms and legs kicking out, clawing at empty air. There’s murder in her eyes as she glares daggers across the ever-widening space between her and her lead guitarist.

I can’t make out whatever she’s yelling over the pounding music coming from the overhead speakers. It’s nothing pretty, judging by the way those nearby are wincing. They part to let Lincoln through as he drags her off the dance floor onto the open-air rooftop patio, Aiden and Ryder running in their wake.

“Well that was dramatic,” Carly exclaims as they disappear from view. She glances over at me. “Do we follow?”

I suck in a breath. “I guess… Yeah. We follow.”

Murmuring an apology to the girls who caught me when I stumbled, I follow Carly out onto the rooftop as dread slowly suffocates the excited butterflies that were swirling in my stomach not even a minute ago.

Whatever is about to happen…

I highly doubt it’ll be good.