The next week passes by in a blur of stolen kisses, writing music, PA work for Trent, and of course, a concert every night. There are press interviews and pre-parties. Endless emails and fan mail. It should be overwhelming. Exhausting even. But instead I feel more alive than ever. And it’s all thanks to one man.

Leighton.

Lord, do I have it bad. Each night we stay up talking for hours until everyone else calls it quits and retreats to their beds. It’s then, under the blur of city lights and endless road we make out and grind against each other like the sexually frustrated teenagers we are.

It’s thrilling and stupid and yet I can’t get enough. He can’t either.

Or at least I think he can’t. He never pushes for more than kissing. He keeps it all very PG, if you don’t count the fact I feel every inch of his hard length press against me while we rub our bodies together and lock lips for hours. There’s no pressure. Just maddening, wonderful kisses. Each one sparks awareness and desire to every molecule in my body.

It’s the first time I’ve been with a guy where it doesn’t feel like he’s counting down the moments until he can try to get in my pants. Maybe it’s because of the late night talks, or the fact he’s a damn good kisser, but for the first time in any of my extremely limited relationships, I’m the one who’s ready for more. To take our intimacy to the next level. Without a doubt in my mind, I want him to be my first.

I’m ready, if and when the opportunity presents itself.

Which is the real problem. There’s not much down time on a tour like this, and even more scarce is time alone. Sure, we make out on the bench seat or one of the reclining chairs each night, but anyone could catch us. I don’t want my first time to be rushed or walked in on. I don’t think he wants that either. Not to mention, private time will be even more challenging to carve out once my sister rejoins the tour.

So we wait. Or at least try.

Tonight, as Leighton thrusts his tongue inside my mouth and I rock my hips against his body, dragging him to the bathroom doesn’t sound so awful. My body is on fire with the sensation of his touch, and yearning courses so deeply I doubt I’ll feel satisfied until we’re naked and aligned. I’m seconds from suggesting the crazy idea when Leighton pulls back.

“We should get some rest.” He whispers in my ear but his lips come right back to mine. He’s good at this. So good, and as his lips descend, traveling down between my breasts, I can’t help but arch against him.

“I want you,” I practically moan in his ear.

He pulls back, nods and exhales in a rush. The abrupt loss of heat as he climbs off my body is nearly as frustrating as the need to find release. I’ve never been like this. Ever. But I can’t imagine falling asleep tonight without either of us getting off.

“I should . . .” He doesn’t finish the sentence but reaches out to pull me up off the seat. When I find my balance he runs his hand along the back of his neck and kneads the muscles there.

“Is everything okay?” I bite my lip, worried I’ve done something wrong. Maybe I’ve been too aggressive, too wanton in the way I pressed my body against his.

“Everything’s good. Too good.” He lets a rush of air whoosh from his lungs. “I have to stop. I’m sorry, Opal. It’s taking everything in my willpower not to strip you bare, eat you out, and fuck you until we both come.” He smiles, part mischief and pain. “But I can’t really do any of those things in this bus.”

His words border on crass and I should be offended, but I’m not. If anything, they make the pulsing between my legs worsen. I rub my thighs together to relieve some of the strain. “I’m sorry.”

“Oh, no you don’t.” He shakes his head and steps forward, his hands finding my waist and pressing our bodies together. His hard cock juts into my belly, a proud declaration of his desire. But it’s his gaze that captivates me. His molten brown irises swim with an emotion I can’t name. “Don’t you dare apologize. There will be no shame or guilt here. Got it?” He raises his brows and levels me with a flirty stare. I appreciate his effort to lighten the issue I struggle with and it only makes me like him more.

“Yes, sir.” I nod and let the goofy grin takeover my face.

“Well, then, until tomorrow . . .” He winks before strutting over to our bunks and climbing up into his.

With a reluctant sigh I head to the bathroom before turning in. I consider locking the door and trying to get myself off with just my fingers, but the action feels empty and meaningless without the man I’d be imagining. No. I’ll wait for the real thing.

In my bed, the miles roll by from beyond my privacy curtain. I try to relax into the sheets and let the steady hum of the engine pull me under, but I toss and turn in my bunk for at least an hour before giving up. It’s useless. I can’t sleep.

The shuffle of fabric overhead makes me wonder if I’m not the only one. Grabbing my phone from its charger, I pull up my text messenger.

Me: Can’t sleep. You up?

Leighton: Yeah, I’m awake. Why can’t you sleep? Everything okay?

Me: I’m good. More than good. I can’t stop thinking about your mouth.

Leighton: Please continue . . .

Am I doing this? My face heats with my naughty and inappropriate thoughts. Thank God we’re in different bunks and he can’t see me. Actually, it’s perfect. I never thought I’d be the girl to sext her man, but with Leighton this feels safe. And after making out for the last hour, my panties are soaked and my center pulsing with an unmet need. I’m feeling all sorts of bold.

Me: I got so turned on tonight kissing you. You’re really good with your mouth.

Leighton: I love kissing you.

Me: I’m imagining you going down on me. Right now.

A bang, like that of a limb against the bus wall sounds, and follows with a curse. “Fuck.”

Me: Are you okay up there?

Leighton: No. I’m reviewing my old geometry notes to see whether it’s possible for us to both fit in your bunk.

I fight to hold in a giggle.

Me: That so?

Leighton: No, you just surprised me.

Me: Good surprise?

Leighton: Very. Tell me more. I believe you were about to touch that pretty pussy.

My body feels hot all over. With a little reconfiguration of my legs I slide my left hand under the waistband of my shorts. My fingers scrape the outside of my panties, but my body begs for more pressure. I dip my fingers beneath my underwear and rub circles around my clit and the bundle of nerves ready to explode.

Me: Done. Next?

The little bubbles come up and disappear several times over before his next message comes through.

Leighton: That’s hot. Hotter than hot. Please tell me you’re really touching yourself and not fucking with me.

My texting speed is dramatically slower with only one hand, but I don’t think he minds. I imagine my fingers are his, that he’s touching my wet, sensitive center, and it elevates my arousal.

Me: The only fucking I want to do is with you.

My cheeks heat. Was that too much? I have to fight back the shame that threatens to steal everything good about this moment.

Leighton: I want to touch you. Taste you. Make you come with my mouth.

Me: Yeah? I’m so wet.

Leighton: I’m stroking myself thinking about it.

My pulse speeds with the visual. My heart hammers in my chest so hard I’m surprised no one can hear. He doesn’t even wait for me to reply.

Leighton: Keep touching yourself. Get yourself off. Let’s come together.

Yes. I bite my lip so I won’t groan. Dropping the phone, I press my head back into my pillow with my eyes clenched shut and slide my other hand beneath my waistband. The thought of him doing the same right above me is inescapably erotic. The shuffle of fabric coming from his bunk spurs my fingers faster as they circle my clit. I’ve done this before, but never with a partner knowing, and somehow it’s more intense. Intimate.

I’m close. So freaking close. I switch up my movement slightly when a muffled groan sounds from above. Yes! That’s all I need. Knowing Leighton can’t keep quiet as he finds his release pushes me to chase my own. My pulse speeds, my skin beads with sweat, and all at once I break apart. Soaring. Flying, as my muscles spasm with pleasure. Before I come down from my orgasmic high, I reach for my phone and type out a message.

Me: Thank you! Now I can finally sleep!

His deep chuckle sounds from above.

Leighton: Speak for yourself. I made a mess.

Me: I’d help you clean up, but . . .

He groans aloud and it’s all I can do to keep from letting loose a giggle. I let a smile of satisfaction paint my lips as I type out one final reply.

Me: Good night.

I plug in my phone and turn onto my side, curling into a satiated mess of heavy limbs. My eyelids drift shut, the thrum of the bus easing me to sleep now that I’m not wrestling unquenched lust. There’s a shuffle overhead and Leighton’s feet hit the floor a second later. The sleep partition enclosing my bunk slides open just enough for his head to push inside my space.

He presses his lips to my forehead. One chaste kiss and he whispers, “Sweet dreams.”

Before I can reply he’s back out and the partition shuts, cloaking me in the dark with the warmth of his sincerity. How does he manage it? The sexy and the sweet. It’s enough to steal a girl’s heart, but he’s already done that with mine. As I drift to sleep, the grin on my lips stays put, and I can’t help but believe I’m the luckiest woman in the world.

The next morning, I roll out of bed and rub the sleep from my eyes to find everyone else still passed out. This last week’s schedule has been grueling. We’ve been all over the east coast, hitting big towns and a few music festivals, too. Tonight the guys headline the show in Philly, then tomorrow it’s back up to NYC for a show at Madison Square Garden. But that’s not all. Saturday they’ve been invited as the musical guests on The Tonight Show. The guys are stoked, both because it checks off one of their band bucket list items, but also because we get two nights off the road to stay in hotel suites.

It’s all Trent can talk about because Lexi will be joining us. My sister’s last show is tomorrow and she’s taking a flight out the day after to meet us in New York. Sean and Austin have been teasing Trent relentlessly. Apparently, he really needs to get laid.

After last night I can’t help but hope Leighton wants to go all the way with me. I shake my head and open the fridge. That’s ridiculous. Of course he does. With a bounce in my step and a smile on my face, I whip up the breakfast of all breakfasts. Pancakes. Bacon. Eggs. The aroma of food pulls the guys from their slumber and I happily dish up plates for everyone. After I flip the final pancake, I join them at the table with a cup of coffee. I’ll get a plate in a minute, but for now it’s satisfying to sit and sip.

“Hey, Opal?” Sean tips his chin across the table.

“Yeah?”

“Trent and I were talking last night. We came up with the perfect way to surprise Lexi about the guitar and your song writing.”

I bite my lip and press my thumbs against the warm ceramic mug. I’m still nervous about playing for my sister. I don’t know why, other than she’s a freaking genius when it comes to songwriting and music. What if I suck? What if my song is bad? Though I doubt the guys would let me make a fool of myself if they didn’t think I was ready. “Oh?”

“Yeah, when Lex meets up with us for sound checks we won’t say a thing. Just pick up my guitar and start playing. We’ll all join in. It’ll blow her mind.”

A grin pulls at my lips as I visualize the shock on my sister’s face. It’s a good plan. “Yeah, I like that. Thanks, Trent.”

“She’ll love it.” He winks.

I nod and catch Leighton’s puzzled stare from the corner of my eye. Crap. He has no clue Lexi is my sister, but how’s that gonna go once she’s here twenty-four-seven. Not to mention the fact I want to sleep with the man! I drop my gaze and blow out a shaky exhale. I have to tell him. I will. I can’t imagine keeping such a big secret from him, not if we’re together intimately.

My cell pings with a message. It’s from their publicist at Off Track Records so I pull it up immediately. I scroll the details and my eyes bulge wide with the news.

“Everything okay?” Leighton says from across the table.

“Oh, my! Oh!” My gaze darts to his and I practically jump up and down in my seat as I try to get the words out. “Rolling Stone magazine!” I stare at Trent, then Sean and Austin. “They want you! This is big, right? Really freaking big?” I shove my phone into Trent’s face.

“Fuck, yes!” He scans the email, eyes wide and mouth gaping. I don’t know much about the music industry, but I do know this isn’t some everyday occurrence. “The front cover. They want to give us the fucking front cover. Oh, my God! Yes, Opal. This is really freaking big.”

“Tell me you aren’t fucking with us.” Austin, normally unshakable, stares wide-eyed and open-mouthed.

“Check your email, Gray Bush.” Trent hands my phone back and then slaps Austin’s back. “We’re all cc’d on the email. Tomorrow before the show at Madison Square we’re spending the afternoon with Rolling-fucking-Stone Magazine.”

“What do I wear? Fuck, I don’t even know what to wear.” Austin’s eyes go a little wild and he pushes to his feet.

“I’ll message Kelli and Stu right now,” I say, and tap on my text messages, happy to be helpful. I catch sight of another I received last night, part of a thread from a certain sexy drummer. It only shows the first few words, but they’re enough to make me blush. I can’t believe we did that.

“You’re a lifesaver.” Austin kisses the top of my head, his hand squeezing my shoulder.

My body does nothing. No goosebumps. No racing pulse. No shiver of lust. Nada. It’s the first time since meeting Austin that I haven’t had some sort of physical reaction to his overtly affectionate ways.

It’s because you’re in love with a certain drummer.

No. That isn’t true.

But isn’t it?

Lord, help me if I’ve gone and fallen head over heels after a few make out sessions and dirty texts. Back in Destin I did a lot more with Hunter Anderson, but felt nowhere near the way I do when I’m with Leighton.

Maybe it’s lust? Sure, I really like him, but I can’t be in love yet. Can I?

My heart knows the truth, even though my mind tries to argue. It’s the least sensible thing I’ve gone and done since joining this tour. Might even be a mistake. But I can’t seem to care, and what’s the point? It’s not as if I can go and fall out of love.

“Hey.” Leighton catches my stare across the table. “Thank you for breakfast.” It might be my imagination, but I swear he’s thanking me for more than the food.

I try to play it cool, but my face has other ideas. A grin spreads across my lips. “I’m glad you liked it.” I’d be embarrassed except for the fact he’s smiling back the same way. My heart stutters and does a little flip. Yeah, I’m really into him. Stupidly so. The way I feel about Leighton transcends anything I’ve felt before. Is it love? It sure as heck feels that way. Does he feel the same? I won’t have the nerve to ask. But that’s okay, because right now this feels absolutely perfect.