I ORDERED A DRINK AND it went down smooth. Pretty easy how that one drink then turned into two.
“New Beau for Blake?”
Tonight was supposed to be about me and the boys, celebrating the way we’d killed it last night and tonight—and I was trying so damn hard to keep it that way. Our first major shows had gone off fucking flawlessly and the band was pumped. Why wouldn’t they be? We’d played some pretty big venues in Nashville but nothing like this. It was incredible. The mass of people. Tens of thousands. All there to see her.
“New Tour, New Toy! Blake Tyler’s New Boyfriend is a Blast from the Past!”
I wasn’t shocked.
She’d always been the brightest goddamn star in the sky.
No matter how I tried to focus on anything else, I kept coming back to her like a fucking forbidden refrain in a song begging to be written.
Her performance was nothing short of amazing. I’d seen videos over the years—it was fucking hard not to; she was literally everywhere I looked. A reminder of my regrets. But to see her live had been something else. From the moment she emerged from the jets of red smoke in the center of the stage and proceeded to own every stalking step, every shimmy, and every perfectly timed wink, she’d owned them.
She’d owned me.
And the way she sang… fuck, the way she sang… It was more natural than breathing for her. It was no wonder the way she connected with the thousands in the crowd like it was a small gathering of her closest family members.
“Zach, can you believe this?” Ron asked, shoving his phone in my face.
Too close. Too bright. “Christ, what are you talking about?” I rasped as another shot glass appeared in front of me.
“That’s from Ash,” Bobby, our bassist, said from my other side, raising his matching one before turning back to his and Alex’s conversation.
“Our Instagram has shot up five-fucking-thousand followers since we went on last night,” Ron replied, pointing to the screen. Ronnie was our drummer and was in charge of all our social media accounts. “I don’t even know how many photos we’re tagged in.” He scrolled through endless photos that the crowd had taken and tagged. “This is huge. Fucking huge, dude.”
I tried for a smile; failing miserably, I washed the attempt down with the vodka in front of me. Fucking Ash. He knows I hate vodka. One more reminder that this was all just for show.
I didn’t know what was worse—having him here or not. He was taking care of a few last things in Nashville before meeting us in Pittsburgh next weekend. With him, the consequences of taking what I wanted stared me in the face, literally. Without him, the reward of taking what I wanted was like a damn siren’s song, luring me in.
I shouldn’t have kissed her last night. A mistake that I barely had been able to hold back from repeating earlier tonight. Technically, it fit with the plan to make them believe. What I believed though was that I needed to get my shit under control before I did something that I would regret.
It wasn’t because I wanted to. It wasn’t because when I hugged her on stage tonight, she’d smelled like those damn cookies she loved. The fucking sugar-cookie scent was baked into her skin and all I wanted to do was lick and eat it off of her. It was the most ridiculous feeling: to be surrounded by a mass of people and with just that one breath to feel like it was just her and me. It wasn’t because I wanted her.
I just needed to stay away from her off-stage, that’s what it came down to. Distance could let my heart grow harder. I nodded, half-listening to Robbie as he droned on about getting aerial footage of the next show.
And then she walked in.
Like a magnet, my eyes went straight to her, watching as she felt it, too. Pull. Push. Action. Reaction.
My shit was totally not fucking together.
She was in jean shorts that showed off her long—so fucking long—legs. Legs that should have a disclaimer tattooed on them: Warning. May cause extreme muscle reactions if direct exposure occurs. My dick swelled, imagining them wrapped around my waist like lips around a straw—the tight vacuum pulling me in. It made me want to slap another warning label right between her thighs: Caution. Slippery when wet. And her cut-off tee? That shit barely hid her tits from—why the hell was she wearing a bathing suit? And a baseball cap?
Where the hell was her security?
When I saw her look for me I turned away, signaling to the bartender for another drink. I wondered if she still tasted like cookies. After all these years, I’d never tasted anything so sweet since that night.
“Hey guys! Great show tonight! What an awesome way to start the tour!” Taylor’s bubbly voice was the alarm clock going off when you’ve already been awake for ten minutes.
My body tensed, the alcohol had only started to diminish the adrenaline from the show before she had my heart racing again.
“Did we put on a good enough show, Baby Blake?” I asked dryly, the nickname a defense and reminder of exactly who she was—who she had to be—to me.
Blake’s baby blues widened at me for a second. Taylor had fallen into conversation with Bobby and Alex, leaving the two of us tensely staring at each other. My jaw ticked as I noticed the way her nipples hardened underneath that t-shirt. Christ, was she not wearing a bra? What the fuck? I felt my dick swelling against my jeans. Good fucking thing I was sitting and had no plans to leave.
“You guys were awesome,” she answered honestly, her calm face framed by wisps of wavy pale blonde hair that I wanted nothing more than to reach out and tuck behind her ear.
“How was I?” I demanded. I needed to know if she was getting what I was paying for.
Now, she stuttered, “Y-you played great—”
“You know what I mean,” I cut her off, the edge in my tone resulting from the impossible hard-on that throbbed painfully in my jeans. A situation that I wouldn’t be able to remedy since Ronnie and I were sharing a room and that kid was up until all hours of the night. I wasn’t going to jack-off like a damn teenager in the bathroom with him right outside. No fucking way.
“Oh.” Her tongue darted out to lick her lips and my cock jumped, wanting the same attention. “Good. I think, good, at least.” She shrugged and fuck if my eyes didn’t cling to their periphery where her tits rose and fell slightly. “Bruce was gone by the time I got off stage. He has a very particular nightly ritual, but Tay said that social media has been blowing up with a positive response since yesterday.”
“You didn’t check?” I raised an eyebrow. The way she interacted with her fans, I thought she would have been all over it.
“I did,” she admitted softly, adding, “I’m not allowed to check, especially after… recently… until Taylor does. She says I’m too sensitive, so she screens first…” She trailed off, leaning to the side as Alex reached around and handed her a shot. Blake smiled and thanked him.
“Seriously?” I growled at him. A quick glance around felt like every eye—literally—in the place was on her and it wasn’t because she was famous. No. No one had even realized that fucking fact yet. They stared because she was gorgeous. And I glared because a twisted part of me roared that she was mine.
Why now?
After all these years. Years that I’d been with other people. Years that I’d seen her with other guys. Why. Fucking. Now?
Because now I had the chance to have what I always wanted. Fate was a fickle bitch.
“What?” Alex scoffed. “She’s legal. And Ash said to buy shots for everyone.”
Yeah, fucking doubted that he meant his sister.
I turned to glare at her as she downed the clear liquid. “I deserve to celebrate, too,” she retorted, grabbing another one from off the bar and throwing it back—throwing it in my face—that she wasn’t the ‘Baby Blake’ that I could boss around anymore.
“You should take it easy there,” I bit out. “Have you even eaten?”
Her lips pursed, the second shot not going down as smoothly as the first. “Yeah, we grabbed McDonald’s burgers on the way here.”
“Are you kidding?” If that wasn’t just asking to be vomited back up, I didn’t know what was.
“We were trying to avoid the paparazzi.” She shrugged, causing her top to slide dangerously close to the edge of her shoulder. Fall. I wanted to see those tits that were taunting me right now.
Because a McHeartattack is so much more preferable.
“Don’t you have body guards for that?” I asked, realizing there were still no signs of those huge motherfuckers.
Her eyes glinted deviously, just like all those times that she’d lined Ash’s toilet seat with soap, hiding behind the corner in their upstairs hall just waiting for him to sit and slide right off of it. Fearless.
“We… may have been trying to avoid them as well.” Her careless attitude made my body surge with anger.
Goddammit.
“Jesus Christ.” One way or another, this tour was going to kill me. Wiping my hand over my mouth, I swore underneath my breath. She had a fucking death wish. “What is the matter with you? You are—” I cursed again under my breath, glancing around before continuing, “you are you. This is Miami. You can’t just fucking ditch your security.”
“Calm down, dad. I told Andrew that he could take the night,” she replied with another enticing shrug. “It’s just one night. I can be inconspicuous for one night.”
Yeah. That was like the sun trying to hide during the day. Impossible.
“You will never be normal, Blake.” I was harsh because she never goddamn listened. I ignored my guilt when she winced. I didn’t have the flexibility to be the nice guy. Not when she was fucking throwing herself in danger. “I don’t care what you told him. I care about what you didn’t tell him, which I’m assuming was that you were coming here.”
“We were just going for a burger and then here to see if you wanted to go to the beach! I figured the four of you was protection enough. Not like some of you weren’t football stars or anything…” she retorted with an angry, flustered voice that made me want to kiss some fucking sense into her pretty little head.
The hand that reached out and grabbed her arm, yanking her into me, came from my body but wasn’t my own. “Well maybe you could have at least tried a better disguise,” I said, nodding to the black leather baseball cap even as my eyes drifted down to her glossy pink lips.
“Yeah? Maybe next time you could let me borrow your asshole one if you can bear to part with it for a few hours.” She snatched her arm from my grip. “That disguise seems to be foolproof at keeping people away.”
Darting around me, she grabbed Taylor’s hand and pulled her out towards the DJ, exclaiming enthusiastically, “Let’s dance! I love this song!”
The growl that escaped me was feral, as I watched the two girls escape to the dance floor that flashed like it was testing participants for a seizure disorder. Avicii blared over the speakers, the pulsing of the beat hardly keeping up with the angry drum of my heart.
Alex tried to say something to me, but I couldn’t even turn my head. I’d like to believe it was because there were other people on the dance floor and I wanted to make sure nothing happened to her.
There were a lot of things I’d like to believe.
My fucking dick screamed that it was because of the way her arms lifted and crossed over her head, pulling her already short top up higher to give glimpses of her pale, flat stomach. Swallow. Swallow. Fucking swallow. All my mouth wanted to do was taste it, to bathe that soft skin with my tongue. She would taste like cookies there, too, as I licked and bit my way underneath her shirt. She continued to move and spin like my own personal nymph nightmare that would haunt my hard cock for weeks. And the material clung to her modest tits when she moved like it knew I was watching.
Bathing suits were not supposed to be bras. And friends’ little sisters were not supposed to be wet dreams.
I felt my hand flex on my thigh, knowing that they would fit perfectly in my palm. My undefeatable erection throbbed, imagining how I’d be able to cup the entirety of the soft weight in my palm. I liked the thought of claiming entire parts of her. As she danced in front of me my fingers itched to hold the bouncing mounds steady for my mouth so I could suck on the hard, outlined peaks right through the thin fabric until they were as red as her goddamn lips.
Biting back a curse, I shifted again in my seat. This was why I stayed away from Blake Tyler.
Because my body needed to have her. But fucking her would fuck everything.
Still, I couldn’t look away. The way her hips swayed to the beat had her too-goddamn-short shorts slipping and sliding with every shake. They were too loose and hanging too low on her hips and I began to wonder if she kept moving that way, if it was possible for her to…
My jaw clenched.
Shake them off.
My dick swelled, eager for me to assist her if it wasn’t. God, I probably wouldn’t even have to unbutton the damn things to get them off. Which was honestly, perfectly fine with me, because right now, ripping them down was even too long a process to get my cock buried inside of her.
The song ended and her arms fell to wrap around Taylor as she laughed. It was a fucking mistake for her to ditch her security—a dangerous fucking mistake. But when I saw her smile like that—like for once she could just enjoy being like the rest of us—I understood. As they hugged and half spun on the dance floor, her eyes caught mine and the smile dropped from her face.
Good.
She should think that I’m still upset with her recklessness and not with my own reckless desire.
Caught in my trance, she tugged off her hat to run a hand through her waves of sunshine. A mistake.
It might not have been much, but the damn cap had been doing something. And as though the curtain had just dropped, some drunk chick down the bar, yelled, “Oh my god! Is that Blake Tyler?”
Like the whole fucking bar couldn’t hear her.
I watched her bright lips part, surprise and disbelief registering on her face. In slow motion, she and Taylor looked around, all of us silently praying that no one had heard the obnoxious announcement.
Prayers don’t travel as fast as word of a superstar sighting.
Taylor pushed her towards us. The guys and I stood, closing the distance around her, but it wasn’t enough. The whole bar drew in like parasitic months to a fruitful flame, asking for autographs, photos, and several obscene requests from the really drunk assholes. Normally, she gave into this shit and probably would have signed bar napkins until the sun came up or until they ran out. But this wasn’t a safe space for that.
“You lookin’ for a new boytoy, Blake?” Some giant bald guy asked, trying to push through Taylor to get to her. “I’ll be your boyfriend for the weekend,” he continued to offer with a slur. “I don’t mind if you use me, sweets.”
Red rage shot through my blood.
Taylor stumbled to the side as he pushed right through her and reached for Blake. I shoved myself in front of the asshole, briefly catching the hurt and concern mingle over Blay’s face.
“I think you need to take a step back, jackass,” I growled at him. Murder never seemed so possible until that moment.
“Why?” he asked dumbly. “You her latest boyfriend or somethin’? Maybe she’d be interested in two at a time. Be able to move through them a lot faster that way.”
I heard her gasp behind me—and that was before my hand shot out and wrapped around this drunk motherfucker’s throat.
“Keep talking and the only thing that’s going to move a lot faster is my fist through your fucking face.” I squeezed for emphasis, enjoying how his face seemed to turn purple for a second. Throats were a lot softer than footballs.
He choked and doubled over when I let go and then the crush of people clamoring to get closer pushed him away before I could do more damage.
“I’ll be your next boyfriend, Blake. I’ll even let you dump me in the morning.”
“Let’s get the paparazzi in here!”
I watched the fear shudder of her face as the flashes of cell phones now began to distantly register. Fuck this shit. I hauled Blake against me and, gripping the back of Bobby’s collar to use him as a shield, I pushed us through the crowd and out the door.
Everything had gone from fine to frenzy faster than you could say ‘fearless.’
All those photos that had been posted in the last thirty seconds had done the trick. Once outside, we saw a different crowd—one leashed with professional cameras and heading directly towards us.
“Is this what you were hoping for?” I growled at her like it would make the situation better.
Unfortunately, all I could think that there was someone here who didn’t like her or her music, who didn’t know her but hated her, and decided that tonight was a good time to try to harm her. All I saw was her face as random arms tried to reach through us for her. I hated that she’d put herself in this position. I hated that she thought I could protect her. Mostly, I fucking hated that I would die to protect her but it still wouldn’t be enough.
“W-we have to get back,” Taylor said with a shaky voice. “Let’s just call an Uber or something.”
“No,” I shouted. “Keep moving.”
I realized that my grip was biting into the soft skin of Blake’s arm. Good. I wanted to bite into her. I wanted to punish her for doing this.
We rounded the next corner and I turned to Alex, “The hotel is only a few blocks away. They are going to catch up to us if we have to wait for a car. You guys take Taylor back. Stay on this road and they’ll all follow you. I’ll cut over another block with Blake and we’ll meet you back there.”
I didn’t wait for any agreement. Reaching up, I yanked the hat off Blake’s head and handed it to Taylor, praying that it was enough to confuse the two of them in the dark.