“Up and at ‘em, Simon. We’re pulling in.” Nick’s voice boomed into the silence.

Or it had been silent.

Simon covered his eyes with his arm. His head was pounding. He’d watched Netflix on his tablet for about twelve hours straight. He just hadn’t been able to face anyone.

Margo left him a pot of tea every few hours. She’d attempted to pull back the curtain once, but then had let it swing closed again.

Her honeysuckle scent teased him every time she moved around the back of the bus, but neither of them seemed to know how to approach the other.

Sleep and nocturnal raids on their freezer when everyone else was sleeping covered the rest of the hours on the road. He knew it was cowardly, but he just didn’t give a shit.

If he wasn’t allowed to speak for three goddamn days, that was the perfect time to watch every episode of Daredevil.

Matt Murdock beating the ever-loving shit out of every bad guy in Hell’s Kitchen was enough to keep his rage in check.

He lived vicariously through the character.

And no one else had tried to bother him. The few times he’d pulled out his earbuds, he’d heard Margo and Nick working on a song or watching Charmed.

He didn’t have it in him to play nice. Not when he’d have to for the next thirty-six hours. He rolled out of his bunk and because he was rank, he closeted himself in the bathroom for a hot shower.

He knotted a towel at his waist and looked out the window. The spire of the University of California’s bell tower came into view as Bobby pulled around to The Greek Theater.

They’d played the smaller venue of the same name on the Rebel Rage tour. Los Angeles was, and would always be, home turf. That had given him a boner for days, but this park...

This was bigger and was fast becoming the place to play. The mere fact that Lila had gotten them in with only a request from him and Nick was just out of control.

And he couldn’t fucking sing.

He flattened his hand on the window. Before he could do something stupid like smash his fist into the glass, he stepped back. The overhead compartment came into his eyeline and he flipped it open.

Hello old friend.

He pulled down one of the Crystal Skull bottles. He downed a bottle of water, ripped off the label, and refilled it with the crystal clear vodka.

That would be one way to get through the day.

He took a hit from the eerily smiling skull and tucked it back on the shelf.

“You’re alive.”

Simon swallowed down a sound that was half groan and half seething sigh. He turned to her and lifted his eyebrows in answer. Christ, she was fresh-faced and beautiful.

Onstage, she had perfected the vamp look with her all black outfits and screaming-colored electric violin and cello. She’d taken to the rockstar skin as if she’d been born for it.

But here, she was short white shorts and tanned legs. A striped T-shirt showcased her tiny waist and amazing tits.

All he wanted to do was haul her into his arms and wrap that lush body around him. He wanted to forget that his voice sucked, that the world sucked, that his life sucked.

But he didn’t.

Because that luscious mouth of hers was pinched with worry, and her dark eyes were searching for a way to ask him if he was okay.

He wasn’t fucking okay. And he didn’t even want her to make the pretense of asking him.

As if she somehow read his mind, she rose onto her scarlet-painted toes and nipped his lower lip. “We have the whole evening to escape this bus. Since you can’t do the interviews and they’re going to play up the sick card instead of the voice card, you’re mine.” She palmed his dick through the towel then snaked her hand under the flap. “Tell me, do you think you can play college co-ed with me today?”

He resisted the urge to groan and tipped his head back as she stroked down his shaft and slipped her thumb around the crown of his cock.

She nibbled his Adam’s apple and he jerked away. Instead of looking repentant, she smiled and released him. “Get dressed.”

He grabbed the bottle and slid on his oldest pair of jeans under his towel. The knee was ripped out on one leg and there was a huge hole in the thigh of the other. An equally abused Ozzy shirt finished his college look. Half hipster douche, half irony. Sunglasses and an Angels’ baseball cap hid his overlong hair and eyes.

“That’s quite the ensemble.”

He pulled his phone out and texted.

She shook her head and looped a wide canvas purse over her head and settled it cross-body. “Want me to hold your water?”

He shook his head.

“Okay, ready?”

He gave her a thumbs up with his most sarcastic smile.

“Look at that. You don’t even need a voice to convey asshole.”

He sighed.

“We will have fun. It’s an amazing word and we shall find the true meaning today. Then tonight we’ll meet up with everyone and you can stop pouting.” She held up her hand. “Don’t even deny it. I let you pout for a day and a half. That’s all you get.”

He tipped his head back and looked at the ceiling.

“Such a tough life. Okay, let’s go.”

They got off the bus and escaped down an alleyway to the main campus. Trees and reddish walkways offset all the light-colored buildings. They fell into step with students as they wandered through a huge quad with a circular fountain at its center.

A huge patinated archway lead to food vendors. Simon sipped his way through the bottle of vodka during their lazy stroll through campus and knew he needed to drink actual water or something before he stank like vodka through his pores.

It was ridiculously hot.

Feeling better with two hotdogs in his belly and a large fresh lemonade, he finally relaxed. The sun was bleeding through the trees when they finally circled around to the back end of the campus where the stage was located.

They dropped onto the stone stairs where there was finally some shade. Margo took a long drink from the tall bottle of water she’d refilled a few times.

“I can’t believe this campus. It’s so different from Boston.”

He hadn’t even thought about the novelty of a new campus for her. She was an East coast girl. Sure, she did some studio work in Los Angeles, but that was a far cry from this slice of collegiate life.

He pulled his phone out and texted her.

“Yeah, I went to college. I have a Master’s in music theory and a minor in business from Brown.”

His eyebrows shot up. Well that was certainly a far cry from his own high school diploma.

“Holy shit!”

Simon hunched up his shoulders. His half-assed disguise had worked all day. He really didn’t want to have to fend off fans. Especially when he couldn’t charm his way out of it like he usually did.

“Crap, you probably don’t remember me. I look a little different.”

Simon slid his sunglasses down and looked her over. Ass-hugging denim shorts and a bright red top initially distracted him, but her face started pulling at a memory.

He was pretty sure he hadn’t slept with her, but couldn’t be absolutely sure.

“Simon, it’s Tori.”

He frowned. That name definitely niggled.

Margo held out her hand. “I’m Margo. Simon has laryngitis, so he can’t talk.”

“Oh. Oh, wow.” Tori pulled her hair over her shoulder and twisted it into a coil.

Simon snapped his fingers. He dug out his phone and texted Margo.

She looked down at her phone then gave him a deadpan stare. “I’m not saying that.”

“Can I see?”

“It’s rude.”

Tori laughed. “I bet it is.”

Margo sighed and turned her phone around.

Tori snorted. “Yep. That would be me.”

Nick’s blowjob girl from the first tour had turned into a little bit more than just a fun flirtation. She’d gelled with Nick more than any other girl Simon had seen on tour.

Ultimately, the tour was just too much of a force and Tori had gone on to greener pastures. Yet whenever they had a show in California, Nick seemed to hook up with her.

Looked like this one might not be any different.

“I was hoping to find Nick somehow with the show tomorrow night. He gave me an all-access pass to whatever show I could get to.”

Margo tilted her head in that way that made his cock harden. So curious. “Nick doesn’t really do the backstage scene all that often. You must be something special.”

“I like to think so.” Tori flipped her dark hair over her shoulder. “He’s always so damn serious. I like to shake him up a little.”

“He…” Margo trailed off.

Simon nudged her with his shoulder.

She rolled her eyes. “I don’t want to sound bitchy.”

“Oh, girl. Nicky can be an absolute asshole. That’s why I love him so much.”

“Well yeah.” Margo tapped her middle finger against her nail. “He needs to get laid.”

Simon tipped his head back and clapped. Oh man. If only Nick could hear what she said. And it was so very true. Nick wasn’t exactly a saint on tour, but he wasn’t hooking up in every town, either.

Hell, not even every fifth town.

The boy needed to get out of his own way when it came to pleasures of the flesh. He kind of satiated himself with the pre-game warmup, but rarely sealed the deal after a show.

At least from what Simon could tell.

Tori grinned. “Now that is one thing we always excelled at.”

“Well, you should definitely come back with us. We’re not doing anything much tonight with the big show tomorrow.”

Simon’s shoulders tightened at the reminder. The show where he would still be on stage, but not able to sing a goddamn note.

“Are you sure it’s okay?”

Simon nodded.

Margo grinned. “See? Perfect.”

The girls chattered about the tour, about Tori’s major, and Nick. By the time they found the bus again, dusk was falling.

Nick was coming down the stairs from the bus when they walked up. “Jesus, where have you guys been?”

Tori hid behind Simon, her fingers twisting into his belt loop.

“We just walked around. Figured I’d cheer up Grumpy Cat.”

Nick snorted. “Good. He needs it.”

“How’d the interviews go?”

“Same old, same old. Did a question-and-answer session with the students. I swear they ask some of the smartest and dumbest shit.”

“Ahh, college life,” Margo said with a little wistfulness in her tone. “Speaking of college life, we found you a little something.”

Nick peered around Simon. “I see you have a third person.”

“Not just any third person,” Tori said.

Nick frowned and circled Simon. “Well, fuck.”

“Yes, yes, we have,” Tori said with a happy laugh.

Nick scooped her up off the pavement. “Well hey there, stranger.”

Tori wound her arms around his neck. “I tried to text you when I saw the tour dates, but you changed your number.”

Nick laughed. “Yeah. I left my phone at one of the interviews for the new album. Someone found it and holy shit, they blew up my phone. Posted the number on Twitter.”

Tori giggled. “Oh, I missed that one.”

“How many dirty texts did you get?”

“That number is classified,” Nick said.

“I bet I can get it out of you.”

Margo looked over at Simon, then back to Nick. “So, she really is a longtime friend.”

“I told you,” Tori said. “So, do I actually get to finally see the bus?”

Nick grinned and opened the door. “This one is far more impressive than the last one.”

Tori climbed the stairs and dragged Nick after her. He gave them a happy grin and let her lead him into the bus.

Well, maybe things weren’t going to be too boring, after all.

Simon held his arm out for Margo to go ahead of him. He went up the stairs behind her, palming her ass as he crowded into her.

Instead of the usual admonishing look, she grabbed him by the neck of his T-shirt when she got to the top stair and dragged him in for a kiss.

Her tongue was wild, stroking his until she could suck it into her mouth. He stopped her on the stairs, not willing to go inside just yet in case she changed her mind about touching him within the confines of the windows and walls.

She nipped his lower lip and backed up. “I’m thirsty.” Margo reached for the overhead compartment that she’d commandeered. She pulled down a bottle of Silver Cabo tequila. “I think a little celebration is in order.”

Where the hell did she get the tequila?

His eyebrow winged up and Margo grinned. “I stole it from Jazz’s bus. Not like anyone over there was going to put it to use.”

Simon snorted and she waggled her finger. “Uh uh, no sounds.”

He rolled his eyes and went to the lower drawer and pulled out four shot glasses.

Tori rolled onto her knees on the couch. “Count me in on the tequila.”

Nick got up off the couch and held up a finger. He grabbed for the handle and pulled out the cushion until it was double the size.

Tori laughed and fell on her butt. “Man. Do I want to know how many times this thing has been used?”

Nick laughed. “There’s a surprising lack of sex on this bus.”

“That I do not believe.”

Margo laughed. “He’s right. We tend to have sex in the more inspirational areas of a venue or park.”

Tori’s eyes rounded. “You and…” She pointed to Nick.

Margo shook her head. “No.” She gave a head nod in Simon’s direction. “I’m partial to this guy. Don’t ask me why.”

Simon glared at her, but she just laughed and belted a shot. “Everyone drink up.”

* * *

Margo picked up the half-gone bottle of tequila. Tori had hooked up a playlist that piped through the bus’s speakers. The bass heavy Sixx AM song curled low in her belly.

She’d been introduced to a lot of different musicians since she’d started touring with Oblivion. The guys had an eclectic mix of current music, classic rock, and traditional classic rock from the seventies.

They loved their covers and had inspired her to get creative with her strings accompaniment. In fact, she was creating a list of her own to surprise them with.

She and Nick had spent the previous day vetting new songs since Simon had closed himself off from them. It felt weird.

She and Nick had gone from standoffish to an easy truce, but the hours on the bus had cracked the outer layer of his shields. Margo didn’t believe she’d gotten much deeper than the surface, but she felt and responded to the genius living inside him.

All her life, she’d been surrounded by classically trained artists, but this band—these men and woman—was full of natural and instinctive talent that called to her on a deeper level.

And now, yet again, she was seeing a different side to Nick and Simon as a unit. She stepped in front of Nick and her knee brushed his denim-clad thigh as she poured his shot.

He slid his leg out farther until the folds in his jeans teased the back of her knee. Her belly flipped and the odd sensation fluttered through her middle and washed over her skin.

His golden eyes were so very different from Simon’s. They should be warm, but the golden brown was more like amber. A frozen shard of sun in the dark.

He watched, assessed, and she was pretty sure he thought too much. But with the tequila warming her veins, she wasn’t sure if it was just her being fanciful.

She moved onto Simon and his winter blue gaze. He’d gone shot for shot with her, but didn’t seem to be affected by the liquor. His fingers dangled along the edges of the couch. He was settled in what at first seemed like a lazy sprawl, but he was ever watchful, and his fingers tensed on the small ledge under the cushion.

Margo refilled his shot glass and tipped it into her mouth, but instead of swallowing the alcohol, she licked into his mouth and transferred it to him.

His eyes flashed and his tongue tangled with hers as the fire chased from her tastebuds to his and then echoed again like an afterburn. Just the barest sliver of silver blue glowed from his heavy lids and full lashes.

Watching.

Always watching.

She backed away from him, nipples tight and clit throbbing. But she wasn’t paying attention and bumped into Tori. Her arm came around Margo’s waist to steady her.

Both Nick and Simon’s eyes widened as Tori’s hand flattened on her middle.

Curious in a way that only tequila could allow, she swayed with Tori. The song had changed to a sultry, digital-heavy song with a female singer.

It spoke of watching, echoed in flavor to what was there in front of her. Two intense men who weren’t ashamed to show both of the women in the room that they were attractive.

Her gaze trailed down over Simon’s rock-hard belly to the worn denim that molded to the steadily growing bulge between his legs.

She glanced over her shoulder at Tori. Her eyes were a little out of focus, but she wasn’t so far gone that Margo was worried about the consequences of the moment.

A curiosity that could be sated without drama.

She tilted her head and waited to see if Tori would reciprocate or if she backed away. She was fine with both, but couldn’t deny that she wondered if a girl kissed differently than a man.

Her nose brushed Tori’s and their lips hovered on the cusp of a kiss, but neither of them seemed to want to take that extra step.

The intent was enough. The heat between them as their hips swayed to the rhythm. Margo’s hand fell to Tori’s waist, and they matched each other beat for beat.

Finally Margo broke the tension between them. Well, between her and Tori, anyway. Margo sucked in a breath and she closed her eyes against the warmth invading her belly.

Tori’s chin brushed along her shoulder as they both looked forward. Simon’s gaze scorched down her neck, then from her breasts to her hips. She and Tori let the song pull the strings and the heat in their men’s gazes brought them full circle.

Simon gripped the couch and his Adam’s apple bounced with a heavy swallow. Margo watched it bob and his throat work another shot glass full of tequila.

She wanted to taste it off his lips again.

She wanted him to lick it off her skin.

God, her breasts felt heavy. Not for Tori’s touch, but for Simon’s.

They slid away from each other with one last fleeting brush of fingertips. Hers along Tori’s hip and Tori’s along Margo’s belly.

Tori sauntered to Nick, her hips rolling with each step until she pressed one knee into the cushion between his legs. His hands came up to cup her ass and stroked up to her hips then back again.

Simon sat forward on his end of the couch. Margo slipped her fingers into his raven wing’s black hair and shuddered as he drew the tip of his tongue across her belly where Tori had lingered. Her shirt had ridden up and he took full advantage.

He watched her as he lapped at her skin and scraped his nails over her flesh as if he could erase Tori’s touch.

Her nipples tightened as he used his nose to push the hem of her shirt higher so he could trail up her belly to the underwire of her bra.

She glanced at Tori and Nick and her breath shuddered out as Tori tucked her hand into the front of Nick’s jeans.

The song changed to a dark Nine Inch Nails song that urged her hips to move against Simon’s touch. He licked along the scallop of lace that hugged over wire and gripped her ribs.

It was a shell of a camisole that molded to her breasts, holding her in. Simon pulled the stretchy lace up with his teeth and breathed over the deep dip of her bra. The fullness of her breasts required her to be creative to keep the lines of her shirts smooth.

And in a moment Simon turned her body against her. The out of control curve of her breasts spilled out and he opened his mouth to taste every inch.

She closed her eyes against the sensation, overwhelmed by the way he made her forget herself. That she was right next to Nick and Tori. It was so easy for her to get lost in his touch.

Her eyes fluttered open to find Tori’s hand stroking over Nick’s hard length as the two of them watched her and Simon.

Bold with the moment and her body’s haywire reactions to the situation, she tore open the buttons on Simon’s jeans. He hissed as she slipped her hand into the fly and found his cock digging into his belly.

She slid her thumb along the head and spread the moisture at the tip around and under to the tight skin at the ridge where his shaft met the curves there.

The deliciously sensitive ridge. She rubbed there again and again, the same place she would have cupped him with her tongue.

Nick watched them as he stroked his tongue along the underside of Tori’s jaw to her ear. Tori pumped him harder and his moan carried over to Margo.

Simon’s attention finally skidded away from their friends and back to Margo. Solely on her. He brushed his stubble-coated jaw against her belly and slid his hands up into her shorts from the bottom. He cupped her backside then tucked his fingertips between her thighs and against her panties. A moan rumbled in his chest.

She was soaked. She’d known it from the way her hips kept rolling at the gnawing restlessness building inside her.

Simon looked up at her and she was torn between watching his reaction and the show beside them.

Tori licked the palm of her hand and increased her grip and the pressure on Nick’s cock until his hips were lifting to meet each stroke.

Simon nosed the cup of her bra aside enough to get to her nipple. He tongued her, flicking over the tip as he watched their neighbors. Simon’s gaze bounced from watching her watch them to simply observing Nick and Tori. And the whole time he sucked on her nipple until it stung. Until it ached.

Finally Simon lifted her up and stood. “Enough,” he whispered against her neck. “I can’t share you any longer.”

His raspy voice knocked her off her axis and stole the tenuous control she had over the insane situation. He strode down the length of the bus to her bunk and tore back the curtain.

His eyes were fierce and possessive, his touch almost rough as he stripped her shirt off, flipped her bra cups up and fell onto her breasts.

She’d never felt Simon cover her before. Pin her against walls, against tile, a bus, but never the delicious pressure of his pelvis fitting into the bowl of her hips. He opened her legs until he fit against her tighter.

His jeans still on, her shorts still buttoned, but he didn’t seem to care about that quite yet. His sole focus was her breasts.

He laced their fingers and brought them over her head until the backs of her hands were pinned against the carpeted surface. He went from one to the other, sucking and biting until she bucked under him.

Still, he didn’t stop.

She was at his mercy, her breasts thrust high. The heavy curve of the underside was on display because she was spread out like she was on a rack of his own creation.

“Is it wrong that I want to see silver through these?” he asked with a sandpaper whisper.

She shuddered at the thought of his nipple rings. God, she couldn’t stop herself from touching them. Except now, when he’d caged her hands.

“Do they hurt?”

“Sore,” he said on a breath of air. “So sensitive, though.” He released one of her hands and flipped his T-shirt off. He hovered over her, his chest above her mouth.

She lifted off the pillow and traced the ring then tucked her tongue in and tugged it away from his body. His groan was hurtful to her own ears, but the ecstasy on his face made her tug it again.

He shivered above her and as he lowered she coasted her mouth over his chest to his shoulder and sunk her teeth into the muscles there.

“Mark me,” he whispered. “I’m yours as much as you’re mine.” He laved and sucked along her neck and found her pulse as he always did.

Unerringly.

Lovingly.

The sting of his tiny bite zipped through her like lightning and ended at her clit. It pounded with each rasp of his tongue and the ceaseless undulation of his hips into hers.

But everything felt bigger here in this tiny space. As if she couldn’t get away from him, or more importantly that she didn’t want to.

She squeezed his fingers. “Simon, I need…”

“You need what?”

She was so empty.

The thought of telling him that was so huge and so scary that she shut it down.

She didn’t own him. Had never owned him, she was only borrowing.

“I’m yours.”

Her eyes flew open and he gazed at her without fear and without a lick of hesitancy.

“I’ve always been yours, Violin Girl. I’ve just been hoping you would take me.”

Too huge.

Too much.

She buried her face in his neck as he brought one hand down to his fly. She could hear the metal buttons clicking against each other as he tipped to his side just enough to get himself free.

The snap of latex and then he was rocking into her, his pelvis tilting against her. He watched as she took him inside her body.

She curled her free arm around his neck and they met forehead to forehead as he drove into her. Friction. Heat. So much of both. He swiveled his hips and the control she clung to dissipate like fog in sunlight.

He canted his hips until the stroke was so overwhelming and so deep that he touched every part of her. She squeezed her eyes shut against the waves of pleasure that swallowed her.

“No. Open those eyes. See this, see us.”

Her vision wavered, but she managed to stay locked into him as her orgasm started in the center of her and radiated out like starlight, like the spotlights that blinded her some nights, like a note that resonated through her skin and became part of her.

“I love you, Margo.”

She tore her hand out from under his and cupped the back of his head with both hands. She couldn’t find the words, couldn’t even trap the words that tried to form in her throat. They completely failed her.

She’d never given them before.

Her body shuddered under him and she turned her face into his neck.

Oh God. What had she done?