Being summoned to conference room A at Ripper Records three days later didn’t surprise Jazz in the slightest.

What did surprise her? That it had taken Lila that long to pounce.

When Lila hadn’t snagged them the morning after the Tribute show, Jazz had been relieved. Maybe she hadn’t been paying that much attention to her and Gray’s show antics. Though Lila attended every show she could as well as making sure there was ample footage for dissection later, it was dark behind the drum kit and she might not have been eagle-eyed enough to spot Gray kissing her.

Maybe and might weren’t offering her a whole lot of comfort at the moment.

Lila finally sailed in, a sunny smile on her face. “Morning, children.” She held up a silver decanter and set a couple of mugs on the table. “Coffee?”

“That shit is poison,” Nick muttered.

Simon kicked him under the table. “Since when? You drink it constantly. And I’m pretty sure it’s less poisonous than those cancer sticks of yours.”

“I meant this particular coffee is poison, and keep your damn feet to yourself, Kagan.”

Lila ignored them both and took her seat at the head of the table. She shrugged off her shoulder bag and withdrew her iPad, setting it before her. “So. What’s new?”

They all looked at each other, silently communicating about who would be the one to speak. Deak, as usual, stepped up.

He cleared his throat. “We’ve come up with a lot of good, usable material in our time away, both in our individual groups and collectively. I’m assuming you saw the footage of our show at Tribute. It went well.”

“Yes, of course, I saw it. That’s my job.” Lila scrolled her finger across the tablet’s screen and smiled. “Your job is a bit different. You were given certain tasks and offered certain admonitions yet with my little eye, I spy that these were not followed.”

Jazz shot a glance at Gray in the seat beside her, and he slid his hand under the arm of his chair to link his fingers with hers. Such a small thing, but so important.

“Lila, we—” Gray began.

“Don’t bother explaining. I can see.” She folded her hands on top of her tablet. “What I see is amazing chemistry that I want to exploit like a motherfucker.”

Jazz blinked. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me. And don’t pretend to be shocked. I’m hardly the first person to be blown away by what I saw on stage.” Lila lifted her iPad and started scrolling again. “Check out YoloFan’s YouTube clip, entitled ‘Motherfucking Oblivion Hotness,’ for example.”

“YoloFan? That sounds like a true genius.” If Nick had rolled his eyes any harder, he would’ve dislocated something.

“Regardless, Gray and Jazz’s chemistry is exactly what this band has been needing. The magic ingredient.”

Gray clamped his fingers tighter around Jazz’s and leaned forward. “Look, I’m not sure what you’re getting at, but we’re not going to be ‘exploiting’ anything. This isn’t a game to us.”

“You think my paycheck is a game, Mr. Duffy? Au contraire. I take it very seriously.”

Jazz glanced at Gray and lifted her eyebrows when he would’ve spoken again. He fell silent, giving her the floor.

“We realize that the timing of this could be construed as…inconvenient for the band, and we certainly don’t want to be a distraction, but—”

“You’re the best kind of distraction, Jasmine. Let me read some of the comments on YoloFan’s clip. By the way, over two-hundred-thousand hits in two days for a show at a venue like Tribute is impressive.”

“YoloFan can kiss my ass.”

“Nicholas, are you really that upset at not being in the spotlight? Kindly hush.” Lila slid the iPad toward Deak. “Actually, why don’t you read some of them aloud, so no one thinks I’m stacking the deck.”

Deacon picked up the iPad and started to read silently. Then one brow lifted. “When Gray climbed up on those drums to kiss Jazz, I swear I had an orgasm. Like…right then and there. Instant combustion.”

Gray grinned. “Jeez, man, I never knew you cared.”

Deak shook his head, laughing, before sliding the tablet back to Lila. “I’m not reading those out loud. Those chicks are seriously horny.”

“Are you sure they’re all chicks?” Jazz propped an elbow on the table and wiggled her fingers, indicating for Lila to pass the iPad to her. “There has to be some guys in the crowd, right?”

“There are. Men are excited too.”

“Fabulous,” Gray muttered, tightening his grip on Jazz’s hand.

“Now Jasmine has become an accessible fantasy to them. The male mind works in fascinating ways.”

“You can say that again.” Jazz flicked Gray a sidelong glance and smiled when his broody expression never changed. “We’re happy you’re not displeased that we’re together.”

“Yes, but we really wouldn’t have done a fucking thing different if you were.”

“Shush.” Jazz squeezed his hand. “He doesn’t mean that, Lila.”

“Sure he does. He’s in love and wants the whole world to know it.”

Gray never looked away from Jazz as he brought her hand to his mouth for a quick kiss. “That about sums it up.”

“Aww,” Simon said, grinning. “That’s totally adorbz.”

Jazz took a shuddery breath and would’ve responded in kind if Lila hadn’t cut her off.

“I agree totally with your plan to demonstrate it to the world. Clearly, you two have explosive chemistry, and that shouldn’t be kept behind closed doors. Neither should ‘Sugar Kiss’ be under wraps until the album comes out.” She consulted her tablet. “I spoke to Donovan yesterday and we’re of one mind. ‘Sugar Kiss’ should be the first single, and we want it out soon as possible.”

“Say what?” Nick flashed her an incredulous look. “The album’s not due to drop until—”

“June. Yes. Which is a damn long time for Oblivion to fade out of the public eye.”

“I thought that’s what these scattered club dates were about before we went into the studio,” Simon said, spinning one of Lila’s coffee cups between his palms.

She snatched it away from him and set it beside Deak’s elbow. “That’s china, Kagan, and those are hand-painted roses. Moving on. Yes, you’re right. And that is a good plan until you can get back on the road later this year. But nowadays, many artists are dropping advance singles. In fact, I want you to give me another one I can release in a few months. Preferably a ballad.”

“‘Finally’ would be perfect.” Gray spoke up, his attention focused on Lila. “I’ve been working on that one on and off for the last week.”

“Uh, hello, why didn’t you mention it to me?” Nick asked.

“Or me,” Jazz put in.

Gray’s cheeks tinged pink. “Because it wasn’t ready yet. Now it almost is.”

“Almost,” Lila said. “Once it is—and once your band has given their go-ahead—I’d like to hear it. In the meantime, I want to get going with ‘Sugar Kiss’. Donovan and I had a strategy session and we have some preliminary ideas for the video. Specifically, we’d like it to feature Jasmine, covered in sugar. Or a sugar-like substance, since I think that might be difficult to work with under hot lights.”

Silence descended around the table. Lila, however, didn’t seem to notice.

“We think conceptually that this might be just the song to shoot the band into superstardom. Think of what ‘Cherry Pie’ did to Warrant back in—”

“What? Now we’re taking our cues from freaking hair bands?” Nick slapped his palms on the table. “Newsflash, lady, Oblivion isn’t Poison rebooted. Simon’s lips are way too small.”

“Hey.” Simon touched his fingers to his mouth. “Don’t hate on the pout.”

Deak leaned forward. “Lila, I’m not sure this is the direction we want to proceed. ‘Sugar Kiss’ is already an extremely sexual song. To add a salacious video—”

“I’m certain we don’t want to proceed that way,” Gray snapped. “Jazz isn’t a sex doll.”

Lila pursed her lips. “A doll, huh? I didn’t think of that angle.”

Abruptly, Gray let go of Jazz’s hand and crossed his arms. “Not. Happening.”

Jazz twined her fingers together in her lap and tried not to let Gray’s sudden distance bother her. She understood he didn’t want her to be sexualized, but what did he expect, writing a song like that? That they’d braid her hair and have her skip down a hill of flowers like in Mary Poppins?

“This is your song,” she said quietly, unsurprised when he didn’t look her way. “You came up with it, now you’re mad that Lila wants to capitalize on it?”

She stared at his stony countenance and frowned. He’d totally shut down.

“It’s not entirely his song,” Nick said. “I improved upon it. Simon named it. And yes, it’s highly sexual, and yes, the crowd loved it. But couldn’t we go with a different concept than the typical naked chick vid? Didn’t that jump the shark in, oh, about 1992?”

“What do you propose then? Jasmine in a pinafore, maybe, and the rest of you in suits? I know, I know.” Lila snapped her fingers. “How about Robert Palmer-style videos? Hot babes in classy black dresses? Then it just implies sex without pushing the envelope?”

“Who the fuck is Robert Palmer?” Simon asked.

Nick ignored him. “So you want us to be like every other band out there.”

“No, I want you to deliver on the promise you made by creating a song like ‘Sugar Kiss’. Jasmine is a beautiful woman. There’s no reason she should be hidden behind—”

“I don’t want her to hide, but I also don’t think she should be objectified.”

“More objectified than what you did by writing that kind of song?” Jazz shoved her hands under her thighs so she wouldn’t lean over and whack Gray in the head. As much as she loved him, he could be a pigheaded chauvinist at times. Sure, it was so wrong for her to decide to be sexual—if she did, she still hadn’t agreed to do it yet—but it was fine if he made that decision for her. “Maybe you shouldn’t have shared that with Nick if you really wanted to keep me under lock and key, huh?”

“I didn’t share anything with Nick that you hadn’t decided to share first.”

She sucked in a breath. The pain came fast, as it always did. Pain that she’d hurt him, even unintentionally. And the deeper pain that the threesome they’d had would remain a splinter in their sides, a weapon to be dragged out in arguments probably for the rest of their lives. “It always comes back to that with you, doesn’t it?”

“Kids,” Nick said from the other end of the table. “I think we’re getting off-topic.”

“It comes back to it because everything seems to keep shoving it in my face. And no, I didn’t share it with Nick. I was going to,” he acknowledged, “but I hadn’t gotten that far. I was still writing it when he grabbed my notebook and called Simon.”

She pushed her hands through her hair, sending the beads at the ends of her braids clinking. When she’d done them that morning, she’d grinned at her reflection in the mirror, so stupidly happy that she couldn’t stop from beaming at herself. Gray had come into the bathroom and hugged her from behind, pressing kisses on the back of her neck she could still feel if she concentrated.

Now they were arguing about nothing.

“I don’t really want to be powdered in sugar,” she admitted.

“I don’t have a problem with it,” Simon said, laughing when Nick kicked him again. “I meant me. I’d be fine with being turned into a piece of fried dough. As long as there’s a hot girl to lick me clean.”

Nick snorted. “Lick yourself.”

“I’m not quite that flexible. Those Pilates classes can only do so much.”

Lila sighed. “It’s a song about giving oral sex to a female. Not sure if powdering you would have the same effect, Kagan.” She tapped her nails on her cheek, her eyes brightening. “Actually, maybe that’s a good idea. Jasmine can get up a ladder and dump the sugary substance on Simon. It’ll be a trend-setting role reversal. I like it. Good thinking.”

Before anyone could blink, she popped to her feet. “I’m going to run this by Donovan and get a vid shoot set up. Kagan, don’t cut your hair. Women like it long.”

Nick touched the ends of his own short cut. “I don’t seem to have any trouble.”

“Discriminating women,” she corrected, skirting the table and heading for the door. “Keep up the good work, Oblivion. Time’s running down and I want enough material to take into the studio next week, so don’t start slacking now.” The door clicked shut behind her.

Gray unfolded his long frame from the chair and had taken two strides toward the door when Jazz called him back. “Gray, wait.”

“Guess this is our cue to leave.” Nick grabbed a handful of the back of Simon’s shirt and shoved him toward the door.

Deak shot her a sympathetic glance and followed them, shutting the door with a decisive snap.

She drew up her legs and hugged her knees to her chest. One of the benefits to being small was that she could imitate a pretzel when she wanted to hide from the world.

Except she never wanted to hide from him.

“I’m not going to apologize, because I don’t know what I did,” she said quietly. “If you expect me not to be sexualized, then you shouldn’t have ever invited me into this band. That’s part of the rock and roll image. As you well fucking know. Girls scream after you all the time, and I’ve never put a bag over your head.”

His silence felt as brutal as a slap. No, actually, it hurt worse. She’d been slapped before. Mrs. Beetle, her second foster mother, hadn’t had a problem with meting out her form of justice with an open palm.

This sting lasted longer.

After a moment, he heaved out a breath and dropped into the seat he’d vacated. He locked his hands behind his head, staring off somewhere she couldn’t see.

“Nothing to say, huh?” She swallowed hard and picked up the cinched purse she’d set down beside her chair. “Okay. Guess that’s that.”

He let her get to the door before he spoke. “It feels like I’ve shared you my entire life. Is it so wrong of me to want you to myself for a little while?”

“No.” She closed her eyes and gripped her purse tighter. “But it’s wrong to expect more from me than I expect from you. If this situation had been reversed and Lila had asked you to do something crazy for a video, I would’ve bitten my tongue.”

His laughter scraped down her spine, as cold as an icicle. “Yeah, well, guess what? You’re better than I am, in so many ways.”

“Not in my eyes.”

“Your eyes aren’t getting an accurate picture, sweetheart.” Instead of sounding sarcastic, he sounded tired. So very exhausted.

So was she.

“No, perhaps I’m only seeing what I want to. Just like every time I think we can put what happened with Nick behind us, it comes back again to kick us in the ass.”

“We’re in the same band. It’s not like I can forget when he’s staring me in the face.”

“Or when you’re collaborating with him on songs about doing me? Ouch. Awkward. For me anyway. The two of you seemed cool with it.”

“Jazz—”

“Forget it.” Too annoyed to hold back her frustration, she yanked open the door. “I’m going back to the spa to see if they’ll fit me with a shroud so no one notices I have tits.”

* * *

For two days, Jazz didn’t respond to his calls. Oh, she didn’t ignore him. She’d never be that cruel. She spoke to him civilly, even laughing as she regaled him with Simon’s latest adventures involving a glycolic peel and a pedicurist. She’d gotten a full-body detoxifying seaweed wrap and purchased another dress. This one was champagne-colored, like her hair.

God, he missed her hair and all the rest of her.

She explained not visiting by saying that she and the guys were in a good rhythm with their songwriting and she didn’t want to alter their streak. The underlying message, however, was obvious. She hadn’t forgiven him for his highhanded tactics and she wasn’t going to bend until he proved he would bend too.

It was probably smarter that they faced this issue now. They were so new, and it was bound to be a problem going forward. One way or another, he’d figure out how to kill his jealousy. They were both part of the band. And if Lila had suggested the sugar thing to him, he would’ve laughed but he wouldn’t have thought twice about it. Because he was a guy, and that made it okay.

It was oh so fucking different when it was his Jazz. Finally she was his.

Right now it didn’t feel that way. He hated not being able to touch her and hold her close late at night when, after a long night writing and playing with Nick, the shakes came back. They pushed him out of bed to the baggie he hid in his shaving kit. The first night without her, he resisted.

The second, he gave in.

The next morning they had rehearsals for their show that night at Rave, another medium-sized club outside of LA. Somehow even the tension between him and Jazz didn’t affect the band’s vibe. It helped that the material the spa crew had brought to the table was really good, especially “Nailed.” Jamming together buffed away some of the rough spots. By the end of the session, he and Jazz were even laughing.

He headed back to the cabin to grab his stuff before heading out to Rave in a much better mood than when he’d left that morning. Until his cell rang while he was tugging on that night’s outfit of extremely tight jeans, a leather vest and the new hat Jazz had found for him. He smiled, clutching the hat in one hand while he reached for his phone with the other.

She couldn’t be that pissed if she was still buying him stuff, right?

A quick glance at the Caller ID made his smile fade. He didn’t recognize the number. “Hello?”

“Gray Duffy. Nice to speak to Oblivion’s rhythm guitarist in the flesh.”

Gray’s shoulders tensed. “Do I know you?”

“No. Not yet. But I know of you.” The male’s voice held a thread of menace made even more potent by its deceptive pleasantness. “You’re a very talented young man. Capable of achieving many things, assuming you don’t stray from the path you’re on.”

“Who the hell is this?”

“Don’t curse at me, boy. Right now I’m the only thing standing between you and a shattered hand. Both hands. That would be truly unfortunate.”

Cricket. Obviously this had to do with her. Christ, how much did he owe altogether? Not a small amount, but not one so large that the spinecrackers should’ve been circling.

Though, fuck, what did he really know about how this crap worked? He’d spent the bulk of his life in frigging Vista View. He’d never even smoked weed in high school. For God’s sake, back then he’d practically been a Boy Scout, and deep down, he probably still was.

He was way, way out of his depth.

“I know you’re looking for money,” he said, running calculations on what was left in his savings account.

So much for trying to hang onto a portion of his money for rent. Not going to happen. He needed to clear his debts, fast. He’d pick up a couple of shifts at the transport company next week once they were done at the cabin. That would help. And maybe he could take one of his spare guitars down to the pawn shop. He hated to do it, but better to get rid of one of them than to look over his shoulder constantly.

As for what he’d do without the access to blow, well, he’d just have to ration what he had left, that was all. He wanted to cut back. Hell, he had to, if he intended to have Jazz in his life. So he’d just start limiting himself now—

The other man chuckled. “Money, yes. But I’m guessing you don’t have a lot of access to that right now. Something you do have is a very pretty girlfriend.”

Gray’s throat closed and he sank to the mattress, crushing the hat Jazz had bought him against his thigh. “I don’t have a girlfriend.” His voice came out shakier than he’d planned so he cleared his throat and tried again. “Don’t know where you’re getting your information, man, but it’s all wrong.”

“Oh, really? So that sweet little drummer girl you were kissing onstage the other night at your concert, she’s just a friend, right? Doesn’t matter at all to you.” He lowered his voice. “So you won’t mind if I—”

“Don’t. Just don’t.” He could barely breathe through the ice coating his lungs. “Look, I’m going to get you your money. Cricket told me I needed to get her a third of what I owe her.”

“Try half, asshole. And the rest better not be far behind, or I won’t be making phone calls to communicate.”

“Okay, okay, half. Just give me time to get it together. I promise you’ll get what you’re owed, but you gotta give me the space to make it happen. Oblivion’s management is intense. They watch us like hawks.”

“They aren’t the only ones watching you. Don’t make me regret giving you more time.” The other man clicked off, leaving Gray staring at the phone.

Christ. This couldn’t be happening.

What the hell had he been thinking, instigating a public display like he had with Jazz the other night? He’d practically put a goddamn target on her back. He hadn’t forgotten that Cricket had indicated there would be consequences if he didn’t make more of a dent in his debt. Sure, he’d paid some of what he’d owed, but he’d also gotten more coke. He was probably more in the hole now than he’d been before he’d practically emptied his saving account.

Even so, he could deal with paying half of it back, fast. Half was doable. He had a bit of money left, and he had his spare guitars, the ones he rarely played anymore. Every one of them counted as one of his prized possessions, but that didn’t matter right now. The important thing was to show them they could trust him, that he was making a good faith effort to get them their money. Then he could catch his breath a little while he took on a few extra shifts at the transport company.

It wasn’t like Deak and the rest of the band would toss him out on his ear if he was temporarily short on rent next month. Hell, he could even ask Jazz for—

No. He hissed out a breath and smoothed out the hat she’d given him. Real fucking drug addicts hit up their girlfriends for cash. That wasn’t him. Would never be him. He’d handle the first part of what he owed and figure out the rest later.

At this moment, he had a show to worry about. The car would be picking up him and Nick anytime now, and he couldn’t let any of this shit affect his performance. Jazz would be watching.

They would be watching, and they would be way too pleased to see they’d rattled him. He’d be damned if he gave them the satisfaction.

He set aside the hat and headed into the bathroom for a quick shave. Deliberately, he pushed aside the baggie of blow, not wanting to even be tempted. But fuck, just the feel of the powder sifting between his fingers and the plastic was enough to make him press his fist to his forehead.

How was he supposed to get through tonight without the help? They’d threatened Jazz. The idea of them—him, whomever the caller was—looking at her, even thinking about her, made Gray want to throw things. Rip the mirror off the freaking wall and pound his knuckles into the glass until they were as bloody and destroyed as the pieces of his mind.

Breathing hard, he braced his hands on the edge of the sink and faced his reflection. His bloodshot eyes looked like they belonged to a druggie.

Because you are one. Everyone knows but you.

And her. Fuck, he couldn’t let her know.

It was bad enough they’d smoked together. That he could brush off as just partying. Just a good time. It had never been the way he’d had a good time, but as long as she didn’t think more of it, he could rationalize. But this…it would kill her to know he had people threatening him because of his drug debts.

Threatening her.

Hands shaking, he took out his shaving cream. He went through the rest of the task by rote, finally returning to the bedroom to grab the hat and his wallet. At the last second, he grabbed the small folding knife he’d bought after Cricket had started her not-so-subtle threats and stuffed it in his pocket. It wasn’t enough. How could he protect Jazz with that? He needed a gun.

He threw back his head and sucked in a long, slow breath. No, he didn’t need a gun. Didn’t need to panic, either. As long as he got them the money he’d promised, he had nothing to worry about. Just in case, he’d keep Jazz close to his side.

“Yo, man, you coming? Ride’s here,” Nick called through Gray’s closed bedroom door.

“Yeah.” Gray opened the door and clamped his fingers around the knob. The words were out before he could stop them. “Look, I need you to do me a favor. And I don’t intend to say more about it than this, so don’t bother asking.”

Nick kicked back against the wall in his best don’t give a shit pose, eyebrow lifted. “Okay.”

“I know you care about Jazz, and her well-being is the most important thing. Just keep more of an eye on her than usual for the next few days, all right?” Gray swallowed, trying to force down the lump in his throat. How had he gotten to this point? “I’m going to make sure I’m with her as much as possible, but if I’m not, I need to know you’ll have her back.”

He expected Nick to argue. To demand to know how deep he’d gotten. If the positions had been reversed, he probably would have. But from the resigned lock to Nick’s jaw and his hooded eyes, he already knew.

Nick nodded and walked down the hall. Abruptly, he stopped. “You owe it to her—if not yourself—to end this.”

Gray hooked his thumbs in the pockets of his jeans. He didn’t know if Nick was referring to the coke or to his relationship with Jazz, period. “I’ve got it under control.”

Nick glanced back and smiled, the warmth never reaching his eyes. Then he kept going out the front door, letting it thud shut in his wake.

* * *

“How y’all doing tonight, LA?” Simon’s shout to the crowd at Rave made them scream even louder. “Who’s ready to fucking rock?”

From behind the kit, Jazz flexed her foot on the pedal. Something felt off and she couldn’t figure out what. Between Gray’s strange lurking around her and then his last second demand for a setlist change, he definitely wasn’t acting right. He’d insisted “Sugar Kiss” come off the list, and it wasn’t hard to figure out why. She’d thought that over their past few days apart, he’d cooled off a bit from his sexist stance but evidently not. The weird thing was that he’d really seemed to be coming around yet tonight he’d backslid big time.

Even more oddly, he’d hovered around her offstage, while onstage he hadn’t looked at her once. Normally they teased each other before a show, exchanging winks and quips to break the pre-performance tension. Tonight he hadn’t even made eye contact. He wasn’t engaging the crowd either while Simon went through his revving up routine. Normally Gray got into it too. His focus tonight remained entirely on his guitar.

“Get up on your feet, LA!”

At Simon’s directive, she forced a smile and started the steady buildup to “Balls To The Wall.” The song was fairly straightforward and didn’t require a lot of thought on her part, just mainly keeping the beat, so she was able to watch Gray. He didn’t respond to Nick’s good-natured—usually—posturing and taunts and barely seemed aware of Simon’s showboating across the stage.

Their lead singer was in rare form tonight, owning the space and sucking up so much of the energy in the club that it began to feel like they were Simon’s back-up band. But that helped disguise Gray’s lack of involvement beyond his manic playing. Rather than take part in the band’s antics, he focused on the instrument he cradled like a lover, plucking out notes that shrieked and wailed and raged. All of his passion funneled through his hands and became something inescapably beautiful.

And throughout, she counted off the beat, serving as the backbone to the music that roared around her just loudly enough to quiet the questions in her mind.

They went through their modified setlist without faltering, but their crazy cohesive energy from the other night had vanished. On the surface, everything seemed fine. Nick even bantered a bit with Simon and Deak in between “Lit” and “Ripcord,” which was about as rare as Gray not looking up from the strings.

Stylistically, he was perfect. Didn’t miss a freaking note. His face, though, never changed. He wore a stoic mask, the playful Gray from Tribute driven so far underground that she wondered if she’d imagined the whole thing.

The end of the show took a lifetime to reach and also came way too fast. She wasn’t ready for him to turn that mask on her. Seeing those eyes she loved so much frosted over like the coldest winter day hammered spikes of ice in her chest, making it hard for her to breathe. She didn’t know how to reach him when he was like that—the way he’d been for much of the past year.

But God, since they’d been together, it had been different. Yes, they’d only had a string of days together so far. She’d hoped it was a beginning.

She refused to believe it wasn’t.

As the stage cleared out, she peeled off her fingerless gloves and flexed her achy hands, waiting for the right moment to pounce on Gray. Turned out she didn’t have to bother. Once Gray handed off his guitar to the crew, he appeared at her side, closer than a shadow.

“You were fantastic tonight.” He stroked her cheek and gave her his beloved Gray smile, the one he saved for her alone. Not the public cordial one, or even the sex-personified rockstar one. The one he’d been flashing at her since the first day in his parents’ living room, when he’d discovered she played the guitar too.

The first link in a chain of so many. She wanted that chain to be unbreakable. To be too strong to weaken or corrode. Nothing—not her goals, or her ambition, or even her principles—mattered more than building a family with Gray. She hoped she could have it all. She would try her hardest to make it happen. But if she had to choose, she would always choose him.

Because he had always chosen her.

“Thanks. So were you. You were kind of into your own thing, huh?” she teased, not expecting the flash of heat that came into his eyes.

“I’m into you, always.” His thumb smoothed over her lower lip. “Come back with me tonight. Don’t make me sleep alone again.”

She knew she should ask questions. Maybe even tell him that this bit of distance between them was good. Everything was moving so fast. But after the years they’d spent circling each other, fast seemed to be the only speed that made sense.

And she didn’t want to sleep alone anymore either. Now that she knew what it was like to fall asleep wrapped up in arms and wake curled against his side, she didn’t want to go without.

Then there were all the hours they spent together before sleep…

She nodded and reached out to cup his jaw. “Are you okay?”

“Yes. I am now. Just stay in the cabin with me, baby. Please.”

The tremor in his voice had her nodding again. He really had missed her. She smiled for his benefit and stroked her index finger over his eyebrow ring. “How can I say no to a sexy, sweaty rock god in denim and leather?”

“I’m not a rock god with you. I’m just a guy who’s in love with a girl.”

She launched herself into his arms and pressed her face into his damp hair. His laughter rumbled through her, sweet and reassuring, and his arms banded around her like steel, holding her up. He would never let her fall.

“Let’s go.” She eased back and grinned. “My plans for the night just got a lot more interesting.”