The tour kicks off on Thursday at the PNC Arena in Raleigh to a sold-out crowd. Eighteen thousand attendees are already filtering into their seats around the end-stage, purchasing beer, taking selfies of themselves and the empty stage, and crowding the halls near the merch booths.

I’m wearing my black Wolf tank and white, high-waisted skinny jeans with rips at the knees. My black, low-heel ankle boots give me more comfort than style since I’ll be walking the venue like a madwoman. I use the office backstage to print the final VIP and backstage lists that security will use to double check everyone with a badge.

The band should be arriving any minute, so I head to their dressing room now to make sure they’re stocked with the essentials. They like to be at the arena one hour before showtime to greet the opening act, shoot the shit, and get pumped for the show.

Simply Red, the openers, have an emotionally-driven rock sound much like Wolf’s. They were a great pick to open the show, but I’m surprised there isn’t more comradery between the two bands. Crawley doesn’t hide his anger toward them for almost walking from their contract, which is crazy, since it was his fuckup—not theirs. But his aggression has spoken volumes, enough for them to keep their travel schedule as distant from ours as possible. It’s unfortunate, really. 

I understand the importance of being an opening band on a crazy popular tour like this one. Wolf’s name could take Simply Red to places they never dreamed of, but with an awkward relationship, it makes their journey so much harder. As much as it bothers me, it’s not my place. I saved the opening act from walking away, and that’s really all I can do.

Stepping into Wolf’s dressing room, I eye the stocked bar and check it for the band’s favorites. Johnnie Walker, Chivas, Patron, Voss water. Check. Next I check their snacks. Miniature dark chocolates, pistachios, gummy worms. Check. They also asked for sandwiches for their dinner and and shower gel for their after-concert showers. I laugh when I see something new on the menu. Iced skinny vanilla latte.

Since when do the guys drink skinny lattes?

“Miss Cassidy, hi,” greets one of the room assistants. She’s cute, probably still in college, with bright red hair and the bluest of blue eyes. She’s gorgeous, and the guys will agree. Panic swirls in my stomach when I think of Wolf laying eyes on her.

“Hi,” I say with a forced smile. “You must be Rachel.”

Her smile widens. “That’s me. Would you like your latte now? I can run to the bar and grab you one.”

My eyes widen and I check out the drink menu again. I mean, I always grab my coffee from the bar myself. Someone thought to put it on the menu. “Do you know who added this?”

Rachel smiles when sees what I’m pointing at. “Wolf called earlier today. We just printed up a new menu. It was no problem at all.”

I nod, feeling slightly off-balance at Wolf’s thoughtfulness. I guess he’s always been considerate in his own way, but it’s getting harder to ignore. “I would love one, thank you.”

Rachel exits the room just seconds before the guys enter. Hedge sees me first and runs over, his hair bouncing around his head as he moves. I laugh as he wraps his arms around my waist and swings me around. I don’t have to sniff hard to smell the tequila wafting from his pores.

“Hedge, have one of these,” Wolf says, coming up behind us and handing him a water.

Hedge shoves him away in annoyance and hugs me tighter. My eyes bulge in confusion. “You fucker. You just don’t want me to hug Lyric.”

Wolf slaps a hand on his shoulder and yanks him away. “You’re drunk. Drink this and get your shit together. First show, man. First show.”

Derrick approaches for the assist, slinging an arm around Hedge and turning him away. “Let’s check out the venue or something, man.”

Hedge behaves as he takes a pull from his water, but not before throwing Wolf a glare over his shoulder.

“What was that about?” I ask, following Hedge with my eyes until he and Derrick have left the room.

Wolf shrugs. “He’s just excited about the show. Drank a little too much back at the hotel.”

Rachel comes back into the room, stepping past Misty and Stryder, who are fondling each other by the door. She hands me my latte, but her eyes are roaming over Wolf, assessing every detail. And liking what she sees. My stomach rolls.

Wolf’s eyes never leave mine when she approaches, and it pisses me off that I’m satisfied by knowing he doesn’t even see her. Yet.

In the last couple of days, Wolf and I have struck up a friendship of sorts. He’s made good on his promise to run with me in the mornings during our hotel stays, and we’ve made it a habit of sneaking in movie time while I’m supposed to be working. He’s even shown me a couple of new songs he’s been writing, and I’ve given him my honest feedback. He likes the critiques. He says they push him to do better. And I honestly believe he wants my approval, though I’m not sure why. He’s Wolf. He’s known for his original songs that are the heart-pumping kind of addicting.

I do my best to shake all thoughts of Wolf from my mind because it’s almost showtime and I’m on the clock. I fist bump each of the guys and walk out of the dressing room before them. Watching a band’s entrance is one of the most exciting thrills of the backstage experience. The entourage that surrounds them. The roar of the audience that awaits. And the silence that fills the air in anticipation, heard only by those in the corridor between the dressing room and the mainstage floor.

I wedge myself against the corridor wall between two excited bodies, and I wait. Not ten seconds later, the dressing room door bursts open. Venue security leads the trail of band members, along with Crawley and a couple of roadies. They make their walk to the stage to start the intro, and as they do, I can feel the energy shift from anticipation to borderline insanity. The crowd knows what—who—is coming next.

Wolf is the last one out of the dressing room, followed by Rex and another security guy. Wolf looks charged up as he focuses on the walk, almost like a boxer making his walk to the ring to fight a title match. He’s completely in the zone, so much so that he ignores the pleas from the corridor crowd to look their way. The man is on a mission. So when he nears me and his eyes slip to mine, air freezes in my throat. It’s only a second, a moment, but he sees me. Then he winks before turning forward again, like it was nothing.

But it was everything.

 

 

The fan meet and greet lasted longer than expected, so I assume that the moment we finally jump in the van to take us back to the hotel, we’ll crash and prepare for an early call time in the morning.

But that’s not what happens. Instead, Hedge yanks a flask from his back pocket and takes a swig. He hands it to Stryder, who passes it to Misty, and before I know it we’ve all taken a shot of vodka. Gross. It burns like a trail of acid down my throat and straight to my stomach.

“Straight to the Roxie Club,” Stryder says to the driver.

I look around, panicked. “You guys can’t go to Roxie. We have a six a.m. call time.”

Hedge throws me a look telling me I’m crazy. “We can, and we will. Didn’t you see us kill it out there? Now, we celebrate!”

Stryder and Misty laugh. Even Derrick is smiling. Wolf is just staring at me. “Why do we have to leave at six tomorrow, anyway?” Wolf asks.

I hesitate to respond. There’s no reason, exactly, except to stay on the schedule I created, which minimizes our risk of a late arrival to the venue on Friday. So I cave. “We can push it a couple of hours; that’s all. I’m not your babysitter, but I will be a bitch if we’re any later than nine.”

Wolf chuckles, and everyone else joins in.

“We’ll be fine,” Derrick says. And for some reason, his words breathe some comfort into my lungs. “You should come, too.”

“Count me out,” Crawley says from the back seat even though no one was talking to him. And no one tries to persuade him otherwise.

I shake my head. “Not tonight, guys.”

Wolf looks at me for a second and then leans in. “I think you should come with me.”

With me. Those are the words that echo through my mind, seconds after he’s done speaking. My mouth parts, feeling the heat of his words rush through me. I know he didn’t mean it that way. Or did he? It doesn’t matter.

“It’s already late. I can’t go out partying with you guys. You forget I have a job to do.”

“You should be having fun with us,” he says devilishly as a hand skims my thigh, “and I want you to come.” There’s a gleam in his eyes at the last word, answering my question.

I’ve been surprised the last few days. Wolf has behaved himself by not once making a move. There’s definite flirtation between us, but I’ve chalked it up to our personalities. It’s nice having someone to shoot the shit with. No pressure. No expectations.

I narrow my eyes. “You want me to sit around watching you hit on the locals all night?” I know it’s only a matter of time before I witness one of his sexcapades.

“No, I want you to drink, dance, smile, and laugh. I’ll hit on you if it will make you feel better.” He laughs at his own joke. “Just come hang out with us for a little bit. If you want to leave, I’ll make sure you get back to the hotel safely.”

“Fine,” I say with narrowed eyes. “But I want to change first.”

“Deal.”

“And don’t make me regret it.”

His smile grows wide in victory. “No promises.”

A flutter of nerves alight in my chest when I steal an extra-long glance at his long-lashed, caramel eyes.

Shit.

 

 

Wolf surprises me, once again. The moment we arrive, I expect fans to be on the ready, flocking to him and battling it out for first dibs. Frankly, I’m curious how he does it. Do they just start lining up, or does he give them the wink and nod to let them know he’s interested?

Tonight is a tequila night, which means it’s going to get a little crazy around here. I toss back a shot and suck the slice of lime from Lorraine’s lips, causing the guys to howl and cheer around us. Not just the band, but everyone who managed to find a way into our little VIP lounge, stocked with white leather couches and a private bar in the corner of the room. A dancefloor takes up most of the space in the center, and there’s a bigger dancefloor downstairs that’s loud and packed.

The merch team and some of the road crew have joined us, which is cool. I already hope this becomes a thing—once in a while. By my lively chatter and laughter, I know the alcohol is hitting me quickly. It’s been a long time since I’ve let myself feel drunk. I forgot how much fun it is to just let go.

Melanie, who looks hot with her death-defying strappy heels, short leather skirt, and bright yellow strapless top, is becoming a fast friend as we trade ex-boyfriend stories and pop culture gossip. I’m sure I’m divulging far too much information about Tony and Joanna, but the tequila helps reduce all the flying fucks I give.

I’m standing near the couch, dangerously close to Wolf. When I reach over him to set my drink down on the table, he takes the opportunity to grip me by my waist and pull me beside him on the couch. His arm snakes around my shoulders, and he grins before burying his nose in my hair. “You’re sexy as sin, you know that?”

We’ve both had far too much to drink by this point, but I’m alert enough to know I can’t take the compliment to heart. I smile anyway. It’s hard not to in Wolf’s presence. “Thanks.”

His nose runs a line from my ear down my neck, and then he presses his lips into the soft spot at its base. I try to ignore the shiver that ripples through me, laughing instead as I try to push him away.

“Where are you going? Sit down,” he says with a growl, reaching for me as I finally break free and stand. I’m too quick, stepping back and smiling down at him. His eyes move to my bare legs. My short denim skirt is frayed at the bottom, giving him just enough of a show without revealing all my lady parts.

He frowns and falls back against the couch, squeezing his eyes shut in frustration. Three drinks ago I wouldn’t have even considered letting him touch me. God knows I’ve thought a lot about Wolf’s hands and the many places I want them. But if Wolf is going to make a move on me, I’d prefer it be when he’s fully coherent. I guess I’m sober enough to make some smart decisions.

“I’m calling for our ride. We really should go.”

His jaw clenches and he shakes his head. “We just got here.”

I laugh when he tries to reach for me. “Wolf, c’mon. You’ll thank me tomorrow.”

He pouts and as much as I want to give in to him, I know it’s better for us all if I get us out of here. I walk away, noticing now that the VIP area is starting to crowd, and I know the gut instinct I have to leave is the right one.

There’s a door near the bar that leads to where we snuck in to avoid the crowd. I leave the same way we came in and jog down the stairs. I check to see if our driver is still outside and see him smoking a cigarette on the brick exterior of the building.

“Hey, Damion,” I say. “I’m rounding up the guys, and we should be down soon.”

“Yes, ma’am. I’ll be ready.” He nods, tosses his cigarette to the ground, and stomps it out.

I head back inside, up the stairs, and through the back VIP entrance. The crowd has grown thick fast. I have to squeeze my way through to where the majority of our group is, but the moment I come into view of the couch where I left Wolf, my excitement from the night dissolves.

I’m now faced with the sight of a familiar beauty with bright red hair straddling Wolf, grinding on him like they’re alone and not surrounded by thirty people. Rachel’s smiling seductively, and my stomach flops like a fish trapped on dry land. He’s saying something to her, smiling and gripping her waist, and the band and crew are around them cheering. That’s when she leans in and plants her lips on his.

My stomach drops. I’ve seen enough.

Before I do something stupid like when I found him with Jenn, I walk away.

Lorraine slips through the crowd, throwing her arm around my shoulders. “What’s up, sexy?”

I force out a laugh. “Time to go. I’m rounding everyone up. Can you help me?”

Lorraine looks back toward our section and frowns. “Wolf looks busy. I’ll stay with Rex and make sure he gets to the hotel okay. I’ve done this before. You get the other boys.”

Part of me wants to resist this idea until I realize it’s because I don’t want Wolf to go home with anyone but me. This tour is far too long for me to begin thinking like this.

“Sounds good.”

I find Derrick, Stryder, Hedge, and Misty. Melanie rounds up her crew, and we head back to the hotel.

I strip naked the moment I get to my room, too tired and drunk to change into something else. Sleep. That will fix everything. There’s no way I would be feeling jealous if I wasn’t intoxicated … and if Wolf hadn’t smelled so damn good when he was kissing my neck.

I hate him.

After a few minutes of tossing and turning, I’m finally able to relax and let sleep start to carry me away. But before sleep can completely consume me, a commotion at my door startles me awake.

“It’s my room!” insists a drunken Wolf a little too loudly for this time of night. I hear a muffled voice arguing with him and then a click before light from the hallway streams into my room.

What the—?

I hold my breath as he stumbles inside and comes into view, but only slightly. The room is mostly dark again except for a thin strip of light coming through an opening in the curtains.

Wolf makes it to my bed and sits down at the edge. His hands brush through my hair and he strokes my cheeks. “Lyric,” he whispers.

I slam my eyes shut, my heart thumping loudly. What the hell is going on right now? I’m torn between wanting him in my room and needing him to leave. It hasn’t been that long since I left the club. Where’s Rachel?

I let out a ragged breath when his hand brushes across my bare chest. “Fuck, you’re naked.”

I make no move to pull up the sheet. Air leaves my mouth in staggered breaths, each one pressing my breast into Wolf’s palm, and then my eyes flicker to his. His lashes flutter slightly when he releases a breath of his own, and then he tentatively begins to stroke my nipple, his thumb circling it as if silently asking for permission. I know I should speak up now, object to whatever he’s about to do to me, but I absolutely want this.

He looks back at my bare chest, swallows, and slides the sheet down until it’s below my waist. His fingertips brush the top of my thighs and move up my belly. He pauses at my breasts, then takes a handful into his palm and squeezes. I moan. It’s been so long since anyone’s touched me like this. Slowly. Tenderly.

I feel a pinch as he tweaks my nipple and then a zing of heat straight between my legs as he lowers his mouth to hover over my breast, his breath sweet and warm as I anticipate his touch. My legs open instinctively to invite him closer, and he moves in a rush, planting himself right where I need him.

Fuck, his jeans. I want to rip them off, but I’m too afraid to move. Too afraid he might disappear. So I cling to his shoulders instead, digging my nails in as a tongue sweeps over one breast, just barely tasting it.

Our breaths escape us in heavy pants, filling the room with a cloud of heat and need.

“You’re so fucking sexy,” he rasps as his mouth journeys from my chest to my neck, until he’s only a hair from my mouth. I’ve wanted to kiss Wolf since that first day in the elevator, when he said my name like he was making love to it. And now would be a great time to make that happen … but I’m distracted by his hand, which is slowly sliding between my legs. 

I move beneath him eagerly, nearly begging him with the buck of my hips. He chuckles with his signature tone, deep with honesty, rich with confidence, and raspy with want.

How is this happening?

We’re drunk. For that reason alone I know should stop this, but I don’t want to … and I’m convinced that pretending to not want this is just as bad as wanting it. But when his hand moves below my waist and a finger glides against my wet slit, I know it’s too late to do anything right. Every inch of my body is screaming for more. And he gives me more when he presses his thumb on my clit before moving it in gentle circles.

“Tell me you want this,” he commands.

I don’t have the strength to respond with words, so I grip his shoulders tighter. He smiles. I’m acutely aware of his movements, and I can feel his hard-on digging into my leg. He wants me as much as I want him.

Wolf holds my eyes, as if in a challenge, and then he dips one finger in, sinking deep, and then sliding out to add a second finger. I swear his eyes roll back in his head as my tightness squeezes around him.

“I’ve been wanting to fuck you since you barged into that elevator,” he says gruffly. “My fingers are made for you, too. Feel that?”

I let out a strangled cry in response. “Yes,” I breathe.

He moves achingly slow, pumping his fingers, never taking his eyes off my face. He leans down and I feel his breath linger over my neck for just a moment before he plants soft kisses on my skin. I sigh at the sweet and commanding combination.

“Let go for me, baby.” His voice floats over me. I’m in such a daze, my body buzzing with warning, that I almost miss his request.

“Hmm.” My voice is strangled, too distracted by his sexy hands and mouth that deliver such beautiful torture.

He buries his mouth in my neck again and bites down. I gasp. His hot breath begins to tickle my thoroughly teased skin, and that’s when the buzz starts to spread. As if he can read my body perfectly, his pumping grows faster and my muscles react, contracting slowly, intensely.

“Wolf,” I whisper in warning.

“I’ve got you.” He already knows. The speed of his movements increases, plunging and twisting and flicking until I’m begging for release. “Come for me.”

At his command, the surge running through me reaches its climax and bursts brightly. One big wave moves through me, followed by smaller ripples and I convulse for what seems like eternity. I reach for his hand, never wanting this feeling to end, shoving him deeper into me and locking his hand there as I thrust with my hips. I allow every sensation to take over, using his thick fingers for every inch of my release.

When my body relaxes, he growls and slides down my slick skin until his face rests between my legs. His mouth is on me, sampling his first taste before his experienced tongue dips and flicks until my eyes burst open in surprise.

Holy fuck.

Wolf isn’t as gentle with his mouth as he was with his fingers. He’s consuming me like he’s just found water after being stranded in the desert for days. And then his fingers are back inside of me, this time on a furious mission to bring me to my ultimate climax.

I think I’m going to burst as the buzz starts back up again. He’s like the Energizer Bunny of oral sex. His head is feverishly moving—as if he’s conducting a symphony and his tongue is the master. My body is his orchestra. This time when I convulse around him, he’s drinking me dry until he’s drained everything that once existed inside of me. Sensibility included.

 

 

I wake up dripping wet, my fingers inside me, desperate pants infiltrating the air of my hotel room. I’m naked and alone, but fuck, I don’t feel alone. Vivid dreams of Wolf making me come multiple times are heavy on my mind as I bring myself to climax. I’m panting when it’s all over and cursing my fucked-up mind for wanting it to be him shoving his fingers into me. Especially because Wolf was busy giving someone else orgasms last night.

After a long shower, I dress and throw last night’s clothes into my overnight bag. Slinging it over my shoulder, I head down to the breakfast bar before boarding the bus. We still have an hour before we need to be on our way, but I don’t want to risk seeing Wolf’s face this morning. Not only because he starred as the come-giver of my dreams last night, but because of what I witnessed as I was leaving the bar. I’m not sure why it surprised me. It’s what I expected to see when I signed up for this job. But maybe my expectations have changed. I don’t know, and I don’t want to fucking care.

I shoot a quick text message to the team, hoping it’s enough to wake their asses up. Then I grab some coffee and a banana from the buffet, dart outside to the bus, and slip into my bunk. The bottom one that’s furthest from Wolf’s den. The one that’s safest.

As the guys start piling onto the bus, I hear Crawley’s heavy steps moving up the aisle. I know he’ll want to see my face, so when he nears my bunk, I pull open the curtain and smile. He nods and turns back around, satisfied. I slide the curtain closed again and lie back on my pillow, already knowing I’ll be hiding most of the way to Hampton, Virginia.

Just as I’m getting comfortable, my curtain is rudely tugged open, revealing the one face I am in no mood to see. Especially this early in the morning after I spent the wee hours giving myself amazing orgasms to thoughts of him. My cheeks immediately heat under his gaze. His expression is haunted, and I know he wants to say something. But what? Does he want to apologize for getting it on with that rocker skank, Rachel? No apology needed. I have no claim on Wolf, and last night was confirmation as to why that’s not something I should ever want.

“Where’d you go last night? I thought we were riding back to the hotel together.”

I assume a blank expression as I look back at him. He regrets something—it's all over his face—but I don’t want to know what. “Lorraine said she’d see you home. You were busy with a different kind of ride.”

I shouldn’t have said that. He’ll know I care. I don’t want to care.

His face falls. “Lyric, nothing happened.”

I laugh almost deliriously and turn my stare to the ceiling of my bunk. “It doesn’t matter, Wolf. You don’t have to explain anything to me.”

There’s silence as Wolf stares at me. I can feel his eyes burning a hole in the side of my face, but I won’t give him anything more.

“Shit,” he says, seething. Then he yanks the curtain closed.

He walks away.

A door slams.

My heart sinks.

What the hell was that?