Adrenaline pumped through my veins. My skin buzzed with frantic energy. My heartbeat jackhammered against my ribcage.

The concert was in full swing and Cherry Lips was bringing the house down.

Every note, every beat, had our fans jumping and stomping. Every word that left my lips elicited an explosive response from the audience.

My band members and I were in in a state of pure ecstasy. There was nothing better than this.

Nothing, except for Liam's piercing eyes tracking my every movement on stage. Nothing, except for his lips nearly touching mine as he leaned into the microphone for a brief duet.

There was nothing better than being on stage with my band — except for having Liam up there with me.

I had wondered what our chemistry would look like, would feel like, during a live performance. But all my worries were set to rest.

When Liam leaned his back against mine, when he arched against me as he wailed on his guitar, when his heat seared through thin layers of clothing and sent flames licking across my skin—

The flush on my cheeks wasn't just from the hot spotlights. The clench of my stomach wasn't solely from exertion. The ache between my legs wasn't some sort of egotistical arousal from having enraptured the audience, as sometimes happened.

It was his fingers, moving so adeptly across the strings of his guitar. It was his eyes, narrowed with a single-minded resolve. It was his body, vibrating against mine from the same adrenaline high I was so familiar with.

And it was the crowd below us, waving their arms frantically, screaming their hearts out, singing along with every lyric, tears pouring down their faces.

We'd never experienced a concert like this.

And I knew it was because of Liam.

I'd been roused by his presence before. I'd experienced thrills and heat and lust.

But right then, up on stage with him?

I'd never felt so strong. So alive.

This was why I did what I did. This was why I sang. Why I performed.

I was unstoppable. I was fearless.

It really did feel like I could take on the world.

And I was just now realizing I wanted Liam by my side as I did exactly that.

As the concert wound down, as we played our final encore song, Liam drifted closer and closer, until he was right next to me, hips cantered forward. As he played, he rocked back and forth, rubbing his guitar against his body, bringing attention to his abdomen… and lower.

The suggestive pose set my body aflame. All I could think about was rushing off the stage, pulling Liam into the closest dark corner and—

And what?

My mind, body, and heart were caught in a three-way war.

My body told me I needed that man's lips on mine. I needed his hands on my skin. I needed his hips between my thighs.

My heart told me I needed his arms wrapped around me. I needed his heart beating next to mine. I needed him to hold me close and never let me go.

My mind told me either of those two options was a bad idea. The worst idea.

Jumping into bed with Liam would ruin any sense of professionalism I'd been trying to achieve between us. Giving my heart to him would only lead to heartbreak and regrets.

In the final few moments of the song, our eyes met.

I saw the same hunger reflected back at me.

My body sucker-punched my heart and mind, sending the two of them reeling with wicked glee, leaving it in sole control.

The song ended. The concert was over. We threw guitar picks, drum sticks, water bottles and towels at the audience, giving a few lucky fans a literal piece of the band.

As we left the stage to a cheering crowd still shouting for another encore, Liam put his lips to my ear.

"I don't care what the others are doing after this concert," he murmured. "But you and I need to talk."

Talk? My body whined and squirmed inwardly. The last thing it wanted to do was talk. It wanted arms and legs tangled together. It wanted hands roaming my body. Liam's hands.

Nevertheless, the six of us headed back to the artist lounge. I wondered how in the hell I'd get Liam alone.

"Hey," Gael said to me. "Nate wants to go clubbing."

"Morris said there's an awesome place a few blocks from here," Nathan added.

I saw an opening. I seized it.

"You go ahead," I said. "I need to talk to the venue manager. Business stuff."

That wasn't unusual. Sometimes there really was stuff to discuss. Like handing over the money they owed us. There was no worry of being stiffed now that we had a label, but Gael wouldn't think to connect the two.

"I need to make a few phone calls first," Liam said.

It was a pathetic excuse. What was so urgent that he had to make a phone call after midnight on a Saturday?

None of them questioned it.

"Cool, see you there," Gael said, just like I knew he would.

They gathered their things and soon left.

We were alone.

I stared at Liam. His skin still glistened with sweat from the stage lights. His t-shirt clung to his chest, every peak and valley on display. His dark denim hung low, exposing a bare stripe of slim toned torso.

"Cerise…" he said, still slightly out of breath. He stopped there, as if he didn't know how to continue. He swiped his hand down his face and rubbed at the stubble on his jaw. When his eyes met mine again, my heart clenched in my chest.

I'd been so adamant in my resolve. So sure that turning Liam away was the right thing to do.

The way those green eyes were gazing into mine, so full of hunger… but also something else. Patience. Awe.

My body had shoved aside my mind and my heart, but now those two forces were pushing their way to the forefront.

I'd been so worried what people would think. So worried how this would affect the band.

But if I was being honest with myself, I knew those were just excuses.

"Cerise, you keep on saying this is a bad idea, but—" Liam started.

I stepped forward. He cut himself off.

So what if gossip mongers speculated about my personal life? They talked trash about every celebrity. Their opinions didn't matter. All that mattered were our fans — and deep inside I knew that.

I pressed myself against him. Liam's eyes narrowed.

So what if he was on tour with us? Like he kept saying, it was temporary. We wouldn't be working together forever.

I ran both hands through the hair at the back of Liam's head, thick and damp. He made a sound, low in his throat.

All my excuses for pushing him away were just that — excuses. There was another reason I'd pushed him away. A reason I hadn't wanted to admit to myself.

I leaned into Liam. He brought his hands to my hips.

I'd been afraid of opening up. Of letting someone in. I'd been afraid of being hurt again. Afraid of experiencing the loss, the utter devastation I'd felt when Harper died. I'd been weak. I'd fallen apart. I'd barely managed to pull myself together afterward. I'd never wanted to feel that way again. And the easiest way to make sure that happened was to never open myself up. Ever. To anyone. But with Liam—

I lifted my chin. He lowered his head. Our lips were a hairsbreadth away from each other.

I didn't feel weak around Liam. I felt strong. He turned me inside out and muddled my head, but I never felt lesser when I was around him. I never felt like I was anything other than myself. Vulnerable but with a strong will. Unsure and yet still capable of being bold. I was myself around Liam. I was Cerise.

The real Cerise.

"What happened on that stage—" Liam tried to say. I cut him off.

"Do you really want to talk?" I asked.

"I know you felt what I felt up there."

"Or do you want to kiss me?"

His gaze flicked to my mouth, pupils dilating, fixated. "I've been thinking of those lips of yours for weeks."

"Still talking," I murmured, inching closer.

"Fuck it," he growled.

Liam closed the distance and captured my mouth with his.