Chapter 10
James pushed as close to the stage as he could get. Tonight, just like any other Torrid show, it was standing room only. They were packed in there like sardines in the pitch dark.
Usually when he came to the Atrium to see Torrid, he stuck to the back or to the sides. He was content to just drink some beer and listen to their music. He let the diehard fans and the groupies scream themselves deaf in the first few rows.
But tonight, James wanted Megan to experience everything. They were three rows back from center stage amid the screaming fans, most of which were female between the ages of eighteen and thirty-five, hoping to catch the eye of one of the band members.
Megan stayed glued to him. Any movement on either side forced them closer together. He knew from her posture—stiff and alert—that she was uncomfortable. He wouldn’t call this a rough crowd, but it definitely wasn’t her typical country club folks either.
But if James had learned anything tonight, it was that he was an ass for being so presumptuous about Megan. She was classy and sophisticated, that was true. He had no doubt she fit into the country club society. Mainly because she’d lived in it for so long. But she showed him little glimpses tonight of another side. If he didn’t know any better, he’d think she could be a little uninhibited.
She loved riding on the back of his bike. She ate pizza and drank beer like it was her last meal. Although he’d sensed her hesitation, she’d followed him into this dark and cavernous place to hear a band she knew nothing about.
She wasn’t altogether comfortable with everything, but James could tell Megan was enjoying this little walk on the wild side. A normal date night for her probably included the ballet or the opera followed by dinner at a fancy restaurant.
A wailing guitar solo cut through the room, causing everyone to jump out of their skin. James had known it was coming. It was how Torrid opened up every show.
Megan jolted beside him and crowded closer to his side. He slipped his arm around her shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze. In hindsight, the Atrium had been an excellent choice because it allowed him to get up close and personal with her.
The overhead lights came on, and the band was on stage banging into their new single. Torrid was high-energy, loud music, and fuck, they could really play.
His buddy, Coltrain, was the drummer. They were best friends all through school, and usually the motherfucker at least texted a heads-up when he was back in town. James definitely planned to give him shit for that later.
The girl standing on the other side of Megan was self-combusting. She was hopping up and down like a bunny on speed, pulling at her hair. Torrid’s lead singer, Hayden Palmer, moved to the edge of the stage and belted out the chorus of the song as he leaned toward the crowd. Megan shifted even farther into James’s side to get away from the hysterical woman.
Megan looked up at him with wide, startled eyes and mouthed, “Oh, my God.”
He just smiled down at her, wanting to explain that the poor woman’s reaction was tame compared to some he’d seen when Palmer started moving his tight jean-clad hips. Unlike a lot of rock singers, he didn’t yell or screech into the microphone because he was naturally talented. His voice was smooth, and he had incredible range. He was the band member women lost their shit over.
Ironically, Palmer was the most reserved out of all of them. Kind of the deep thinker of the group. But put him on a stage with a spotlight and the man morphed into a sexy, singing god.
James looked down at Megan as the first song ended. She clapped absentmindedly as she looked at their surroundings. With her long legs and high heels, she had no trouble viewing the stage.
The show raged on, and as he’d mentioned to Megan, the band played an even mix of their original songs and some of the classics they’d grown up listening to. James kept a close eye on her, watching for some reaction that she was enjoying herself. The first glimpse came when he spotted her swaying a little when Torrid slid into a slow, seductive rendition of ZZ Top’s “La Grange.” Her sway was minimal, but he could see her hips moving and her shoulders sliding back and forth.
Immediately after, Coltrain started banging on his drums to one of his favorite Guns N’ Roses songs, “Paradise City.” James stuck his finger and thumb in his mouth and blew out a loud, shrill whistle that was drowned out by the other cheers from the crowd. He looked down to see Megan watching him, a smile brightening her gorgeous face as she nibbled on her lower lip.
God, what he wouldn’t give to taste her lips. They were full and pink and looked so fucking delicious. Everything about this woman was delectable.
Pulling his eyes from her tempting mouth, he tried to refocus on the song that was coursing through the crowd like a tidal wave, but the only thing he could think of was how her thigh was touching his upper leg. How her shoulder was pressed into his ribs. He was suddenly boiling in his skin, and it had nothing to do with the rising temperature inside the amphitheater.
As if she read his mind, Megan unbuttoned and wiggled out of her red cardigan before draping it over her purse, which was slung across her body.
“It’s so hot in here!” she yelled up to him. “Must be all these people packed together in such a small place!”
James could only grunt and nod his agreement because his brain was short-circuiting. The smooth, pale skin of her shoulders called out to him like a siren’s song.
As she turned her attention back to the stage, his eyes roamed over the line of her collarbone to the smooth expanse of her chest. From his vantage point, he could just see a hint of cleavage before her red camisole covered up what looked like gloriously impressive breasts. The rounded mounds looked firm and perfect on her long, lean frame.
James was glad Megan had no idea he was leering. Because he couldn’t tear his gaze away from her even if he wanted to. Fuck, she was stunning.
A boisterous applause, whistles, and cheers pulled him out of his hypnosis. He looked back at the stage and the sounds of Palmer hitting a cowbell, followed by the drums and a familiar guitar melody had Megan and everyone else cheering.
“Oh, my gosh, I love this song!” she yelled from beside him.
James stood stunned as Megan started dancing to “Honky Tonk Woman.” Her hips swayed back and forth in her tight black skirt, her shoulders dipping and rolling with the song. She was seducing him, and she had no idea she was doing it.
When the band hit the chorus, Megan let her head fall back as she belted out the words with the rest of the crowd. He could tell she was completely gone. She was lost somewhere in the music, and the sensual way she moved convinced him she must have been a stripper in a previous life.
He had no idea how this night was going to turn out. He hadn’t even really had any expectations when he asked her to dinner. He’d had Megan pegged all wrong since the day she’d walked into his auto garage, and when the opportunity to spend some time with her had presented itself, he’d rolled with it. At worst, he’d share pizza with a beautiful woman. At best, he’d share pizza with a beautiful woman and have a great evening.
Over dinner he’d realized that he was enjoying her company. She was fun to talk to. She didn’t monopolize the conversation with stories about herself like the few women he’d dated in the past.
He’d been wrong about her on so many levels. She was a fucking ten in the looks department, but personality-wise, she was just as attractive. Even though he watched for it, not once did she act pretentious all evening. Instead of turning her nose up at something she wasn’t familiar with, she cautiously plunged forward. And now this high-society princess was grinding next to him to a Stones song at a rock concert at the Atrium.
James needed to watch out, because she was the type of woman who did a man in. But he bet it would be one hell of a ride.
###
“I can’t believe how many songs I recognized!” Megan grabbed James’s forearm. “And to think I had no idea Torrid was from Chicago.”
“Yep. Born and bred,” he responded with his seriously sexy grin that made her almost trip on the sidewalk.
Torrid was getting downloaded to her playlist as soon as she got home. Her smooth jazz channel on Pandora was going to be getting some serious competition. She’d bet Calli would love the new music.
“How many people do you think were crammed in there? Five hundred?”
James shrugged, still grinning. “Give or take.”
“That was so amazing!” she gushed. “My ears are still ringing.”
His grin just grew bigger as he looked ahead. She knew she was prattling, but she couldn’t help it. Her body was buzzing with adrenaline, and she felt as if she could blast off into the Chicago night sky and soar for hours.
They’d stayed until the very end of the concert, screaming and bouncing around with everyone else who’d been packed into the Atrium. When the band had taken their final bow after their second encore, the drummer—whom James referred to as Coltrain—spotted James and waved at them to go backstage.
Grabbing Megan’s hand and wading toward the exit, James just smiled and shook his head. Coltrain then yelled a loud “Fuck you!” with a shit-eating grin on his face. James must not have minded, because instead of yelling back, he’d just chuckled. She doubted he was the type of guy who was easily provoked.
Megan’s hair was limp and stringy, her face was flushed and grimy from perspiration, and her calf muscles screamed for mercy after she’d jumped up and down in her heels for the last two hours.
But she’d loved every second of it.
As she and James walked the short distance back to his motorcycle, she gripped his elbow a bit tighter. She’d had two more beers before they’d left, but the cool night air quickly sobered her up. At first, the drastic drop in temperature had felt amazing on her hot, damp skin, but now her bare arms were starting to prickle with goose bumps. Even so, she didn’t want to let go of his arm to pull on her cardigan.
Tonight had been one of the best nights she’d had in a long time. From the bike ride to pizza and beer to the amazing concert she’d never in a million years thought she would have enjoyed, she’d loved it all.
But none of those things would have been half as fun if not for James.
He had been her temporary shelter in a storm that was her life. At least for tonight anyway. He was steady and confident. He was honest and patient. He was also blessed with a sinfully gorgeous body and the dreamiest eyes she’d ever seen.
Why the hell is he single and unattached?
His bike was where they’d left it, thank goodness. She handed her purse to James and hurried to pull on her sweater so she could take the helmet he was holding out to her. They followed the same routine as the last time, but this time she didn’t mind the loud roar of the engine or the severe tilt of the bike around the corners.
She loved how the air felt rushing by her cheeks. She loved the flex of his abdominal muscles as he shifted on the bike. And truthfully, she loved the way he sat cradled between her thighs. With her pencil skirt pushed nearly to her hips, her black satin panties were the only thing standing between James and her girl parts. That naughtiness made her love it even more.
She was surprised when he pulled the bike back into the parking lot of his auto garage. She’d expected him to drop her off at her apartment since her car was out of commission for a few days.
“Did you forget something?” she asked as the purr of the engine died.
“No,” he answered over his shoulder. “I store the bike here at the garage. It would take up too much room at home. Plus, it’s kinda late, and I don’t want to wake up Cade with the bike’s engine.”
He let Megan get off first before he swung his leg over. She quickly pulled her skirt down and unhooked her helmet, which he stowed in the saddlebag in exchange for her purse.
He unlocked the office door before disappearing inside. Moments later, the garage door closest to where she stood cranked open. He ducked back out under the door.
“Just give me a second while I get the bike inside,” he said, pushing the kickstand up and walking the motorcycle inside.
She followed him to the opening of the garage and watched as he threw a vinyl cover over the bike. She could clearly see the muscles in his arms as he reached and tugged on the tarp. The denim of his jeans hugged his strong thighs and gave just enough room for Megan to picture his perfectly sculpted ass. For a second, she even saw the twin indentions at the base of his spine when his shirt rode up past his waistband.
“Are we walking then?” she asked, taking a step inside just so she could stop the tingling between her thighs. She was blushing, she knew it. There had to be a pink stain covering her entire face. Even her ears were burning.
He finished with the cover and hit a button on the wall, causing the open bay door to lower back down. “No, we can take my Challenger,” he replied, motioning toward a black car parked in the farthest garage spot.
“You had a car here the entire time, yet you still made me climb on the back of your motorcycle in a skirt?”
James looked at the car and then back to her, his eyes wandering down to her skirt and then back up to meet her gaze. A slow grin pulled at the side of his mouth. “Yeah.”
Megan didn’t bother to hide her annoyance. Yes, she’d loved the bike ride, but really, a car would have been a lot more comfortable. He could have saved the motorcycle ride for another time when she was dressed more appropriately.
Just as soon as the thought entered her mind, she stamped it down. Another night was out of the question. James was the father of one of her students. She was already tottering over the line of propriety with dinner and a concert. Not to mention the handholding and the shameless thoughts she’d been having about him all night.
She shouldn’t like the way he was looking at her. The way all the air rushed from her lungs, leaving her powerless to pull breath back in. Or the way her lower abdomen burned with what only could be desire.
She shouldn’t like any of it because James Foley should be off-limits. Yet she didn’t just like it. She craved it. Craved him.
She swallowed, wetting her throat so she could ask, “Why didn’t we take the car?”
He walked over to where she stood and stopped close enough for her to feel the heat from his body. “I like to ride when I can. But mostly we took the bike tonight because I wanted you on the back of it.”
That statement said a lot. The act of riding on a motorcycle with someone was way more intimate than she would ever have thought. Not just physically intimate, but it also meant giving control and trust to the person you rode with. And that obviously meant something to him.
She wished she could be braver, more confident. If she were, she’d reach out and trace one of the roses on his faded T-shirt just so she could feel how hard his chest was underneath. But her heart pounded so hard from the way he studied her it was difficult to speak, let alone touch him. After taking a quavering breath, she whispered, “I liked riding on the back of your bike.”
His slow smile made his eyes dance. “What did you like about it?”
She knew she should be thinking of an answer to his question, but she couldn’t pull her gaze from his lips. No man should have lips like that. They were perfect and full, and she desperately wanted to taste them. To sink her teeth into his plump lower lip, to trace the seam of his mouth with the tip of her tongue.
“Was it the roar of the engine as we accelerated?” he asked her, tilting his head.
She nodded slowly, watching his smirk turn into a teasing grin.
He reached forward and pushed a lock of her hair behind her shoulder. “Was it how the wind blew your hair back and tickled the base of your neck?”
She swallowed past the lump in her throat and nodded. Although his fingers only touched her hair, she felt the heat from him as if she’d been licked by a flame. Holy hell. Everything about this man made her want to shed her clothes pronto. She was struggling against the need to pant.
“Was it the vibrations traveling through your body, making your muscles hum?” he asked.
She knew the way she was feeling right now was wrong. She knew they shouldn’t be standing so close. Lust rose from her body like heat rising from asphalt in August.
Again, she just nodded.
Megan saw a muscle tick in the side of his jaw. When she looked up, she noticed the humor had left his face. His dark brown eyes seared into hers as if he were trying to set her on fire.
“Or did you just like having me between your legs?”