Wasn’t the morning after supposed to be blissful? All about the shiny, happy feelings and afterglow?

So far, her blissed-out level was minus twenty-two. And not because the sex had sucked.

Worse, so much worse, it had been amazing.

The distance between New York City and a suburb of Albany was not far. Except when you had stubble burn between your thighs and a hickey-slash-bruise at the exact spot where your bra rubbed against your breastbone. Then driving was hell.

Ryan had his bruises and wounds too, though some of the visible ones were already improving. Good thing, since the band had made sure to comment. He looked way better than he had last night. Guess a shower and a night of sex had helped heal what ailed him. Or else that alley—and her memories—had made his injuries seem worse than they were in reality.

Fucking memories.

They were a big part of why she remembered her boundaries. She didn’t sleep with people she worked with. Or people she was friends with. Or much of anyone period since she’d learned her lesson.

Some people did well as part of a couple. She was not one of those. Sure, she had needs like anyone else did, and when hers became overwhelming, she did one of two things.

She went toy shopping, and not at F.A.O Schwartz. Or she had a nice, discreet, no-strings thing for a night with some random guy with low expectations, an even lower ranking on the possessiveness scale and, ideally, a zip code far away from her own. Well, her parents’ mailbox anyway, which was as close to a permanent address as she got.

By choice. All of this was by choice, and she was happy, thank you very much, despite today’s mental gymnastics.

Yet more proof that she was absolutely not suited to pairing up. Even for a night, it was dicey. She just was not meant to know the last names of the guys she slept with.

Didn’t want to. She’d been burned plenty before. As a woman who considered herself wise and street savvy, it just did not make sense to behave in the same insane way that had led to Marco. She wasn’t going to use what had happened last night as a reason to wallow or to revisit the past. She’d had her itch-scratching sex, so booyah for her. Her partner had been far from a no-namer, but what she’d lost in anonymity, she’d gained in skill.

Lord, the boy had skills.

And that was neither here nor there when she had a rowdy bus of rockstars and assorted girlfriends, boyfriends, and such.

“Y’all wanna simmer down back there? Your driver has a headache,” she called in the general direction of the din behind her, one hand fisting her Mountain Dew as she gave the rearview a quick glance. That she’d bypassed her usual sun tea for her rarely dug-into stash of Mountain Dew said plenty. If she needed that kind of caffeine hit—and did she ever—shit had gotten real.

Half the members of Warning Sign and their assorted significant others were either not in her earshot or paid her no mind. The others, who happened to be closest to her, stared at her with something akin to shock.

Great. She was supposed to be acting as if she wasn’t wigged out by fucking Ryan. She was supposed to be as cool as an ice cube. Instead she was doing her best batshit bitch imitation.

“Are you okay?”

Denver glanced at the rearview mirror again as Lauren, West’s girlfriend, approached the front of the bus. She stopped a few feet back and glanced around her, probably for support in her fact-finding mission.

The closest people were Elle, one of Warning Sign’s guitarists, and the new guy she’d picked up in the city. Dirk? Kirk? Jer—nah, that was just Denver’s unreasonable feelings of annoyance kicking in. He was probably a lovely man, even if he’d hung around after a show like the ultimate groupie until Elle invited him aboard. He also tended to give Elle puppy-dog eyes when she was within his sight and tried to see down her bandmates’ shirts when she wasn’t.

But that was neither here nor there.

“I’m fine, Lo.” Denver tried to smile in Lauren’s general direction without meeting her gaze. Lo was entirely too perceptive, probably because she’d been a psychology student.

The last thing Denver wanted was anyone poking around in her gray matter.

“You just seem uber grouchy today. That’s not you. Could I suggest some medicinal sexual intercourse?” Lo lowered her voice a fraction and looked over her shoulder to where Elle and her male friend were about to take their medicine right in front of everyone on the bus. “I’ve found it works wonders, and others clearly agree.”

Rather than answer, Denver took a drink. She signaled to change lanes, flipping a casual middle finger at the sedan behind her who didn’t like her merging in front of him, and gave Lo an easy smile. “So how’s that working out for you? Haven’t been able to make it to any of the Scrabble games just recently at the apartment.”

That wasn’t entirely because Ryan had been more MIA than he’d been present and accounted for. Just mostly. Since Ryan and West shared an apartment, and Denver’s masochism didn’t extend to playing third wheel more often than once a month, she’d steered clear of any of the chummy game invites she’d received.

Lo and West were sweet, though an odd couple if she’d ever seen one. But somehow they fit. Their opposites had attracted, all right, and sometimes it was hard for a girl not to be jealous when surrounded by all those sparkly hearts shooting out of their eyes.

Not her, of course. Just…a girl. A random one who wasn’t currently wearing a White Stripes T-shirt, a hickey in the shape of Texas, and a scowl.

“We’ve missed you. It’s not as much fun with just two. Though we’ve moved on to naked Twister.” Lo wrapped her hand around the pole beside Denver and grinned as she swayed just enough to clue Denver into the direction of her thoughts.

Dirty central, admission for one. Okay, two, because Denver was living there too. And not by choice.

Memories kept flashing behind her eyes with every blink. Damn sun. Her glasses were barely cutting the glare.

“I’m sure you guys have been making do just fine.” Now to change the subject before Lo mentioned Ryan—

“Oh, we are, but we’ve been talking about pinning Ryan’s butt down and getting you to come over for dinner some night. Everyone knows he won’t stay put for a night if you’re not there.”

Denver’s breath clogged in her chest. Oh honey, if you only knew. “I’m sure that’s not the case. Besides, he has other friends you could invite. I mean, if I happen to be busy,” she said quickly, catching a glimpse of the hurt that scrolled over Lauren’s face in the rearview mirror. “Not saying I would be. I’m usually free. Though I might not be when you and West have your shindig. So it’s probably better if you just ask someone else, so I don’t hold y’all back.”

Great. She was officially babbling and being rude to boot. And where had the southern phrasing come from?

She so needed to stop watching Honey Boo Boo reruns when she couldn’t sleep.

“You don’t have to let me down gently. I’m actually one of the people who prefers honesty, even if it hurts. You don’t want to spend time with us, no big deal.” Lo shrugged. “I can make other friends. Statistically, it takes me a lifetime and a half, but I can do it. I’m still young, right?”

Denver couldn’t help laughing. “Nah, I’m not letting you down gently. I don’t know how to do that. Just don’t want you guys waiting on me, when I have…stuff.”

Lo pursed her lips. “Stuff. Right. That’s the worst. Big stuff?”

“Huge stuff. Really enormous.”

That wasn’t a reference to Ryan’s penis. She’d classify his as average, if most men were built like Jason Momoa. Then Ry’s dick was nothing to speak of.

In the real world? Most men were not built like Jason, either in shoulder breadth or otherwise. Ryan wasn’t a muscle man, but he’d been natively gifted when it came to his male member.

She’d forget that someday.

Possibly.

Lo nodded gravely. “Right. Well, if you need a friend to talk to about this huge, enormous stuff, I’m here. Just saying. I’m new to having girlfriends, but I’m learning. The MeowCat Quiz app on Facebook yesterday rated me A-plus at just that very thing.”

Denver laughed. “Wait, what? What the hell is the MeowCat Quiz app? And how can that tell you if you’re good at making friends?”

“Good question. Explain that to us, Lo.” The deep voice that sounded behind Lauren had Denver taking a quick glance at the rearview mirror out of reflex. Then she wished she hadn’t.

In the recent past, looking at Ryan hadn’t hurt. Now it did. A sweet pain that cleaved through her midsection and left behind a sting. Not dissimilar to the sting between her legs earlier when she’d rolled out of bed and tried to walk.

Yeah, so she wouldn’t be spreading out her sexual encounters quite so much anymore. She didn’t want to re-hymenize when she wasn’t paying attention.

“You know, on Facebook, you click on those cool tests and they analyze your profile and tell you all kinds of fun shit about you?” Lo shifted toward Ryan, who appeared as if he’d just rolled out of bed himself.

His reddish-brown hair was a tangled mess and his scruff was definitely heading into beard territory. Must be he’d decided to not shave for a while.

Good for him. She didn’t care. She’d barely even noticed him looming over Lo.

Right.

“You know those tests steal your profile every time you click on them, don’t you? They know statistical information about you that would shock you. Your musical preferences, your hometown, your profession—everything you put in your online data and more.”

Lo rolled her eyes. “So they know I like Tay Swift. Big whoop. I figured my booty shorts with her name across the ass made it clear enough.”

“Did someone say booty?” West slung an arm around Lo’s waist. She leaned into him, cuddling into his side as if they’d been separated for hours instead of the few moments Lauren had spent crowding into Denver’s private area at the front of the bus.

Private, ha. Good luck there.

Denver ignored them all in favor of focusing strictly on the road. She tipped back her Mountain Dew, letting out a sigh at finding it empty.

Like magic, another bottle with blessed green liquid appeared at her elbow. She took it gratefully and popped off the top, about to thank her savior in the same way she normally did, when she remembered.

You fucked the guy. You can’t just say “Thanks, big poppa” without him giving you some serious side-eye.

Then again, she wasn’t sure why she’d ever said, “Thanks, big poppa.” Her sense of humor might need some work.

“Thank you,” she said instead, in her most prim voice. “So, Lo, what other quizzes do they—” She glanced up at the rearview mirror and caught a glimpse of West and Lauren snuggling on the couch opposite K-Jerk and Elle, who were rounding first base on a solid trip toward second. “Ugh, God, I hate gropey hands.”

“Good to know.”

Again, that deep, clit-tingling voice. Had his voice always had that property, or had it just become activated when he’d touched hers?

She gulped more soda. At least it wasn’t alcohol, so she could imbibe freely even if it meant a few extra bathroom breaks. “Didn’t know you were still there.”

“Just figured I’d service you and take off? Is that how it usually works?” He braced a foot against the bar along the side of the stairwell, stretching out his leg until she couldn’t help letting her gaze travel up and up. Faded denim clung to his muscles like a groupie on a rockstar bender.

Focus on the road. Even if it’s just miles and miles of two-lane thruway. Better to follow that than that long, lean line up to its natural conclusion.

His groin. His cock.

Her destruction in a girthy-for-her-pleasure package.

“Serve me, you mean? Yes. It’s considered polite to provide beverages to your driver. Helps ensure the ride is smooth.”

“Oh, no worries on smooth rides. You make sure to handle that. Except when you aren’t in control. Then it gets rougher.” He didn’t touch her hair, but she could’ve sworn the air brushed over the side of her neck and brought back the memory of him fisting a handful and dragging her head back.

Handy trick that he didn’t even have to touch her now and she remembered.

God, she remembered.

She gulped her soda. Did she have two bottles left or just one? If it was one, she’d have to make a stop. Iced tea was not going to cut it today.

“Luckily I’m always in control.” She set aside her nearly empty bottle and gripped the wheel in both hands. “Have a nice nap?” she added before he could disabuse her of her control notion.

One night with him had swiftly put lie to that assertion. He’d commanded her in ways she’d never expected. Not from her mostly sweet and steady best friend.

But sex was different. It often brought out new sides to people. Maybe one day she’d learn that.

Better, she’d stick to her anonymous-fucks-only maxim and save herself the grief.

“I’ve had better. Didn’t get much sleep last night.” He leaned in slightly. “Some women are just insatiable, you know?”

He did not.

There was no way he would just stand there with a bus full of people behind them and just…just goad her about them having sex as if it was something to tease her about. As if they should even speak the words.

Hello, closet. Deep, dark secret.

Shut up, jackass.

“Sure it wasn’t you who was insatiable? Sometimes guys are more into it than the woman and never realize she’s just going through the motions.”

Yeah, that was the way to divert them from the topic. Sure. Too bad she didn’t have a red cape to wave in front of his face.

She did have a red-and-white bra, but waving that probably wouldn’t have the intended effect. Especially since thanks to last night’s brick-wall action, she wasn’t entirely sure she could remove her bra without help. Getting it on that morning had been bad enough.

“Hmm, yeah, I’m sure that happens. Not so much with this one though. Pretty active participant, don’t you think?” He rolled up the sleeve of his sweatshirt and turned his arm toward her, revealing a full complement of scratches.

She was almost sure she knew when they’d happened too. It had involved being rammed into from behind. Powerfully. The kind of thrusts that brought her up on her toes and erased every thought from her head.

Her scalp tingled and she tipped back her head for a second, losing herself in the memory of him yanking at her hair. She wasn’t a submissive type—not anymore. She couldn’t go back to that girl again.

Above everything, she trusted Ryan. To the marrow of her bones. Even if he was pushing buttons he had no business pushing. Especially with an audience.

“Better watch the road, Colorado,” he said against her ear, his mouth close. Too close. Her head snapped back and her eyes went wide and she realized he’d grabbed hold of the wheel while she’d gone off into some delayed sex trance and nearly gotten all of them killed.

“Oh God. Oh God. What is wrong with me?” she muttered to herself, only jerking the wheel a little as she smacked away his hand. But he didn’t move back. He just stayed right there, hovering in her airspace, breathing with her. His exhales fluttered her hair, and she smelled the wintergreen from his toothpaste.

Too damn close.

“I’ve got you,” he said, and those words weren’t referring to his hold on the wheel. He’d murmured something similar last night, and she wasn’t having it. Not here. She took her job seriously, and she would not screw this up.

No hot night of sex was worth it. Not even with him.

She sucked in a breath and nudged him back none too gently. A break. That was what she needed. To walk off some of this tension, get some fresh air, maybe grab a coffee. Even caffeine-laced soda wasn’t doing it today. She felt duller than the paint on the bus. Time to get her focus back.

And her ass away from the cause of her distractions.

“Half-hour break coming up,” she called out, pleased that her voice didn’t even slightly wobble. “Snack break at the next rest station.”

“We’ve barely been on the road,” West said. “I thought we were going straight to—”

The look Denver shot him over her shoulder had Warning Sign’s keyboardist falling silent. No such luck with said keyboardist’s best friend, however.

“Getting overheated, baby?” he asked under his breath.

“You’re about to cross a line,” she said, just as low. “You’re going to want to tread gently.”

“Oh yeah? And what if I don’t?” He leaned in for a second, so fast she barely had a chance to react. “You going to come all over my mouth again?”

Before she could hiss at him, he moved away and melted back into the bus.

She whipped her head around in time to see a flash of Elle’s boob and swiftly faced forward again. She needed to focus solely on the road. That was what she got paid for. Not only was this job her livelihood, but it had been her redemption too. She’d screwed up by getting involved with Marco. She’d known better, and yet he’d offered her something she hadn’t realized she craved.

Danger. At first a hint, then more. So much more until she was trying to ignore too much. The niggle in her head had become a roar, but it had still taken an act of violence committed right in front of her to make her walk away.

No, run. As fast as she could go. Far from all the trappings of wealth that didn’t truly suit her though she’d been born into a sort of dynasty, spearheaded by one powerful man. She’d been born to one of his less notable siblings, but it didn’t matter. She’d had her own golden spoon, until she rejected it.

That life wasn’t for her. She liked stability and simple living. She also loved that she’d begun to prove to her family that she could set a course and stick to it. Even if it was non-traditional, like driving a bus for a bunch of rockstars. This group had become important to her. Working with them—hell, for them, when it came right down to it—had started out as a job and had quickly become more.

Just like her relationship with Ryan. They’d started off as fast friends, then somehow, before she’d realized it was happening, she’d been spending all her free time with him. He was a guy, but she hadn’t really seen him as anything but a buddy. A hot one, sure. She hadn’t gone blind when she’d moved on from Marco. But still, safely in the friend zone.

They didn’t have sparks. All right, maybe a few every now and then. Just a couple embers to keep things interesting.

Then last night had happened, and now she didn’t know what the hell to make of any of this. She had a feeling that what Ryan had told her in the alley wasn’t the whole story. Unless that was just her past talking, but still. Though he hadn’t exactly seemed open to more questions, he wouldn’t have slept with her just as a diversion.

First, because no dick, no matter how divine, would scramble her thoughts that much, and second, because he’d been so goddamn thorough.

That hadn’t been a phone-it-in kind of sexcapade. She just didn’t get how they’d gone from being buddies who enjoyed talking music and movies and watching the game, to her begging him to fuck her. Some of the details on that part were hazy, so maybe she’d only said it in her head.

No guarantees on that one.

She wasn’t looking for any of this. She wanted to keep her friendship with Ryan intact, and she needed her job for so many more reasons than just a paycheck. The band was her family. Already. The idea of anything messing that up shook her down deep. Especially if she was the one who messed it up because she couldn’t keep her pants on.

There was no way to erase last night. Truthfully, she didn’t want to. She’d learned some important stuff about herself and about Ryan. But they couldn’t sleep together again. Or make crude innuendoes. Or any of that.

Back to business as usual was how it had to be, and once Ryan stopped poking at her, he’d see that too. She was making the only sane choice.

Half an hour later, she parked at the rest area and waited impatiently as everyone who chose to disembark moseyed off the bus. Snail speed seemed to be the most common today. Molly pranced off first, claiming she couldn’t drink any more swill from their coffee maker, and Juliet soon followed, making gestures behind Mol’s back that would’ve made Denver laugh on any other day. Elle and her guy were next, walking arm in arm. They barely separated long enough to go single file down the steps. West and Lo and Michael soon exited as well.

Leaving her alone with Ryan.

She started to swing out of her chair and he blocked her, caging her in. “We need to talk.”

If she met his gaze, she’d be sunk. So she stared out the dingy windshield and made a mental note to attack it with a squeegee later. Sure, she could have one of the crew do it, but she needed to do something physical.

She shifted and winced at the ache in her side. Once the wall bruises healed, anyway.

“We already talked, remember? You made completely inappropriate comments about—”

“Inappropriate? It’s okay if I fuck you, but talking about it is a no-no?”

“Goddammit, none of this is okay. None of it.” She hated that she bowed her head, and worse, that a tremor went through her before she got herself back in line.

She wasn’t this girl. She was strong, independent. Capable of taking zero shit and giving zero fucks.

At least she was now.

“Hey. It’s going to be all right.” He crouched in front of her and braced his big hands on her knees, and God, that was so much worse.

When he trained those perceptive grass-green eyes on her, she couldn’t think. Anything but the truth went out the window, and honesty was so dangerous right now.

Because she wasn’t sure what she wanted, and knew even less what she needed. The only safety net she had left was the status quo. That was her security.

Not him. Not any longer.

“Is it?” she asked softly. “It sure doesn’t feel that way right now.” She huffed out an impatient breath and shut her eyes to give herself a reprieve from having to meet his gaze. “We aren’t supposed to be about this. We were proving everyone wrong. That guys and women can be friends, and it doesn’t have to be about sex. Now everything is all mixed up, and I don’t even know why you did this. All I know is it can’t happen again.”

His hands tensed on her legs. “You don’t know why I did this,” he repeated. “As if it was just me on that roof. Just me in that hotel room.”

She opened her eyes. “You started it,” she said defensively, and wished she could punch herself in the mouth. Jesus. She was making everything worse.

“Yeah, I guess I did, if you want to get technical about it. But I thought maybe we’d been moving toward that spot for a while. Not so much, huh?” She felt the loss of his body warmth even before he pulled his hands away from her knees. His temperature had already dropped a zillion degrees. “I got it. You have regrets. Hearing you loud and clear. Sucks you didn’t hear me, but you know, can’t have a conversation if only one side is listening.”

“I’m right here, aren’t I? I’ve been trying to get you to talk for weeks, and you’ve disappeared a million times and shut me out. That half-assed story you gave me last night won’t cut it, even if you follow it with a sweet dick chaser. I’m your friend, which means I don’t take your crap. Isn’t that in my job description?”

He was already turning away. “Yeah, maybe, if I didn’t know you were way more worried about the signature on your paycheck.”

Her shoulders stiffened. He didn’t know. He couldn’t. It was just a turn of phrase. But shit, adding that worry on top of the rest just made her exhausted. She couldn’t think of any of that right now.

“Of course I’m worried about my job. It matters to me. Just like yours matters to you. Or is mine somehow less important because I’m a little woman and hey, just a lowly bus driver, so no comparison to Mr. Big Deal Rockstar?”

“Don’t,” he gritted out, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “Don’t try to make me into an asshole and put words in my mouth so it’s easier for you to slot me into the temporary fuckee slot.”

“Ugh!” She let out a growl of frustration and tipped back her head. “This is why you don’t do stuff like this. We’re already so fucked up, and it was just one night.”

“We aren’t anything. You don’t want more, so it’s done. Back to the way it’s always been. That’s what you want, isn’t it?” He flashed her a grim smile. “As you wish.”

He jogged off the bus and across the parking lot to the fast food restaurants before she had a chance to answer. Or to recover from the glacial chill in his expression.

She shifted back to face forward in her seat and dropped her head in her hands, barely registering the aches and pains that followed. Her sex battle scars scarcely made a dent in her consciousness. Her chest was far too sore.

Hurting Ryan was worse than hurting herself. Especially since she wasn’t even sure how she’d done it. He couldn’t really want more with her, could he? Good sex wasn’t the foundation of a relationship.

Yeah, like you don’t have anything else together, you dolt. Like laughter and friendship and comfort.

But they worked together. This was a conflict of interest, or it could be. She’d signed on the dotted line that she wouldn’t become involved with the talent. Of all the mistakes she’d made, she’d vowed never to make that one.

And she still had misgivings about the whole gambling thing. He might not have come clean, and even if he had, she couldn’t be certain he had it all under control.

Insisting they stay friends was the only thing that made sense. He might not see that now, but once he got over how good it had been, he would.

Besides, last night had just been an anomaly. It had to have been. Patient, even Ryan couldn’t rock her world like that on the regular.

Even if he hadn’t seemed all that even today. Hell no.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk.”

Her head jerked up and she swallowed a gasp as her eyes connected with Mal’s in the rearview.

Shit. She hadn’t noticed he hadn’t left the bus with the others. Of course not. Today was the day he just had to stick around to mess with her. To overhear…everything.

Slowly, she swiveled in her seat to face him. “Break’s almost over.”

“You know better, Brownie. Screwing a guy who plays with things that make pretty noises is a recipe for trouble.” Mal sprawled on one of the couches, stretching out his long legs and opening his massive thighs in a way meant to make others uncomfortable. But not her. She knew his type. He was about as subtle as a blade in the gut.

It was the sly, slick ones who sneaked up on you who were the real threat.

“Whatever you think you heard, you clearly misconstrued.” She rose and tried not to grimace. Looked like she’d be grabbing some Advil to go with her takeout espresso.

“Oh, I don’t think so. I also think you bruised his wittle feelings pretty good. He’s going to want revenge. It’ll probably hurt.” Mal sounded positively gleeful. “Just consider that some free advice from your pal Mal.” When she only glared at him, he smiled. “Actually, no. Better not say we’re friends.” He gestured to his groin, prominently on display as always in his tight jeans. “You might want to hop on here next.”

She flipped him the bird and pocketed the keys before hightailing it off the bus, his warning fresh in her mind.