Sitting in the back of the car, my entire body hummed with electricity. First, Ash had my panties melting straight off of me with practically just one touch. Then, his creepy friend had come on to me, too, and my body had jumped straight into alert for a whole different set of reasons.

I didn’t think of myself as a prude. I liked sex a lot. I just didn’t like having it with random people I didn’t know. You got a lot less STDs from book boyfriends and your own trusty fingers than strange men.

But I thought of my roommate, Liv. She treated sex, like most everything in life, as an experience to be lived to the fullest. She’d had threesomes and more, with tons of random people, and then told me all about it in explicit, objectively removed detail over cups of tea in our tiny kitchenette.

It wasn’t that I morally objected to it. In a way, I admired Liv and her devil-may-care attitude, her total liberation and lack of concern over consequences.

But when it came to messing around with both Ash and his freaky little buddy Connor at the same time, it wasn’t some Puritanical set of values holding me back. It was the fact that the proposition didn’t turn me on in the least. Connor had a weird, angry vibe running through him. I tried not to judge people too quickly, but I also believed in gut instincts. He had a greedy, aggressive gleam in his eye and I didn’t trust him at all.

So what did that mean that he was Ash’s best friend? It sounded like they’d shared a lot. Including women. Did Ash want to do that with me? He’d pushed Connor away, but was that only because of my reaction? I’d been starting to feel like I was getting to know him, like we were connecting in some kind of a real way apart from his crazy celebrity reality. Then this happened, forcing me to realize I really didn’t know Ash at all.

He lived in a world I knew nothing about. We might connect during random moments together, but if he weren’t staging a PR comeback, he wouldn’t be out strolling along the coastal shoreline and buying me hot chocolate. That was the kind of boring, mundane, simple way I liked to spend a day. How did I know what he typically did with his time? Maybe it was snorting coke off some girl’s boobs and then doing her with his BFF Connor?

I needed to treat this all more like the business arrangement that it was. Tomorrow, I’d fly back to New York and spend a few days apart from Ash, back in my real life. That would help. Tonight at his show I’d simply have to keep my distance. Forget about the way he looked at me like he was memorizing my features and how he touched me like it was all just the beginning and he couldn’t get enough. That was silly.

Tonight, we were supposed to do a few photos backstage, displaying our whirlwind love to the world. It was the last item on my tightly-scheduled agenda, compliments of Lola. Then I was off the hook for 72 hours.

And the show tonight shouldn’t exactly be torture. After all, I did have a back stage VIP pass to see my favorite band. How bad could it be?

The huge, intimidating roadie let me into Levis Stadium through an inconspicuous though heavily-monitored side entrance. A crowd of 75,000 was expected to attend tonight. I couldn’t even wrap my mind around a number like that, every one of them screaming and shouting for Ash Black. The man I was being led to go meet. I kept my feet on the ground, but my head spun.

After the roadie got intel through his earpiece, he wound me through hallways and down to a thick door where he gave two, quick knocks. I wondered if that was how he always did it, or if it was a secret code. I half-expected him to whisper into his earpiece “the falcon has landed.”

The door opened and Ash stood in the entrance, looking tall, dark and sexy as hell in his trademark all black. A faded t-shirt clung to his muscles in all the right ways and he wore a big belt buckle and scuffed boots with black jeans on his long, lean legs. He looked at me, concern and smoky adoration in his dark brown eyes. Fuck, this was going to be harder than I’d told myself.

“You came!” he exclaimed, taking my hand and leading me into the room with him. We were alone in it. “I like the jeans.” He took me in, nodding his head in appreciation.

“I know I should have let them dress me up more.” I shrugged my shoulders, feeling like I should apologize. The stylists had first attempted to put me into a skimpy one-shoulder number that would have flashed my goods with every step. God forbid I should drop something and have to bend over. I couldn’t imagine the photos that would show up on the Internet within seconds. No, I steered them toward a t-shirt and jeans, way more fitted than what I usually wore but still in my comfort zone. They did talk me into some killer boots, though, all studded up with kick-ass metal heels. I’d like to see Connor proposition me in these. I could probably step right on him and squash him like a bug.

“I like you exactly as you are.” I smiled at his compliment, reminding myself he was playing his part and doing it well.

The room didn’t have windows, underground in the gigantic arena, but it still felt spacious and bright with high ceilings and tons of lighting. And in the middle of the room sat my favorite furnishing: a gorgeous, gleaming, Steinway grand piano.

As appealing as Ash looked, I had to admit, that piano came a close second. I wanted to run my fingers all over both of them.

“Ooh!” I walked over to it, grateful I could give in to at least one of my temptations. “This is so gorgeous! Is it OK if I…?” I placed my hand on the seat and looked up at him.

“Of course! Yeah!”

I settled in on the piano bench and he joined me, sitting close enough that I could feel the friction of his thigh against mine. The piano was a full six feet long, the ebony and ivory keys stretching out like a playground. My fingers leapt at the invitation, playing the first thing that came to mind, a bright, lively Mozart allegro climbing up into the upper octaves, then down into the lower, taking joy in the full, wide range of notes before me.

“Damn, you’re good!” Ash marveled as I played. I smiled and almost stopped. I didn’t want him to think I was showing off. But this piano was too amazing, perfectly tuned, each key responding so perfectly, even the acoustics in the room made each note ring out clear and celebratory. I didn’t know how they’d designed that in what essentially was an underground bunker, but I guessed with the right amount of millions you could do anything.

“I love this piano!” I beamed at him.

“I love how you play!” He smiled right back, then joined me on the keys playing something I didn’t recognize, yet haunting and lovely. A melody that would stay with me, I could already tell.

“What is that?” I asked, my fingers instinctively finding notes down a few octaves to compliment and underscore his own.

“Something I’ve been messing around with.” He closed his eyes, building the melody, deepening it into something more mellow and gorgeous.

“For The Blacklist?” I asked. It didn’t seem like the type of music they usually played.

He shrugged. “I’m not sure.”

“I didn’t even know you played piano.” I’d seen a glimpse of a gorgeous piano in the living room of his house right in front of an amazing view of the Golden Gate Bridge, so I guessed I could have assumed. But a lot of people had pianos just for show, and he always played guitar with his band.

“I don’t on stage,” he agreed. “I like to be able to move around when I perform.”

He did put on quite a show. I had to admit, I felt a flutter low in my belly at the thought of getting to watch him again tonight, so close, right backstage. But it didn’t help matters to feel star struck about Ash. That wouldn’t help me preserve my businesslike demeanor.

“Oh, I almost forgot.” He stood up and went over to the corner of the room and rummaged behind a few things. When he returned, he had a bouquet of red roses. “I’m so sorry about what happened back at my place.” He handed them to me.

Oh no, this wasn’t good. They were gorgeous, about two dozen. They smelled divine. I loved roses.

“Thanks, Ash. I, um…” I didn’t know what to say about what had happened with Connor. I guessed this was my cue to say it was all OK, but really it wasn’t.

“He’s an ass,” Ash agreed with my unspoken words. “I’ve known him since we were both 13, and we’ve been through a lot so he’s like a brother to me. But that doesn’t change the fact that he’s an ass.”

I shrugged. “I guess we just live in different worlds. And I’m only visiting yours for a few weeks. So, it’s not like it matters.” I thought I did a pretty good job of playing it cool, sounding neutral and aloof.

“Ana, I want you to know, I’m really sorry.” He brought his hand to my shoulder, caressing a strand of my hair between his fingers. That small touch alone sent tingles down my spine. “I won’t let him treat you that way again.”

I nodded, swallowing. This close, I could smell his masculine scent, raw and potent and intoxicating. I rested the flowers down gently to the floor and turned back to the piano keys. Those I could touch.

“Play me that melody again?” I asked, looking down at the keyboard, not at him.

After a brief pause, he dropped my hair and returned his fingers to the keys. Better, but not much. I could still feel the heat of his thigh, acutely aware of the strength of him as we sat, starting to play together. I closed my eyes, focusing on the music, the notes we blended together. There, right there I could feel where he needed to make it go deeper, take it down a bit with a minor key, add some tension. I played it the way I heard it, in my head, a variation on his theme, and he picked right up on it, playing it along with me, then taking it off in his own new direction.

“That’s so much better,” he marveled as we played, looking at me like I was a genius. “How did you just do that?”

I smiled at him. He had to know how, he was a musician, too. Music was a language all its own and here we were speaking it together. I had to admit, it felt fun to play free like this, letting the feelings of the notes govern the music we made instead of reading off a sheet. All of my training had been so strictly classical. This type of creative play still felt vaguely naughty to me.

“What’s that smile on your face?” he asked, catching my chin with his thumb. “You look like you’re up to something.”

Blushing, I guessed I’d shown my feelings on my face. Figured. “I’m used to playing classical music,” I confessed. “This feels much more…”

“Free?” He dipped his mouth down as he spoke, kissing me gently at the side of my neck, just underneath my ear. My breath hitched at the feel of his lips, so soft and yet so masculine. “Like you’re letting go?” His tongue swept up and found my ear, licking along the edge, catching my sensitive lobe between his teeth to lick and suck. My hands pressed into the piano keys. I couldn’t make myself break away. It felt so good, but I shouldn’t touch him. That would be the end of me.

“Like you’re letting yourself feel instead of think too much?” His voice whispered, husky and seductive as his hands traveled down my shoulders, down to my waist and slowly made their way along my legs. Traveling the length of my jeans, he stroked my thighs, parting my legs. The heat built within me almost instantly, my body responding, wanting, instantly aflame for him.

“Ash,” I murmured, tilting my head toward him and meeting his lips with mine. His kisses felt like nothing I’d ever experienced. I could drown in them and never have a moment’s doubt, like fire and rain all together, consuming and delicious and never enough. I kept kissing, drinking him in, our tongues tangling, stroking, meeting, teasing, my hands intertwined in his hair, his now at my waistband.

“Ana, I need…” He brought his finger right up to my sex, pressing against the seam of my jeans, giving me a taste of what he could do. I hissed, half-closing my eyes, my clit already so swollen, my sex slippery with need. He’d already showed me how good he could make me feel with his finger on me, up inside of me. I knew he could have me coming in seconds, flat.

He unbuttoned the top of my jeans, unzipped my fly. “Let me make you feel good, Ana.” He kissed my throat, licking me and gently easing me back onto the padded piano bench. I rested on my elbows, drunk on his kisses, his touch. He kneeled at the edge of the bench, bringing his hands to the waistband of my jeans and pulling them down my hips. Bringing his fingers directly to my soaked panties, he pressed the silky fabric against my sex.

“Ah!” I cried out, sinking back onto my elbows, tipping my head back, my chin up as sensation engulfed me.

“Let me taste you, Ana,” he murmured to me, easing my panties down my hips as he kept stroking, circling, first through the fabric then directly against my needy pussy. “So wet for me, baby,” he whispered as he saw me, “so perfect.”

I couldn’t form even the beginning of a thought as he brought his mouth to my sex, tasting me for the first time with a long, slow lick. He groaned, deep in his chest and wrapped his large hands around my ass, gathering me closer, as if he couldn’t get enough.

“So fucking sweet.” He brought his head down again and began feasting on me like a starving man, licking and sucking and eating me like he’d never tasted anything he craved more. He growled as he sucked my clit, making me buck with pleasure against him.

“Yeah, you like that?” He sucked me again, right where I was most sensitive, and I screamed out, bringing a hand down to clasp the leg of the piano stool. I felt like I was going crazy, splitting apart with desire as he began to tongue-fuck me, his thick, strong tongue plunging into my wet hole, flicking up to my clit, then deep inside of me again.

“Ash!” I screamed out, not caring if anyone heard, not wondering if anyone might walk in, just wanting more, more of his tongue, his mouth, his teeth as he teased my swollen bud, making me pant and gasp.

“What do you want, Ana?” He teased me, his tongue now out of me, licking light and sweet along my edges.

I groaned, so close, my legs quivering in his grasp. He held me firm and wide, his fingers pressing into my butt cheeks, his thumbs spreading the inside of my thighs wide.

“Please,” I pleaded. I needed to come, needed it so badly. He’d brought me so close. I could feel the shudders building in my core, the pulsing pressure deep inside of me ready to break up and wash over all of my being.

“Please what?” he asked, tongue up to flick my clit, giving it a spasm of pleasure, but then pulling away. “You need to tell me what you want, Ana. I want to hear you say it.”

“Please make me come, Ash! Please.”

“That’s a good girl.” He rewarded me with his full mouth all over my sex, a long, strong lick down my center and up inside of me.

“Ash!” I screamed, so close, feeling it build up inside of me. I clutched the leg of the bench with one hand, but the other I fisted in his thick, black hair, pushing his face into my pussy. “I’m, I’m—”

“Come for me!” he growled into my pussy, then sucked my clit hard and full into his wicked lips.

“Ah!” I screamed and came, engulfed in waves of pleasure, pounding through me, lifting my hips right off the bench. He milked every last drop of orgasm out of me, drinking it down like he’d never get enough, licking and sucking and savoring every quiver, every shudder.

A knock sounded on the door. “It’s time!” A loud, male voice sounded from out in the hallway.

Whoops. He’d probably heard the whole thing.

Ash sat up between my knees, a triumphant grin on his gorgeous face. “That’s going to happen again. The second I get you alone after this show.”

Laughing, I sank back against the bench, completely spent. He might kill me if he did that to me again. “I don’t think I can take it, Ash.”

“Oh, we’re going to push all your boundaries, Ana.” He grabbed my hand and pulled me up to sitting, then standing, and helped me get dressed. “This is just the beginning.”

Fully clothed but in a daze, he led me down where the rest of the band was waiting.

“Where you been, old man?” Connor looked at Ash, then at me and his gaze turned accusatory. “Got it.” He nodded, tight-lipped.

“We ready?” Ash asked the group and the other two answered with fist-bumps and ‘hell-yeah!’ Two out of three wasn’t bad, I guessed.

Up, back stage, a couple of photographers were waiting for us. Right, the reason I was there tonight. It wasn’t to black out from the most intense orgasm of my life. It was to mug for the cameras.

“Give her a kiss!” One of them called out to us. Ash looked down at me, devilishly handsome. His hair rakishly messed up, I knew I’d done that to him, fisting his locks as he’d eaten me out. It only made him look more rock ‘n’ roll.

One arm along the small of my back, the other along my shoulders, Ash swept me into a classic romantic movie kiss, leaning me back and bringing his lips to mine in a cherished caress. I forgot we were backstage at a sold-out show, 75,000 people screaming his name. I forgot men were there with cameras clicking away, capturing every second. I even forgot his band mates were standing there watching us with a spectrum of disinterest (keyboard), amusement (drums), and thinly-veiled anger (Connor on bass). All I knew was I felt like I was in Gone with the Wind or Casablanca, the timeless heroine swept away in the arms of her hero and true love.

Then it was all over and Ash was ushered away with the rest of the band to make their grand entrance.

“Nice job. You’re good at this.” Lola came up by my side, tugging on the string that held my helium balloon of joy. “You two almost make it look real.” Pop, there she’d done it. I came crashing back to reality.

“Can we share him after the show?” A girl came up to my side in a tube top and mini skirt. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen someone in an honest-to-god tube top. I’d watched that movie Boogie Nights a few months ago. She looked like she’d raided the wardrobe of the actresses playing 70s porn stars. “I want to suck his face off.”

“I’m just going to…get a bottle of water.” I excused myself, finding a quieter, darker spot from which to watch the show.

The man knew how to perform. From the opening chords to the ending number, Ash had what looked like every single member of the audience on their feet screaming and clapping and shouting along with every word. I did it too, from the sidelines, basking in the adrenaline, almost pinching myself to prove I was really there, really the VIP guest of this band I’d been listening to and loving since I was a teenager.

“I’m outta here!” I sang along with him, enjoying belting out the words I knew by heart. Everyone did, it was the ultimate fuck-you anthem, perfect for breaking up or quitting a job or basically any scenario in which you wanted to exit to rubble with your middle finger held high and proud. “You never even knew my name!” I yelled.

Ash strutted on stage, thrusting that pelvis of his. The cameras zoomed in on it again and again on the jumbotron and every time it happened the arena erupted in high-pitched screams. The man was sex incarnate. And he wanted me.

After the last song, a throng of people rushed toward him, surrounding Ash like an amoeba. “Have to do an interview!” he called out to me above their heads. “Meet me after?”

“OK,” I called out after him, breathless, wondering where? When? But he was already out of sight.

“Come on.” Seventies porn star girl took my arm and led me through a dark passageway with a couple other women, then out a side entrance and into a waiting limo.

“Wait, where are we going?”

“After-party,” she explained, pulling me with her into the limo. “He’ll be there.”

We ended up at another fancy hotel nearby. They were already starting to blend together to me. I had no idea how Ash made sense of it all, so many hotels, so many shows. In a cloud of perfume and hair spray, we clustered into the elevator, several of them already holding drinks they’d fixed in the limo.

Somehow, I knew back home my mother’s spidey-sense was tingling. I didn’t know how she’d know, but I knew she would. She probably had a control panel in her bedroom, right next to all of her religious icons praying for my swift marriage and ensuing fertility. Right now, the panic button was flashing red for High Alert. DEFCON 10: daughter with drunk groupies heading to hotel suite for band after-party.

Stepping out of the elevator, I told my mother in my head to shush. I was 24. I’d been a good girl all my life, and right now this good girl wanted to go hang out with her rock star boyfriend. Or pretend boyfriend. Whatever, I wanted to not think so much!

“Have a shot!” tube top girl shouted at me and I did it, swallowing down the burning liquid in one fell swoop. I grimaced and she laughed.

“Another!” she declared.

“Give me a second.” I retreated to a couch in the corner. Another woman joined me while a few more cranked up some music—The Blacklist, of course—and started dancing around the hotel room. One took off her top, then another, and another carload of women arrived with a few more guys I didn’t recognize and soon there was a hotel room full of about twenty people dancing and talking and making out and drinking. No sign of Ash, though.

“Let the games begin!” The door burst open and Connor stood there, declaring the official start of the festivities like a Roman emperor. “You!” he roared to a man standing behind the bar with some vodka in his hand. “Bottle, now.”

While the bottle got hustled over to him, he pointed to two women standing in front of him, both of them topless. “You two! Let me see some action.” On command, they wrapped their arms around each other and started making out, their tongues slipping and sliding together in a messy, open-mouthed display. The room exploded in a cheer, a circle forming around them, a few people clapping and cat-calling.

“Grab her tits!” Connor yelled, tipping back the vodka bottle and emptying what seemed to be half of it down his throat. The women complied, starting to play with each other’s breasts. “Give her a good suck!” Connor called out. One of them dipped her head down and made a big show of it, grabbing the other woman’s large, fake breast and taking her nipple into her mouth, licking, then sucking. The crowd went wild, yelling, egging them on.

“Where’s Ana?” Connor roared, his eyes roaming the crowd for me. Oh shit. He hadn’t found me yet. I stood up and inched my way toward the door, hoping I was hidden. But his eyes lit up with a ferocious gleam when he spotted me.

“There she is!” He pointed at me and I froze like a prisoner caught in a searchlight. “Come on over, luv!” Someone pulled at me and others pushed at me until I found myself right up next to Connor’s leering, drunk face. “Want to get the party started, Ana?”

He trailed a finger along the side of my face. I looked over toward the door, only a few feet away but he stood between me and it. The crowd seemed to close in on us, pressing forward, watching, waiting to see what would happen. They seemed to know Connor liked to put on a show.

Connor brought his hand down to his belt buckle. “You’ve seen Ash. Now you want to see how a real man is built?” He started to undo his belt.

“Why do you get all the fun?” Porn star girl to the rescue! Angry, pushy and no longer in her tube top, the woman who’d dragged me into this mess now shoved me out of it. “I want to suck your cock!” she yelled, dropping down to her knees in front of Connor and taking over where he’d started.

“Yeah! That’s it!” He brought his hands to her head. I saw my opening and took it, literally running out the door.

The car ride home seemed to take forever, the stretch between Santa Clara and San Francisco oozing slowly out mile after mile. Shaken, I took the time to sober up and calm down in the back seat. My phone buzzed a few times but I needed some time to just breathe and feel grateful I’d been able to slip out of that party.

Thank God I wasn’t likely to see much more of Connor. The Blacklist only had one more show on my PR Romance agenda, on New Year’s Eve. After that, there would be no reason to spend time with that creep ever again. This whole deal was hard enough without him harassing me. The library, I reminded myself. If I kept this up for a month Ash would fund the library for the next twenty years. I could do this. It was worth it. I just needed to avoid Connor.

Finally, I pulled out my phone. Ash had been trying to get ahold of me. He’d texted:

I texted him back that I was fine. I told him I was heading back to my hotel. Then I put the phone away.

He’d wanted me to join him back at his place, not at the Santa Clara party suite. Well, maybe the misunderstanding was for the best. Had I met him alone back at his place, I knew where things would have led. It was better this way, I told myself. Better to be alone, sobering up and crashing down hard in a car by myself. Tomorrow I’d go back to New York and have a few days to detox. The Ash Black detox program. Kind of like those crash diets where you cut out all the good stuff, no alcohol or caffeine or sugar or bread. It was supposed to reset your system and make you never crave the bad stuff again. Only my experience was after the initial high, it just made my cravings worse.

And tonight, I didn’t even go through the initial phase of abstinence. The second I climbed into bed, what did I do? My fingers found my naughty sex and slipped right in, remembering what Ash had done to me on that piano bench.

He’d pushed me back, taken my ass in his hands and devoured me like a panther with a fresh meal. I had no idea it could feel so good. I’d always wondered, of course, but couldn’t imagine how I’d get past feeling self-conscious. The few times it had come up with Stan, he’d acted like we were talking about him eating a poisonous fish. It had been hard to imagine enjoying it when the act had obviously been so distasteful to him.

But Ash. He’d clearly loved every second of it. He’d breathed me in and lapped me up and made me feel like a rare, exquisite flower that offered life-sustaining nectar. My fingers down between my slick folds, I worked myself, remembering how he’d played with my clit, knowing exactly how and when to push, when to tease. He’d sensed my body’s responses even better than I did my own, taken me where I hadn’t even imagined reaching.

I loved how he got a little rough with me, spreading my legs wide, so wide it almost hurt. He brought out something in me, some sensuality, a deep desire to feel possessed by him. To serve and submit.

My breathing quickened. I brought a hand to my breast, massaging, pinching down on my nipple the way he had the other day. Pressing deep into my hole, then down on my clit I worked myself up, up and over. As the ecstasy bucked through my body, it was his name I called out into the dark recesses of my hotel room.