Chapter 19

Nicole

The woman who had just declared to the room that she was going commando licked Mason’s face like a dog licking her prized bone.

I didn’t need to see any more to know what would happen next. Luckily for me, Kirk had no issues with confirming my suspicions. “Sorry, Nicole, but this is who Mason is. He always gets restless before a concert. He goes off, has a good fuck, then he’s ready to go.” He really did sound sorry, but it didn’t take the sting out of his words.

I gave him my best Mason-is-just-my-employer-nothing-more smile. “It’s getting a little claustrophobic in here. I’ll wait for you guys outside the room.” I didn’t give Kirk a chance to say anything before I bailed. Aaron, Jared, and Nolan were too busy with their fans to notice me leaving.

Outside the room, I checked to see if I had missed any calls or texts. I sent Heidi a text, telling her that I couldn’t believe how crazy things got on tour, but so far I was enjoying it.

I shot a few backstage photos that I figured the fans would be eager to see. What better way to get the fans involved than by showing them a taste of the band’s day-to-day life on the road? I’d already taken a few photos during the radio interview. I checked their media sites to see if anyone had responded to them, and was met by tons of variations on “They’re soooo hot,” “Wish they were coming to my town,” and heart-eye emojis. Nothing said it better than a heart-eye emoji.

I posted the new pictures I’d taken at the meet-and-greet. People were still trickling out of the room, so I leaned back against the wall and brainstormed an idea for a giveaway to help increase the band’s exposure on the sites. The other thing I wanted to talk to them about was setting up a newsletter. It was easy to miss things on the social media sites unless you lived on them 24/7.

By the time the last of the fans staggered from the room, I had come up with several ideas. The guys appeared a moment later, and we headed to the room set up with food and drinks for everyone involved in the show. Some people were already there, eating and drinking, enjoying a short break before returning to work.

We grabbed paper plates and loaded them with food. I selected a bottle of water, while Mason pulled a bottle of beer from the cooler. I sat on the ugly green vinyl couch. Mason didn’t. Instead, he paced while eating his food. Back and forth. Again, and again, and again. I was getting nauseated just watching him.

The guys didn’t appear to notice. Maybe this was what Kirk had been referring to earlier. Which meant after Mason finished eating, he would meet up with Miss Commando.

I chewed on a slice of pizza while I contemplated what I should do. Obviously I wouldn’t be the one to help him with his “problem,” because that would be crossing the line of professionalism.

Not that making out with him in the elevator was standing on the right side of the line either.

I checked the time on my phone. The band would be playing soon, and he still hadn’t left to hook up with the woman from the meet-and-greet.

“Mason, can I talk to you in the hallway for a minute?” I said it loud enough so no one would think we were sneaking off for a quick fuck. At least I hoped they didn’t, because it was the truth.

“Sure,” he said with a shrug, obviously perplexed that what I needed to tell him couldn’t be said in front of everyone. He set his plate down on the empty plastic chair next to the couch and followed me out the doorway.

I led him down a hallway that didn’t look like it got much traffic.

“So what’s up?” he asked. The distant sounds of cheering could be heard coming from the arena, where the audience was getting ready for the show.

An uneasy energy buzzed from him that was hard to explain. It seemed like a combination of the excitement a child experiences the night before Christmas and exam apprehension. “Are you okay?” I asked.

“Sure. Why wouldn’t I be?”

His comment would’ve been more believable if he hadn’t been fidgeting.

“Well, for starters, you were pacing in there. I haven’t known you for long, but I’ve never seen you do that before.”

His shoulders hiked up in a quick move. “I’m always like this before a concert.”

“Kirk mentioned that.”

His eyes narrowed. “What else did he say?” His tone was sharp enough to cut, yet not sharp enough to inflict serious damage.

“Not much else, other than that you usually burn it off before the show by…um…” I could feel the heat of my face increase to a new record temperature.

“By fucking some random chick?” The edge was still there, and I cringed.

“He didn’t go into specifics, but it was kind of obvious.” After the woman you were talking to announced it to the room.

“What are you getting at, Nicole? Are you offering to find me some random chick to screw?”

“Of course not,” I bit out. “But there must be something I can do to help you.” At his suggestive grin, I added, “Something in the realm of my contract.” Which the label had forwarded to Nolan while we were on the road, and I had printed off and signed.

“So you’re telling me a blow job is off the table?”

I harrumphed. “Of course it’s off the table.”

Mason threw his head back with a laugh, and I couldn’t help smiling a little at how my words had sounded. Finally I gave in and laughed too.

Mason closed the distance between us, his warm beer breath stroking my face. “More than anything, I want to be buried deep inside you, Nicole. Or have your hot lips around my dick.”

His voice—deep, rough, and bursting with pure male sexiness—went directly to the spot between my legs and turned my panties damp. Damn him.

“But I’ll settle for this instead.” His lips blazed a path along my jaw to my mouth…then those talented lips consumed me. And I let him. I ignored the nagging voice in the back of my head pointing out this was still unprofessional. Nowhere in the contract had it mentioned that my job responsibilities included kissing him to help him deal with pre-show restlessness.

But maybe they could amend the contract.

Pushing everything to the side, I focused on the kiss and nothing else. What I was doing was strictly for the audience’s benefit. They’d paid good money for a great show, and this was my way of making sure the Pushing Limits part of the show was exactly that. And ultimately it would benefit album sales. It was a win-win for everyone.

Yes, keep telling yourself that, a voice in the back of my head said with a sarcastic laugh.

We continued kissing for several minutes, until I became so riled up I came close to dropping my no-sex stance. But before I had a chance to cave, Mason pulled away and rested his forehead against mine. “Thank you,” he murmured, voice still rough. “I needed that.”

“Anytime.”

“We could write it into your job description.”

I smirked. “We could.”

“I should probably go join the guys.”

“You probably should.”

Instead of leaving, though, Mason kissed me once again. But not a heavy, all-consuming kiss this time. It was nothing more than a light brushing of the lips—which made me want him even more.

Then we joined the rest of the band near the stage so they could prepare for the show. I stepped back to give them a chance to do their pre-show ritual without me getting in their way. While they did that, I tweeted and posted on their behalf that they were getting ready to go on. Within seconds, I received responses from people who were disappointed they couldn’t be here…or from people at the show who were excited for it to start. They had come only to see Pushing Limits.

Five minutes later, I knew exactly why they had come to see the band. The guys were onstage, and from where I was standing I had a pretty decent view of them. Well, their backs, at least. But it didn’t matter. Their music and their presence filled the space and had the audience screaming with joy, singing along with the lyrics, dancing. Nolan was amazing up there. I could see why he was the band’s front man, and it wasn’t just because of his good looks. His charisma and talent had the fans hungry for more.

From what I could see, it wasn’t just a few people who felt this way. It was the majority of the arena. I wouldn’t have been surprised if the people who’d responded to my tweets and posts weren’t the only ones who’d come just to see Pushing Limits perform.

They shouldn’t be an opening act. They were bigger than that.

Eventually their set came to an end. Nolan thanked the crowd for coming and the guys walked off the stage, waving to the audience.

I’d been to a few country music concerts, and after the main act left the stage, the audience would go wild, demanding an encore. The opening band, not so much.

But that wasn’t the case with Pushing Limits. Based on the volume of the audience demanding an encore, you’d have thought they were the main act.

“Are you guys going back out there?” I asked.

Nolan shook his head, sweat dripping down the sides of his face, his hair dark with wet strands. His T-shirt was also sweat-drenched—the same look the other four men shared. “Our set’s done. The roadies need to finish setting up for Endless Motion.”

“Even though the audience wants more?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Jared said. “It’s not our concert. We’re just the opening act.”

My gaze slid to each guy. “Does this happen often?”

“Pretty much at every show,” Mason said, “but there’s nothing we can do about it.” A hopeful smile appeared on his sweaty face. “So, what did you think? Did you enjoy it?”

I returned his smile, partly because I had enjoyed it and partly because of Mason’s expression. He was actually nervous about what I thought. “I loved it. You guys are amazing. It’s no wonder everyone wants an encore.” Heck, never mind what everyone else wanted…I wanted an encore.

Jared and Kirk handed their instruments to the roadies. Relief brushed Nolan’s face when a roadie handed him his guitar case.

“You guys want to hit the sports bar around the corner and get in a few rounds of pool while we wait?” Kirk asked.

“Let me guess, puck boy,” Mason said. “The L.A. Kings are playing tonight.”

“Maybe. Or maybe I’m not ready to get on the bus yet.”

The guys agreed with that. All were still buzzed from their amazing performance.

The security guard was less concerned about us leaving than he had been about us entering the arena. But it also could’ve been because the man was busy with two groupies who were attempting to seduce him into letting them sneak in. Either the man was a dedicated employee or he just wasn’t interested. Before the doors closed behind us, I caught him telling them, “No backstage passes, no entry.”

Since we didn’t have tons of time before the show ended, we ran across the parking lot in the direction Kirk remembered seeing the bar. As we ran, water droplets splashed against me. Not many at first, but by the time we got to the other side of the parking lot, the rain was coming down hard and the air had a brisk nip to it.

Which meant two things when we entered the bar—my peasant blouse was now wet and clung to my body, and my nipples were tight buds, pressing against my thin cotton bra. And thanks to the state of my top, you couldn’t miss my situation.

The leers of the two men standing at the bar entrance confirmed this. “Hey, sweetheart,” one said. “How about you and me get acquainted?” His gaze dropped to my chest and got stuck there.

“She’s with me,” Mason growled, doing his best angry-bear impression. I’d be scared if I were those two jerks. He parked his hand on my lower back, marking his territory. At least he didn’t try to piss on me.

“We’re willing to share,” the man said, who had consumed way too many beers over his lifetime. Think Santa, minus the jolly.

“Well, I’m not,” Mason ground out, jaw clenched. I could practically hear his perfect white teeth grinding.

“Thanks for the offer,” I said to the not-so-pleasant-to-look-at men, “but he’s more than enough man for me.” Without waiting for their reply, I rushed into the building, my heart pounding a little harder and a little louder from the confrontation. It also pounded a relieved rhythm at the way Mason protected me.

The air inside the bar was warmer than outside, but not enough to warm up my nipples or dry off my white top. I crossed my arms in front of me, taking in the inside of the place and doing everything I could to avoid eye contact with the other members of band. Humiliation burned inside me when I thought about how the four of them would interpret what I’d said to the jerks at the entrance. Nolan, Jared, Kirk, and Aaron already knew Mason and I had screwed each other before I joined them on tour.

Kirk made a beeline for the other side of the bar, glancing at a large TV screen with a hockey game on it as he walked past. Mason indicated for me to follow, his hand still on my lower back.

It didn’t take me long to realize where we were headed. Kirk parked himself at one of two unoccupied pool tables. Jared and Nolan claimed the other one and began setting up the balls.

Kirk removed a stick from the wall and handed it to me. “Nicole, you’re with Mason.”

I vehemently shook my head. “Oh, I’m not playing. I’m the worst at this game.”

“That’s okay, so is Aaron.” That got a “Hey” from the keyboardist. Kirk threw him a well-you-are look that left me giggling. “This way we’re evenly matched.”

“We’re not betting, are we?” I couldn’t handle the pressure of that, even if the stakes were low. And given my family history with gambling addiction, it wasn’t something I even wanted to risk.

Kirk’s gaze flicked briefly to Mason, then back to me. “No betting. It’s just a friendly game.”

“Okay, then—I’m in.”

Kirk had been right: Aaron sucked at the game as much as I did. I wasn’t even sure why he and I were playing, other than for the comic relief. Instead of tension cramming the small space, we were laughing and having fun. The guys teased each other mercilessly, which had me laughing harder. And this, of course, caused me to mess up my shots even more than I normally would. Wow, who’d have thought it was even possible?

The waitress who had taken our orders returned with our beers. She clearly knew who the guys were, and she hung around for a few minutes, flirting with them. Or at least she tried to. Jared and Nolan were involved in a heated game and pretty much ignored her. Not that I believed for a second they would’ve flirted back even if they weren’t playing. Even with the most brazen of fans, the two men were polite, but that was about it.

She didn’t have much luck with the rest of the band either, which surprised me. Other than being polite to her, they were more interested in playing pool than in living the stereotypical life of a rock star.

“You’re up, Nicole,” Aaron said. The waitress heaved a sigh and walked away.

I gulped down some of my beer. Maybe the secret to nailing a shot was being a little buzzed. I didn’t actually believe that, but it was worth a try.

I walked around the table, pretending to survey the situation. All the shots looked impossible to my untrained eye. I settled on one possibility and got into position.

Before I had a chance to tap the white ball, Mason came up from behind me and grabbed the end of my cue.

“Hey, that’s cheating,” I said, coming close to pouting and glaring at him over my shoulder.

“It’s only cheating when I’m trying to beat you. We’re on the same team, in case you’ve forgotten. I wanted to give you some pointers.”

I started to straighten.

“No, stand like you were, and I’ll adjust your hold on the stick.” He leaned over me, his hardening length pressing into my backside. I gasped softly and accidentally shifted my body, causing my butt to rub against his length. It hardened some more. If he wasn’t careful, everyone would see just how turned on he was.

Luckily for me, the truth about my predicament wasn’t so obvious. The party between my legs was my secret and my secret alone.

He adjusted the stick and gave me a few pointers, all of which were lost on me as I focused on the wrong thing—him.

I pulled the stick back slightly, then gave it a well-aimed jab. It hit the white ball where I had intended, and set it in motion. Somehow the white ball nailed the red one and sent it rolling toward the corner pocket. I held my breath, willing the ball to keep moving…keep moving…

Then it stopped. On the edge of the freaking pocket.

I groaned and inwardly cursed the traitorous ball. Even Aaron couldn’t miss the shot. I had set it up perfectly for him.

We continued playing until the alarm on Kirk’s cellphone indicated it was time to head back. Nolan paid the bill and we left the bar, me with a happy buzz.

As we approached our bus, the music from the arena grew louder.

“That’s Endless Motion’s final encore,” Jared said. “We’ll be heading out soon. Have you ever slept on a tour bus before?” he asked me.

“Nope. Virgin tour bus rider here. Why, is there something I should know? Like, the beds are rock hard?”

“It takes a few days to get used to it, but it’s not all that bad. And you’re lucky.”

“How’s that?”

Jared opened the bus door. “You get to sleep in the separate room. You don’t have to listen to Mason snore.” He winked at me.

I bit back what I itched to say—that Mason didn’t snore. I knew this from experience.

We piled onto the bus and got ready for bed, which felt weird. I was used to having a brother, but this was nothing like that. Fortunately, as far as I could tell, they weren’t slobs, so bonus points to them.

I entered my room, and by room I meant a cubicle with a bed and not a lot of space to move in. You wouldn’t want to be in here if you were claustrophobic. I’d already put my stuff away earlier, so there was nothing to do but go to bed.

I lay down, and instantly missed Mason. Over the past few days we had spent every night wrapped in each other’s arms. The bed felt empty, and I had to fight the urge to sneak to his sleeping compartment and cuddle up to him.

After half an hour of tossing and turning, I flipped on the bedside lamp and started reading the romance novel I had begun the other day. But then I got to the hot sex scene…

Tomorrow I would buy a different book to read. Maybe a nice scary Stephen King novel.

I’d bet those didn’t have steamy sex scenes.