Page 120 of Beneath the Burn

“It feels suspiciously like we’re in the one place your groupies aren’t.”

Perceptive brat. “Do you know how beautiful you are?”

“Do you know how…avoiding-ful you are?”

A laugh exploded from his chest. “Avoiding-ful?”

She released the hair around her finger and tugged at the hem of her skirt. She didn’t look comfortable. Maybe he shouldn’t have been so pushy about her wearing something that gave him such a stunning view of her legs. But Christ, they went on and on and on—

She touched his jaw and pushed it closed. “You’ve looked at my legs a lot since we left the house and every time feels like the first time you’ve seen them. That alone gives me the confidence to stare down some bitches.” She lifted a knee and hooked an ankle around him.

Fuck, she was perfect. Compassionate, but she didn’t put up with people’s shit. Mature, yet she glowed with youthful energy. Her inner beauty alone outshone every single woman. His hand flew to the back of her thigh, her skin like velvet under his fingertips. How the hell did she keep her legs so soft? He couldn’t stop from stroking along the toned lines and reaching under the skirt.

Over her shoulder, Nathan tossed him a glare that raised his hackles and brought the cockblockalypse down upon him. They needed a secluded corner, pronto. That spot right there between the double-stack of Anvil cases and the wall—

“Jay! You’re needed in the media room,” Faye shouted from the stage wing. “Meet and greet time. Get a move on.”

His heart pounded, and the hustle of people around him closed in, smothering. Damned pre-show signings. How would he manage without his usual distractions of drugs and mindless lays? Not that he wanted the latter, but the tightness in his throat made him desperate for anything that would spare him the looming panic attack.

Charlee dropped her leg and stepped back, swinging their hands between them. “You going to be okay?”

Jesus, she must have thought he was the biggest pussy. “Yeah. Great. Let’s do this.”

He led her through the storage of sets, past the technician work area, down a fluorescent-lit corridor, and backstage—theback-of-house. Scrutinizing every face, every shifty hand of the passing crew members, his alertness spiked. Roy’s goons could be anywhere.

Following the clamor of voices, he stopped outside the media dining room. Sweat beaded on his brow and his stomach ached.

A hand slipped over his groin and squeezed. A surge of arousal rushed to her grip. Hello, distraction. He groaned as she dug in her fingers. Fuck.

She blinked up at him with eyes that haunted his dreams. “What can I do?”

Rub harder. Don’t stop.“Stop. Or else I’ll scare off the fans with a massive boner.”

Her hand fell away, and a mischievous smile curled her lips. “I think I’ve got a rubber band in here somewhere.” She opened the bag strapped across her chest.

God help him, she was adorable. “No rubber bands. I’d like to go in there with at least some of my dignity left.”

A glance behind him confirmed Nathan was on their heels. Jay reluctantly handed her over to her bodyguard. “She stays in my sight.” Girding his spine, he walked through the door.

61

The room erupted in high-pitched screeches, flapping papers, and flashbulbs. The rest of the band stood behind stanchions and velvet rope, signing posters and CD jackets. The rope wouldn’t stop an enthusiastic fan, but it served as a reminder that the dozen security staff provided by the arena would remove a line-jumper without hesitation.

Numbness tingled through Jay’s fingers and toes as he approached the energetic mob of fifty or more. Arms reached over the line, fingers wiggling and band paraphernalia waving.

He reminded himself the adorers appreciated his music and that very moment might be the most memorable in their lives. Idolatry and all of that. He got it. He would’ve been the first in line had Jimi Hendrix risen from the grave.

Faye appeared at his side and handed him a black marker. Having his own pen helped him maintain minimal contact with the fans.

Nathan guided Charlee to the back wall, his eyes alert and posture rigid. Good.

A probe through the room would’ve probably revealed his ten-man protective team, but Jay’s attention was ripped away by the doe-eyed girl before him.

“I love you so much, Jay.” She shoved a portrait of his airbrushed face at him.

“Thank you.” He never knew what to say to them. Reciprocated love certainly didn’t make the list of automatic responses. Did that make him a dick?

“I love you, too.” Rio smiled at a girl down the line, pinching her nose and wiggling it. She bounced up and down, squealing.

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