Page 47 of Backstage

Damian laughs again, and his reaction gets on my nerves. “No, not at all. I mean you’re an independent woman, and I doubt you’ve ever dressed up for a man. I feel like you’d do it to please yourself, not someone else. And that’s the sexiest thing a woman can pull off...other than how those glasses look on you. Those glasses will take me to hell, believe me. I have a first-class ticket already printed,” he explains, and a half-smile appears on my lips.

I have no idea if he did it to save himself, to butter me up, or because he really means it, but I like his answer. “So, what? Are we gonna get this bathtub ready or not?” I ask him, starting to unzip my jeans and take my shoes off.

“You have no problem undressing in front of people. You only get stiff when it comes to the press.” It’s more of a statement of fact than a question.

“I don’t have a problem showing myself to people I trust, I have a problem with assholes throwing my pictures online, but I don’t think you’re the type.”

Damian studies me for a few seconds, then he smiles slyly and walks past me. “You fill the tub, I’m gonna go order some food. If we’re gonna do this, we might as well enjoy it, right?” he whispers and winks at me before walking out of the bathroom.

I’m fucked.

I’m already in the tub basking in the bubbles and the heat when Damian walks in with a tray that looks huge even in his mighty arms.

“You wanna give Evan a heart attack?” I raise an amused eyebrow.

Damian places the tray on the marble next to the tub and removes the metal lids, then goes out again and comes back with a bucket of ice and a bottle of champagne inside. I take a look at what he ordered, and my mouth is already watering: strawberries covered in white chocolate, macaroons, chocolates, pastries mignon. Looks like he robbed a bakery.

“It’s the honeymoon package. It was easier to order it than choosing every single thing from the menu. It was endless,” he explains, taking off his pants and shirt and getting in the tub with me.

Does he want just make me come right now, on the spot? I’ve already seen him without a shirt, but only in boxer shorts is a divine sight. That thin fabric that wraps around his tight butt makes me bite my lip to keep from moaning. The waistband is so low that it accentuates that gorgeous V on his lower abdomen, which clearly shows the way to perdition. Christ, the wet droplets dripping down his chest could make my heart give up, already knocked down by an accelerated beat.

“Think about the fantasies some room service girl would have if she found you like this.” I smile at him as I grab one of the chocolates and put it in my mouth, moaning without restraint.

Damian smiles, takes the champagne bottle, opens it, pours two glasses, hands me one, and puts a strawberry in his mouth before grabbing his drink and sitting in the tub across from me. He shrugs and smiles. “They’ll think I brought someone to my room to fuck her, but I don’t really care. As long as they get these ideas without investigating my real life, they’re doing me a favor,” he says, completely relaxed. He seems to be enjoying this moment of relaxation that I didn’t even know I needed until I got into this warm and welcoming tub.

“Do you often bring girls up to your room, offering champagne and treats?” It’s not an accusation or a criticism, just pure curiosity. I’m fascinated by the rock star life, and what better way to satisfy my nosiness than to ask him?

Damian shakes his head and sips the bubbly wine. “Actually, no. Usually, when I’m on tour, I avoid going out at night to get laid. And if I really want to get laid, I rent another room for the night. I don’t want them to know how I live, and to be honest, I don’t think they care... After all, women want to fuck the rock star, not me, Damian, the person,” he explains with a candor that almost makes me swoon.

I shake my head and smile, stuffing myself with a strawberry that I swallow with wine, and then I look him straight in the eye. “I don’t understand them, really. I’ve tried to do it too, fucking someone I don’t know. I mean, it’s not like I’m a saint, but I just can’t have a one-night stand. I need to know the person I’m sleeping with to feel comfortable, and I usually feel embarrassed then if it doesn’t happen again, but I have to see them. That’s why I said no to you,” I admit bluntly.

Damian shrugs and smiles. “I don’t think it would be just a fuck with you.” He sips again while my heart tries not to burst in my chest. “Because we’re on tour together anyway, I know you, I respect you, I wouldn’t want to ruin a relationship that would complicate everyone’s life.”

His words come out so sincere I believe them, and I’m hanging on every one of them. For a moment, I wonder why I decided not to sleep with him, and the scariest thing is that I don’t know the answer. All the excuses I’ve made for myself are falling apart or seem absolutely ridiculous and irrelevant. It’s the wine’s fault, and the fact that I’m pouring more because I’ve run out makes me realize how I’m not able to see reason. I should stop, not make it easy to lose control.

Damian scoots closer, hands me his empty glass, and I fill it up. He grabs a strawberry and puts it in his mouth, and this time he doesn’t sit far away, but next to me. When I snatch one of the chocolates, he follows my fingers’ moves as if they were the sexiest thing he has ever seen. I feel naked in front of that gaze and, when I dip my fingers in the water again, he smiles, biting his lower lip and shaking his head.

I don’t have time to ask him anything because we are interrupted by someone knocking on the door.

“If you don’t mind, I ordered dinner to eat in front of the TV.” He smiles at me as he wraps a towel around his waist and walks out of the bathroom to open the door.

A woman’s voice immediately attracts my attention; her giggles and squeals make my ears stand up. When she asks him for an autograph with a sensual and totally inappropriate voice, I feel a punch tear my stomach when Damian agrees in an equally provocative way. What the hell am I doing in this tub? It takes me forever to realize that I have to leave before I make a fool of myself, and when I get up in a rage to go, I find a perplexed Damian at the bathroom door.

“Where the hell are you going?”

“Away from here so you can get laid. The waitress is waiting for you.”

Damian looks at me like I’m crazy. “I don’t want to fuck the waitress.” His tone is sincere and completely disorientated.

“Oh, Christ, why not? You gave her an orgasm just by saying two sexy little words, you think I didn’t hear how you were flirting? I’m not an idiot. If I’m not giving you sex, you’re looking for it elsewhere. I get it, but at least don’t make me watch, it’s humiliating.” I don’t think I’ve ever been so honest with a man.

Damian laughs and throws his head back and comes over, amused. “I love it when you get jealous.”

“I’m not jealous. I’m just being realistic.” Lie.

“I don’t think so, but I’ll pretend to believe you. I was flirting with her because I don’t want her to tell people I’m being a grumpy dick of a rock star. I don’t want to fuck her. I didn’t even think about it.”

“Why not? She was offering it to you on a silver platter.” I raise an eyebrow, challenging him.

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