Page 51 of Cadence
Six days, that’s how long it’s been since I had my hand between those legs, my name a broken sound coming from her mouth as she fell apart.
Six days of pretending I haven’t thought about it every time she tilts her head just like that, her lips parted, expression caught somewhere between amused and unaware that she’s being watched.
Six days since I walked out of that control room with the dirtiest track I’ve ever heard.
She hasn’t said a word about it. Neither have I. When could we have when every precious second has been dedicated to going on tour. But the memory is there, God, it’s there, along with the urge to push her back into that room and do it all over again.
And now we’re about to live in the same metal box for the next three months.
Beau steps forward, checking the traffic before glancing at his watch. Adrenaline surges as I do the same, ignoring the knottwisting in my stomach. Not from nerves, exactly, more like excitement, expectation, pressure.
Reign’s tour isn’t just some string of shows, not with the added bonus of potentially joining him in Europe. It’s a door, one people would kill to get through, and somehow, we’ve been handed the key.
We just can’t fuck it up.
“We good?” I ask Beau, scratching the back of my neck. That night we performed, Paige wasn’t the only one I needed to apologize to. I haven’t mentioned it again, but if we’re going to survive this tour, we have to be a solid unit.
Beau glances over, his eyebrows lifting slightly before he nods.
“Yeah, we’re good.” He takes a beat, then smirks. “Just don’t pull another lyric switch without warning us again, yeah?”
“Noted,” I mutter.
“Good, because next time, I might have to shove your guitar up your ass.”
I smile, the weight on my shoulders easing a little. Closing my eyes, I take a deep, calming breath, running through Thea’s thorough scheduling packet she’d prepared for us, each itemized line now memorized. A low rumble in the distance has my head jerking upward as Beau pushes off the wall, walking forward.
It’s bigger than I expected, long and gleaming black, the bus’s tinted windows and chrome wheels catching the morning sun.
“Oh, hell yeah.” Eli grins, jogging past us as it pulls up to the edge of the sidewalk, hissing to a stop before the doors fold open.
Bending, Beau grabs his duffel and nudges my arm. “You ready?”
Slinging my bag over my shoulder, we head toward the bus as the driver jumps down from the steps, his bald head shining, tattoo-covered hands already reaching for the switch to pop open the compartment underneath. He lifts his chin as we start filing in, leaving him to pack away our gear for the tour.
The moment my foot hits the first step, it finally sinks in. This isn’t just some ride. It’s the start of something massive.
“Wow,” Paige breathes out, standing in the middle of the living space, her eyes wide as they sweep around. “This is wild.”
“You’ve never been inside a tour bus before?” Beau asks as he slides past her and sets his bag down.
She shakes her head. “Songwriter, remember? Never the one on stage.”
“Seriously? They never brought you on the road?” I ask, frowning. “That seems unfair.”
She shrugs like it doesn’t bother her, like she probably didn’t write half of the songs that made up their set list to begin with.
“Wrote the track, got the check, stayed at home.” She waves around the bus. “This is just as much of a big deal for me as it is for you guys.”
I step past her at the same time she moves, her bare arm grazing mine, the soft sweep of her skin making my hair stand on edge.
“Oops, sorry,” she mutters, pink coating the tops of her cheeks.
As she darts forward, the scent of her shampoo nearly makes me groan. I blink, trying to clear her from my lungs as the image of her unraveling flashes through my mind, her cheeks red with exertion and not embarrassment.
“Can you believe this?” Eli asks, his hand smacking heavily onto my shoulder.
“Huh?” I ask, turning slowly to look at him.
