After Aaron got back together with Sam, it seemed natural to take my relationship with Blaire to the next level given that we had chemistry and everyone else had paired off already. I figured, why not make it official? Except she didn’t want that. And if I’m honest with myself, neither did I.

My anger at her for leaving was that I felt left behind once again. Unwanted. Left out.

But the fact that I considered it means I do want a real relationship on some level, even if I buried it under a layer of fucking and partying.

My attraction to Viola is different than anything I felt for Blaire. And my feelings for Viola are … strange. While I gave up groupies for a fling with Blaire, that was a practical consideration at the time.

I gave up groupies this time around because I stopped wanting them. Viola has consumed my thoughts since she joined the tour, and no amount of fucking has erased the feel of her from my skin.

The fact that she still wants to be friends with me even after I tried to make her as miserable as possible during her first weeks with us only illustrates how sweet she is. And those flashes of defiance that flare up now and then are sexy as fuck.

She said that she only has sex with someone she’s in a relationship with.

So why can’t that someone be me?

I’ve done my best to spend as much time with her as possible since that first night I kissed her, seeking her out, giving her extra chores just so I’d have an excuse to see her again. And while yes, some of that was motivated by spite, the root of all of it was that I wanted her to notice me. Smile at me. Talk to me. Not the stilted, cool politeness she gave me. But the warmth everyone else got.

And the other night at the club? That’s the most relaxed she’s been with me. And I want more of that.

More of her.

Her giggles, her stories, her sleepy cuteness.

The way she melted when my lips touched hers.

I want it all.

There’s a knock on my dressing room door, and then Viola’s head pops inside, a smile gracing her face. “Cars are ready. I also put in the order for room service, so that should come up pretty fast after we’re back.”

I scowl at her. “Viola. I could’ve done that. When I invite you to my room for drinks and food, it’s not so you’ll do everything for me. I can order room service for us.”

Her lips part on a gasp, and she blinks at me from the open doorway several times before quietly slipping inside and closing the door behind her. “You just called me Viola,” she whispers.

“Yes. I did.” I pitch my voice to match hers, the significance of the moment not lost on me. Because I’m an asshole, this is the first time I’ve actually said her name out loud.

She blinks a few more times. “Say it again.”

I take a few steps, cutting the distance between us in half. “Viola.”

Her eyes close, and she inhales deeply like she’s breathing in the sound of her name. When she opens her eyes again, they’re shiny, and she blinks quickly, taking another deep breath and giving me a small but genuine smile. “Thank you. Does that mean you’ll call me Viola from now on?”

Smirking, I step closer, reaching out to stroke her cheek. “Do you want me to? I kinda like being the only one who calls you V. But it’s your call.” I pause and take a deep breath. “I’m sorry I haven’t used your name sooner,” I murmur, taking another step so our bodies are almost touching. She tilts her chin back, so vulnerable as she blinks up at me.

Before she can answer, I brush a kiss over her lips, needing to be close to her. To reassure her that even though I’ve been an asshole, I’m trying not to be anymore.

It’s supposed to be quick. Soft. Sweet.

But when my lips touch hers, all good intentions are lost.

She clutches my shirt, pulling me closer, pressing herself against me. And any attempts at gentleness I might’ve considered are gone.

I part her lips with my tongue, seeking out hers. My arms go around her back, reciprocating her desire for closeness, my hands gripping her ass and rocking her against me.

The kiss ends almost as quickly as it begins, both of us parting as if by unspoken agreement, stopping and staring at each other for a breathless moment. Then she releases her hold on my shirt, and I let go of her ass, moving a half step back to give her room to breathe.

She swallows. Looks down. Clears her throat. “Well, um, we should go. Like I said before, the cars are ready. Everyone’s probably already loaded up and wondering where we are.”

I gesture at the door before stuffing my hands in my pockets in a bid to disguise the bulge in my jeans. “After you.”

“Right.” She nods, her cheeks still flushed and her lips lush and pink. “You, uh, you have some lipstick …” She gestures to her mouth.

I give her a wide grin but raise a hand to wipe it off. “Did I get it all?”

Rolling her eyes, she steps closer looking like she’s trying to fight the smile pulling at her lips. “Almost. Here, let me.” She lifts her hand, her gaze focused on my mouth as her thumb passes over my lips. “You’d probably wear it around like a badge of pride, wouldn’t you?” she whispers.

“Definitely. I’m not remotely ashamed to have people know I was kissing you.”

She raises her blue eyes to mine and examines me for a long moment. “Good to know,” she says at last, then turns for the door once more. “I need to get my bag. I’ll meet you at the cars.”

With a shrug, I follow her out the door. “Or I can just come with you.”

She

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