covered in sleeves of black and gray tattoos, Brett looked insanely sexy and extremely fuckable. For six months nearly four years ago I’d debased myself to get him naked every chance I could, so infatuated with him and desperate to be loved that I took whatever scraps he threw me.
Gideon’s fingers began to slide in and out of me. The bass kicked in. Brett began to sing a song I’d never heard before, his voice low and soulful, the words crystal clear. He had the voice of a fallen angel. Mesmerizing. Seductive. And the face and body to enhance the temptation.
Golden girl, there you are.
I’m singing for the crowd, the music’s loud.
I’m living my dream, riding the high,
But I see you there, sunlight in your hair,
And I’m ready to go, desperate to fly.
Golden girl, there you are.
Dancing for the crowd, the music’s loud.
I want you so bad. I can’t look away.
Later, you’ll drop to your knees. You’ll beg me please.
And then you’ll go, it’s only your body I know.
Golden girl, where’d you go?
You’re not there, with sunlight in your hair.
I could have you in the bar or the back of my car,
But never your heart. I’m falling apart.
I’ll drop to my knees, I’ll beg you. Please.
Please don’t go. There’s so much more I want to know.
Eva, please. I’m on my knees.
Golden girl, where’d you go?
I’m singing for the crowd, the music’s loud.
And you’re not there, with sunlight in your hair.
Eva, please. I’m on my knees.
The spotlight went dark. A long moment passed as the music faded. Then the lights came back on and the drums exploded with sound. The flames winked out and the crowd went crazy.
But I was lost to the roaring in my ears, the tightness in my chest, and a confusion that had me reeling.
“That song,” Gideon growled in my ear, his fingers fucking me forcefully, “makes me think of you.”
His palm pressed into my clit and massaged, and I climaxed in a rush that took me by storm. Tears came to my eyes. I cried out, shaking in his arms. Gripping the railing in front of me, I held on and let the unstoppable pleasure pulse through me.
When the show was over, all I could think about was getting to a phone and calling Cary. While we waited for the crowd to thin, I leaned heavily into Gideon, drawing support from the strength of his arms around me.
“You okay?” he asked, running his hands up and down my back.
“I’m fine,” I lied. Honestly, I didn’t know how I was feeling. It shouldn’t matter that Brett wrote a song about me that painted a different light on our fuck-buddy history. I was in love with someone else.
“I want to go, too,” he murmured. “I’m dying to get inside you, angel. I can barely think straight.”
I pushed my hands into the back pockets of his jeans. “So let’s get out of here.”
“I’ve got backstage access.” He kissed the tip of my nose when I leaned back to look up at him. “We don’t have to tell them, if you’d rather get out of here.”
I seriously debated it for a moment. After all, the night had been great as it was, thanks to Gideon. But I knew it’d bother me later, if I denied Shawna and Arnoldo-who was also a Six-Ninths fan-something they’d remember for the rest of their lives. And I’d be lying if I didn’t admit to myself that I wanted to catch a glimpse of Brett up close. I didn’t want him to see me, but I wanted to see him. “No. Let’s take them back there.”
Gideon grabbed my hand and spoke to our friends, whose excitement over the news gave me the excuse to say I’d done it solely for them. We headed down toward the stage, then off to the side of it, where Gideon spoke to the massive man acting as security. When the guy spoke into the mic of his headset, Gideon pulled out his cell and told Angus to bring the limo around to the back. While he spoke, his eyes met mine. The heat in them and the promise of pleasure took my breath away.
“Your man is the ultimate,” Shawna said, eyeing Gideon with a look of near reverence. It wasn’t a predatory look, just an appreciative one. “I can’t believe this night. I owe you big-time for this.”
She pulled me in for a quick, hard hug. “Thank you.”
I hugged her back. “Thank you for inviting me.”
A tall, rangy man with blue streaks in his hair and stylish black-framed glasses approached us. “Mr. Cross,” he greeted Gideon, extending his hand. “I didn’t know you’d be coming tonight.”
Gideon shook the man’s hand. “I didn’t tell you,” he replied smoothly, reaching his other hand out to me.
I caught it and he pulled me forward, introducing me to Robert Phillips, Six-Ninths’ manager. Shawna and Arnoldo were introduced next; then we were led back through the wings, where activity was high and groupies loitered.
I suddenly didn’t want to catch even a glimpse of Brett. It was so easy to forget how it’d been between us while I was listening to him sing. It was so easy to
“The band’s right in here,” Robert was saying, gesturing to an open door from which music and raucous laughter poured out. “They’ll be excited to meet you.”
My feet dug in suddenly and Gideon paused, glancing at me with a frown.
I pushed up onto my toes and whispered, “I’m not all that interested in meeting them. If you don’t mind, I’m going to hit the backstage bathroom and head out to the limo.”
“Can you wait a few minutes and I’ll go with you?”
“I’ll be okay. Don’t worry about me.”
He touched my forehead. “Are you feeling all right? You look flushed.”
“I’m feeling great. I’ll show you exactly how great as soon as we get home.”
That did the trick. His frown faded and his mouth curved. “I’ll hurry this along, then.” He looked at Robert Phillips and gestured at Arnoldo and Shawna. “Can you take them in? I need a minute.”
“Gideon, really…” I protested.
“I’m walking you over there.”
I knew that tone. I let him walk me the twenty feet to the bathroom. “I can take it from here, ace.”
“I’ll wait.”
“Then we’ll never get out of here. Go do your thing. I’ll be fine.”
He gave me a very patient look. “Eva, I’m not leaving you alone.”
“I can manage. Seriously. The exit is right there.” I pointed down the hall to the open double doors beneath a lighted exit sign. Roadies were already transporting equipment out. “Angus is right out there, isn’t he?”
Gideon leaned his shoulder into the wall and crossed his arms.
I threw up my hands. “Okay. Fine. Have it your way.”
“You’re learning, angel,” he said with a smile.
Muttering under my breath, I went into the bathroom and took care of business. As I washed up at the sink, I looked into the mirror and winced. I had raccoon eyes from sweating so damn much and my pupils were dark and dilated.
“What does he see in you?” I asked myself derisively, thinking of how awesome he still looked. As hot and sweaty as he’d been, he looked none the worse for wear, while I looked damp and limp. But more so than my exterior, it was my personal failings I was thinking of. I couldn’t get away from them. Not while Brett was in the same building with us.
I rubbed a dampened square of paper towel under my eyes to get rid of the black smudges, then headed back
