than mine. I immediately wanted to know what kind of products he used to make it so shiny. He had tattoos peeking out of the collar of his dress shirt, and piercings in his eyebrows, lips and ears. He was seriously striking.
After Chase’s little solo, Van’s voice boomed through the speakers again. “Here on Bass is my boy, Beckett.” Beckett was a whole other breed of man. He had dark olive skin, and his hair was black and it was spiked up like a Jersey shore cast member, but for some reason, it didn’t make him look ridiculous like you would think. His dark eyes were kind and seductive, and his face was flawless. No tattoos anywhere from what I could see. All that made him look like a member of a famous rock band was the ring that went through his impeccably full lips. Beckett did a riff on the bass, and he was amazing.
Once he was finished and the girls stopped screaming, Van introduced Jensen. “And everyone’s favorite, Jensen.” Jensen, still in his red suit jacket with his twelve-inch Mohawk played a riff on his guitar, and then they all joined in on a pretty upbeat song.
The minute Van’s voice carried through the speakers and into my ears, I melted. I watched him interact with the crowd, and every few seconds, he would look over at me and sing it even more sensually than I’m sure it was intended. He sang about a girl moving her body and how she was the hottest thing ever and he licked his lips as he sang it to me. I was suddenly very hot in my strapless dress. They sang a few more songs, and I was glued to my seat, my eyes never leaving his perfect form.
He thanked everyone, and he and his dad did a little mingling while Van signed some autographs and posed for some photos with fans as I stood off to the side. It was very strange to see Van in his element. He was so confident and suave. It was amazing to know both sides to him. I liked the Van without all the glitz and glamour more, though. He was so genuine, and in that moment, I couldn’t wait to get back to his place. I wanted nothing more than to lie in bed for the next day and just be with this man that was making me swoon every time he was near me. Goodness, I sounded like the girls in those romance novels that I read constantly.
But this was no novel, this shit was real and the hard, hunk of sexy man that was Van Whitaker wasn’t a fictional boyfriend, he was actually living and breathing, and seemingly, all mine.
Lost in my reverie, I felt a hand enclose around my waist from behind me. I jumped back to see Josh, Sloane’s strange boyfriend. His eyes were hazed over, and I could tell he was wasted. “Hey ssss-sexy,” he slurred as he grabbed my boobs and tried unsuccessfully, to grab for my ass. We were off to the side away from people, and there were still a lot of mingling going on and people near us. I looked toward Van, and he was still talking and signing autographs. I didn’t want to make a scene with all these well-to-doers, so I gently pushed him off me and headed toward my Van. He must have sensed me, because the minute I headed his way he looked up from signing. His smile dropped when he noticed I was uneasy.
He left the poor socialite who must have been in her fifties, but looked like she was thirty years old thanks to mountains of plastic surgery.
“What’s wrong, baby? Are you all right?” He looked me over. Assessing my form, but for what I don’t know.
“Yeah, I’m ok. Just a creepy guy groping me.”
“WHO?” Van bellowed. “I will fucking kill him.” He yelled looking around the room like a crazy man.
Fellow event goers were beginning to stare at us.
I grabbed his face and made him look at me.
“Van,” I whispered. “You’re making a scene. It’s ok. I. Am. Fine.”
He sighed and kissed me on the forehead.
“You’re sure?” he asked again, worriedly.
“Yes, I’m ok.”
“Ok. You ready to head out?”
“If you’re done here, then, yes.” He looked over to where the guys from Ripping
After Chase’s little solo, Van’s voice boomed through the speakers again. “Here on Bass is my boy, Beckett.” Beckett was a whole other breed of man. He had dark olive skin, and his hair was black and it was spiked up like a Jersey shore cast member, but for some reason, it didn’t make him look ridiculous like you would think. His dark eyes were kind and seductive, and his face was flawless. No tattoos anywhere from what I could see. All that made him look like a member of a famous rock band was the ring that went through his impeccably full lips. Beckett did a riff on the bass, and he was amazing.
Once he was finished and the girls stopped screaming, Van introduced Jensen. “And everyone’s favorite, Jensen.” Jensen, still in his red suit jacket with his twelve-inch Mohawk played a riff on his guitar, and then they all joined in on a pretty upbeat song.
The minute Van’s voice carried through the speakers and into my ears, I melted. I watched him interact with the crowd, and every few seconds, he would look over at me and sing it even more sensually than I’m sure it was intended. He sang about a girl moving her body and how she was the hottest thing ever and he licked his lips as he sang it to me. I was suddenly very hot in my strapless dress. They sang a few more songs, and I was glued to my seat, my eyes never leaving his perfect form.
He thanked everyone, and he and his dad did a little mingling while Van signed some autographs and posed for some photos with fans as I stood off to the side. It was very strange to see Van in his element. He was so confident and suave. It was amazing to know both sides to him. I liked the Van without all the glitz and glamour more, though. He was so genuine, and in that moment, I couldn’t wait to get back to his place. I wanted nothing more than to lie in bed for the next day and just be with this man that was making me swoon every time he was near me. Goodness, I sounded like the girls in those romance novels that I read constantly.
But this was no novel, this shit was real and the hard, hunk of sexy man that was Van Whitaker wasn’t a fictional boyfriend, he was actually living and breathing, and seemingly, all mine.
Lost in my reverie, I felt a hand enclose around my waist from behind me. I jumped back to see Josh, Sloane’s strange boyfriend. His eyes were hazed over, and I could tell he was wasted. “Hey ssss-sexy,” he slurred as he grabbed my boobs and tried unsuccessfully, to grab for my ass. We were off to the side away from people, and there were still a lot of mingling going on and people near us. I looked toward Van, and he was still talking and signing autographs. I didn’t want to make a scene with all these well-to-doers, so I gently pushed him off me and headed toward my Van. He must have sensed me, because the minute I headed his way he looked up from signing. His smile dropped when he noticed I was uneasy.
He left the poor socialite who must have been in her fifties, but looked like she was thirty years old thanks to mountains of plastic surgery.
“What’s wrong, baby? Are you all right?” He looked me over. Assessing my form, but for what I don’t know.
“Yeah, I’m ok. Just a creepy guy groping me.”
“WHO?” Van bellowed. “I will fucking kill him.” He yelled looking around the room like a crazy man.
Fellow event goers were beginning to stare at us.
I grabbed his face and made him look at me.
“Van,” I whispered. “You’re making a scene. It’s ok. I. Am. Fine.”
He sighed and kissed me on the forehead.
“You’re sure?” he asked again, worriedly.
“Yes, I’m ok.”
“Ok. You ready to head out?”
“If you’re done here, then, yes.” He looked over to where the guys from Ripping
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