belong on this tour with me, and I expect you to be at my shows. I’ll have someone bring you a backstage pass for tonight.”
She doesn’t say a word as I walk out of the bedroom, through the bus and down the steps. I hope to God I don’t run into anyone right away, as I need a few minutes to get my dick back under control.
But outside of that tiny worry, I’m filled with victorious elation, because I just learned that, without a doubt, prim little Emma Peterson wants me as much as I want her.
CHAPTER 10
Emma
“H e’s amazing, isn’t he?” Tyler says loudly as he leans over toward my ear.
From my place backstage, I have the perfect view of Evan as he winds down his last song of the night. It’s an acoustic version of his most famous song… the one he put free on YouTube, which made him a household name.
It’s soulfully brilliant, telling the story of love and loss from the eyes of a little boy who simply loves a little girl.
I may have listened to this song only about a thousand times since I first heard it.
“So amazing,” I agree, although I’m not sure Tyler hears me as he simply nods and turns away.
I don’t spare him another glance though, preferring to watch Evan as he sits on a stool, one booted foot planted on the stage, the other on the second rung. The acoustic version is a little slower than the recorded one, and his voice is purer.
Definitely sexier.
And even that thought causes my heart to just skitter out of place.
What happened today in that bus is still beyond my comprehension. One minute, we’re fighting, and the next, we’re engaged in the most sensuously epic kiss of my life. It was no-holds barred. It was carnal.
It was so dirty.
Especially when his finger—
I can’t even think about it. I’m afraid people will take one look at me and know what I’m thinking.
A man has never dared to touch me back there, and I honestly don’t know if I was turned on or appalled, although I am sure I was freaked out, which is why I pulled away from him.
I realized as his finger came so close to my… um… well, that my world was getting ready to change in a way that could alter my very existence.
Frankly, it scared the crap out of me.
Evan scares the crap out of me.
And yet… I cannot stop thinking of kissing him.
I can’t stop thinking of the dirty things he said to me, because it’s unlike anything I’ve heard before. I’m not a virgin, having lost that title my junior year of college with Chris. He was my one and only sexual relationship, and it was nothing like what I experienced in those few minutes with Evan.
Chris was making love with the lights out and lots of cuddling and sweet words.
Evan is… well, he’ll never be that, and I don’t know if I could survive someone like him.
Crossing one arm over my belly, I nibble nervously on my thumbnail as I watch Evan perform. My eyes cut out to the thousands of fans, swaying back and forth and singing along with him. To the women surrounding the stage, looking at him with adoration and promise if he’ll just look back at them.
But Evan doesn’t, I notice. He’s into his music, and it’s the only thing that matters to him in this moment.
For the first time since I’ve met Evan, I get something about him that I didn’t understand before.
He lives for this.
This is his breath and his life.
My head drops down and I look at my outfit.
To my surprise, this afternoon about two hours after “the kiss,” Evan’s Miami stylist came onto the bus and offered to show me how to put all the outfits together. I hadn’t touched the pile of clothes. They were still scattered over the bed and on the floor where they landed after I threw them at Evan.
I’d stewed for those two hours, telling myself I was not going to wear a stitch of that clothing, and that he couldn’t make me attend his shows. That it was well outside of the purview of my job description.
I told myself that for two hours, and yet when the stylist
She doesn’t say a word as I walk out of the bedroom, through the bus and down the steps. I hope to God I don’t run into anyone right away, as I need a few minutes to get my dick back under control.
But outside of that tiny worry, I’m filled with victorious elation, because I just learned that, without a doubt, prim little Emma Peterson wants me as much as I want her.
CHAPTER 10
Emma
“H e’s amazing, isn’t he?” Tyler says loudly as he leans over toward my ear.
From my place backstage, I have the perfect view of Evan as he winds down his last song of the night. It’s an acoustic version of his most famous song… the one he put free on YouTube, which made him a household name.
It’s soulfully brilliant, telling the story of love and loss from the eyes of a little boy who simply loves a little girl.
I may have listened to this song only about a thousand times since I first heard it.
“So amazing,” I agree, although I’m not sure Tyler hears me as he simply nods and turns away.
I don’t spare him another glance though, preferring to watch Evan as he sits on a stool, one booted foot planted on the stage, the other on the second rung. The acoustic version is a little slower than the recorded one, and his voice is purer.
Definitely sexier.
And even that thought causes my heart to just skitter out of place.
What happened today in that bus is still beyond my comprehension. One minute, we’re fighting, and the next, we’re engaged in the most sensuously epic kiss of my life. It was no-holds barred. It was carnal.
It was so dirty.
Especially when his finger—
I can’t even think about it. I’m afraid people will take one look at me and know what I’m thinking.
A man has never dared to touch me back there, and I honestly don’t know if I was turned on or appalled, although I am sure I was freaked out, which is why I pulled away from him.
I realized as his finger came so close to my… um… well, that my world was getting ready to change in a way that could alter my very existence.
Frankly, it scared the crap out of me.
Evan scares the crap out of me.
And yet… I cannot stop thinking of kissing him.
I can’t stop thinking of the dirty things he said to me, because it’s unlike anything I’ve heard before. I’m not a virgin, having lost that title my junior year of college with Chris. He was my one and only sexual relationship, and it was nothing like what I experienced in those few minutes with Evan.
Chris was making love with the lights out and lots of cuddling and sweet words.
Evan is… well, he’ll never be that, and I don’t know if I could survive someone like him.
Crossing one arm over my belly, I nibble nervously on my thumbnail as I watch Evan perform. My eyes cut out to the thousands of fans, swaying back and forth and singing along with him. To the women surrounding the stage, looking at him with adoration and promise if he’ll just look back at them.
But Evan doesn’t, I notice. He’s into his music, and it’s the only thing that matters to him in this moment.
For the first time since I’ve met Evan, I get something about him that I didn’t understand before.
He lives for this.
This is his breath and his life.
My head drops down and I look at my outfit.
To my surprise, this afternoon about two hours after “the kiss,” Evan’s Miami stylist came onto the bus and offered to show me how to put all the outfits together. I hadn’t touched the pile of clothes. They were still scattered over the bed and on the floor where they landed after I threw them at Evan.
I’d stewed for those two hours, telling myself I was not going to wear a stitch of that clothing, and that he couldn’t make me attend his shows. That it was well outside of the purview of my job description.
I told myself that for two hours, and yet when the stylist
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