Halo walked in my direction with more swagger in his little finger than most people had in their entire body, which was a good damn thing considering the song he was singing. As he came to a stop in front of me, his fingers tightened around the mic as he sang the first verse, and I couldn’t help but wonder what was running through his head as his eyes swept down my body to where I was plucking the strings of my guitar.
This close, I could smell the fresh scent of whatever soap he’d used this morning as he sidled in closer, and I allowed myself a moment to really look at the guy since he’d walked into the studio.
In well-worn jeans, a black T-shirt, and Converse, Halo wasn’t dressed to impress—more likely dressed for comfort. But with a leather strap wrapped around his right wrist, that tangle of messy waves on his head, and a full mouth singing a song I’d written about unrequited lust, I was pretty fucking glad I had a guitar covering the lower half of my body.
I’d known this was going to happen. From the second he’d walked into the audition to last night, when I’d told Killian this was a bad idea. The frontman always played off the lead guitarist, and our band was certainly no different. Chemistry, that was what Killian said he wanted. So, let’s see what the angel had up his sleeve.
As Halo sang toward the first chorus, and Slade sped up on the drums, I flicked my eyes over to Killian, whose gaze was locked on the two of us; he was probably wondering what the fuck I was gonna do next—but hey, that was his problem, not mine.
Instead, I returned my attention to Halo, singing the background vocals to go along with his. I was just in time to catch his eyes dropping to my mouth, and fuck if that did anything to squash the arousal licking through my veins from having him so close, and when he seemed to realize where he was looking and his eyes flew up to clash with mine, I couldn’t stop the smirk that crossed my lips.
Arching an eyebrow, I all but dared him to come closer, and as we came up to the next round of the chorus, he lowered his arm, leaned in, and shared the mic with me, putting his lips in dangerously close proximity to mine.
The guy had balls, I had to give him that, and as the beat of the drums pulsed around the room, driving us toward the second verse, Halo wrapped his hand around my mic stand and angled his face toward me, as we sang the final line of the chorus in complete sync with one another.
As the words cut off and the music took over before the second verse, Halo released the mic stand and took a step back. His eyes were still fastened to mine as though he couldn’t believe what he’d just done, but then an arrogant smile curved his lips and it was obvious he was pretty fucking pleased with himself—and so he should be.
I’d once been asked in an interview what three things I found sexiest in a person, and at the time it had been easy enough to rattle them off, since I’d been sitting next to Trent.
Confidence.
Talent.
Sexual self-awareness.
And as Halo moved back to the center of the room and slid the end of his mic back into the stand slowly, like a caress, I found my answer hadn’t changed one fucking bit. Because the confidence Halo was now throwing off as he shut his eyes and began to sing the next verse made me think for the first time that there might be something better out there than Trent Knox, and he might be standing here in Killian’s rehearsal studio.
As the song wound down, the energy in the room practically vibrated as Halo’s voice faded into the silence, and when it was over, Jagger was the first to speak up.
“Are you fucking kidding me right now?”
Halo opened his eyes and glanced in my direction, even though Jagger had been the one to practically bust a nut over his performance.
“That was incredible. Fucking incredible. Right, guys?”
Halo swallowed and then turned to the lip of the stage, where the drum kit was set up, to bend down and pick up his bottle of water. I knew I was supposed to be concentrating on the music and his voice, and how damn good he’d just sung our songs. But with the way the denim was now stretched across his ass, my attention had shifted gears.
“Seriously. Kickass job, man,” Slade said as he twirled the stick in his left hand up and down four of his fingers. “You nailed it. Even got all up in Viper’s space and held your own.”