The glass hadn’t hit her. She was fine. But the point was she could have been hurt. If she’d been injured, he wouldn’t have forgiven himself, especially since he’d been so preoccupied for one ridiculous reason.
Sex. Stupid fucking sex. Which they would not be having, so he needed to get it out of his head. Or more accurately, he needed to get his brain out of his dick.
It had been too long, that was all. It wasn’t because it was Summer. She could’ve been anyone. Sure, she made him laugh. Talking to her reminded him of some of the best times of his life, and somehow she managed to make them sweeter. Her voice blew his mind. She was smart and sarcastic and tough as nails under that cotton candy exterior. But she was Cass’s friend and now his client, which made her doubly off-limits. Besides, she didn’t see him that way anyway. Her haste to shov
e him off stage earlier had proven she didn’t want anyone to get the wrong idea.
Message received.
He tapped his knuckles on the partially closed door to the closet-sized dressing room. “I’ll be parked outside,” he began, his voice deserting him as he glimpsed a bare shoulder. She sat at the makeup table and clenched a puff of some sort. The eyes she turned his way were ravaged. “Summer?”
“Don’t come in here,” she said as he did just that.
“What’s wrong?” He glanced around the room, noting the scatter of clothes on the floor that accounted for why she was sitting there in her bra and tiny little cotton shorts that might’ve been underwear. A second equally small table across the room offered another mirror that gave him a way too revealing glimpse of the curve of her back and the long laces of dark curls that spilled over it. “Why aren’t you dressed?”
“This is the changing room, you know. I already chased out the other chick who’s up next. She didn’t want to hang around some emo guitar bitch. Now it’s your turn to leave.” She threw down her makeup thingy and whirled around on the seat, evidently realizing he had no intention of moving. “You shouldn’t be back here.”
“Yeah, I know I shouldn’t be here, but I am. You’re upset and I’m not leaving until you tell me why.” He crossed his arms and waited.
“You saw that show. I’m a round peg trying to fit in a square hole. No, worse, I’m a round peg trying to fit in the head of a needle. I need a band. I need to write harder stuff. No one wants to hear my country-tinged stuff in the city—”
“Hold on.” He moved forward and cupped her shoulders, registering the satiny skin under his. Soft. Way too fucking soft. But he still kept his hands right where they were as he bent his knees to meet her eyes. “What I saw was that it took a little time for you to win them over, but you did it. By the end, they were eating out of your palm. You didn’t buckle. You adapted and got the job done.”
“I need a band,” she muttered, averting her gaze. The loss of those big blue eyes staring straight into his hit him as acutely as the loss of breath. “Me and Kyle can only do so much. He knows some people, but I’ve been resisting bringing more people onboard. Too much trouble, too many personalities. I only want to sing.” She rubbed the heels of her hands into her eyes, hard. “Up there, I feel alive. I’m more me on stage than I am anywhere else. I live for those moments. The rest of the day, it’s just surviving until I hear the crowd again. That acceptance…” She shuddered. “God, I’d die without it.”
“No, you wouldn’t,” he said, voice flat.
“How do you know?”
He shifted back, lifting his palms so that only the tips of his fingers rested on bare skin. Not that it mattered. He’d never forget that silken expanse for the rest of his life. “Because I was the same. The roar of the fans kept me going. Booze, women and training filled the hours, but they didn’t give me that rush. Nothing could. After a while you stop caring what it’ll take to get attention. You’ll do anything. As long as they accept you—hell, as long as they notice you—you can accept yourself.”
Her minute nod cut him to the quick. He hated that she felt ashamed for falling victim to what so many people in the public eye had, over and over again. “Yes,” she whispered.
“What you need is to find acceptance somewhere else. Use it to fill you up. To make you so strong no one can touch you.”
“Where?” She raised her chin, eyes brimming with tears that didn’t fall. “From who?”
All the standard answers came to mind. The ones his AA sponsor had thrown his way more times than he could count. Acceptance needs to come from within. If you can’t love yourself, no one else will love you. Self-respect is the first step.
Blah, blah, blah.
That all may well be true, but words weren’t what she needed right then. And they weren’t what he needed to give her.
He gripped her hips and lifted her up on to the table bolted to the wall. It didn’t shake from her weight, which he counted as pure luck. This wasn’t the fanciest place and the dressing room looked like it had seen much better days. He grabbed the chair she’d vacated and pushed it toward the door, flipping the lock and then shoving the chair beneath the knob.
When he turned back, she was staring at him in silent wonder. Or trepidation, he couldn’t tell.
Before he could talk himself out of it, he strode over to her and cupped her face in his hand, tipping it back so their eyes met. As his thumb feathered over her chin, he bent his head to breathe in her sweet apple scent, nothing cloying or artificial. No heavy scent, just Summer. She sucked in air at the brush of his mouth over her ear, a single glancing blow. Then he returned for more, drawing her earlobe between his teeth, pulling to make her moan.
She didn’t disappoint him.
“Chase?” she whispered, her usual bravado long gone.
Pressing his mouth to her neck, he fisted his hands on her hips and pulled her close. After the taste of her mouth he’d had last weekend, he craved more. No amount of kisses would be enough, so he didn’t allow himself the luxury. Kisses like they’d shared then were for lovers.
This was just fucking. As much as she mattered to him, he couldn’t let himself forget that.
She wound her long, supple legs around his hips and twined her arms around his neck, squeezing her knees to his sides. Rubbing against him so that the hard column in his jeans lined right up with the warm seam that taunted him under cotton and the slightest hint of lace. He nuzzled her neck and ear, drowning in the warmth and richness of her scent. Her tiny pearl earring clinked against his teeth and she gasped every time he used his teeth.