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When they switch to a raw acoustic number—“Burn Me”—a song they wrote last week, Griff’s unable to tear his eyes away from Alabama as they sing. Nothing between them but the lyrics, raging and passionate. The song is all contagious energy and heartbreak. Sparks crackle between them. Alabama can fight it all she wants, but if Griff feels it, everyone can.

Griff grips the mic and belts out, “Maybe you wouldn’t remember me. Maybe you had another man in Tennessee. But then you were lookin’, walkin’ my way. And I knew that night, damn, girl, we were goin’ astray ...”

Beneath darkened lashes, Alabama lasers her gray gaze to his as together they croon, “You gonna burn me, like a match to a flame. You’re gonna tell me that you ain’t playin’ these games. But I see the tricks that you’re hidin’ under your sleeve. And even though I know you’re gonna burn me, baby, burn me, I’m still the fool who wants to believe ...”

His sound—this sound—is miles from the brash country-rock his fans might expect, but he doesn’t give two shits if they like it or not. He hasn’t had this much fun in a long damn while. This is what he wants, what he’s been missing for so long. Passion. A straight-up love for the music. Music he could only create with—

The thought hits him like buckshot: the music’s never mattered to him because it wasn’t with Alabama.

That’swhy he never took it seriously.

Because all along, all this time, it’s needed her.

He’s needed her.

He glances up, dazed and reeling, to find Alabama smiling at him, beaming like the sun as her powerful vocals ring out across the stage. “Maybe it’s the whiskey or the song. Maybe it’s that promise about how you’d never do me wrong ...”

Sweat trails down his face as he stares at her. And as he turns his head to the blinding bright lights of the swaying crowd, he sees that they love her. In that moment, a bone-deep realization nearly knocks him to his knees. He don’t got a chance against this. This storm that’s coming. The truth he’s been trying to ward off ever since she set foot on the bus.

He loves her too.

Still does.

Always has.

He tried to fight it, worried he’d hurt her, drag her into his shit, his messy problems, but he can’t deny it anymore. He knows it’s not fair; he left her once and now he wants her back, but he’s never stopped loving her. She was always the one. And now that he’s found her again, he’s gotta make her see that. Because one thing’s for certain—he ain’t gonna let her go again.

After the show, Griff and Alabama escape down the back stairwell, slamming out into the alley where the bus waits.

Alabama stops in her tracks, a hand going to her mouth when she sees the lines of jammed people waiting for them. “Holy shit,” she murmurs, turning toward Griff.

He grins. “They’re here for you.”

She stares, a pink flush spreading on her cheeks.

“They are,” he says with pride. “Soak it up, sweetheart.”

Her eyes glow. The way she’s looking at him twists his stomach and Griff has to fight the urge to take her in his arms and kiss her right there in front of everyone.

“What’re you waitin’ for?” he says. “Get over there and sign some autographs.”

She does. They linger for thirty minutes, Alabama signing autographs and posing for photos, while Griff shakes hands and signs ball caps, beer cans and babies. Brian stands around, taking in the scene, ushering people through the line like cattle.

When they’re finished, Griff follows Alabama to the bus. As they walk up the stairs, Griff, his body shielding hers from prying eyes, slips his palm on the curve of her ass. Her laugh is delighted, and his cock stirs.

“I feel bad,” Alabama says when they’re in the lounge. “There’s still a line out there as long as the Nile.”

“Don’t feel bad,” Griff says, reaching out to wrap his arm around her waist. “Feel me.” He pulls her into him, burying his face in her hair. “I can’t stay away from you,” he whispers. They’re sweaty and hot and all he wants to do is get sweatier and hotter with Alabama.

She arcs a devilish brow. “Who said I want you to, Greyson?”

The sound of his name on her lips is damn near Pavlovian and he’s unable to help himself. He tugs her in and kisses her deep, their tongues tangling together, Griff’s hands plunging into her red hair.

But before they get any further, the door opens and Brian strides in.

Griff curses at the interruption.

Alabama stiffens slightly and moves out of Griff’s arms.


Tags: Ava Hunter Nashville Star Romance