Iris
Iwalked into TSC’s dressingroom after having my makeup and hair done and getting dressed in a separate room. I required a full hour longer to prepare for a performance than the rest of the band. They’d gotten used to it, but they always laughed when I showed up primed for a TV appearance. I was all sweatpants and tank tops with them. A German music awards show called for so much more.
Ronan was the first to spot me as June and I entered the room. I’d only been next door and hadn’t allowed him in while my makeup was being done. I knew he’d only stare and possibly growl at my makeup artist, so I forced him out. The fire in his gaze told me he was still pissed he’d been dismissed. But there was a lot more than anger as he swept his eyes over me from head to toe.
He strode across the floor, letting June pass before his body blocked mine from entering any farther. “What are you wearing?”
“Stage clothes.”
His nostrils flared, and his hands came up as if he was going to touch me, but he stopped himself, dropping them to his sides in fists.
“Your tits are half out.”
They were, that was true. On top, I wore a blood-red corset with leather straps crisscrossing my torso. My jeans were skintight and low on my hips. The legs were shredded, revealing more thigh than they covered. My platform boots brought my eyes nearly level with Ronan’s chin. I knew I looked good, and I felt amazing.
I cocked my hip, which gave my cleavage a little jiggle. Ronan tossed his head back and groaned low.
“But they’re half in,” I teased, wishing like hell he wasn’t going to turn this into a problem. I’d be disappointed if he did.
“Iris.” My name was a curse on his lips. “Did you choose these clothes?”
“I did. I’ve worn something like this on stage many times. Is that why you look like you want to murder someone? Did you think I was forced to wear this?”
He sucked in a gust of air through his nose. “Will that answer make you happy?”
“The truth will,” I whispered.
He tipped his chin, his expression marble-still. “You’re beautiful,meala. I also want to gouge out the eyes of every single fucker who’s going to see you like this. But if it’s your choice, I’ll respect it and keep my mouth shut.”
I laid my hand on his rigid arm, knowing his broad back was still shielding me from the rest of the band. “I think it’s so sexy you can admit you’re jealous other people will be looking at what’s yours, but you let it happen anyway because you know whose bed I’ll be in tonight.”
His jaw clenched. “Did you say you’re mine?”
I lifted a shoulder and fluttered my long false lashes. “We’ll talk later. I need to see a band about a thing.” I slid by him, pressing my chest to his. June was the only one watching, and her eyes widened when I emerged from around Ronan. I hadn’t quite told her what was going on between us, but that was because I hadn’t yet decided myself.
I shook my head at her and plastered on a wide smile for my boys. “All right, all right. Does everyone remember how to play their instruments?”
Adam flipped me off. “Fuck you.”
I kicked his shin. “Fuck you, dude. If I sang as half-ass as you’ve been playing, we’d be booed off the fucking stage. Don’t bring that out there tonight.”
Rodrigo wrapped an arm around my shoulders. “No fighting, children. We’ve all been slackers, getting soft in our old age.”
I shook my head. “No excuses. If we get soft, we lose all this, and that’s not happening.”
Callum tipped his chin at me from his position of lounging in an armchair. He was slouched, his ankle resting on his opposite knee, hands clasped on his stomach. If anyone else saw him, they’d think he was relaxed. But I knew he was mostly checked out, mentally preparing for the stage. He was hard to engage on a normal day, but impossible right before a performance. To be fair, though, he’d been killing it in rehearsals, as usual, so he didn’t need a talking-to.
“Cally,” I cooed softly.
The corner of his mouth hitched. “Irie,” he whispered back.
That was the extent of our conversation. And truly, with him, it was all that needed to be said.
Adam got up, adjusting his dick in his leather pants. He was moving slower than normal, so I knew he’d taken something, which only pissed me off more. If I didn’t love the shit out of him, I’d hate him. “It’s only German TV, no biggie.”
I walked up to him, raised on my toes, and gripped his face in my hand. He jerked back, but I dug my nails in. “Don’t you dare. You show up here high, acting like it doesn’t matter, but itdoes. If we make fools of ourselves out there, you think that will only remain in Germany? No, baby. That’s not how these things work.”
He knocked my hand off him and backed away. “I’m square, Iris. I’ve got it.”