by Lee Piper
“Hi,” I croak. Yep, awkward. One tilt of Zeke’s lips and I forget how to construct complete sentences.
He takes in my features as though committing them to memory. “What did you think of the show?”
His deep voice is rumbling thunder, and I shiver, the movement not lost on him. He inches closer. His huge body would be intimidating if it weren’t for the pleasure zapping through me from his close proximity.
“Amazing,” I murmur, unsure whether I’m talking about the gig or not.
He gives a slow nod, his gaze trained on my parted lips.
My tongue darts out to wet them. “Where did you go? I didn’t see you inside. You dropped us off, then disappeared.”
His jaw ticks. “I was backstage.”
“Yeah? With who?”
Pause. “No one important.”
“Oh.”
His eyes trail blazing heat as they skim my neck, my cleavage, my tight white tank, and black fitted jeans. Soon the tips of his fingers follow suit, his touch magnetic, possessive. It traces sparking flames across my skin.
I gasp.
He growls.
My head tips back, exposing the column of my throat. He stares at it, hungry, the pulse at the base of his neck jumping.
“Zeke, I—”
“Wil, come on,” Drake calls.
I jump, jolted out of my trance. Taking an instinctive step back, I lean to the side and glance at my friend. He’s gesturing for me to hurry up with an impatient wave of his hand. Shiloh’s nearby, her expression confused as she looks at me.
Straightening, I glance at Zeke and clear my throat. “We’d better….” My fingers do this weird shake flick thing that does nothing to aid what I’m trying to say.
He watches me for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then he nods before turning and walking down the hallway. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he’s pissed Drake interrupted us.
As though on autopilot, I follow, and soon enough I’m surrounded by my friends. Since Shiloh and Zeke met earlier in the night, there’s no need for introductions, but I wish there was some social custom I needed to follow, if only to distract me from staring at him.
“Lead the way, all-powerful master,” Drake jokes, with a flutter of his backstage pass and a flamboyant bow.
Zeke grunts and shoulders past him, unimpressed by the theatrics.
Shiloh grips my arm and gives me a gentle squeeze. Blinking, I face her. She raises a questioning eyebrow, whispering, “What the hell is going on between you two? In the dude’s mind, he’s got you naked and is fucking you from behind right now.”
“Nothing’s going on,” I hiss, heat flooding my face. “He’s my producer, remember? It’s a business relationship, that’s all.”
Shiloh snickers. “Sure, Wil. You keep telling yourself that. Whatever helps you sleep at night.”
After rolling my eyes, I glance to where Zeke has stopped up ahead. He’s standing in front of a bright red door flanked by two security guards who rival even his enormous size. He gives them each a quick nod before opening it and stepping inside.
“Holy shit,” Shiloh breathes.
There are people everywhere—drinking, smoking, laughing. All three bands from tonight’s show are here, along with band managers, roadies, girlfriends, and what are most definitely groupies. One of them is wearing a dress the size of my tank top. I can literally see her ass as she shakes it to the beat of the music. Another has a hot pink G-string on underneath a belt posing as a skirt. Beside me, Drake raises a fist to his mouth and bites it.
I roll my eyes before scanning the room. It’s not large, but the number of bodies filling the space make it feel microscopic. Black couches line two walls, with a low table between them. A makeshift bar is set up opposite with half-drunk beers, spirit bottles, and snacks of every description. The window on the far wall is blacked out. Heavy beats pump through the audio speakers mounted in each corner, and below one stands Kai Jenner.
I gasp, my hand fumbling for something to hold on to. Zeke’s eyebrows raise. He glances at my fingers gripping his forearm, then my face, but says nothing. Instead, he leans toward Drake, indicating to the bar. Drake nods and mutters something in Reid’s ear, who then murmurs to Shiloh.
My friend darts a quick look between Zeke and me. “You gonna be okay if I get a drink, Wil? It’s a bit quieter over there. All these people are kinda making me nervous.”
“Uh-huh.”
“You sure?”
“Yep.”
“Want me to get you anything? A beer?”
“Umm….” My mind is blank.
“Maybe a water.” She pats my arm before turning to Zeke and narrowing her eyes. “If you value your life, you’ll look after my girl.” Facing me, she winks. “Won’t be long.”
Reid wraps a protective arm around Shiloh, and the three saunter toward the drinks.
Once they’re out of earshot, Zeke positions himself in front of me and takes in what must be my freaked expression. “What? What is it?”
I try to speak but no words are forthcoming. I want to tell Zeke that Kai is mere yards away, that I’m probably going to embarrass myself by forgetting what instrument I play. I want Zeke to know I’m so freaking hopeful the guitarist is as amazing in person as he is on stage, that I’ll be devastated if he isn’t. And I want him to know how thankful I am for this chance to meet my idol, that I’ll find a way to pay him back someday.
So yeah, I’m flustered.
My chest heaves in a bid to drag air into my lungs.
Lowering his head until our foreheads touch, he rumbles, “You need to breathe, baby girl.”
That voice. His smell. Closing my eyes, I do as he says and focus on my breathing.
In. Out.
In. Out.
In.
It shouldn’t be this hard.
I’m not sure if it’s the realization that Kai is nearby, if it’s the tension radiating between us, or the fact that Zeke and I shouldn’t be this close in public, but remaining calm is next to impossible.
A large hand grasps the back of my neck, causing my eyes to spring open. “I’m serious. Breathe.”
“Can’t,” I gasp. “He’s—you—we—I… can’t.”
“Yes, you fucking can. Forget about everyone else and copy me.” He inhales, his broad chest expanding with the movement. I do the same, my ribs swelling on a shaky wheeze. When he exhales, warm air brushes my cheeks and my eyelids flicker closed.
“Look at me.”
Opening my eyes again, I wet my lips, part them, then slowly breathe out. His pupils dilate.
“Fuck.” He shifts closer, his free hand clasping my waist. Long fingers dig into my skin, bruising the soft flesh. I moan, shocked and turned on in equal measure.
“Zeke, buddy.” Someone claps him on the back, breaking the heady spell. Stepping out of Zeke’s hold, I run one hand over my face. Zeke releases my hip but refuses to let go of my nape. The rational side of me wants to shake him off, to put as much distance between us as possible. However, the irrational side loves the possessive gesture. It makes me feel safe, desired, like I’m his.
“Thought it was you over here. How you doin’, man?”
“Kai.” Zeke fist bumps Heathen’s lead singer. “Can’t complain. You?”
“Good, man. I’m really fuckin’ good.” Ice-blue eyes land on me. “And who do we have here?” He tips his head, inspecting me. Straight hair falls over a bare shoulder, and I find myself staring into a freakishly symmetrical face. It’s perfect, a work of art, and even though he’s only spoken six words to me, there’s a quick intelligence too. Wow. This guy’s the whole damn package.
Warmth heats my cheeks.
Kai’s grin is mischievous. “And where have you been hidin’, honey? Don’t tell me Zeke’s keepin’ you all to himself. Hardly seems fair.”
The fingers on my neck twitch. Figuring it’d be impolite not to, I hold out my hand to Kai. “Hi, I’m Willow. It’s a pleasure to meet you.�
� Kudos to me, my voice didn’t even tremble.
“Willow.” He rolls the word on his tongue, a fine wine he’s savoring before taking a deep draft. Drawing my hand to his mouth, Kai presses a soft kiss to my knuckles. “The pleasure’s all mine.”
Smooth.
“Touch her again and I’ll break your fucking arm.”
Barbaric.
And yet butterflies swarm, teem, crowd my insides. What is it about Zeke? The man threatened physical violence on a musician I’ve admired for years, and I’m getting all hot?
Messed. Up.
Kai blinks, releases me, then throws his head back, hooting with laughter. “Zeke fuckin’ Danton, never thought I’d see the day.”
“Fuck you.”
But his exclamation makes Kai laugh harder. Soon there are tears streaming down chiseled cheekbones, and it’s only when chortles turn into chuckles, and chuckles turn into snickers that he wipes them away. Kai pats Zeke on the shoulder. “Just messing with you, dude. Never fear, I hear you loud and fuckin’ clear. Will spread the word so the others know it too.”
Zeke is silent.
I glance from one to the other, confused.
Kai shakes his head in amusement. When his eyes find mine, they’re openly curious. “How do you know Zeke, sugar?”
“Oh, um, my band was lucky enough to win Rising Star.” Glancing into Zeke’s stony profile, I murmur, “He’s producing our debut album.”
Zeke looks at me, his expression softening. His thumb traces small circles behind my ear and goose bumps appear on my skin. I shiver.
“You don’t say?” We both turn to the musician. Kai’s eyebrows are raised as he glances from me to Zeke.
Zeke gives a subtle shake of his head, and I have the sneaking suspicion I’m missing yet another crucial piece of information.
“How do you find working with him?”
I smile, relaxing into Kai’s easy company. “He expects perfection and won’t accept anything less. It’s a challenge, but one the boys and I are ready to face.”
Kai’s grin matches mine. “I hear you. He’s a moody motherfucker, but damn if Heathen’s last album wasn’t our best yet.”
Beside me, Zeke clears his throat. “Willow’s the lead guitarist. She’s self-taught. Thought you could give her some pointers since you never shut up about being classically trained.”
“Fuck yeah, I can. When? Now?”
It’s difficult feigning nonchalance when my inner fangirl wants to scream like the crazy bitch she is. I’m about to have a music lesson with Kai Jenner, for Hera’s sake. This is huge. Bigger than huge. It’s enormous.
Zeke glances at me and I swallow, then shrug. “Sure, why not?”
“Sweet. This party blows, anyway. Same crowd, same bitches wanting the same fuckin’ thing. Wash, rinse, repeat.” Kai gestures to the door on our right. “Let’s step into my office.”
Zeke and I follow him into the next room. When he hits the lights, my eyes widen. There’s equipment everywhere—instruments, PAs, leads. This must be where everything is kept before being loaded onto the tour bus. My eyes take in the amps, guitar cases, drum shells, mic stands. There’s high quality, state-of-the-art equipment filling most of the available space. It’s every musician’s dream.
“Wow.”
Zeke remains in the doorway, arms crossed, gaze trained on me.
Kai rummages through the guitar cases, his eyes alight with humor as he retrieves an acoustic. “Why don’t you leave us to it, Zeke? I’ll take good care of Willow, you know I will. Will even bring her back to you in one piece when we’re done.”
“Not a chance.”
Chuckling, Heathen’s lead singer shakes his head. “You’re killin’ me, man.” Pointing to the door, he grins. “At least shut the door. Don’t want just anyone waltzing their ass in here. This is a Kai Jenner exclusive. You’re welcome, by the way.”
“You wanted to leave the damn party,” Zeke grumbles under his breath as he slams the door shut and slides the lock into place. He then leans against the smooth wood and watches us, his expression shuttered.
“Here, sugar. I wanna see your style.” Kai hands me an acoustic guitar before taking another out of its battered case.
Looping the strap over one shoulder, I sit on a traps case and tune the strings. My fingers shake, but after closing my eyes and picturing the ocean washing into shore and retreating again, I’m centered.
Once I’m content with the sound, I play the opening few bars of the song we recorded this morning. Like always, time stops, the room fades, and music swirls around me. I get so lost in it, I end up playing the entire piece, including the solo between the second refrain and the chorus. This song is so elemental on the acoustic; I love being able to strip it back to the bare bones only to discover they sparkle under light. It’s magic.
Once finished, I glance up to see Kai sitting opposite. He blinks. My teeth worry my bottom lip when his eyes dart to Zeke.
Nodding, he murmurs, “I see it, man. I totally fuckin’ see it.” Giving me a lopsided grin, he adjusts the tension of his strings. “You’ve got some fuckin’ talent, honey. I’m impressed. Now, I’m gonna teach you about finger placement.” He wiggles his eyebrows before giving me a salacious wink. “Ready?”
I nod, too excited to do much else.
“When I play this riff, I want you to watch, then copy it.”
He begins. Dexterous fingers pluck the strings while the other hand slides up and down the fretboard. Kai hits each note just right; the sound is beautiful—crisp, clear, yet so unbelievably sweet. No wonder his record went platinum, no wonder he packs out stadiums. This man is one of the most talented instrumentalists I’ve ever seen.
And he’s teaching me.
My gaze finds Zeke. Slowly, I shake my head in awe. “Thank you,” I mouth, wishing I could say more, do more, to show him how much this moment means to me. He tips his chin, understanding my gratitude. And the deepest, darkest corner of those melted caramel eyes smiles back at me.
An hour later, Zeke finally calls an end to my impromptu music lesson. He grumbles something about me needing sleep if we’re going to record tomorrow, and even though I know where he’s coming from, I don’t want to leave.
I don’t think Kai does either, because after packing away the instruments, he pulls me in for a side hug.
And holy Artemis, Kai Jenner’s touching me.
“C’mon, man,” Heathen’s lead singer whines to Zeke, his skin practically branding mine. “Your woman’s a fuckin’ machine on the strings, it’s a crime to stop now.” Without letting go of my upper arm, he points to yet another guitar case. “I’ll even introduce her to my Les Paul.”
I gasp.
Facing me, Kai nods reverently. “I know, baby doll. I feel the same way about her too.”
Clearing his throat, Zeke pointedly glares at Kai’s hand. You know, the one that’s freaking touching me.
With a groan, Kai steps away. “You’re a fuckin’ Grinch, man. You hear me? A Grinch! You gonna steal Christmas next?”
Zeke rolls his eyes at the theatrics and gestures for me. “Wil, let’s go. We need to head back so you can rest. Need to bring your A-game tomorrow.”
Knowing he’s right, I sigh and give Kai a small wave and a sympathetic smile. “Maybe next time?”
“It’s a date.” He winks.
“No, it’s fucking not,” Zeke growls.
Kai’s chuckle follows us out the room, and when we reenter the party, a familiar hand clasps my nape, directing me through the throng. Even though I’m disappointed at having to leave, I’m so pumped from Kai’s music tutorial that I pay no attention to Zeke’s demonstrative hold.
Instead, I blabber.
“Can you believe he based a chord on an augmented shape and added a high seven?” I ask, groaning my appreciation. Zeke smirks. “He made it look so easy, like anyone could do it. And I kind of did it. Did you see? There was a moment when it almost sounded—”
Oomph.
My monologue comes to a screaming halt. Feeling terrible for the person who bore the brunt of my distraction, I hold out my hand in apology. “I’m so sorry.” But the words fade on my tongue when I realize who I’m speaking to. Eyes wide, stomach bottoming out, my hand falls limply to my side.
Selena.
She’s all hips, waist, boobs, and hair. With a skintight dress and stiletto heels, her outfit is more suited to a nightclub than a rock concert. The woman oozes sensuality. Heck, even I struggle not to ogle her hourglass figure—it’s stunning.
After a dismissive glance in my direction, she fixes her attention on the man at my side. A seductive smile plays on her lips. “I was wondering where you ran off to.” Manicured fingernails tease the back of his hand—the one not clasping my neck.
He didn’t.
Shocked, dismayed, hurt, furious—so many warring emotions swirl my insides. I feel like I’m watching a silent film with no subtitles but am expected to know the dialogue. Shrugging out of Zeke’s hold, I step away.
Zeke is silent. He doesn’t look at me, doesn’t try to shift me closer, nothing. His eyes are locked on his ex-wife’s, an impenetrable mask in place as she sidles up to him. Her voluptuous breasts brush against his pecs. It’s not by accident.
I want to throw up.
Then scream.
Then laugh at my stupidity.
Unfortunately, my feet are stuck. They refuse to remove me from this nightmare. Seems they want to laugh at my stupidity too. I search the room for Shiloh, Reid, and Drake, for a reason to leave. However, they’re in deep conversation with Eli, Heathen’s drummer. They must be discussing drum fills or something because Reid’s moving his arms as though he’s pounding out a four-four beat while Eli nods his appreciation.
Selena simpers. It’s annoying. “You remember Benedict, don’t you, Zeke? Heathen’s manager?” Glistening cobalt hair is flicked over a slim shoulder as she indicates to the man on her right.
I didn’t realize she was with anyone, and I don’t think Zeke did either. The moment his eyes land on the band manager, his jaw ticks. Benedict winces, taking a step back.