overhead light wasn’t working. No windows meant she’d have to shower in the dark, and that wasn’t happening.
No big deal; she’d use Devin’s shower. Her mind bounced from thought to thought as she headed down the hallway. The door to Devin’s room was ajar. She pushed it open, her eyes automatically sweeping the space. He always made his bed. The man was a serious neat freak.
Liberty entered the tidy bathroom and slid the pocket door closed. This space was so luxurious she couldn’t believe it was on a tour bus. Skylights provided natural light in the slate-tiled shower and above the double vanity. With the funky angles of the walls, the shower didn’t need a door. She cranked on the water and stepped into the enclosure. Five showerheads blasted water at her; one from above and two from each side. She closed her eyes and sighed. The heat and steam and solitude were heavenly. No wonder Devin spent so much time in his master suite.
She reached for her shampoo and remembered she hadn’t brought her toiletries with her. There was something that felt really intimate about using Devin’s shampoo and body wash, but she didn’t have a choice. She drew the line at using his razor.
Some oddly happy impulse spurred her to hum while she scrubbed her hair. Her humming morphed into belting out the 70s power ballads currently stuck in her brain, starting with Carly Simon’s “You’re So Vain.” She’d just segued into the chorus of Linda Ronstadt’s “You’re No Good” when the bathroom door slammed open and Devin’s angry voice filled the space.
“Jesus, Tay, I’ve told you a million fuckin’ times to stay out of my shower . . .” Devin froze inside the doorway.
Liberty froze too.
However, Devin’s eyes weren’t frozen in place for long.
His gaze moved from her face, down to her breasts, then followed the center of her torso to the juncture of her thighs. His gaze returned to her breasts for several long moments. Then his eyes roamed over the curve of her hips and her thighs, briefly dipping to her feet before zooming back up to focus entirely on her breasts.
He said, “You’re not Tay.”
No shit.
“Sweet mother of God, Liberty Masterson. You’ve got the most rockin’ body I have ever seen.”
Oh wow. Now, there was a compliment. She was pretty sure she blushed from head to toe, but she couldn’t look away from the molten heat in Devin’s eyes. Her skin erupted in gooseflesh, causing her nipples to harden.
Devin growled. He reached in and shut the shower off. Ignoring that he was clothed, he stepped into the enclosure with her, crowding her until her back hit the wall. Although he’d braced his hands by her head, he’d left enough space between them so he could still stare at her chest.
Liberty’s heart raced. Despite the water dripping down her body, her mouth had gone desert dry.
“Two things I wanna know,” he said to her breasts. “First. Why hide these? Jesus. They’re spectacular.” Then his gaze—his hungry gaze—returned to hers. “I’ve lived with you on this bus for a month. I’ve worked out with you. Hell, I’ve even had my arms around you in my bed. And, darlin’, I’m unapologetically a breast man. I notice them. So there’s no way I should’ve missed these beauties. No way. Unless you were purposely hiding them. Were you?”
She swallowed hard. “Yes. I wear a compression sports bra.”
“Why would you do that?”
“Because these jiggling things are a pain in my ass. I started binding them when I joined the military.”
“But—”
“You say they’re spectacular? All they’ve ever done is get in my way. I wanted the guys in my unit to see me as a soldier, not a woman. It’s a habit now because I’m still mainly working with men. I’m taken more seriously in my profession when I don’t display distracting mounds of flesh. And I shoot better.”
His eyes softened. “Doesn’t it hurt you, though? To bind them all the time?”
“I’m used to it.”
“You don’t have to hide them from me anymore. Because, darlin’, no offense, but now that I know about your gorgeous rack? I’m gonna be lookin’ at your chest way more than is probably healthy.”
“Or wise.”
Devin laughed. “Maybe.” His gaze zeroed in on her breasts again. “But even though I know you’re always armed, I’d still be willing to take my chances to get my hands and my mouth all over you.”
“Devin, you’re making me uncomfortable.”
“Now you know how I’ve felt since the moment you stepped combat boots on my bus.” His gaze traveled up to her lips. “We never talked about setting some parameters in this relationship.”
“I am not discussing it when I’m naked!”
“Would it be easier to talk about if I was nekkid too?” he said in that deep, silky tone of his.
Yes! “No!” She closed her eyes. “Please. Back off and let me get dressed.”
“No.”
Her eyes flew open, and she saw he’d closed the gap between them, leaving her trapped against the wall and by his eyes. “What do you want from me?”
“Your promise that we’ll have an honest conversation about what’s goin’ on between us. As soon as possible.” His eyes narrowed. “And, darlin’, lose that defiant look. Don’t insult either of us by pretending we’re still just protector and protectee after those kisses yesterday.”
“But . . . we are that.”
“We can be so much more than that, and you know it.” He slanted his mouth over hers. The kiss started out sweet but quickly caught fire. Even as Devin kissed her, he didn’t touch her anywhere else. He focused on putting every bit of passion into the kiss.
Just like before, she lost her need for control when he put that wicked mouth on hers.
When he finally broke their lip-lock, a full-body shudder worked though her and she expelled a loud “God.”
“I wasn’t imagining it.” Devin pushed back. This time, his gaze didn’t leave her eyes. “The day is a wash as far as us getting time alone to talk without interruption. But tonight? As soon as that bus door closes and we’re on the road, you are mine, understand?”
She just blinked at him.
“Liberty? Say something.”
“I’m not sorry I used your shower.”
That dazzling smile appeared. “Me either.” He handed her a towel. “But you’ve gotta move your sweet ass outta here. I need to shower too and I only have so much willpower.”
After he closed the door, she realized he never asked her about the second thing he wanted to know.
For this part of the tour, Devin had two new opening acts. The first night Big Sky required all three acts to convene in the ready room after the first rehearsal. Devin wasn’t happy about the interruption to his preshow solitude. Liberty wasn’t happy with the two dozen extra people running around.
The promotion company had gone all-out—the catering was outstanding. The bands and their crews fell on the food like starving teenagers. Liberty stationed herself in the corner, observing the crowd while nibbling on a mini pastrami sandwich. She’d mentally sorted band members from roadies when Devin beckoned her over.
She ditched her plate and wiped her hands.
Crash stood on Devin’s left side, a redheaded bombshell on his left. Or more accurately, the redheaded bombshell was plastered against Devin. Resting her head on his biceps. Putting her hands on his chest. Pressing her hip into his groin when she stood on tiptoe to speak with him.
Jealousy seared Liberty’s gut like a red-hot poker. She wasn’t sure who annoyed her more. The hot little number who assumed it was all right to put her grabby hands all over Devin. Or Devin, who wasn’t telling said hot little number to keep her mitts to herself.
As soon as she reached the group, Devin reached for Liberty’s hand and sidestepped the redheaded leech. “Hey, darlin’. You ate?”
“Yes. Did you?”
“Workin’ my way in that direction. But first I wanted to introduce you to our opening acts.” He pointed to the pouting redhead,
who up close looked to be about twelve. “This is Jesse-Belle Archer. She’s a big talent coming out of Alabama. Keep an eye on her because she’s goin’ places.”
Liberty choked back a laugh at Devin’s warning. She offered her hand. “Nice to meet you.”
“Who is she?” Jesse-Belle demanded of Devin, ignoring Liberty completely.
“My personal assistant,” Devin said, keeping an arm around Liberty’s shoulder.
“Personal assistant, my ass.” Odette snorted. “Those two are inseparable. We can hardly get them off Devin’s bus. Be warned, Jezebel. You wanna talk to Devin, you gotta go through her first.”
Liberty withheld a laugh at Odette’s use of Jezebel.
“It’s Jesse-Belle,” she corrected. “I’m sure there won’t be an issue if I need to speak to Devin alone, artist to artist.”
Like hell there wouldn’t be.
Two scruffy-looking guys approached, hands in pockets, booted feet shuffling nervously. “Hey, Devin. Heard you wanted to talk to us?”
“Liberty, this is Lee Stoltz and Eric Hofer, from Double Trouble. We’re with the same record label, and they’ll be opening the show for the next ten stops.”
“I’m with the same record label too,” Jesse-Belle pointed out, cutting off Liberty’s response.
Devin, Lee and Eric made small talk about guy stuff, ignoring Jesse-Belle. Liberty had a moment of sympathy for the girl, knowing firsthand how hard it was to be excluded from the boys’ club.
But her sympathy vanished when Jesse-Belle interrupted with “Come find me later, Devin. I’ve got more important things to do than listen to these two blather about nothing interesting.” She stomped off in a huff.
Eric drawled, “I reckon it’s time for her afternoon nap.”
“Yeah, maybe if she throws a hissy fit, her mama will let her stay up past her curfew tonight,” Lee added.
Devin laughed. “You’ve worked with her before?”
“Worked with half a dozen young things just like her. They’re interchangeable.”
Not very flattering.
“What Eric means is the label is tryin’ to broaden everyone’s fan base by creating an interesting slate of musicians for every tour,” Lee said. “We’ve been lucky to open for lots of different acts in the past year. And we’re happy the bosses at the label put us with you. It’s an honor. Me’n Eric have been big fans of your music since your first album.”
“I appreciate you sayin’ so. One thing you oughta know—the label didn’t assign you to this tour. I requested Double Trouble.”
Lee and Eric exchanged a grin. “Way cool, man. Thanks.”
“If you’ll excuse me, I need to eat before they tear down the buffet.” Devin steered Liberty to the tables of food. After a minute or so of standing there, he hadn’t grabbed a plate.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothin’ looks good.”
“It is all good, trust me.”
“I do.” He tugged her close and kissed her forehead.
She froze at his public display of affection. Granted, he hadn’t started macking on her, but it was the first time he’d acted like she was more than his personal assistant.
He noticed she’d stiffened up. “You okay?”
“I don’t know if I’m ready for this.”
“Ready to be in my bed?”
“Ready to be all kissy-face and hand-holdy in public. Especially when I’m supposed to be alert to our surroundings.”
His beautiful blue eyes cooled, and she knew he’d misunderstood.
“When I feel you looking at me, or when you touch me, I forget about everything—including doing my job. As much as I like the promise of this new intimacy between us, it throws me off when we’re out here.” She placed her hand on his chest. “And out here is where I need to be extra vigilant about your safety.”
“I get it. And thanks for clarifying that for me. I’ll cool it when we’re in mixed company.” Devin’s fingers circled her wrist and he placed a soft kiss in the center of her palm. “But when it’s you and me alone? Cool is the last thing I’ll be. I’m so hot to be all over you I’ll be lucky if I make it through the show tonight.”
“But . . . aren’t we talking? Setting up some parameters about this first?”
He shook his head. “You know how wired I am after I walk offstage. For the past three weeks, since I’ve just said no to groupies”—he bestowed that megawatt smile—“I’ve been punishing myself, takin’ cold showers or doin’ sit-ups and push-ups until I wanna puke. But tonight—and every night from here on out—no more punishment. I’m gonna get what I want.”
“Which is what?”
“You. In every dirty, raunchy scenario I’ve fantasized about.”
Her pussy clenched in sheer happiness.
“Out here? I’ve accepted that you’re in charge of my safety. But the only parameter I’ll have when we’re alone is that you’re no longer in charge.” He rubbed his mouth over the back of her knuckles. “See you after the show.”
Devin managed to finish half his food. He changed into performance clothes—nothing spangly or weird, but his fans paid good money for tickets, and they deserved to see that he’d put effort into his appearance. Some singers were content arriving onstage in an old T-shirt, holey jeans, and a ratty ball cap. Once in a while he did that. But tonight seemed like a special occasion.
Then, to kill time before he went onstage, he propped his bare feet on the coffee table and picked up his guitar. He strummed the melody of the song he’d been working on for the last month. He had the words and music to the chorus. But the opening chords escaped him. He’d intended the theme of the piece to be getting that second chance only to blow it again. Nothing worked. After an hour of restless plucking, he set aside his guitar.
Two beefy security guys lounged outside his door and immediately snapped to attention when he walked out.
“You ready, Mr. McClain?”
“Yeah.”
A guy flanked him on each side, and they traveled the maze until they reached the backstage stairs.
Devin automatically looked around for Liberty. She accompanied him only when the security was light. No sign of her.
You’ll see plenty of her tonight.
He snagged a bottle of water out of the tub.
Check started handing out guitars. Devin didn’t bother to strum to see if his was tuned, because Check was more anal about that than he was.
Steve bounced from foot to foot. Odette ran her bow across her strings. Tay chomped her gum and blew big pink bubbles at Jase. Gage and Leon leaned against the back wall, lost in discussion. Just another preshow night. And like always, Devin sent up a silent prayer of thanks to the universe that he got to do what he loved for a living.
“You ready?” Crash asked, like he always did.
“Yep.”
“Let’s get your gear on. The set changes ain’t takin’ long.” Crash handed him the earpiece and the remote pack.
Then Crash shook his head at someone who’d come up behind them. Devin felt the air change as the bodyguards closed rank. He kept his gaze on Crash. “I don’t wanna know who that was or what’s goin’ on, do I?”
“Don’t worry. It’s bein’ handled.”
“By who?”
“Me. Because Little Miss I-Think-I’m-Hot-Shit does not want Liberty comin’ down on her about security breaches. She has no idea that Liberty would chew her up, spit her out and use her bones to pick her teeth.”
Devin laughed. “My woman is something, all right.”
Crash lifted both eyebrows. “Since when is she your woman?”
“I’m starting to think since the minute I set eyes on her.”
“Jesus. I knew it.”
“Knew what?”
“Knew you’d be bangin’ her at every opportunity. No woman alive is immune to that Devin McClain superstar charm.”
Devin bunched his hand in Crash’s shirt. “Watch it. Not that it’s any of your goddamn b
usiness, but Liberty and I haven’t had sex.”
“Are you kiddin’ me?”
“No.”
“That’s worse. Way worse.”
“Why?”
But before Crash answered, Devin was prompted by his earpiece.
The applause was thunderous as his band appeared, instrument by instrument, starting with drums, followed by guitars and, finally, Odette’s fiddle. The crowd quickly changed the chants into “Devin, Devin, Devin,” so when he crossed the stage, he could hardly hear himself think.
Hillbilly Rockstar Page 16