Correction: Hot as hell now turned into panty-melting. I couldn’t look away. My clothes, just like my body, were wholly unprepared for the assault. And this was only the first twenty seconds. They’d have to suck me up out of my puddle of desire by the time the show was done.
Those lips.
Mine tingled with wanting his kiss. His tongue. My breath faltered, oxygen weighed down with desire. And I prayed the crowd was focused on him as I tried to subtly cross my legs. It felt like my desire was literally dripping from me.
Whose freakin’ idea was it to have me in a dress tonight? They are fired. I don’t care if it was Taylor. F.I.R.E.D.
The ache between my legs was like a base melody playing through every other note of my life. Strumming with a low, soul-wracking hum, a constant reminder of how I wanted our song to end.
“Blake,” he rasped. It was a subtle sound—or it would have been if it wasn’t magnified through the entire stadium. Like being in a movie theater versus watching TV—the pure sex in his voice became a surround-sound to the cinematic destruction of my body. It literally vibrated through every cell of my body, awakening parts of me that definitely should not be awake on stage.
“Happy Valentine’s Day.”
I almost laughed. I never thought I’d hear those words coming from that mouth. It was like getting a phone call that you’d won the lottery—amusingly unbelievable.
“H-happy Valentine’s Day,” I returned with a strangled voice and a strained smile. I needed to get off this stage. And maybe get a new pair of underwear. Talk about wardrobe malfunction; Janet was about to have nothing on me. “Alright, I’ll let Zach get to it—”
Giving an awkward wave to the crowd, I was so prepared to dart off stage, but I was stopped by a firm grasp on my wrist, spinning me back and trapping me in his stare like a bee in honey.
“Not so fast there, Blay,” he said with a mischievous grin. “I have a present for you.”
“W-what?” I blubbered. Boy, this crowd was getting the real Blake Tyler tonight—all awkward and lovestruck.
I blinked twice and a red rose appeared in front of me.
Now was not the time to lose my voice.
‘Kiss her!’ someone yelled off in the distance.
My fans were not my friends right now. Nope. They were fired, too.
I should have said something to deflect, taken the rose, and walked off stage. Should’ve… could’ve, would’ve.
I stared, watching his lips descend on mine until the very last second. And even then, I didn’t trust my lips to not make up what they were dying to feel.
And then there was that kiss again. The one that put me back in outer space where all Earth-shattering and cosmic phenomena belonged.
His tongue licked along the seam of my lips, barely waiting for them to part before it darted inside for one more taste like he couldn’t help himself. And then he was gone.
Whistles and cheers were the soundtrack to his eyes.
He was enjoying this.
I was afraid I was enjoying it, too.
“So, I got you this rose, even though I think all these great people out here would say that you deserve much more.” Cue cheers of agreement. “And I would have to agree with them.”
This wasn’t happening.
It’s official. I’d gone crazy. Bat-shit crazy. Blake. Shit. Crazy.
This wasn’t even real in my wildest dreams.
“So,” he drawled, “I know we both kinda have a little thing… like a concert… that we gotta do right now,” I felt his grin like he’d smiled it right against the lips of my sex, “but, I was wondering if you’d like to join me for a delicious take-out dinner tonight after the show? I’m told this city has some pretty decent pizza and cheesecake.”
His soft, Southern charm was the end of me. The anxiety and uncertainty disappeared and I broke out laughing.
It was too easy to fall for him. And that was when he didn’t want anything to do with me. This wasn’t a fall. A fall implies an element of unawareness.
I wasn’t falling.
I had jumped—willful, consenting awareness that the landing was going to break me.
He raised one of those perfect eyebrows and I realized that I’d left him hanging, the entire audience silent.
“Yes. I mean, I’d love to,” I gushed out and there was a good chance we could have cancelled the rest of the concert and my fans would have been satisfied. Especially when he then pulled me into his arms, picked me up, and spun me around like I’d seen him do to countless girls in high school, every time wishing it was me.
This time it was.
Crap. Crap. Double-crap.
“I have a request, though,” he said softly (which wasn’t all that soft when it echoed through the space.) The cheers died down until it felt like a library out there. Shimmering silence.
“I thought we could do something a little different—a little special for this crowd tonight.”
I held my breath at his suggestion. What else could we possibly do?
“I thought we could sing for them. Together.”
“A duet?” I squeaked. “W-what song?” My heart was pounding. “You think we should have maybe rehearsed something first?” I whispered, only remembering the audience when they laughed. My smile wavered. Hopefully, at least the mic made it sound like I was being cheeky instead of revealing the butterflies that were all trying to climb back into their cocoons in my stomach.
“You’ll know it when you hear it.” And then he winked at me like that was supposed to make everything ok. Like charm could make up for preparedness.
He stepped back, taking my hand and pulling me with him so that he could sit on the stool that they always had out for the opening acoustics.
I shivered when his fingers separated from mine, the direct line of heat to my body gone. I rubbed my clammy palms together and then against my nice dress as Zach pulled his guitar around and propped it up on his knee.
My heart screeched to a halt and I glanced at the audience thinking that they had to have heard it.
Singing together—how many more fantasies was I going to have survive?
And then the chords began.
It took all of the first seven in the intro for me to realize what he’d picked. Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes. There are certain songs that are timeless—and not in the sense that they’ll be covered for decades, but in the sense that no matter what point in life you hear them, the words always seem to be perfect for that moment in time.
These words were perfect for now. They were also perfect six years ago.
“Stars shining bright above you,” I began with a throaty voice that would have made Ella and Adele proud. I stared at his smile, afraid this would all crumble and disappear if I looked away. “Night breezes seem to whisper, ‘I love you.’”
The look in his eyes faltered. He’d chosen the song though. He’d known I’d have to sing those words to him again.
While I tried to catch my breath—and my heart—from being stolen by him, he took the next line.
“Birds singing in the Sycamore tree, ‘Dream a little dream of me.’”
Line by line, note by note, he pulled my shiny broken pieces back to him.
“I WASN’T SURE YOU WERE serious about this,” Blake said quietly when I opened the door.
“Why wouldn’t I be?” I raised an eyebrow, stepping back and letting her enter my room first.
She shrugged, her fingers toying with the edge of that shimmering dress that clung to every damn curve of her. It looked good on her; it would look even better off.
I shouldn’t have been serious especially after my fucking harebrained decision to ask her to sing ‘Dream a Little Dream of Me’ with me. I wouldn’t take full credit for it. Bruce told me to go out there and do something unexpected and sweet. Singing a duet had been his idea. The song though, had been mine. And dinner? Well that had come from the devil and my dick—wanting more time alone with her. Seeing her standing there though—in
that dress, red lips and rosy cheeks—it was like a punch to the gut how much I was still craving her kiss; I wanted to linger on her lips until dawn.
I wanted more of yesterday.
“Is Ash ok?” I asked tightly, closing the door behind her.
I knew he’d probably had something to say about it as soon as she walked off stage after our duet. Dinner hadn’t been part of the plan.
He didn’t like things that weren’t part of the plan.
I’d expected shit, but he was gone when ZPP finished and guiltily, I was grateful. Ronnie had given me a half smile and said that Ash had texted him, Bobby, and Alex about meeting for drinks afterward; I wasn’t included because I already had ‘other’ plans.
What the fuck ever.
He’d get over it.
She nodded, adding, “Taylor told him it would be a good follow-up after the show. She… ahh… thinks I should take a photo of our food or something and post it.”
My jaw ticked. I hadn’t meant for the conversation to turn into how this night was just one more box to be checked off on the Operation-Reputation-Restore to-do list.
“You ordered already?” she turned back to me with wide, hungry eyes.
Too bad mine were only hungry for her.
“I figured you’d be starving by the time you were done, so I wanted to have it ready and waiting. I ordered us Thai. Hope that’s ok,” I said gruffly, walking around her to start unpacking the food that had been delivered just a few minutes ago. I couldn’t stand there and stare at her delectably long body another minute before I ended up laying her out on the table and eating my fill.
“I’ve never had Thai before,” she said, bending over to smell the boxes in front of her.
“Seriously?” I asked, clearing my throat, allowing myself a one-second appetizer to look at the way the dress rode up on her ass. “Well, good thing I ordered basically the whole menu.”
“Yeah,” she answered quietly with a shy smile, picking up a plate. “Taylor and I usually stick to things we’re familiar with. I don’t know why. Just easier.” Her eyes rose to mine—which were thankfully no longer lingering where they shouldn’t. “So, where do I start?”
“How about this,” I offered with a crooked smile, taking her plate from her. “Let me make you a plate.”
She licked her lip, releasing her hold. My cock throbbed against the front of these jeans that were way too tight if anyone had cared to ask how I felt about them. They hadn’t. And they were definitely too fucking tight to be worn in Blake Tyler’s presence.
I was going to regret this impromptu dinner date. I was going to regret it like you do one too many drinks at the bar. The problem was I wasn’t going to feel that regret until morning, long after I’d already done things that I wanted, but shouldn’t.
“You think we’re out of the woods, yet?” I asked as I poured out two modest glasses of wine. A small celebration of the track her reputation now seemed to be on.
“Honestly, I have no idea if we are in the clear. I’m… obviously… not the best judge of these things. That’s what I have Tay for…” she trailed off for a second before her eyes that had been trained on the empty table whipped up to mine and widened as her hand clapped up over her mouth. “Crap!” she exclaimed with muffled distress.
“What? What’s wrong?” My heart was in my throat and my hand stopped the wine mid-fill on the second glass.
“I forgot to take the picture and post it.” She groaned, pulling her hair back tightly in frustration and then letting it fall in a mess around her face. “Tay is going to kill me; I suck at this whole social media thing.”
I laughed, shaking my head, and handing her the wine glass. “Who cares about the photo?”
She took a sip. “Photos or it didn’t happen.”
My jaw ticked. “What if we go live?”
You wouldn’t think that utter confusion could look attractive on someone, but it could; it could look sexy as hell. Especially when all I saw was her hair now slightly messed, her lips no longer stained that deep red, and her body now finally relaxed after we’d spent the past half hour eating and laughing, finding the comfortable zone where we could talk about the past without having to awkwardly avoid where it ultimately led to.
“You’ve never gone live? Ronnie fucking insists that we do it all the time; he says that that is what people want to see.” I dropped back down into the chair, crossing my arms over my chest and looked up at her. “It’s just a live stream—a live video. And then people can comment and like it real-time.”
She appeared to ponder it for a second, taking another drink of the Cab Sav that I’d poured before giving me a determined nod.
It was the same nod she’d given me when I’d made the mistake of wondering out loud what would happen if we jumped off their parent’s deck onto the trampoline, promptly waiting for me to turn my back in search of Ash before she climbed the rail and launched herself onto it.
She’d survived—of course—with a giant squeal and smile.
I, on the other hand, had almost died in that split second when she disappeared over the edge.
“Let’s do it!” She reached for her purse, digging inside for her phone.
“Right… now?”
“Isn’t that what you just suggested?”
“I mean… that’s not what…” I chuckled. What the hell did I really care? I thought as I drained my wine. Especially when she looked much more excited about this than the stupid photo she forgot about.
“Alright, how do I do this?” she asked, shoving her phone in my face.
A few taps and I showed her where the ‘Go Live’ button was.
“What should I say? What if no one watches?”
The sudden seriousness of her questions and the concern in her eyes had me bursting into laughter. This was the Blake Tyler that the world needed to see. Not the fucking popstar that looked like she had everything. This Blake. The one that was nervous and self-conscious, and cared too much about what people she didn’t even know thought about her.
The truth is that you can have everything, but still not have everything figured out.
“Guess we’ll find out,” I said with a devilish grin, hitting the button and dropping the phone into her hands.
I had to give her credit, her transition time from shock to smile was impressive.
“Hi… guys,” she said nervously, her gaze slipping to mine, searching for support, and then back to the screen. “Wow… there’s a lot of you.” For her, I’m sure there was. “I’ve never done this before, so I’m sorry if I mess this up. I wanted to post a food photo from my date tonight, but I was too hungry and ate it all first.” She giggled, drinking another sip of the wine that was already starting to have an effect.
Her brilliant blues widened and shot to mine. “What…” Her brow scrunched and before I had a chance to avoid any of it, she stepped towards me and turned, plopping down right into my lap.
She turned to me, startled.
Yeah, you just sat on my lap, Blake, what the hell did you expect to find when you’ve been parading around in my hotel room in a dress made to be ripped off of you so that I can finally have a taste?
Recovering quickly, she pointed at the screen and asked, “Hold on a sec guys, Zach is teaching me how this works. What are those?”
I grinned. “Those are people liking the video.”
“All of them?” she asked, eyes wide in astonishment.
I laughed and nodded my head. “And those are comments coming in.”
“Wow, there are a lot of you guys watching. That’s so cool! Oh look, questions!”
I looked at the screen, but I was only watching her as she rattled off ‘hi’ and ‘hello’ to the slew of people commenting on the stream. We’d be here all night if she kept this up. And she would, too—in order to say ‘hi’ to each and every one of them.
I sat frozen, partially because moving would make the needy pain in my dick worse and partially because I was star-stru
ck—watching her chat and answer questions like she was talking to her mom instead of hundreds of strangers.
Her hair tickled my nose as she turned to me. “They want to talk to you.”
“Me?” I asked, taken aback. “I’m pretty sure they’re here for you, Baby Blake.”
Pink tinted her cheeks as the world heard me call her that nickname. “They are,” she replied, “but they love you, too, with your ‘sexy brooding farmboy look.’”
My jaw dropped and she burst out laughing.
“That was a direct quote, I swear!” she insisted, pointing at the screen. “Oh no! It’s gone now. Oh, but look, Krysta says she wants to ride your tractor.” Her hand clapped over her mouth and she doubled over.
“Tractor’s full,” I grumbled, feeling the way her body shuddered at my words and the way my cock pulsed against her ass. Her eyes met mine on the screen for a split second.
All I could think about was how I was inches—less than inches—from the warm haven between her thighs that my dick wanted to call home. All I could feel was the way she bounced and rubbed on it every time she laughed. Which was too damn much.
“I am pretty lucky to have such a handsome date.” Her shy happiness was caught on the screen and my stomach tightened.
Her head ducked and a blush crept into her cheeks as she read the responses.
“It’s so good to see you happy, Blake!”—Jesse
“Thank you… I’m happy to be happy, too.”
Those moments when she thought what was happening between us could be real—they killed me because I thought it, too. And it felt like Edward Scissorhands reached into my gut and went to town.
I couldn’t stop myself. Who could? She was so warm and open and trusting. The way she still looked at me even after how I’d treated her and the things I’d said should have been proof enough.
I just wanted to give her what she wanted. What we both wanted. Just for one night.
“I’d like to add something,” I interjected hoarsely, acting rather than thinking as I took her phone and angled it slightly towards me. “I think we all know who the lucky one here is.”
My hand tightened on her stomach—below where the camera captured. My fingers brushed over the edges of the design on her dress because the need to touch her was quickly winning out over every sane thought.
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