I ping the water bottle back at him. “Shut the hell up.”
I’m never living this down. I’ll be Senõr Shitpants for the whole tour. But it sets me free. “I’ll meet up with you later,” I tell them as I head for the door.
“Not if you’re still Crappy McGee,” Rye calls out.
“Maybe we’d better have Jules order a box of Depends just in case.”
Yep. The whole tour.
When I finally let myself into her room, I’m tense, irritable, and ready to climb the damn walls.
Libby is in the bedroom and calls out a faint “hey” as I set the keycard down on the console and toe off my shoes. My insides are still jumpy, but I can’t ignore the simple fact that walking into a space that contains Liberty is like stepping into a hot shower after a long show. My muscles release. I can breathe. I feel like myself again.
Her disembodied voice comes from the bedroom. “You know what sucks?”
“When cable networks decided to split TV seasons in half?” I peel my shirt off and toss it aside, heading her way. “I mean, what is that shit? Don’t make us pay just because you have a slow-as-fuck production schedule.”
“Don’t really watch TV.”
Halting in the doorway, I press a hand to my heart with a pained groan. “That’s it; we can’t be together anymore. And what the hell are you doing?”
Liberty stands on her tiptoes at the top of the bed, her sweet ass peeking out from under the edge of one of my T-shirts while she tries to reach something on the ceiling. “What I wouldn’t give for a broom. I’m trying to get this moth—”
My yelp effectively cuts her off. I scramble back to the edge of the door. “Moth? Where is the fucking moth!”
Libby turns, her mouth hanging open. “What on Earth?”
A cold sweat breaks out over my skin as I eye the tiny hell devil fluttering around the pot light over the bed. Jesus, did I miss that? It makes a move my way, and I shout, jumping farther back. “Kill it, woman! Kill. It!”
Libby sputters out a laugh then does a double-take when I fall onto the arm chair. “You’re serious.”
I don’t take my eyes of Mothra. “Are you going to kill it, or am I calling security?”
Snickering, she picks up a pillow.
Horror arcs through my gut. “Not the pillow—” She smashes it into the moth. And I shudder. “Damn it, I’m not using that pillow. Ever again.”
“We’ll wash the case.”
“Not good enough. Put the pillow in the hall.”
Libby gives me a side-long look as she grabs a tissue and cleans up the little moth carcass. Or I think that’s what she’s doing. I can’t watch.
“Is it gone?”
Libby’s warm thighs slide over mine, and her weight settles on me. Even though I’m still creeped out by the moth previously hanging out above my bed—just fucking waiting to get me when I slept—my hands immediately seek her, smoothing over her soft skin and grabbing hold of her ass. God, I love her ass, plump yet toned. I could squeeze it all day.
She makes a little throaty noise, her arms coming up to wrap around my neck, and heat flares up my thighs. I tug her closer, wanting her over my dick. She doesn’t resist, but she’s definitely distracted.
“What’s with the moths?” she asks, placing a soft kiss at the corner of my eye.
It’s weird to shiver with both the pleasure of her kiss and revulsion for the moth. As good as she feels, an intruder moth has the power to send me running. I grimace and concentrate on her scent, her warm skin. “I hate them.”
Libby makes a soft sound. “I got that. Why?” Her fingers trace patterns through my shorn hair.
“It’s stupid.” I kiss my way up her neck. “I was nine. At summer camp. A moth flew in my ear, started fluttering around…” A full-body shudder threatens to dislodge Libby from my lap, and I squeeze her tight, pressing my face into her hair. “Let’s not talk about it.”
She chuckles, her hands roaming over my shoulders, my nape. “Poor Killian. Don’t worry; you’re safe now.”
I grunt, nudging her with my hips. “I’m not convinced. Kiss it and make it better, Libs.”
I can almost feel her smile. “Where does it hurt, baby?”
“The tip of my dick.”
Libby hums, rocking against said dick. “Hmm… So a moth crawled up your—”
With a yell, I leap up, sending her butt to the floor, where she cracks up as I jump away. I glare as my chest lifts and falls. “You are fucking evil. Evil.”
I try not to notice that her shirt is around her waist and her legs are spread wide as she lays there laughing her ass off. Libby wipes her eyes. “You walked right into that one.”
No, I won’t smile. Growling like I mean it, I swoop down and haul her up. She squeals as I throw her over my shoulder and toss her onto the bed, landing on top of her before she can get away. Caging her between my arms, I frown down at her. She just smiles and laughs.
“You’re supposed to be repentant,” I say.
She responds by craning her neck and kissing the tip of my nose. “Okay.”
I settle more comfortably between her legs. “Don’t give me that cute smile.” My lips brush her cheek. “I’m mad at you.”
“Uh-huh.” Her hands find my neck, her fingers digging into the tense muscles there. She snickers again.
“Keep laughing,” I say. “See where that gets you.”
“Did you know you can laugh yourself to death?”
“What? Fuck, don’t tell me that.” I kiss the crook of her neck, lingering there. “I’ll end up living in fear that one of us will die laughing.”
My hands bracket her delicate jaw, and I kiss her again, just to feel the shape of her smile. Libby melts beneath me, her lips opening. But I’m not the one doing the taking. She kisses me like I’m her favorite flavor.
Her lips curve against mine. Another smile. I’d have all of them if I could. This is why going out no longer means anything. If the guys had this, they’d get it.
“Don’t worry,” she says, playing with the short ends of my hair. “I’ll protect you.”
“Protect me from laughing? I don’t see how since you’re the one who usually makes me laugh.”
“Whenever you’re in danger of losing your breath with laughter…” She suckles my earlobe, brining me in close, her voice a soft tickle on my skin. “I’ll mention moths.”
I yelp, a jolt of ear-to-moth-induced terror lighting through me. Libby tosses her head back, cackling. I launch myself on top of her, my fingers finding her sensitive spots. “You evil pixie. Cruel, evil…”
Words dissolve. I’m done for with this girl. I sink against her with a sigh, careful not to crush her, but letting her feel my weight. My eyes close as I wrap myself around her. “I missed you today.”
My voice is muffled in her hair but she goes still, clearly hearing me.
“I was right there with you,” she says in a low voice.
“Were you?” My back tenses, and I remember her earlier distance, the coldness of being shut out. “Felt like you were somewhere else.”
She tenses too, her body squirming. I don’t let her go. She’ll run, and I hate that.
“Killian, let me breathe.”
“Breathing’s overrated,” I mutter but roll off her.
Libby sits and swings her feet over the side of the bed, giving me her back. Fuck it. I’m not letting her hide. I push up and sit next to her.
“Scottie talked to me today,” she says, staring at the floor.
“I saw.” I’d been waiting for her to tell me. For any word. Instead I’d gotten silence.
An exasperated sound tears from her throat. “You could have warned me.”
“Yeah, I could have.” I run a hand along the back of my neck. “I didn’t want to.”
She turns toward me so fast, her hair slaps my shoulder. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
I snort, holding her glare. “So you could run from it? Talk yourself out of thing
s before you heard what he had to say? No, Libs, I’m not kidding.”
“You don’t know that—”
“I do. I know you. Whether you want to admit that or not.” I lean closer. “I. Know. You.”
I hear her teeth clack. “If you know me so well,” she grinds out, “you should know I don’t want or need you to plot my life.”
“And if you knew me at all, you’d never accuse me of that.” I lurch to my feet and pace away, my face going hot. “Shit. I mean, you seriously think that’s what I did?”
She crosses her arms over her chest. “You just admitted to talking to him!”
“Talking, Libs. That’s all. Jesus.” I clamp my hands to the back of my aching head. “He asked my opinion. I gave it. Don’t turn this into some wild conspiracy.”
Libby stands, her fists balling at her sides. “Are you telling me you didn’t bring me here thinking this would happen? That you didn’t, for one second, think about Scottie trying to make me something I’m not?”
“You think I’m going to deny that the second I played with you I knew you’d be great on a stage? I’m not.” I laugh without humor. “And you shouldn’t either.”
She blows out a breath. “I’m not a star.”
Something in me softens, and I take a step closer. “You’re already halfway there. You just don’t see it yet.”
Panic flares in her eyes, and she backs up, her lips parting as the struggles to breathe. “I want this.”
The crazy thing? I’m the one who lights up inside. Her successes have become mine. “Babe, you’ll have it.”
But she shakes her head as if I’m not getting it. “A few months ago, I was living by the sea. The only people I talked to were Mrs. Nellwood and old George at the gas station.”
“And did you like it?”
“I hated it,” she hisses, her eyes going glassy. “You took me out of that. I never dreamed this life would happen. But it’s here. And now…” A furious blush stains her cheeks. God, my girl has pride by the boatload. But her confidence has been kicked hard. Libby brushes back a lock of her hair and lifts her chin like she’s squaring off for a hit. “You agree with Scottie that I should do something that will take me away.”
The implication hits me like a brick. My heart squeezes in my chest. She’s so fucking wrong. How can she be so right for me and so wrong about herself? I close the gap between us and draw her into my arms. She struggles, trying to break free as I “shhh” her under my breath and rub her arms.
“It’s not about sending you away, baby doll. It’s about setting you free.”
Her back stiffens. “Free? I’m sorry, but that’s just semantics, Killian.”
“No way,” I say against her cheek, still holding fast. “You want the truth? When Scottie told me he was going to ask to represent you, a part of me hated the idea.” My fingers grip her silky hair. “A big part of me. Because I want you here. With me. Always.”
She sucks in a breath, like she’s going to respond, probably tear into me. So I kiss her, soft, searching, then hard and a little desperate. We’re both panting when I pull away. My chest hurts, and when I rest my forehead against hers, I’m suddenly so weary I have to close my eyes.
“But that’s selfish, Libby. And I can’t do that to you. Never to you. Because you deserve that chance, even if it pulls you away from me for a time. So I told him to go for it.”
“Killian.” She sighs and rubs her hands along my chest, almost as if it soothes her more than me. “Not everyone has your confidence. Some of us need to feel our way around a little.”
My lips press against her forehead, and I breathe her in before speaking. “Babe, if I’ve learned anything about opportunity, it’s that you make it happen. Fear will only hold you back. You can have the world. Just reach for it.”
“I don’t need the world,” she whispers.
“What do you need?” I ask just as softly.
Her hands slide up to my neck, her lips nuzzling my jaw. “You.”
I swear my knees go weak. I have to lock it up, suck in a breath. I hug her tight, unwilling to let go even to find her mouth. Not yet. “Fuck, Libby.” I snuggle her closer. “We need to stop hiding. I fucking hate it.”
I feel her tense and cup her cheeks. Her eyes are wide and panicked. It pisses me off and makes me want to cuddle her, protect her from the world. Only I’m the source of her pain. Which is a kick in the gut. It turns my voice raw. “You want me, but you want to hide us?”
“When you put it that way, you make it sound petty.”
“Well, excuse me for stating the facts.” Irritation crawls up my spine.
She flinches, her fingers wrapping around my wrists. She holds me there. “Words are simple, Killian. Real life is a bit more messy.”
“Bullshit. Why are you resisting this? Because I gotta tell you, it hurts.”
“Jax is just starting to respect me.”
“Jax can go fuck himself,” I snap, then sigh. “Baby doll, you have his respect. It’s not going to go because we’re together.”
“You sure of that?” She doesn’t sound remotely convinced.
I open my mouth to answer, but it gets lodged in my throat. Because who the fuck knows with Jax anymore? Libby’s eyes narrow.
“You can’t even deny it,” she points out.
“Look, maybe I don’t know exactly how he’ll react.”
“And the reporter who asked me if I was fucking you?”
“What?” A lick of anger flicks against my neck. “Who the fuck asked you that?”
“A reporter in Chicago. She asked me flat out if I was fucking you. She wondered why else I—‘a nobody’—would be on tour with you.”
“All right, what’s this chick’s name, because I’m not having that shit.” In fact, I’m rethinking having any fucking reporters at our after parties. Not if they’re going to harass Libby.
“It doesn’t matter,” she says in a weary voice.
“Of course it does—”
“No, Killian. It doesn’t. Not if that’s what they’re all thinking. Getting them fired or cussing them out will only fan the flames.”
“Shit.” I pace in front of her, grasping the back of my neck. “It’s a bunch of bullshit, you know. Anyone who hears you knows you’re talented. Scottie wouldn’t want you as a client if you weren’t. Trust me on that one.”
“I do.” Libby approaches, eyes wide and pained. Her palm rests on my chest a second before she wraps her arms around my waist, and because I can’t stand not touching her, I hug her close. She nips at my neck then sighs. “I hate it, you know. You think it’s easy for me to hide how I feel?” She laughs but it doesn’t sound happy. “God, it’s the worst kind of torture. Even worse than back when we first meet and I was trying to keep my cool and not jump your hot bones.”
My eyes close again, and I rest my cheek on her head. “That so?”
“Mmm-hmmm… Because now, I know what I’m missing.” Her fingers steal under my shirt and stroke. “You are the best part of my day, Killian.”
My throat locks up with embarrassing swiftness, and I hold her tighter.
Delicate fingers run along my back. “Nothing would make me happier than being able to claim you in public. But that joy would be blackened if, in return, we have to deal with ugly speculation.”
I think about how I would have reacted if I’d heard the reporter ask Libby those questions. I would have lost my shit. I know it. And the knowledge sinks like a stone in my gut. Gone are the days of wild, out-of-control rocker behavior. You cause a scene, you’re gonna pay. Record label lawyers breathing down your neck about breach of contract and behavior clauses, press replaying your actions in slow motion over and over. It isn’t pretty.
One of the absolute worst parts of Jax’s suicide attempt were the clips of him being wheeled into an ambulance, which played on a seemingly endless loop, along with the smug-as-fuck reporters discussing why he did it and whether he’d ever recover his career. Was it the band’
s fault, or was he was just trying to get attention?
Turning away from the life was the only recourse any of us had to maintain our sanity and dignity.
I take a heavy breath and let it out slow. “Okay, we don’t have to make it public yet. But the guys? They can keep secrets. Hell, we’re trained to close ranks. No one will know shit unless we let them. And I’m tired of hiding this from my friends. I’m tired of lying. It isn’t exactly admirable, either.”
She lets me go and runs her hand through her hair. “I know. But the guys won’t look at me the same way.”
“I disagree. But, hell, it shouldn’t matter what they think.”
She snorts, her lips twisting. “No, it shouldn’t. But it does. And I’ve yet to come across anyone who truly doesn’t care what the people they work with think about them.”
“I don’t.”
“Yes, you do.” She rests a hand on my chest. “You have more confidence than any one man has a right to, but you want your friends’ good opinions. You wanted it for me. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have done all that you did to smooth my way.”
Pressure tightens against my ribs, and I grunt. “Okay, fine. I want them to like you. I want us to get along. But—”
“Right now it’s just us in our own private little bubble. Everything changes when we tell them, for better or worse. If we could just wait…” She bites her lip. “Please, Killian? Please, just a little longer?”
My chest tightens even more. Sure, she has a point, but when will that ever change? And if she doesn’t want this now, when will she? I swallow hard against the lump in my throat. “I hate this. All day I wanted to touch you. It’s not even sex, Lib. I have to fight the impulse to hold your damn hand. I’m cut off at the balls.”
Her mouth quirks, but it only fuels my anger.
“I can’t do this much longer.” The words hang there, sounding harder than I intended.
“Do what?” she asks, her face paling.
I stare at her, realizing I could give an ultimatum. I could force the issue. I’m not used to feeling helpless or hurt. Fuck. I take a breath past the ache in my ribs. “You’ve had a lot heaped on you today. I’m taking a shower.” I back away from her, heading toward the bathroom. “Figure out your shit, Libby. I’ll be here when you do.”
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