MY FAVORITE BAND, page 76
“What made you change your mind?” I ask softly. For some reason, I have to know.
“When you said you’d do anything to keep me safe and that you had to think long-term, it suddenly clicked for me.” She clears her throat and presses her lips together as she tries to keep the tears at bay. “That’s all I want out of life. Someone who will protect me and think through the long-term ramifications of his actions and what they’ll mean for our relationship. Someone who’s caring and kind but who will prove his love and loyalty to me no matter the cost. Someone who’s hot and sexy and talented and strong...” She squeezes my bicep, and she giggles when I flex.
“Hot and sexy?” I ask.
Her cheeks turn pink again, but she plows through her mortification as she nods. “Yes. I think maybe that could be your nickname.”
I laugh. “Well, then we must be a perfect match.” I run my hand along her thigh, visions of our one shared night flashing through my mind. My fingertips reach under the short, tight hem of her dress. “Because you’re beyond hot and sexy, Mrs. Wilson.” I press my lips to her neck and trail them to her ear, and I feel the exact moment goosebumps trail along her flesh. “And I remember that night,” I whisper close to her ear. I press a kiss just below her lobe. “We had sex. Oh, God did we have sex.” I say it on a moan because I know what it’ll do to her. “And it was incredible.”
She gasps, and I swallow her surprise when my lips crash down to hers.
CHAPTER 41: EMILY
I feel like I might pass out from the heat rushing into my cheeks and the searing ache between my legs, but at the same time, my heart feels like it could burst with happiness.
He remembers that night? How long has he remembered?
How could I not remember?
How could he not tell me?
Stupid tequila!
I’m never drinking tequila again!
But I can’t focus on any of that because Adam’s lips are on mine and everything else starts to fade away except for him and me and my body’s visceral reaction to him.
His tongue pushes into my mouth and brushes my own as his hand continues its play on my thigh. His fingers stroke my leg, causing a stronger and more powerful ache that only he can satisfy.
And he will satisfy it.
I don’t know if it’ll be right now, later tonight, tomorrow, or a month from now, but I’m going to have sex with my husband.
And this time I’m going to remember it.
It’s some involuntary response to his kiss when I turn in toward him and his hand finds my ass at the same time, urging me onto his lap. Suddenly I’m straddling him and my palms are cupping his cheeks, the rough bristles on his jaw firing off a heated message that this is real and it’s happening.
As his mouth continues its invasion of mine, his fingers are moving along my thighs, stopping every so often to dig into my flesh like he’s doing everything he can to hold himself back from tearing off my dress and taking me right here in this private room we found while everyone else in his band preps to take the stage soon. His fingers inch under my dress, sliding up my thighs higher and higher, the ever-present ache pulsing and throbbing for him. He shifts his hips, driving up toward me, and I can’t help a whiney little moan of need.
Speaking of need...I need to feel those abs.
I trail my hands down toward the hem of his shirt so I can reach under it to feel the warm ridges beneath. I’ve almost reached the promised land when someone starts banging on the door.
And yes, banging is the perfect term to use there because I was about to let Adam bang me right here on this couch.
He chuckles against my lips, breaking our kiss. He leans his forehead to mine again. “After the show tonight. After it’s over, and everyone’s gone, and it’s the new year, and we’re back home...then you’re mine.”
His eyes catch mine, and they’re full of fire. I press my lips to his once more in a silent agreement to his words, and then I reluctantly force myself off his lap. He sits and draws in a deep breath as if he’s trying to calm himself down, his eyes on me the entire time. I start moving toward the door.
“God, you’re hot,” he says, shaking his head like he never really noticed before.
But he notices now.
Finally.
“I wish I didn’t have to work,” he says. He stands and takes a few steps toward me. “I wish I could take you home right now and replay that night so you can remember it, too. So you can think about it at the most inopportune times like I do. My hand sliding up your leg. Kisses and moans.” He stops in front of me and lowers his mouth to my ear. “Our bodies connecting. Nothing between us. Your lips wrapped around my dick.”
His dirty words have the intended effect, and I’m left more than a little speechless as I try to get my wits about me again. It’s useless, though, as he opens the door and finds Brody there.
“What?” Adam demands, and Brody laughs as he takes stock of the empty room we’re in.
“Nice. Find yourselves a little sex den?”
Adam punches him in the arm. “Fuck off.”
They’re adorable as they act like bickering brothers.
Brody laughs. “You’re needed next door. Kane’s trying to make a last-minute change to the setlist and you’re the tiebreaker.”
“Great,” he mutters. He grabs my hand and pulls me along with him as if he didn’t just leave me a puddle of lust with his seduction—with his mouth and his words and his promise for more.
It’s not long before MFB takes the stage. Amber and I stand beside the significant others of the rest of the band—Kylie, Zoey, and Sierra—like we’re a real part of the family. The cameras are there, of course. They’re capturing the show and they’re capturing the band’s number one fans backstage as we link arms and sing every word to every song.
It’s the most fun I think I’ve ever had on a New Year’s Eve. My best friend is by my side, laughing and dancing with me, and three other women who I see becoming close friends in my future are here too. My husband is out on that stage bleeding his raw talent for the world to see, and his best friends are beside him doing the same.
After the things we said to each other tonight, the panic of the other night and the photographer and what Bree did is pushed to the back of my mind—but never completely forgotten. He’s right, though. When the world gets to watch the footage that’s being taken right now, they’ll see our love story.
Only it’ll look like we were already in love when filming began. The truth that only we and a few select people in our innermost circle know is that the cameras have actually been filming the start of something beautiful—potentially the most important relationship of my life.
Only time will tell the answer to that, but feelings this strong aren’t passing ships in the night. They’re forever kinds of feelings...something it took me a minute to realize since I don’t know that I’ve ever really felt them before.
There are only three minutes left in this year.
I can’t help but reflect on exactly how I got to where I am.
I spent the majority of my year with Chad. We haven’t even been broken up four weeks yet, but it seems like ages with everything that’s changed in that short span of time.
I’m a different person than I was four weeks ago.
I’m still careful and logical and cautious—except when I’ve had tequila—but I’m also tapping into an impulsive side that’s willing to take important risks when the stakes are high.
And the highest stake I’ve ever placed in a bet is handing my heart over to Adam to do with it what he will. I just hope and pray that the forthcoming year will prove that I made the right choice.
The song ends, and Dax takes the microphone. “We officially have two minutes left in the year, and I have something I need to say.” He glances backstage and nods his head toward us as if to say, come on out.
My heart thunders in my chest.
Adam mentioned that this is a much smaller venue than they usually play, but I’ve still never been on a stage like this before.
Kylie leads first, and the rest of us follow. Everyone beside me—Amber included—seems calm, cool, and collected, but my hands are shaking and I feel like I could throw up.
We each take our place beside our men.
I can’t help but giggle when I see my best friend sidle up next to Rascal. They’re a match I never would’ve put together—pretty, smart Amber with her blonde hair and brown eyes, her fitted red dress that totally clashes with his orangey-red, short hair, and him with a Rolling Stones t-shirt complete with their tongue and lips logo paired with ripped jeans...but somehow they just seem to work. They’re happy together. They make each other laugh. They find balance in one another—she forces him to make better decisions, and he helps her to lighten up a little.
I guess the same could be said for Adam and me. He’s way out of my league. He’s so damn hot, he’s got these abs that I obviously haven’t seen enough of yet (I don’t know if I’ll ever see enough of them), and he’s in a freaking band, while I’m the queen of being sensible, I’m kind of a numbers geek, and I’m excited to go back to school.
Yet somehow we find ourselves married...and working on giving our marriage a real try.
When my eyes meet Adam’s, I instantly calm. I forget there’s a crowd staring at us. I forget everything, really, except how I feel about him and how happy I am to be in this situation that had such a tumultuous, wild beginning.
I grin at my husband as I take my place by his side, and his face lights with a smile.
After Dax kisses Kylie, he says, “We have some exciting news that I’m sharing for the first time publicly with all of you.”
Adam glances at me with a bit of surprise in his eyes, like he knows what Dax is about to say. “Oh, God, Dax. Don’t do it.”
I glance from him to the microphone in front of him and tilt my head in confusion. Can’t the crowd hear what he’s saying? He was just singing backup vocals a second ago.
“It’s off,” he whispers, as if catching my confusion.
I nod in understanding, but I still don’t know what Adam thinks Dax is about to say.
“We set a wedding date. We’re getting married this March, and we can’t wait for you all to see it when our surprise new season of Rock on the Road airs in the summer.”
The crowd goes wild, and Adam looks a little relieved.
“What?” I ask him quietly.
“I thought he was gonna tell everyone Kylie’s pregnant,” he blurts, and then his eyes widen like he can’t believe he just said that.
“Kylie’s pregnant?” I’m shocked by his announcement, but I still keep my voice down so no microphones can pick up what we’re saying. My mic pack is back in the dressing room, and he isn’t wearing one since he’s on stage.
“It’s a secret.” He makes an oops face. “Shit. I wasn’t supposed to say anything.”
I giggle and hold up a hand. “Secret’s safe with me.”
He laughs and leans in for a quick kiss. “I fucking love you.”
I take a little step back in surprise.
“What?” he asks, the color draining from his face.
I lift a shoulder. “You just haven’t said that yet.”
He nods, his brows furrowing. “Of course I have.”
I shake my head. “No, you haven’t. I’m falling for you. I’m falling in love with you. Yeah, you’ve said those things to me multiple times. But I love you?” I wave my hands out to indicate the crowd watching us. “I’ll never forget the first time my husband told me he loved me. It was in front of a crowd on New Year’s Eve on our three-week wedding anniversary.”
He laughs and pulls me into him, leaning his forehead against mine. “Happy anniversary.”
“Happy anniversary,” I repeat. “And I love you too.”
He kisses me—really kisses me this time—and it doesn’t matter that we’re standing on a stage and a crowd is hooting and hollering a few feet away and bright lights make us one of the focal points up here. It doesn’t matter that there’s a countdown going on to welcome in a new year. It doesn’t matter that we miss it because we’re already participating in the most important kiss of the year—of two years, actually. We said our I love yous and sealed it with a kiss, closing out the past as we look forward to the year ahead.
And despite the crowd watching us, I know for sure this time that it has nothing to do with cameras or microphones or any old show.
It’s just for us...and that feels pretty darn good.
CHAPTER 42: ADAM
We haven’t sealed the deal yet.
Not for lack of trying on my part, but things have just been...chaotic.
We’re four days into the new year and about to board a bus for the next six weeks, and we haven’t had sex yet.
The moment hasn’t been right.
Our New Year’s party went far later than I imagined it would, and Emily was asleep in the car before I even got her home.
I’ve had tour prep with MFB, which seems like it should be old hat by now, but it’s not. There’s a lot of logistics to work out, especially since our tour manager, Mitch, called to let us know he has to take off this leg of our tour. His mom is sick and needs surgery, so he’s staying in Los Angeles to be with her. Kylie said she can pull double duty, but it’s a lot for one person to handle, so the five of us have been devising ways we can split up Mitch’s duties.
And it’s not just that. Our tour prep has also included meetings with our record label regarding new music and the schedule they want us to work on to put it out. It’s aggressive. It’s doable, but it’ll mean long hours of writing and practicing and less time with my bride.
But in six weeks, we get back from the tour just in time for our wedding.
And I have some things planned for our reception.
I’ve already worked out the finer details of the gifts I’ll be giving my bride, but I guess I’m sort of looking toward our wedding as the turning point in our relationship. We’re kind of dating now, even though we’re married, but things are moving quickly. It was a natural progression we fell into when we started faking for the cameras, and even though it was fast, it’s actually been close to fifteen years in the making.
So it hasn’t been that quick.
I’m a little anxious about this trip. The last time we were on a bus together, Emily wasn’t speaking to me. The bunks mean close quarters, and I don’t know how I’m going to keep my hands off her.
And I need to keep my hands off her.
She deserves more than the tight quarters of a bus bunk for our first real time together, a time we’re both going to remember.
I have the perfect plan.
The bus isn’t as quiet and relaxing as usual since we’re all feeling the pressure of our looming deadline. We’ve written about half the songs we’ll need for our next album, which is a good start...but that means the finish line isn’t even close to being in sight.
I give Emily an apologetic look as I’m whisked away to the office, the back room on the bus where the writing always takes place on tour. I know she can fend for herself, and I know she and Kylie have more wedding plans to hammer out, but I still feel bad leaving her mere minutes after the bus turned out of the parking lot.
Usually tour launches are met with a little more fanfare, but truth be told, I think we’re all just tired. We’ve been on tour for months, and this is our last leg. The holiday break was a nice preview of what’s to come after this leg, but we have twenty-two shows over six weeks plus an album to write.
It’s dinnertime when we emerge from the office, and we’re not even halfway from San Diego to our destination in Dallas. It’s a long, boring ride, but that’s a lot of what touring is.
I’m a little worried Emily is going to be miserable. She doesn’t have an official job to do apart from being my assistant, and while she’s getting to know Kylie, she doesn’t exactly have friends on this tour apart from me. This is a whole new world for her, and so I’ve started devising a plan. I just need a few minutes alone with Kylie to explain.
I find Kylie and Emily in the forward cabin watching a movie. They’re each sprawled on recliners like they own the place, which, in some respects, they sort of do. They’re the only women on this tour. Sierra never joins us on tour because she still works a regular job, while Zoey scored a small role in a television show and couldn’t make the tour work with her schedule.
I haven’t yet come to terms with the fact that my sister is dating Rascal, but she’s not on the tour, either. In my own view, it’s because things aren’t serious enough for him to invite her along...but I’m not so sure that’s true. It may have more to do with her work schedule.
I didn’t ask, but I’m wondering if I should.
“Anybody hungry?” I ask, interrupting the movie.
“Starving,” Emily says.
I pull out a bag of food from the fridge marked January 4. We learned on our first tour that you can’t just stuff your face with fast food every night and expect to be able to run around the stage, so I studied healthy eating habits and what meals travel well on the road. It’s not an exact science, but tonight we have a tray of fruits and vegetables along with a selection of chicken wraps. One of Kylie’s responsibilities as our manager is making sure we’re fed every night, and I’ve taken on the responsibility of helping her order healthy meals in every city. Maybe now that I have a personal assistant, I can hand off that duty.
It might give her a sense of purpose along with the other thing I thought of.
My chance to talk to Kylie comes a little later that night after dinner when we pass each other in the office.
“Can I talk to you a minute?”
Her brows draw down. “Of course. What is it?”
“Thanks for taking the time to get to know Emily,” I begin.
She nods. “She’s lovely, and it’s not just because of the sacrifices she’s making for us.”
I nod. “She’s amazing. And she also has a head for numbers. Her dream is to be an accountant.”
