Between the sound of my heart ricocheting loudly against my chest, our heavy breathing and the lust pulsing through my veins, we don’t even hear the sound of a person approaching, until the voice startles us.

Chapter Seventeen

Lucky

“Sorry to interrupt,” the blond facilities manager says snidely.

Startled, I jump. My instinct is to back away from Flynn. Unravel myself from his arms. But when I try to, he tightens his grip and holds me in place.

“What can we do for you?” Flynn says, impatience obvious.

“The electricians need to turn the power off to wire in some pyrotechnics for tonight’s show. It will only take about fifteen minutes, but the lighting needs to be off.” She plasters on a smile that is way too sugary to be sweet. “Doesn’t look like you’ll mind a little darkness though.”

“By all means.” Flynn shrugs. I’m not sure if he doesn’t pick up her sarcasm or just doesn’t care.

With a toss of her bleached hair, she turns and disappears. The clickity-clack of her heels sound in her wake until the door slams closed. I look at Flynn. “I don’t think she was happy.”

“I don’t think I care.” He grins.

Reality begins to come flooding back, hitting like a tidal wave. My head spins. What did I just do? “Flynn…I…we…”

He pulls his head back, taking in the confusion that’s written all over my face. His grip around me loosens a bit, although he still doesn’t let go. “You okay?”

I’m not. I’m elated, sad, happy, guilt-ridden, emotionally spent and entirely bewildered. What the hell did I do? I’m the one who initiated the kiss—it wasn’t like it just happened. “Yes. No. Yes. I mean…”

Flynn grins. “You sound sure of yourself.”

“I’m sorry. I…I shouldn’t have.”

The look of disappointment on his face makes my heart break into a thousand little pieces. He releases me from his hold, taking a step back. Blowing out a thick stream of air, he rakes his fingers through his hair. “No. I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry.”

“But I kissed you.”

“Pretty sure we were both involved in that kiss.”

“I know. But I…” I look away, guilt beginning to eclipse my other emotions, making me see things more clearly. Making me feel sick.

The sound of a door opening and workmen coming in interrupts our conversation. A man’s voice calls out to us, “We’re about to cut the electricity. You might want to step down from the stage. Gets pretty dark in here.”

Awkwardness has descended between us—the first since the day we met. We leave the arena and ride back to the hotel in deafening silence. I’m lost in thought, my mind whirling between what I’ve done and why I did it, but mostly I find myself thinking about how right it felt, even though it was clearly wrong.

“Hey,” Flynn says as we pull up to the hotel. I’m looking out the window and barely notice we’ve stopped. With his thumb and forefinger, he lifts my chin, forcing my eyes to his. “You kicked step six’s ass.”

I smile. “You’re being kind. I didn’t kick its ass. I tripped over it and fell. But you were there to save me.”

“You don’t give yourself enough credit. But whatever part I had, the pleasure was all mine.” He opens the door to the SUV and hops out. Standing, he offers his hand to help me exit, then closes the door behind me and raps on the hood twice to let the driver know to take off.

We’re almost at the entrance to the hotel when I slow down. “Flynn.”

“Hmmm.”

“I’m sorry I kissed you.”

He winks at me. “I’m not.”

Dylan was supposed to hit more radio stations this afternoon, so I’m surprised when I open the door and find him lounging on the bed, watching TV.

“I didn’t think you’d be here,” I say, almost accusingly. Not a very nice way to greet your boyfriend.

“You don’t sound happy that I am.” His brows knit together.

“I am. It’s just…I thought you had to go to the radio stations, so I was surprised. And I’m sort of not feeling well.”

“Mick went missing again.” Dylan sits up on the edge of the bed and pats his lap.

“Missing?”

“Yeah. He does that every once in a while. Ties one on and no one knows where he is, so we wind up changing our schedule.”

“Doesn’t that bother you?”

Dylan shrugs. “The tour manager hates it. But we’re all used to it by now. Used to happen every few days. He’s slowed down in his old age. Why are you all the way over there still? Come here.”

I walk to him, my steps heavy, laden down with guilt.

He pulls me onto his lap. “I’m actually glad the interview was canceled. They’ve had me so booked with crap, we haven’t had a chance to enjoy being off the tour bus and properly take advantage of this big bed.” He nuzzles against my neck. The exact same spot Flynn was nibbling on only an hour ago. A real wave of nausea hits me. I seriously think I’m going to be sick.

“I’m sorry. I think I’m going to…” I dart to the bathroom.

I splash my face with water and look in the mirror. Unable to stand the sight of myself, I slide down the wall behind me and sit on the floor with my head in my hands. How long can I hide out in here? Dylan will eventually check on me. I decide to take a shower, wash some of the guilt away, or at least the remnants of another man’s mouth on me. It’s the least I can do.

When I emerge in a towel, Dylan’s on the phone. He smiles at me and his eyes drop to my bare legs.

“No. Just cancel it. I have other plans for this afternoon now.”

Other plans? I really need to be alone right now, and something tells me his other plans are me.

He hangs up just as I’ve pulled out a change of clothes from the drawer. He comes up behind me and gently kisses my bare shoulder. “You feeling better?”

“Not really. Sorry. Must be a stomach flu.”

He turns me and parts my towel at my stomach. Bending down, his lips brush against the skin of my belly. “Let me kiss it and make it feel better.”

“I…I don’t want to get you sick.”

He drops to his knees and tugs harshly so my towel falls to the floor. “I won’t catch anything. Not from the parts I’m going to kiss.”

Part of me really wanted to skip the concert tonight. Feign sickness and stay in bed all night to avoid seeing Flynn. Seeing anyone, actually. But a bigger part of me wanted to see him up on stage. It’s his first night filling in for Linc and playing with Easy Ryder. He’s been there for me and my big moments lately, so I want to be there for his.

The backstage area at the American Airlines Arena is huge. Somehow, we manage not to run into each other before the show. After Dylan leaves to get ready to go on stage, I head down to watch the concert from the floor. Winding my way through the maze of halls backstage, I make my way to the floor exit. As soon as I turn the last corner, I catch a glimpse of Flynn at the other end of the hall. He’s talking to a woman. She’s super tall, almost as tall as him, and model-waif thin. Between her cropped top and low-waisted skirt, the bare expanse of her skin runs a mile long. Flawless, exposed skin. Long, wavy chestnut hair hangs loose, framing her abundant cleavage. She has one hand on Flynn’s chest and her head is tipped in that provocative, flirty way that makes a man’s eyes focus on her neck.