Well, she would, then. Her own hands went to the front of his shirt, just so she could touch him, could feel his warmth one more time. She already missed him. “Two weeks is a long time. You’re not going to forget me, are you?” Damn it, she’d tried to keep her voice light and teasing, but it’d come out shaky instead.

“Not at all,” Cade told her, and kissed the tip of her nose. “I will text you so often that you’ll feel like you have a stalker.”

She grinned up at him. “And you’ll send back my panties?”

The look he gave her was downright naughty. “You know what you have to do to get those panties back.”

Kylie bit her lip. “You’re incorrigible.”

“Just determined to see you in a few pictures, that’s all.” His blue eyes gleamed wickedly.

“I’ll see what I can do,” she murmured, and tilted her face back for a kiss. Truth be told, she was already planning the series of pictures she’d send him. He was fascinated with watching her put on makeup, so she’d definitely have to have a naked shot of her putting on lipstick, or maybe just one of her breasts . . . the possibilities were endless.

He kissed her back, lightly sucking on her lower lip as she tried to pull away, making the kiss last even longer. When they finally pulled apart, he murmured, “I miss you already.”

It scared her that she felt the same way.

—

When she boarded the tour bus, Kylie handed her suitcase off and held her purse close as she went to her regular seat toward the front. She had her potted violet in hand and set it carefully on the empty seat next to her. The smokers—aka the dancers—liked to hang out in the back, swapping cigarettes or weed while they wasted the hours between tour stops. Today, the bus smelled like weed, which was irritating. She stood up and pushed her window down to let in fresh air, then shot a glare at the smoky back of the bus. Kylie was in a sour mood. The thought of not seeing Cade for two weeks was already bugging the hell out of her, and it had only been an hour or so since she’d left him. How was she possibly going to get through two weeks?

As if he could hear her thoughts, her phone buzzed with an incoming text, and a smiley face popped up on her screen, which made her grin.

Two weeks might not be so bad if they involved constant texts. And if he was getting pictures of her? She wanted pictures of him, too. They didn’t have to be nude pics; she’d settle for one of those early morning tousled hair glimpses that made her knees weak.

She was just about to text him that when someone picked up her flowerpot and sat down in the empty seat next to her.

“Hey,” Daphne said, still wearing her wig from last night’s show. And her makeup, too, if Kylie recognized that shade of eyeshadow. Which she did, seeing as how she was the one who applied it. Had Daphne not gone to bed?

Kylie slid her phone into her purse. “Hi, Daph.”

“I’m glad you’re here, Fat Marilyn. I need to ask you a question.” She lit up a joint while sitting next to Kylie, took a puff, and then flicked the ashes in the aisle of the bus.

“Uh, what’s that?” She waved a hand at the smell, trying to dissipate it.

Daphne shot her an annoyed look. “You know the blond guy in the suits that comes to the backstage area at some of my shows? Cade?”

Kylie stiffened, alarm flaring through her. “Yeah?”

Daphne crossed her legs and then recrossed them, flexing her foot back and forth in a rapid motion. Her pupils were dilated, Kylie realized, and she was on something. This early? Or was this an aftereffect of last night? Her mouth looked swollen, too, and she kept taking drags off of the hand-rolled weed cigarette. “You see him leave last night?”

She forced her attention back on Daphne’s face. “Hmm?”

Irritated, the singer snapped her fingers in front of Kylie’s face. “Pay attention, Fat Marilyn. Did you see Cade leave with anyone?”

Her mouth went dry. Was Daphne trying to suss her out? Get her to confess? Yes, actually, I was in his limo and we went back to the hotel and had dirty sex for hours on end. I can still taste his cock if I lick the roof of my mouth.

“Um, I don’t recall,” Kylie hedged. “I think I might have left before he did?”

Daphne’s foot swung more rapidly in agitation. She flicked the ashes of her smoke again and then shot Kylie another irritated look. “I think the fucker’s seeing someone behind my back.”

“Th-that so?” Her stomach roiled nervously.

Daphne gave a sharp nod. “He’s not answering my texts.”