I Need You Tonight

by Stina Lindenblatt

  I told Mason this once he returned from the cashier. “I guess lunch is on you,” I said with a smirk. “How much did you win?”

  “Three hundred and fifty dollars.”

  I stopped short. “Are you kidding me?”

  He shrugged. “Like I said, I got lucky.”

  “I’d say.” It was no wonder my father had gotten hooked on gambling. I could understand how it could easily happen. You win a few times, and once you start losing, you’re positive the winning streak will resume soon.

  Mason shifted on his feet, and his bloodshot eyes scanned the area. He looked both wary and exhausted, which wasn’t too surprising given that he hadn’t slept yet.

  “Do you want to meet up with the rest of the band for lunch and then get some sleep? You’ve got time before the interview this afternoon.”

  He scrubbed his face with his hand, swaying slightly, and I recalled that not only hadn’t he slept, but he’d also been drinking beer. “I’m not hungry, and I don’t feel like seeing anyone right now. I’ll just go to the room and meet up with the guys later.”

  After what had happened yesterday at his father’s funeral, I wasn’t too surprised he felt that way. But his bandmates were like brothers to him, and he needed them more than ever.

  I laid my hand on his biceps, over the tattoo that said “I am a fighter” in Sanskrit. “Are you sure? They have some great news to tell you.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Why don’t you come to lunch and they can tell you themselves?”

  “I’d rather not right now. Why don’t you tell me?”

  I grinned, barely restraining myself from jumping up and down while squealing like a fangirl. “ ‘Without You’ hit number one. Congratulations! You guys finally did it.” I flung my arms around his neck and hugged him hard, doing my best to ignore the smell of smoke now clinging to him. “I’m so proud of you, Mason.”

  He hugged me back, but it lacked the level of enthusiasm I would have expected. I chalked it up to his exhaustion.

  “Thanks. Can you do me a favor?” he asked.

  I released my arms from around him and stepped back. “Sure, what?”

  “Don’t mention anything to the guys about the gambling. If…if Kirk hears how much I won, he’ll want to gamble, and that’s not a good idea.”

  “Why?” But then his meaning slammed into me, and my eyes widened. “Kirk used to gamble?”

  Mason nodded. “But he doesn’t want anyone to know, so don’t say anything to him, all right? He’d kill me if he found out I told you.”

  “Okay.”

  He kissed me on the cheek. “I promise I’ll make it up to you for last night.”

  “It’s okay. Just make sure you get some sleep, and text me when you wake up.”

  “I will.”

  Mason headed for the elevators, and I walked to the restaurant around the corner, where I was meeting the guys. They were already seated when I got there, drinking sodas.

  “Where’s Mason?” Jared asked.

  “In his room.” I bit my lip, wondering how much to tell them about yesterday. In the end I decided they needed to know. For Mason’s sake. “Look, about yesterday…Mason’s father died four days ago, and he and I returned to L.A. for the funeral. Something happened there, and I think he’s still upset about it.”

  They all stared at me, shock clearly stamped on their faces. Nolan was the first to recover. “How come he never said anything about it to us?”

  “Probably because he was upset when he first found out. None of his family had bothered to tell him his father was dying of cancer. He only discovered what had happened because he saw the obituary.”

  Aaron glanced at the other guys, then at me. “So how come he told you and not us?” There was no curiosity to his words—instead, he was pissed. They were like brothers to Mason, but by keeping them in the dark, Mason had acted like his own asshole brother, the one who hadn’t told Mason about their father’s death.

  “Because he’s in love with her,” Jared finally said, his gaze locked on me.

  Kirk and Aaron both looked surprised at this revelation. Nolan, not so much.

  “What happened at the funeral?” Kirk asked, skipping past what Jared had just told them.

  Shit. I guess I should have expected that. “He wasn’t exactly welcomed with warm fuzzies.”

  The guys looked far less surprised by this than they had been about the news that Mason was in love with me. Whatever had happened between him and his family, they knew about it.

  And whatever it was had them worried.

  “Why is his family so upset with him?” I asked.

  “That’s something only Mason can tell you,” Nolan said, confirming what I’d already suspected they would say. Their loyalty to Mason came first.

  “You’re sure Mason is in his room?” Kirk asked me.

  “He said he was going to bed. I have no reason not to believe him.” Just like I’d had no reason not to believe Mason when he told me early this morning he was coming right up to our room after he did something first.

  The something that had kept him from coming to bed like he’d promised.

  A bad feeling kicked me in the stomach. I shoved it away. Mason wasn’t my father. He wasn’t addicted to gambling.

  Unlike my father, he knew how to walk away.

  Chapter 28

  Nicole

  While Mason slept in his room, I spent the time in my hotel room, working on my laptop. Updating the band’s social media sites. Organizing the Christmas contest for their Instagram account. Finalizing plans for Blooming Love’s grand reopening. Sketching possible designs to etch on glassware, none of which so far felt right, meaningful, or special. Nothing that would stand out.

  An hour before we were due to leave for the radio interview, I still hadn’t heard from Mason. I sent him a text, in case he’d forgotten to tell me he was up. Five minutes later, having still not heard from him, I walked to his room and let myself in with my key card.

  At first I thought Mason was still sleeping, because the room was dark. But then the light from the open doorway spilled onto him and glinted off the beer bottle in his hand as he paced. The only clothing he had on were his jeans; his feet and chest were bare.

  “Hi,” I said tentatively, and entered the room. He didn’t appear to notice me. He just kept walking back and forth, like a caged tiger. I’d seen him like this before a concert, before I gave him his good-luck kiss, except this time something seemed really off.

  I clicked the door shut. “We’re leaving in an hour for the radio interview,” I said, flipping on the light switch. Only then did he look up. The caged look instantly changed to heat—and before I knew it, Mason had me on the bed, my clothes on the floor with his jeans.

  Unlike the last time we were together, the sex was purely physical. There was no love in his actions, just the desire to bang out his need and frustration. He tasted of beer and the lingering smell of smoke still clung to him.

  Once he was finished, his orgasm coming shortly after mine, he collapsed onto the bed, a great divide now between us. His arm covered his eyes, as if he now didn’t want to see me. That felt like a stab in my heart. My brain told me to not be so stupid. He was still upset about his father’s death and about what had happened yesterday. If he had to use me for sex this one time, that was fine. I would do whatever I could to help him get over his pain.

  I scooted over and kissed his chest. Then I rested my head over his heart, as I’d done before. But Mason didn’t touch me like he usually did, and that ripped a gaping hole inside me.

  I forced a soft, understanding smile onto my face and sat up. “You should have a shower now and get ready.”

  Normally at the suggestion of a shower, he would try to convince me to join him—usually for another round of sex. This time he just shrugged and said, “I guess.” He got out of bed, grabbed the half-empty beer bottle from the nightstand, and headed for the bathroom.

  And
for the first time since entering the room, I noticed the four empty bottles scattered throughout the room. That wasn’t to say he had never drunk beer in the afternoon, because he had. But it had usually been with the guys, and not while he was supposed to be sleeping.

  Unable to sit still, I opened the curtains and straightened up the room while I waited for Mason to finish showering.

  When he came out of the bathroom, my breath stopped short in my chest at the sight of his muscular, half-naked body. Water drops trailed down his gorgeous brown skin, further emphasizing his sexiness. My gaze followed one lucky droplet as it traveled between his pecs, down his taut stomach, and under the towel wrapped low around his hips.

  “Like what you see?” Mason asked, his deep, rough voice the epitome of sexiness. The sound of it short-circuited my brain.

  I stepped closer to him, my fingers itching to reach out and yank the towel free. “Maybe.”

  “How long till we have to leave?” The towel shifted. There was definitely activity happening under it.

  I checked the alarm clock on the nightstand. “Twenty-five minutes.”

  Mason closed the space between us. His beer breath had been converted to minty freshness. “I need you, Nicole. I need to be inside you.” His voice was a seductive murmur against my cheek, yet it held a note of tenderness that had been missing before his shower.

  His lips skimmed down my cheek and found their way to my mouth. He gently nipped my lower lip between his teeth and sucked on it. My breath hitched and I welcomed him in.

  Unlike earlier, he took his time…not that we had much. I freed him from the confines of his towel and let it drop to the floor. He had my T-shirt off in a matter of seconds. My bra came off next, thanks to Mason’s talented fingers—he could teach a course on how to unhook a girl’s bra in less than a second.

  Mason palmed my breasts, heating them with his touch. I wrapped my arms around his neck and pressed my breasts into his hands. He pinched my nipples, and the ache between my legs begged for its turn. I rubbed against him, denim against raw man.

  He groaned and removed his hands from my breasts, then with a quick flick of his fingers unhooked the button of my jeans and slid the zipper down. I could almost hear the clock mocking me from the bedside table, reminding me we didn’t have a lot of time before we had to leave. While Mason wasn’t moving as slowly as he had when he’d made love to me, he was definitely moving too slowly given that we had to leave soon.

  It was as if he didn’t want to go to the interview. Couldn’t say I blamed him.

  After peeling my jeans off and tossing them to the side, he slipped his fingers between my legs. “Christ, you’re already ready for me,” he said.

  And that was my problem. Spending so much time with him meant I was ready for him most of the time. I just had to look at him and my heart raced, my body begged for his touch.

  His fingers cupped my sex and began exploring. I gasped, then let my fingers do their own exploration of his body.

  “I need to taste you,” he groaned. “Lie down and let me taste you.”

  Something about his tone gave me pause. “You remember you have the interview, right?”

  He mumbled against my neck. It almost sounded like he said he wasn’t going.

  I pushed him away, knowing I had a responsibility to the band, although my body screamed, What the heck are you doing? With my hands still on his chest, I gazed into his eyes, dark with lust and pain and somewhat still bloodshot. “Mason, you have to go. They’re expecting you.”

  “Tell them I’m sick.”

  My eyes widened. “Are you?” I wouldn’t be surprised if he was after everything that had happened in the past few days.

  He grabbed hold of my wrists and pulled them away from his chest. “I don’t feel like going.”

  “I don’t think you have a choice.” Although if I had a say in this, I would tell him to stay here and rest. But if the empty beer bottles were any indication, he wasn’t going to take things easy. “Have you slept at all since you left the casino?”

  “Why are you asking all these questions? I don’t want to go to the interview and I don’t want to be interrogated. I just want to make love to you. Is that asking too much?” But based on his slightly pissed-off tone, it didn’t sound like he really wanted to make love. He was trying to distract me from getting ready for the interview.

  “How are you going to explain why you didn’t show up for the interview but were fine for the concert?” I asked.

  He grunted and stepped away from me. “It’s not like it’s a big deal. I’m the band’s fucking drummer. Do you think the interviewers really care if I show up? No, as long as Nolan is there, that’s all they care about. The rest of the band is just an added bonus.”

  “That’s not true.” From what I could tell from the social media sites, the fans loved all the guys. Yes, Nolan was slightly more popular, but that was because he was the lead singer. He was the member people thought of first when you mentioned the band, but it didn’t mean the other guys were considered less important. “Besides, if you don’t show up for the interview, you’ll be fueling rumors that you’re leaving the band. That’s how these things start.” At his disbelieving look, I added, “You’re not planning to leave the band, right?”

  “Of course not!”

  “Then why fuel speculations?” There were already rumors of the band breaking up, due to Jared’s recent marriage.

  “So you’re saying you don’t want to fuck before the interview?” was his non-answer.

  “I just don’t want you to be late.” My body was officially going to kill me. Tough. It would eventually get over it. This was more important.

  Mason heaved out a sigh. “Fine. How about after the concert? Can we fuck then?”

  A smile fluttered on my lips. “I’m counting on it.” I leaned closer and kissed the light stubble on his face. “I love you, Mason. Don’t forget that. I’m here for you, and not just so you can deal with your frustrations by fucking me.”

  He turned to face me and my lips brushed against his. He gently kissed me, his hand cupping my cheek. “Thank you,” he murmured. “And just so you know, that’s not what I’m doing. Being inside you makes me feel better.”

  I kissed him back. “Then I’ll do whatever I can to make you feel better. But do you know what would make me feel better right now?”

  “What?”

  “If you got dressed so we can meet the guys downstairs.” Something dawned on me. “Have you eaten anything today?”

  “Not hungry.” He turned away and gathered his clothes from the floor.

  “But you managed to down five beers since you left the casino?” Plus however many he had drunk before I found him there.

  He leveled his gaze at me, and I did my best to ignore that he was still naked. “I lost my father and no one told me about it. Then I was chased out of his funeral. I think I’m allowed some beer while I wallow in my grief.” He yanked on his boxer briefs. The man could be an underwear model. He was that perfect and that hot.

  And, in his underwear, that distracting.

  But I couldn’t argue against his point, and given what he was going through, I didn’t want to try. I’d give him today, but I would keep an eye on him. It was all I could do.

  I had a quick shower, then we went down to meet the guys in the lobby. The woman from this morning was standing near them, talking with two other women.

  She nodded in our direction. I threaded my fingers with Mason’s. Not because I felt threatened by her—I wasn’t, much—but because I wanted to show him that I was there for him.

  Mason’s body was stiff, his hands slightly clammy as we approached the band, but I had no idea why. The guys were talking about the upcoming interview. They said hi to him, but none of them mentioned anything about what I had told them. Maybe they were waiting for Mason to bring it up.

  The three women who had been eyeing the guys sashayed over. “Hi again,” the blonde said. She gave Mason
a smile that was a cross between shy and seductive. She also threw in a little lip nibbling for the added effect. Wow, she was good.

  “I don’t know if you remember me from this morning,” she went on to say, “but I’m a big fan.” Her gaze drifted to each of the guys in the band. “Of all of you.”

  “Thanks,” Nolan said, ever the spokesman for the band. “Are you going to our concert tonight?”

  If I’d ever seen three women who looked like their puppies had been kicked across the state line, this would be them. “We couldn’t get tickets. You guys sold out too quickly.” Which was why Endless Motion had added another date in Atlantic City. Both dates had sold out in a matter of hours.

  “That’s too bad,” Nolan said. To the guys, he added, “We should get going.” Which was my cue to play the role of handler that I’d been thrown into doing again. Their regular handler was temporarily out of commission due to food poisoning.

  “Sorry, ladies,” I said. “They have to do a radio interview. It was nice meeting you.” Always a good idea to be polite with the fans, even if they were lusting over your boyfriend.

  “Can we get your autographs?” said another of the women, a dark-haired supermodel lookalike.

  “Sure. Do you have any paper?” Jared asked.

  Mason was noticeably quiet, which was unusual for him.

  The women glanced at each other, then at the registration desk, but the line was so long it would take more time than we had for them to wait in it and ask for paper there.

  “You could always check the gift shop,” I suggested. From what I could tell from having walked by it earlier, they had just about everything.

  The women didn’t need to be told twice. They disappeared into the store. I turned back to Mason to see how he was doing. His dazed-looking eyes were directed at the casino. “You okay?” I asked, low enough so the guys couldn’t hear me.

  When he didn’t respond, I gave him a light nudge. He blinked and peered down at me. “Are you okay?” I repeated.

  He gave me a slight nod. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

  The women returned a moment later, running. I must admit, I was impressed. I could barely walk in heels, never mind run in them.