Nashville Boxed Set #1-3

by Bethany Michaels

  At last, Shay broke the kiss and stepped back a fraction, but still kept one arm around my waist, our bodies pressed together. He tore his gaze away from mine and put on a smile for the audience.

  "Thanks, darlin'," Shay s aid into the microphone, still panting. "That was a fantasy come to life!" The way he said it let the audience know he was talking about more than the song. And they loved it. Absolutely loved it.

  "We're going to take a break and then Michelle will be back in just a few minutes to play her set. Ya'll stay put now."

  The spotlight went dark and Shay guided me towards the wings, handing off my guitar to a stage hand as we passed. There was no doubt in my mind that he planned to be buried inside me within the next 30 seconds, whether we made it to his bus, my dressing room or just the nearest horizontal surface. He wasn't letting anything get in the way of finally ending the dance of sexual need we'd been doing since the day in Robert's office, no matter how hard we'd tried to fight it.

  Neither was I.

  Chapter Eight

  Daddy was waiting for us in the wings and he was not happy. "Just what the hell do you think you're doing?" he shouted at Shay.

  Shay ignored him and his question and kept walking, never letting go of my wrist.

  "Michelle's dressing room in five minutes!" Daddy shouted over the backstage chaos. "Both of you!"

  All around us people surged, clapping us on the back, telling us how great the performance was. Shay ignored them, too, guiding us farther away from the stage.

  "Shay...we need to talk." I could hardly keep up with his frantic dash through the crowd.

  He ignored me, making it clear that he had one goal and was not going to be deterred. It was a replay of that night seven years ago.

  "Shay? Where are you going? My dressing room is this way."

  "Too far, too many people."

  He went into a room marked "Storage", pulled me in behind him, and shut the door.

  It was totally dark but I could smell the orange scent of cleaning fluids.

  "Shay," I said, intending to tell him this needed to slow down or maybe to tell him it needed to speed up, but before I could decide which, Shay took my mouth in a kiss as hot and hungry and full of promise as the one on stage a moment before. Only this time it was just for us.

  Fire burned through my veins as Shay walked me backwards until my shoulders hit the shelving at the rear of the closet. There was no going back, no call to sanity. I wanted this. Needed it. I wrapped my arms around his neck, kissed him back and let everything else go.

  Our tongues met and stroked and parted before plunging forward again sending sparks of pleasure all through my body. I clutched at his damp hair, pulling him closer.

  Shay broke the kiss and even though I couldn't see the look of dark desire in his eyes, I could hear it in his voice. "I want you, baby."

  The meaning was clear. Right here, right now. "Yes. Yes, Shay."

  His arms left me. I heard his zipper and a shuffle of clothing before his mouth came back to mine. He reached under my dress and with no preamble, tugged my panties down. All the foreplay I needed had taken place on stage. He was hard as nails and I was as wet and ready as I'd ever been. I kicked off my panties and Shay grabbed me under the knees and lifted me.

  "Wrap your legs around me, baby. I can't wait another second to be inside you."

  He'd already put on the condom and once I'd wrapped myself around him, he didn't waste a second before thrusting into me in one heavy, soul-shattering stroke.

  He was so hot, so hard, so right. My body shuddered as it adjusted to his length.

  I let my head fall back against the shelving and just reveled in the pure animal pleasure of it all.

  "Jesus. You're so hot and tight." He pressed a kiss to my throat. "I'm not gonna last long, baby, but I'll make it up to you later. Hold on, OK?"

  I gripped him tighter, needing him to move. I was so close from the combination of the illicit excitement of unexpected sex, the success on stage and Shay. Most of all, Shay.

  "Shut up," I ground out. "Just fuck me. Hard. Right now."

  I was shocked at the words coming out of my mouth. The F word was just not part of my vocabulary. Or maybe I'd just never had the occasion to use it until now.

  "Oh, God. Michelle."

  Shay grasped my thighs almost painfully and began thrusting into me with hard, confident strokes. His pelvis smacked into mine with a satisfying pain/pleasure mix before he pulled out and started the process again. The friction built to inconceivable levels and Shay buried his face in the curve of my neck. Bottles fell off the shelving and crashed to the floor around us.

  "God you're hot, Michelle. So fucking hot. I've wanted you for so long. Dreamed about you."

  I raked my fingers along the back of his neck. He'd have welts. I liked that. I liked marking him as mine.

  "Yeah, baby, yeah. Hurt me. Fuck me."

  He thrust harder, making the shelves behind me bang rhythmically against the wall. I wondered if anyone would hear the ruckus coming from the closet and come to investigate. But then Shay increased his pace and I didn't care.

  Tension gathered low in my belly, heat surging through my veins. Every muscle squeezed tighter and tighter until I thought I might pass out or burst into flames or both. As long as I came first, I was fine with either.

  "Yeah, baby. That's it. Oh God. God." His breath rasped out from between his teeth and hearing his cries of pleasure, knowing how close he was, only pushed me higher.

  Shay clutched at me desperately and thrust into me once, twice and again so hard it made my teeth ache. And then I was flying, waves of pleasure washing over my body. I cried out, screaming, not caring who might hear.

  From a distance, I heard Shay's matching shouts and felt his release deep inside of me.

  We were both dripping in sweat, out of breath and totally sated.

  After a moment, Shay rested his forehead against mine and slowly let my legs down.

  I wobbled, my knees not quite ready to support me. But Shay was there to steady me.

  "You ok, baby?"

  "Yeah. I'm fine. But I think we broke something in here."

  Shay laughed, still breathless. "More than one something."

  He straightened and I heard the sound of his jeans, zipper and belt buckle being put back to rights.

  I tugged my skirt back into place but I had no idea where my panties had gone. Then we heard the intercom system calling for me to come to the dressing room area and reality marched back in with the panic of being late for my own show.

  "I have to go."

  Shay cupped my face and pressed a kiss to my trembling, swollen lips. "We’ll talk later, OK? After you come off stage."

  "OK." I didn't know what to say or how I was ever going to go out on stage and put on a show after getting naked with Shay. I had to be a sweaty mess. I probably looked like I’d spent the night under a bridge, my make-up smeared and my dress looking like a wrinkled sack someone had attacked with a BeDazzler. It would be clear to anyone who saw me what I’d been doing during the unplanned intermission.

  Shay kissed me once more, almost sweetly, before moving towards the door. He listened for a moment, but it was silent outside. No doubt all my handlers and his were centered around the dressing rooms. No one would think to look in a supply closet for two of country music's biggest headliners—one of whom should have been on stage already.

  "I think it's clear. I'll go out first and get rid of anybody who might be standing around."

  "Thanks, Shay. I uh...don't know what to say."

  He opened the door a crack and I squinted against the sudden light in our little cave that smelled of sweat and sex. He leaned in and kissed me again. "God, you're hot."

  He peeked out the door then stepped out of the closet, shutting the door behind him.

  "Hey, man," Shay said to someone. "I was just trying to find the head. Can you point me in the right direction?"

  "Isn't there one in your dr
essing room?"

  "Yeah, well, sometimes I get turned around when I come off stage," Shay said. Maybe you can show me the way back over there?"

  "Uh, sure, Mr. Rogan. It's right this way."

  Shay chatted the man up and I waited until their voices had faded before slipping out of the closet.

  The corridor was empty and I ducked into a restroom down the hall to fix my hair and make-up the best I could. I wanted to freak out but there was no time. Thousands of people were waiting for me. I'd have to freak out after the show.

  I was halfway through the fourth song before I realized my panties were still on the floor of the supply closet.

  *****

  Shay watched Michelle from the wings of the stage as she started her set. Just looking at her made him hard, made him want her. But it was more than just a physical reaction and that scared the hell out of him.

  The duet on stage had done exactly what he'd hoped it would. It energized the crowd and primed them for Michelle's performance. And even though she was playing the same old set with the same over-choreographed stage direction, she did it with a genuine smile on her face and an extra spring in her step. The audience picked up on that and though they weren't screaming their heads off like they had been when they were up on stage together, they were singing along with the old songs and seemed to be having a good time.

  Michelle still had it. She'd just gotten lost in what was expected and what everyone else wanted her to be rather than going with her own gut. She needed to break out more, do her own thing. Amazing things happened when she did.

  He kept watching, hoping for a glance or a wink or an all-out smile from her, a secret smile, just for him, but it didn't come. She was focused on her performance and his heart sank just a little bit. He said they'd talk after the show, but what was there to talk about, really? They had never been about talking unless it was to trade insults. They were about action, passion, spur of the moment. Talking only made things worse between them. One of them said something the other took the wrong way and the n y it was verbal fisticuffs until someone put a fist through the wall.

  What if she turned all morning-after on him again once she had time to think things over? It wasn’t the fear of being kicked off the tour that bothered him—that wasn’t going to happen this time around. It was seeing the regret in her beautiful blue eyes he couldn’t take.

  Michelle really was amazing. She set her mind to something and she did it. It was hard coming up through the business, but she'd done it at a young age and then stayed here. Sure, she had help from her father and a lot of other people along the way, no doubt. But everything came down to Michelle and it was obvious being with her on stage that she still that star quality that had made her a long-term success. Not to mention her pure talent.

  She'd been impressive when she started out as a teen, but her voice had only grown richer and more nuanced as she matured. It was a God-given voice, but she'd taken that gift, trained it, refined it and made it into a joy to everyone who got to listen to her.

  Shay shoved a hand through his sweaty hair. Compared to her he was little better than a trained monkey squealing for peanuts at the circus. He was good on stage in front of a live audience—he knew that. But that was because he had nothing to lose up there. He had a passable voice and could play a little guitar, but he was nowhere near the artist Michelle was and he never would be. He'd always be the kid from Hayleeville with a face the ladies liked who'd gotten a lucky break. Once this music thing played out, he’d be back to being just Shay Rogan, the kid from Hayleeville who used to be a singer. He’d punch in at the same factory his old man had worked for 30 years remember when he had been more.

  She’s too good for you. He could almost hear his father’s voice whispering in his ear.

  It was true. He had nothing to give her, nothing to offer someone like her. And he didn't want to be around when she figured that out.

  Pushing off the wall, he drank in the sight of her on stage for a long moment and then slipped into the shadows, determined to try to plug the tiny little fissure that had opened in his heart.

  *****

  "I hope you're happy, Michelle," Daddy said, tossing the newspaper on small table in the tour bus kitchenette. I closed my eyes, head pounding, and sipped my coffee. I'd hardly slept the entire night and then to have Daddy knocking at the door at...what time was it anyway? I wasn’t sure I’d want to see whatever Daddy was about to show me.

  I rubbed my hands across my itchy, tired eyes. Last night had been...amazing. I felt alive for the first time in years up on stage. Shay had had a big part in that, pushing me to come out of my shell, to break away from the prescribed program. I'd even added a little to my regular performance, chatting up the audience a little more than usual. I had actually enjoyed that and so had they.

  And of course the sex in the storage closet had been more than amazing. That wasn’t a thought I would’ve guessed would ever cross my mind; I’d always thought of myself as a flowers and hearts type of girl, who made love in a big king-sized bed with 2000 thread-count sheets. Apparently where Shay was concerned, I was wrong. It made me smile just thinking about how desperate we’d been for each other and how no one would ever believe that the two of us had made love there, of all places.

  Maybe it was all the foreplay leading up to it. For weeks we’d been doing the dance, each wanting, both too proud to give in to it fully.

  But when I'd come off stage expecting Shay to be there, he’d been gone. He had been watching me from the wings and that gave me a little thrill, too. But then he’d disappeared and hadn’t come to my dressing room or my bus after the show. We were supposed to meet afterwards to talk, he'd said. Clearly he’d changed his mind about that.

  I knew better than to think all our problems were solved by sex. Even blistering five-alarm-fire sex didn't fix all the crap that was between us—the angry words, the old hurts. There was unfinished business between the two of us that neither of us wanted to tackle. I really couldn’t blame him for cutting out on that. Besides, if we'd met after the show, there wouldn't be much talking going on at all and we’d be in exactly the same place we were this morning: Off in the sticks, as neither of us was relationship savvy, to say the least.

  It wasn't as simple as a girl having a fling with a guy. Not when we were both public figures and in the spotlight constantly. All of my actions had a ripple effect on the people around me. It sounded mercenary, but there were people who depended on me and I couldn't make a serious decision about anything in my life, even who I slept with, without considering them, too. I hoped Shay understood that.

  "Well?" Daddy asked, tapping the newspaper.

  I picked up the paper. There, right on the front page of the Lexington Herald-Leader, were Shay and me kissing like we were about to tear each other’s clothes off, which of course we had been. The raw need so evident in both of us was on display for anyone to see.

  "Oh. My. God."

  Daddy sat down opposite me and poured himself a big cup of coffee.

  "This is a nightmare," I said, staring at the photo. Just looking at the photo, I remembered the rush of passion that had consumed me when Shay grabbed me and kissed me so unexpectedly. The photographer had captured that moment of sexual tension evident in every line of our bodies. Just seeing the photo of Shay holding me like that...and knowing what we'd done afterwards in the storage closet made me blush.

  "It's practically pornographic," Daddy said. "Your career was on the brink before this. Once the label finds out about this? Well, I just don't know, Michelle." He shook his head and sipped his coffee.

  "But the audience liked the duet."

  "Public reaction to that has been positive," he admitted. "But think what this will do to your image. At the end of the day, country music fans are a conservative, God-fearing demographic. They don't want to see what you two did on stage last night. We're going to have to do some serious damage control." He looked at me, not quite meeting my eyes. "I thought tha
t after the last time you fooled around with that boy, you would’ve learned your lesson."

  I flipped the paper over and glared out the window. It was cloudy, looking like it could rain any moment. Good thing we didn't have an outdoor venue tonight. I wondered how my horses were doing back home in Tennessee. I wondered if the label had seen the photo yet. I wondered if I'd thrown away my entire career with one steamy kiss. And most of all, I wondered if Shay had seen the photo and what he thought about the whole thing. If he regretted it.

  There was a knock at the door and before Daddy could even answer, Rayna rushed up the steps. She was flushed and out of breath and wearing jeans, a t-shirt and flip-flops. Her hair was covered by a baseball cap and she wore no make-up. Not even lipstick. I had never seen her in anything other than business suits and pumps, perfectly made-up. "Did you see the morning paper?" she held up one of about 10 copies in her arms.

  "Yes. We were just discussing damage control," Daddy said grimly, pouring Rayna a cup of coffee. He added two sugars and a splash of cream as if he’d fixed her coffee a hundred times.

  "Damage control? Every paper, every website, every newscast in the country is running this photo. This is exactly what we needed." She slid in the booth next to Daddy and accepted the cup of coffee, though I doubted she needed any extra caffeine.

  "What?" Daddy and I asked at the same time.

  "My phone started ringing at ten o'clock last night, as soon as those pictures hit the internet. I've already gotten at least 100 emails asking about press for you two."

  "Press?"

  "Radio stations, magazines, newspapers, local television. Everybody wants to have you on, wants to know what’s up with you and Shay."