by Mia McAdams
By the time we get back from the transfer, the sound check is almost over and Wolf is having a sidebar conversation with Crawley. Hedge sees us and waves with exaggerated enthusiasm. We roll our eyes and smile.
“You girls look dead sexy in our shirts,” Hedge’s voice booms from the speakers.
Terese giggles but my eyes catch Wolf’s light brown ones as he turns his head toward us. We get a nod, and I return it, telling myself not to act stony. He brings out my defenses. We may have cleared some things up last week at dinner, but I still want to be clear that I won’t be one of his conquests. Still, I need to be careful. I’m not trying to make enemies. Plus, he’s technically my boss.
I can’t hear what he says before the band kicks off another melody. This one is unfamiliar but sounds catchy. “Wait until you hear this new song, babe,” Stryder says into the microphone. I look at Misty, who's grinning from her seat. She’s clearly smitten. I can understand why. He’s got the lightest blue eyes I’ve ever seen and the guy knows how to light up a room with his energy. He is pure rocker, through and through.
I get excited at the mention of a new song. There’s nothing I love more than the newness, before songs get overplayed. To my disappointment, all we get is the instrumental version of the song, and the sound check ends soon after without so much as a “Check, check, one, two” from Wolf.
Wolf glances at me before hopping off the stage. I think he’s headed in my direction. Derrick follows, his eyes all over Terese. He totally has the hots for her, and he’s not even trying to hide it.
Derrick makes it over to us, but Wolf is intercepted by Jenn. The disappointment I feel surprises me, and then it pisses me off that I care at all.
“I’ll meet you backstage,” I say to Terese, who most likely didn’t hear me or see me leave.
As I slip backstage, Wolf’s head turns and catches my eye, but he doesn’t move. Of course not. That would be rude. Jenn works for the fans. The problem is me. I am far too aware of all things Wolf in areas that surpass my job description. That acknowledgement sends me straight to the VIP tent, where I order a beer. I’m going to need a drink tonight. Perhaps many. At least then I won’t care if I end up on the top or bottom bunk.
When the sex god himself appears next to me at the bar, I’m fully aware that he’s following me. This is a test. If I can keep my libido in check around Wolf, I’ll be blessed for eternity. If I give in to him, I’m headed straight to hell in the form of another heartbreak.
“Damn, woman. I wouldn’t have taken you for a lush.”
I glare at him over the bottom of my beer glass. I am drinking faster than normal. “I’m not a lush. Just . . . anxious.”
“For the tour?” As he leans over the counter, his broad shoulders and thick, tattooed arms catch my eye. Wolf doesn’t need the illusion of the stage to make him larger than life. He’s a solid guy. And tall. It’s too bad he’s a rock star because while I may not be his type, he’s definitely mine.
“Lyric?”
My focus is still on his build. With a flicker, my eyes move to his mouth. That’s no better. Wolf has a nice mouth. Finally, dragging my gaze back up, I know I’m going to lose. Whatever war is brewing between my head and the quick building need between my thighs needs to end. I’m nearing the danger zone. He’s standing right in front of me.
He’s gazing back at me, an amused expression playing on his face. “I think I’m going to like this tour a lot.”
Heat rushes up my neck and I take a deep breath, trying to ignore it. Turning to the bar, I order a second beer for me and one for Wolf then walk away without another word. In fact, I never did answer his question. Again. That was rude. Pivoting back to face him, I slam into something hard. Him. What the hell is wrong with me?
He holds up his drink and laughs. “Forget something?”
I’ve never been so flustered in my life. In fact, I pride myself on being more confident than most girls, especially in situations like this. Wolf simply defies all logic, and he’s making me do the same. “Shit, sorry. I just realized I didn’t answer your question.”
He’s chuckling when he moves a hand to my face and swipes away a strand of hair caught in my eyelashes. “That’s okay, darlin’. We all have our weaknesses. I’m yours. I get it.” And then he walks off, grinning.
My entire head feels as if it’s about to explode, and I'm convinced he chose the wrong animal name for his band. Wolf is a jackass.
I’m present, as in at the concert, but I’m completely detached from everything I normally love about a show. The crowd is screaming like crazy as Wolf steps out onto the stage and howls. That’s his thing. He howls like a wolf, soliciting pandemonium from the crowd before diving into his opening number, “Joke’s On You.” What a coincidence. That’s exactly how I feel about myself right now. The joke is totally on me.
We’re standing on the side of the stage, but I’m only here for Terese at this point. If it weren’t for her, I’d be somewhere else, hiding out in humiliation, just wanting to sleep it off before the start of the tour. But no, I’m stuck here, listening to the raspy rocker light the open-air theater on fire. Even I can’t deny the effects of his voice. Wolf’s sound can be described as alternative rock that lends well to hard or soft. He tends to lean toward the harder side of rock mostly, but when he slows it down. Damn. That’s when I’m listening. His impassioned vocals have the ability to tear me apart and then put me back together again, and it’s impossible to ignore the vibrations his voice sends through me.
He’s good at it all. Singing. Strumming. Strutting. The audience is eating out of the palm of his hand, singing along to every damn word of every song. Except for one.
I’ll never admit this out loud, but I have every Wolf song memorized and not because of this tour. I’m a fan of his music. Not him. His music.
But this song I don’t recognize from their set list. In fact, it’s not on their West Coast set list, either. It seems familiar somehow, though.
They’ve only strummed the first few chords and Wolf sang one line, but then he stops to get the crowd’s attention. He’s building anticipation.
Suddenly, the band stops playing and the spotlights focus on Wolf. “Did you hear that? That’s our new single, if all works out.” The crowd goes insane. “But we have a problem, and we’re gonna ask for your help.” This should be interesting. “Full disclosure. These lyrics aren’t mine. I found them recently, and I couldn’t get them out of my head. We’re about to perform it for you and let me warn you, this shit is good.” More cheering. My heart is pulsating. “Here’s what we need from you. We’re going to play this song, but we need your help. Pull out your phones, your cameras, your iPads, what-the-fuck-ever you’ve got. Record it. Post it. Share it. If you wrote this gem, we’re hoping you’ll come forward. We’re going to find our writer. But listen up,” he booms, creating a louder roar from the crowd. “This is no Cinderella shit. No impostors need apply. We aren’t offering glass slippers or happily ever afters. We just want whoever wrote this song to come forward so we can make this single number one together.”
Wolf gives the crowd time to soak this all up. I don’t even know if they heard him over the screaming but he’s grinning and giving the band their cue to start. “All right, lucky motherfuckers. This is ‘Dangerous Heart.’”
And then the beat starts back up, and I have to hold onto something. That title. I grab the rail in front of me, bracing myself to hear what has got to be a strange coincidence. But then I hear the familiar words as he sings the first line again. My words. Two wrongs don’t mend hearts like ours.
No fucking way.
Somehow, Wolf got his hands on my song. The one I trashed for good reason. I should have never had to think about it again, and now he’s playing it in front of thousands.
What the fuck?
I want to scream first, and then I’m racking my brain for an explanation. Did he see me toss it in the garbage?
The rage is starting to bubble inside
me until I’m seething with anger, unable to see anything clearly. There’s a ferocious beast inside me is preparing to attack, banging down the walls of my cage while snarling and dripping with contempt.
There’s nothing I can do but contain the beast. For now. But my fury only builds as I stand by, listening to Wolf sing my words to a crowd of thousands. Thousands of his dearest fans whom he’s asked to make this shit go viral. And they’ll do it. Because he’s Wolf.
Wolf
She’s fucking crazy.
Jenn practically chases me from the stage the entire way to the bus and then asks for a private interview, which Lyric has apparently already arranged without informing me. When we’re alone, she stalks her way to the back of the bus where my bedroom is. I follow her, but only to tell her this isn’t happening. Not tonight. Not with her. She needs to get the hell out.
“What the fuck are you doing, Jenn?” I practically explode. I’m already on fire from the concert, and while I usually like an easy lay, I’m not doing this with radio’s best-known skank.
I’m a hypocrite, but I don’t care. When I sleep around, it’s not with girls who openly spread it for any musician on the planet. I have an ego that requires me to believe that the girls who wait outside my door are there for me and only me.
She’s giggling, her arms around my neck, alcohol breath blowing in my face. “I said we had an interview. I was thinking we could get real deep.” She grabs a handful of my cock and it immediately reacts.
“I appreciate the offer, Jenn. I really do.” I grit my teeth to keep from giving in. “The bus takes off soon, so there’s no time.” I gently pry her hands from the waistband of my pants but then she wraps her arms around my neck again, plastering her body to mine. She’s like a leech. Her grip is so tight, and one of her legs has slithered around my waist. If she hadn’t locked us in my bedroom, I could have called for backup. Where the fuck is Rex?
There’s a crash from outside the bedroom just as Jenn steps away to remove her top. She doesn’t hear it. Two perky breasts are now exposed, begging for me. Fuck. Her tits are nice, and it’s been awhile. She sinks down to her knees, a wicked smile lighting up her face as she eyes my crotch and licks her lips.
No. You’re not doing this.
Before I know what’s happening, a small figure bursts through the door, eyes red as the devil. Lyric. Gorgeous Lyric. She shouldn’t have eyes of the devil. But she sure as shit does right now. Her arms fold across her busty chest, and she glares at Jenn. “Put your tits away and get the hell out.”
Jenn looks between Lyric and me, confusion written all over her face. And then disappointment. She’s finally realizing she’s not going to get what she wants. “Shit. You’re with Lyric? Why didn’t you tell me?” She scrambles to her feet and tries to find her shirt.
Lyric takes a step forward, and I’m afraid she’s going to throw a punch. I’m too turned on to stop her. “He’s not with me, but that shouldn’t make you feel better. Your tits are still hanging out. Leave.”
“You can’t tell me to leave.” She glares at Lyric and then turns to me. “Right, Wolf?” Jenn gives it one last desperate attempt. I almost feel sorry for her and a little bit shitty about myself. Guilt isn’t an emotion I experience often, but part of me hates that women like Jenn think I’m a given. All they have to do is waltz in and strip, and my dick is theirs for the night.
As delicately as I can, I reach her shirt on the floor and hand it to her. “I’m sorry, Jenn, Lyric’s the boss. We’ll catch up when I’m in town again.” I’m never coming back to San Diego. Never again.
Lyric holds the door for her and then slams it behind her. When she turns back to me, her eyes are still red and heated. Like the sun. Can the sun bleed? It’s my turn to get mad at her, but I can’t. With anyone else, I would go off on them. If it was any other road manager, she’d be fired. But it’s Lyric. And I find myself amused and a little bit aroused that she just kicked someone out of my bedroom.
She’s still fuming, flushed and panting, and it’s hot as hell. I’ve imagined making her cheeks that color more times than I can count. And I’m still hard. I shift slightly and she takes notice of the massive erection trying to fight its way through my jeans. It’s getting uncomfortable.
Lyric gasps and looks up at me before squeezing her lids together and shaking her head. Good luck purging that from your memory, sweetheart. I snicker internally.
I thought she might have been hiding a little crush on me, but I had no idea she already wanted to stake a claim. I’ll have to figure out how to deal with this for an entire tour—fuck her and then go back to business as usual.
“Care to explain why you kicked down my door?”
Her eyes move around my room until she spots something, and then she’s moving to the set of drawers by my bed. That’s when my eyes go wide, and I run over to slam the drawers shut before she can see what’s in there.
“Hey! I’m giving you a pass on barging in here because I didn’t know how to let Jenn down gently, so you saved me there. But I draw the line at going through my stuff.”
She swivels, and I swear she’s grown a few inches as she stares back at me. “Really? You have something to hide? You think you can steal intimate lyrics from people and then pawn them off as your own? Make a huge scene about it so that the world is on your side? You rock stars are all alike, aren’t you? Caring about no one but yourselves.”
“What the fuck are you talking about? Is this about that new song? I cleared it with Crawley and the label. We’re ready to make a deal with whoever wrote those lyrics. They'll be set for life.”
She squeezes her eyes shut, and it has a direct effect on my insides. Just that look tells me what she hasn't said. I’ve found my Cinderella.
“How did you find it? I threw it away.” Her voice is soft now, hitting me straight in the chest.
“It’s yours? Shit, Lyric. If I knew that—”
“What would you have done?” She glares, causing a sudden tightness in my chest and throat.
This girl does things to me.
Of course she had to be the one to write that song. “I would have talked to you before doing anything with it. I didn’t know who wrote it. It was about to fall into the pool, and I caught it. If it meant so much to you, why did you throw it away? There was no name on it, nothing—”
“So you stole it?”
I shake my head, completely thrown off balance. “No. I didn’t steal anything. Didn’t you hear me out there? We want to offer whoever wrote it a deal.”
She laughs, a sarcastic laugh as if I’m insane. This is not the reaction I expected from the owner of those lyrics. Then again, I didn’t expect the owner’s name to be Lyric. There’s a coincidence for you.
“Some things can’t be bought, Wolf.”
“I know that.” I do. I absolutely know that. Shit. “Honestly, we thought we were doing a good thing.”
“You didn’t know it was my song?”
“No, I swear.”
“You liked it?”
That stops me in my tracks. I want to take her face into my palms and lay one on her. Is this insecurity coming from Ms. Feisty herself? “I love it, Lyric. The band loves it. Our manager loves it. The crowd fucking ate that shit up. We want it to be our next hit, and with the publicity we’ve brought to it tonight, we’re well on our way.”
Her eyes glaze over and shift away from me. “Look at me, Lyric.” She does. “I’m not just saying this . . . it’s yours. If you want me to put a stop to it all, I will. If you want me to let the world know you wrote it, I can do that, too. Anything you want. Totally your call.”
She looks at me, and by the way her eyes are scanning mine, I swear she’s seeing me for the first time. It’s possible. People get closed off when they’ve been burned, I know from experience. Lyric’s charcoaled skin was still hot when I met her. She couldn’t see past the smoke, but something is changing. Maybe she isn’t ready to believe me, but she wants to.
There’s a bang on the bedroom door, and Crawley’s voice is low but clear. “We’re taking off. Lyric, Wolf, you two in there? I need to see your faces before this bus leaves. Sorry.”
I roll my eyes and move to the door before Lyric can get to it. When the door is open, Crawley and Rex are standing there. Rex gives me a nod and walks off. Crawley lingers longer than he should, glances between us both, and then nods. “Thanks. See you in the morning.”
“Wait,” Lyric calls and steps forward. I slam the door before she can leave. “What are you doing? I need to claim my bunk—”
“Not until we’re done talking.”
She shoves my chest, and I want to lift her, making it easy for her to wrap her legs around my waist. Resistance makes for hot sex when it’s consensual. “You can’t imprison me.”
“You can’t kick girls out of my room.”
“You can’t steal song lyrics from innocent people.”
“Then you shouldn’t throw them away like they’re nothing to you.”
We’re only a couple of inches apart. My hands are itching to grip her waist and slam my mouth onto hers. Shut her the hell up, at least for a few hours. It might relieve some of the tension between us because while it may have been questionable when we met, it’s now painfully obvious. I want Lyric beneath me, wrapped around me, slipping and sliding with me until her moans turn to screams. I fucking want her. And I want her words, too. Her angry lyrics, her vulnerable confessions. I want it all.
“I don’t want anyone to know I wrote it,” she whispers but doesn’t back away.
“What?”
“You can have it. You’re right. I threw it away. It was too—”
“Real? Lyric, those make for the best songs. You should know this. It is real, and that’s why I love it. That’s why I became obsessed with it for over a week. I can’t write that shit. Not for lack of trying, but it taps into a part of me that I can’t get to.”
