The Girl in the Love Song (Lost Boys 1)

She was waiting for me in the green room, and in one glance, I felt the same need from her. A bunch of other people were hanging around, congratulating me as soon as I stepped in the door. I ignored them, striding to Violet with a single-minded purpose.

“Can I talk to you?” I said to her in a low voice, practically a growl.

Her lips parted with a breathy little gasp. “Yes,” she whispered. “Yes.”

I took her by the hand and led her out, though I wanted to throw her over my shoulder like a goddamn caveman. Behind the green room, the venue had an executive suite set aside for me. I locked the door behind us, lifted Violet without a word, and set her on the long counter that ran along one wall.

Her skirt and T-shirt clung to her curves, hiding nothing. I moved between her legs, kissing her ferociously, mauling her, my hands in her hair, while her hands tore at the buttons on my jeans, her need as dire as mine.

“It was one thing to see you open for Ed, but you…” she breathed between kisses, lifting my T-shirt off. “All those people there for you. Now I know why rock stars have as much sex as they want. Why women throw their panties…flash their boobs. I get it now.” Her hands were everywhere on my heated skin. “That was sexiest thing I’ve ever seen in my life.”

I had no words but to kiss her hard, sucking at her luscious lips that were red and sweet. Something primal in me was coming awake. I needed to have her. To possess her. For years, I’d been singing to her since we were kids, cherishing her with every breath I took. When I finally had her, we’d been torn apart, leaving me wanting her from across so many miles and continents. My heart had pined and ached and loved. And now she was here for good, and my heart and soul could relax while my body took over. I wanted to fuck her hard and raw. No more poetry. No more music but for the banging of the furniture, her cries of pleasure singing out, the slapping of flesh on flesh and my own feral grunts as I took her.

My hands slid up her thighs and came back down with her silk panties, already damp. I grabbed a condom from the pocket of my jeans before they could drop to my ankles, put there for this exact moment.

I held her face in one hand, the other sliding under her ass, hauling her to the edge of the bar. She spread her legs wider to let me in and cried out as I thrust hard.

“Yes,” she hissed, her hands dropping to my hips to pull me tight to her. Deeper.

I bent over her, holding her hip with one hand, the other planted on the cool marble. Vi’s ecstatic cries rang out, adding to the delirium of this mindless, raw possession.

“Miller, I’m…” Her entire body tensed against mine, cutting off her words, her arms wrapping around me, her legs locked at the ankles, holding me tight to her. Her core clenched around me as her orgasm swelled.

I felt it build in her, and I wanted that too. Greedy for all of her after having gone without. I slowed my thrusting hips, pulled nearly all the way out, and then pushed back in, coaxing and drawing her orgasm to a crest. She clung to me, arms, legs, and teeth that bit down on the slope of my neck, screaming her pleasure into my skin as the wave tossed her.

My own release was crashing toward me. I gave in to it, driving inside her with a last, furious frenzy, until the knot of heat and electricity at the base of my spine exploded out and into her. I gritted my teeth, my fingers digging into her hips hard enough to leave bruises, but I didn’t want to let go.

She’s here. She’s mine.

“Yes,” she breathed, her hands in my hair. “Yes, come in me.”

My body obeyed. I came in a final, shuddering thrust, emptying myself into her before sagging against her.

For a few moments, the only sounds were the rasping of our breaths and the muffled sounds of the after-party in the green room. Slowly, Violet released me, arms and legs falling loose and heavy.

“Jesus Christ, Miller…” Violet said with a tired laugh, both of us bathed in sweat and breathing hard. “I just lived every woman in that arena’s fantasy.” Her voice softened. “Except, I get to have all of you.”

I gave a tired laugh into the crook of her neck. “Even the possessive

part that would make our caveman ancestors proud.”

“I like it,” she said, pushing me back enough to kiss me and trail her finger along my jaw. “No, I love it. I love how you make love to me and how you fuck me and how I still feel safe with you no matter which. I feel how much you love me, even when you turn into a beast.” Her fingers went to the small bruises forming on her thigh.

“I never want to hurt you…” I said, alarmed.

“I want them. I want to feel marked by you. Inside and out. Because there’s no one else, Miller. There never was, and there never will be.”

Her words sunk deep into my chest, and this time, they stayed. I trusted them. And her. “I’ve wanted this for so long, Vi. Years.”

“Me too. It took us a long time to get here.”

My thumb traced her lips made swollen by my kisses. “We’re here now.”

Chapter Thirty-One

We pulled ourselves together and joined the rest of the band, a few VIP fans, and the press in the green room. I was sure everyone would know what we’d done, but the room was thick with post-show adrenaline and celebration. Miller hung around long enough to take a few photos, then we returned to our hotel room.

Dr. Brighton performed a check-up, and they went over his insulin dosages, loading the pump affixed to his abdomen to account for the exertion of the concert and the food he’d eaten post-show. The doctor gave us a stern look.