She slid to the floor but clutched at him, not breaking the kiss.
His hands moved up and to her top. He felt her breathing grow shallow as he ran his hands over the outline of her breasts under the soft fabric.
She shivered, leaning back and looking up at him. Reaching down and stroking her hand against his dick, she gave a husky laugh. "That's a good, solid package you've got there."
When she touched him like that, he couldn't think straight. "You're a bad girl."
"Does that mean you're going to spank me again?"
He groaned, and pushed her against the door. "I think you deserve it, don't you?"
"Maybe you're right." A wild streak was visible in h
er expression.
"You like playing rough, do you?" Logic was gone. His dick had well and truly taken over his brain.
"You better believe it." She moved, stretching up to him, grazing his chin with her teeth. Her hands were measuring him up—back, shoulders, and biceps—while she kissed his neck. Her breasts, pert and high under her top, made his hands gravitate toward them.
He reached under it, his thumbs stroking her nipples until they were hard and jutting. He wanted to fuck her right there and then, up against the wall, rough and ready.
You vowed never to get involved with groupies, his conscience reminded him. She wanted Clayton. You're just a convenient second choice for a woman in heat. But she was all over him, so inviting, and his body was tuning his conscience out.
Her hands gripped his buttocks, digging into them roughly, pulling him closer.
He ground hard against her. He had condoms in his wallet, a three-pack. He wanted to use them all, in quick succession. The sudden sound of a mobile phone ringing interrupted that chain of thought, grounding him somewhat as he tried to work out where the sound was coming from.
She pulled her head back and raised one perfectly arched eyebrow. "Is that a vibrator in your pocket or are you just pleased to see me?"
When she laughed her nipples bounced, the hard little nubs poking through the fabric of her top, drawing his attention. He ran his thumbs over them, unable to resist.
"Oh I'm pleased to see you, but I think the vibrations are coming from your side." Probably a boyfriend or husband, he realized, waiting outside. He'd seen it before, women coming backstage while their boyfriends waited outside. It didn't make any sense to him. He eased away from her.
She fumbled for her hip pocket.
He had to ask. "Boyfriend?" He stepped back, giving her space.
"No, I'm single. What about you, have you got a boyfriend?" She laughed softly. "Or is that just Clayton's thing?"
Damn. He was hoping there hadn't been anything going on when she was in the dressing room. It had to happen eventually, he figured. Clayton and Jay's affair had been going on for months and they'd got away with it so far through sheer luck. "You saw them together?"
She pulled the phone out of her pocket. "I take it it's a secret?"
That sense of humor of hers was mischievous. He nodded. He was going to have to speak to her, talk her out of going to the press if it was at all possible. They weren't ready for that kind of exposure yet and might never be. Clayton had only confided in him because they needed his understanding and vigilance, but Clayton had also confided he was afraid the truth would ruin his career.
He reached over and punched the key code into the door, pushing it open to get some air. He needed to clear his head.
"I better get this, it's my housemate. I came to the gig with her and she's probably wondering where I am." She flicked the phone open and moved into the doorway, but kept one hand on his shoulder, maintaining the contact between them.
She'd said there was no boyfriend. It was a relief to find he hadn't just been mauling some other man's woman. He glanced over her. Her Doc Marten boots made him smile. She wasn't like the other groupies. He didn't seem to be clearing his head after all. The more he looked at her, the more he wanted her.
"Hi, Helen. Yes, I'm fine." She sidled a glance over his torso as she spoke, as if weighing her thoughts and words carefully. Her hand moved inside his jacket, down and across his chest while her gaze held his.
The way she handled him so confidently made him want to throw her on her back and climb all over her, in fact if she hadn't been talking on the phone, she'd be back up against the wall in a flash.
"No, I didn't get the autograph." She ran her hand over the bulge of his dick. "But something else just as exciting came up." She fixed him with a wicked stare.
Hot. He latched his hands around her hips, pulling her against him, needing that warm shape of her groin against his dick again.