Tempt Me (One Night with Sole Regret 2)

Adam took a swing at him. Busting his balls was one thing; calling Madison some slut was going way too far. Unfortunately, Kellen stepped between them before Adam could connect his fist with Shade’s face.

“Now is not the time for this,” Kellen said. “Adam, your cue.”

Fuck the concert. Adam wanted to beat the shit out of Shade. Just because Adam had wanted to spend time with Madison at the expense of his other responsibilities did not make him irresponsible. Did it? And even if it did, why did Shade think it was any of his business? Adam wasn’t Shade’s responsibility. Fuck him.

Adam heard the drumbeat that signaled the start of his guitar intro. His hands found familiar strings and began to play automatically. He should already be on stage in the red spotlight over his stomp pad. If Shade would stop sticking his arrogant nose where it didn’t belong and making Adam’s blood boil, Adam might be able to concentrate on what he was doing. He played his way up the stage steps and pretended his entrance was part of the show. The crowd wouldn’t know any different. When the spotlight bathed him in an aura of crimson, the crowd erupted in screams of excitement. Yeah, just try continuing this band without me, ass**le.

Shade darted across the stage and stood at its center, belting out a battle cry that would have made Spartans tremble. The crowd roared even louder. Son of a bitch.

If Adam didn't love Sole Regret’s music so much, he'd have left the band—and Shade's bullshit—long ago.

Fingers flying over the strings near the body of his guitar as he played one of his most elaborate solos, Adam caught movement at the corner of the stage. He turned his head to find Madison watching him with her hands clenched together over her heart. He should play something just for her. He wondered if she'd like that. Near the end of his solo he lifted the neck of his guitar vertically next to his face and caught her scent on his hand again. He drew a deep breath into his lungs and his eyes drifted closed. Mercy, she smelled like honeyed sin.

Reluctant to move his hand, Adam took his time lowering his guitar to rest in front of his suddenly attentive cock. Not the best time and place to become aroused, but he couldn’t help it. Her scent did that to him. Everything about her did that to him.

The stadium erupted in cheers as he completed his solo and stepped back from the front edge of the stage. As loud as the crowd was, the only cheer that made his heart thud was Madison's fist thrown in the air with excitement. She'd never cheered like that at one of his shows before. She'd always hung back away from the action and tried to remain unnoticed. He wondered about the sudden change in her. He was glad she was having a good time, but he wasn't sure if he wanted her to change. She was his anchor as well as the wind in his sails. He needed to know she was there for him even when he didn’t see her for weeks, sometimes months, at a time.

The song ended, and Shade stalked the front of the stage, talking to the crowd as vocalists were prone to do. “How are we feeling tonight, Dallas-Fort Worth?”

The crowd roared on cue. Adam stole a glance at Madison. She offered him a timid wave and then smiled and lowered her gaze. He couldn't see the color of her face from this distance, but he knew she'd be blushing. He loved it when she blushed.

Shade was still jabbering at the crowd. He might as well have been talking like an adult in a Peanuts cartoon for all that Adam heard. The heavy thud of Gabe's bass drum snapped Adam to attention when the next song started. He really was out of it tonight; he needed to step up his game. He did have fans to entertain. He could concentrate on entertaining Madison in about an hour.

Adam trotted to the front of the stage next to Shade the-attention-whore Silverton, and bent forward to play a hard and heavy riff to a cluster of fans in the pit.

“Adam, you're a god!” someone yelled.

He grinned. Did you hear that, Shade? They think I'm a god.

“I love you, Shade,” someone else yelled like a banshee with a megaphone.

Son of a bitch.

Adam noted the amused grins on the faces of several people in the audience and knew Kellen was mocking him behind his back. He did it every show. The crowd thought it was hilarious, so Adam let it slide. He knew Kellen would never do something to intentionally harm a person—well, except maybe those lovers he tied to his bed. But they begged to receive his punishment. Adam wondered if Madison would enjoy something like that. All indications pointed to hell yeah.

Shade charged in front of Adam so he could sing to the fans that Adam was favoring with personal attention. Seriously, dude? Adam rolled his eyes at Shade and trotted to the opposite end of the stage, climbing up on a platform and playing to the audience in the stadium seats. He pointed his guitar stock at the excited crowd and they yelled in enthusiasm. He pulled the neck of his guitar back and then thrust it forward again. Half the stadium roared on cue. He soon had them chanting at will. And when he bounced up on his toes, they jumped in unison.

A rush of adrenaline flooded his body, and he bounced in time with the beat. His audience followed his cue, jumping up and down with the music. Adam loved interacting with the crowd. Especially one so eager to follow his lead. Occasionally they got a dud of an audience, but most of their fans were crazy fun. The audience on the opposite side of the stadium began to roar, and Adam glanced over to find Shade standing near Madison, who was barely hidden in the wings. Shade was thrusting his fist in the air to get the other half of the audience worked into a frenzy.

And then the competition began. Who could get their side of the stadium to scream louder, to jump higher, to go crazier? Owen and Kellen moved down stage center to involve the audience members writhing in the pit. The craziest motherfuckers always rocked general admission. Several mosh pits formed on the floor, and bodies were soon ricocheting off each other in utter pandemonium.

By the end of the second song, Adam was already drenched in sweat. His shirt clung to his back and his hair to his face. He wiped his palm on his jeans so his fingers wouldn’t slip on his guitar strings when he played their next song. He'd like to say his half of the stadium was the most worked up now, but he had to admit the entire audience was in an uproar.

Adam moved back to Owen's live microphone and shouted, “You f**kers know how to rock!”

By the roar the audience produced, they obviously agreed.

Shade offered him a smile. “What do you say, Adam? Are you ready to set your fingers on fire?”

Like steam, the tension between them evaporated. At that moment, all that mattered was the music they shared. “Light me,” Adam said.