“Lie down,” he murmured, his hands guiding her toward the sofa. She went willingly and felt the cushions shift as he rose. He’d released her back, and his hands now steered her legs up onto the loveseat.
“Sleep,” he ordered.
And she obeyed.
…
“They’re calling last night’s performance ‘tired’,” her mom said from the other side of the tour bus, her gaze fixed on her laptop.
“Mom, you shouldn’t read the reviews.” Chrissie glanced across the bus to where her father was playing cards with Melissa. He’d skipped last night’s show. She knew he would. But she’d still glanced offstage and hoped to see him. Not for her big number one hit, but for the others.
“What happened last night?” her mother demanded.
“The band was perfect,” she said with a sigh. “You were there. You heard the show. It was good. I was just…”
Tired.
The reporter was correct. Even after Dante’s massage and her brief nap in the greenroom, she’d walked onto the stage feeling drained. Between her “lessons” with her bodyguard, which stole time away from the growing to-do list, and the demands of writing a new album, she’d pushed sleep and rest to the bottom of her priorities.
Now, she needed to make a change. She couldn’t afford lackluster performances. It wasn’t fair to the fans who had paid for tickets, or the family depending on her to bring home the proverbial bacon.
Her stomach grumbled. She’d skipped breakfast this morning, trying to make up for the lost time spent in Dante’s distracting arms.
“As soon as we arrive in Denver, you need to rest,” her mom said.
“I will,” she said. But when it came to choosing between an hour spent alone and asleep in another hotel bed, or an orgasm in Dante’s arms that would probably change the way she thought about Colorado’s capital…
Sleep. You can’t afford the distraction.
“How are the new songs?” Her mother closed the laptop and looked expectantly at her. There was so much hope in her momma’s tone.
And what could she say? I’ve been too busy in bed with my bodyguard to write? Her relationship with the SEAL left her emotions swirling. If she put those feelings into her music…
She would have a hit record. But she might miss out on her last chance to seduce her SEAL before he left. Once he returned to the teams, they needed to end their fling and stop the distractions threatening her career.
“Uno!” her little sister shouted.
“Melissa, please keep your voice down on the bus,” her mother said. “I’m trying to talk to your sister. This is important.”
“The new songs are great,” Chrissie lied. And she added a forced smile just in case her mom could see right through those empty words.
“Good,” her mother said. “I spoke with Mason earlier and told him to set up a call with your label.”
“Mom, we don’t have time,” she protested. “There’s a show tonight.”
“They need to know you’re still on track,” her mother said. “A brief update after your show tonight will erase their concerns.”
But they have every right to worry. I haven’t written the songs.
“I should probably head to the back of the bus and keep writing before we get to Denver,” she said. “If I have to show them something tonight.”
She stood and glanced at the powerful, imposing SEAL who was riding shotgun in her tour bus. After tonight’s show, she wanted to lose herself in his arms, not chat about music she hadn’t produced yet. She craved Dante’s comforting touch. She wanted him—beneath her, on top of her, kissing, touching, and making her scream his name. One more night before she said good-bye and focused on writing about her emotions instead of following them to their natural end—a relationship she couldn’t afford to keep.
She slipped into the room at the back of the bus and closed the door. Plucking a pad of paper and a pen from the shelf, she sat down and stared at the blank white sheet. She waited for the words and searched for the melody. Eyes closed, she tried to focus.
But her mind summoned the image of Dante’s too-perfect muscles and the memory of his voice offering instructions. A single emotion rushed through her—desire. Right now, she wanted him more than just about anything.
She opened her eyes and focused on the paper again. Maybe if she wrote something, if she gave tonight’s audience a high-energy show they’d talk about for weeks, maybe then she could give in to desire one more time.