Taming the Storm (The Storm, #3)

“Too long!” she says in a singsong voice.

I can see her lowering her perfect legs to the floor, but I notice she doesn’t let go of him while her hands grip his waist.

“Jake said you were here as tour manager, but I thought he was just shitting me. I mean, this is you we’re talking about, and you know what Jake is like, always teasing me. But here you are. Tom Carter, a tour manager. Well, screw me sideways. Then again, you’ve already screwed me sideways and back ways, right, baby?” She winks.

I want to vomit. I actually want to vomit.

He’s had sex with her.

Of course he’s had sex with her. Half the female population has had sex with him.

Tom’s eyes flicker past her to meet mine—again.

What’s he looking at me for?

I dip my gaze, pretending to be suddenly enthralled by the words on my notepad.

“Look at you though,” she says, her voice sounding softer. “Your hair has all grown out.”

My curious eyes have to take a quick look.

Shannon is running her fingers through his hair in an intimate and familiar way. It causes my stomach to clench.

“And you’ve grown a beard.” Smiling, she trails her fingernails over his facial hair. “You look all grown-up.”

He rubs a hand over his jaw. “I grew up a long time ago.”

“Sure you did, but I like it.”

He gives her a smile. “You’re looking good, Shan.”

“Don’t I always?” She wiggles her hips. “So, do you like the new girls?” She steps back and sticks out her chest. “I only went up a cup size. I’m a D now. Didn’t want to go too big, you know? I can’t stand those in-your-face fake boobs. These feel real though. Can’t tell they’re implants at all. Have a feel.”

Tom’s eyes flash over to me. I look away before he can really catch my gaze.

Seriously, why does he keep looking at me?

“Yep, they feel real all right.”

So, he felt her up. Awesome.

“Told ya. I’m really happy with them. My surgeon was amazing. They were a present to myself for hitting the wrong side of thirty. God, I can’t believe I’m thirty-five!” She groans. “Where has the time gone?”

Thirty-five? God, I thought she was around my age, twenty-two. I’d have given her twenty-five max. Hell, I hope I look as good as she does when I’m her age.

“Yeah, you’re getting old now.” Tom laughs.

“Hey! You’re not that far behind me. What are you now? Twenty-nine?”

“Yep. I’m a baby compared to you.”

“Fuck off,” she gibes good-naturedly. “You never complained about my age when you had your dick in me. And here I was, thinking you liked older women.”

Oh God. I roll my eyes, stifling a laugh at the absurdity of what I’m listening to.

Tom lets out a dirty-sounding chuckle. “You know me, Shan. I’ve always liked any kind of woman—as long as she’s hot and game for anything.”

“Yeah, that I do know for sure.” She giggles.

I shift in my seat, putting my back to them. I stick two fingers into my mouth and fake gag.

“Lyla?”

My head whips around at Tom’s stern tone. My eyes meeting with his, I see he’s frowning at me. Shannon is beside him with her hand on his arm, her face neutral.

Did he just see me fake gag? I had my back to them, so he couldn’t have— Oh, shit.

I remember there’s a mirror up on the wall. I turn back to look at it.

My eyes connect with Tom’s in the mirror, and he raises his eyebrows in suggestion as a knowing grin hits his lips.

He saw what I did.

Fucking fuck.

My cheeks are on fire.

I turn in my seat to face him. “What do you want?” My voice comes out sharper than I intended, making me sound like a bitch.

Tom’s expression hardens at my tone. “You’re needed onstage to do sound checks.”

Oh. Okay.

One question—why did he come and get me himself? Why didn’t he send a runner?

Relieved he didn’t call out my childish behavior, I say, “Let me get my stuff.” I start gathering my cell, notepad, pen, and bottle of water before shoving them into my bag.

“So, what are your plans for tonight after the show?” Shannon asks Tom. “I was thinking we should hook up. It’s been a few years since we last fucked.”

My back stiffens.

Seriously? Fucking seriously?

I’m standing right here!

Shannon is nice enough, and I might learn to like her, but I can’t believe she’s trying to arrange a sex date with Tom while I’m standing right here.

What the hell am I—chopped liver?

I slam my bag down on the table, the metal buckles clanging loudly. I don’t care if I come across as rude. I’m not here to stand around like a fucking lamppost while these two arrange a banging session.

My eyes lift to that damn mirror again, and Tom’s eyes are already on me, his gaze burning into mine. In this moment, it’s almost like he’s trying to read me.

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