“Just like this,” he murmurs as he envelopes my hand in his and makes me strum in an even rhythm. “Very good. You’re a natural.” His head is nearly on my shoulder, and the ladies in the audience whistle in response. I shut my eyes and breathe evenly.
Okay, this is the part where I have to remind myself it’s all pretend. I know Max told me to suspend my disbelief, but that was before I fully understood what the hell I was in for. I thought Kieran was one of the sexiest men I’d ever met, but this Caleb guy makes Kieran seem like a virgin choirboy. He even smells different. Kieran smelled like lemongrass. Caleb smells like pine. Fresh, sexy, phallic pine.
“That’s perfect,” Max whispers as I continue to strum after he takes his hand away. “If you keep stroking like that, I’ll be a very happy man.”
Sweet Horny Jesus.
He takes my left hand and places it on his left wrist. “Now, hold on tight, Eden. We’re going to have some fun together.”
He curls his fingers around the neck of the guitar and changes chords as I continue to strum, and then the drums and bass kick in with a slow, seductive riff. I’ve barely had time to register the thrill of making music before Max’s front presses flush against my back, and he leans forward into the microphone.
“I can feel you on the inside. I lose my fingers in your hair.
Your body’s my religion. Your name’s my favorite prayer.”
God, the sensation of his chest and throat vibrating against me, not to mention the timbre of his voice. His freaking dark, sensual voice.
The ladies in the audience are no longer screaming. Now, they’re all watching in rapt fascination, mesmerized by ‘Caleb’ and his insane sex appeal. The lyrics and music vibrate through me so powerfully, my whole body feels it.
Deep is how I want you.
Deep is where you live.
Wrap me in your legs now
Drown me in your kiss.
Keep me safe inside you.
Let me see your soul
I’m half a monster without you.
When I’m deep, you make me whole.”
The song continues to build, and by the time it climaxes and ends, I’ve never felt the need for a cigarette more in my life. As the final chord dies away, there’s silence for a full three seconds before the audience erupts. My hands shake from the adrenaline firing in my system. I’ve never felt anything like this before. Is this why musicians are so passionate? Because performing makes them feel like they’ve taken a whole crate of high-quality drugs?
Max is still close, mouth near my ear, when he says, “You were amazing, Eden. Thank you.” Then he lifts his guitar off me and steps away, but I can still feel the echo of his body on my skin.
“Give Eden a hand. Wasn’t she great?”
They all scream again, and I look around in a daze. As Max escorts me back down into the audience, I feel lightheaded and groggy, like I’ve woken up from an intense dream.
What the actual hell did I just experience?
I push through the crowd toward the bar as the M.C. says, “Give another hand for Caleb Sykes! If you want Caleb’s album, he’ll be signing them in the foyer in just a few minutes. We’re going to take a short break while we reset for the main event tonight, Kingdom of Stoooone! So, refill your drinks, and we’ll see you back here in thirty minutes.”
The lights come up as pre-recorded music filters through the room, and people murmur and laugh as they wander off the dance floor.
I look up and down the length of the bar, but there’s still no sign of Asha and Joanna. On unsteady legs, I signal to the barman to bring me a beer.
“What kind?”
“Anything. I don’t care.”
He places a bottle of craft beer in front of me, and I drink half of it without stopping. It does nothing to help bring me back to reality.
*
Fifteen minutes later, I’m coming down from whatever screaming cloud of bizarre my rock star experience put me on, and am feeling mostly like myself again. A few ladies come up and gush about how jealous they are of me getting so close to Caleb, and I try to be polite, even though I’m starting to panic that I still can’t find Joanna and Asha. I’ve texted Ash three times in the past five minutes and haven’t received a response, which is worrying considering I know for damn sure she rarely has her phone out of her hand, even when she sleeps. Her not texting me back is a definite red flag.
Leaving the bar behind, I push through to the lobby and search every corner of it. Still no Asha.
“Shit.”
I’m about to head outside when I see ‘Caleb’ standing among a throng of women, signing CDs and Rock Shop T-shirts. I have to hand it to Max. This setup is pretty extensive. He certainly goes the extra mile to make his scenarios believable.
He glances over at me. “Eden, hey. Thanks for waiting for me, sweetheart.”
A very loud WTF is on the tip of my tongue as he hands a CD to a busty brunette. She gazes up at him the same way Asha gazes at Sprinkles cupcakes; which is to say with deep and abiding lust. All the ladies make a groaning noise as he extricates himself from them and heads over to me.
“Sorry, ladies, I’d love to stay and chat, but I promised my beautiful girlfriend we’d go to dinner after the show.”
So, it would seem that the onstage cameo wasn’t the full date. I guess that makes sense. Not to diminish the smoking-hot experience of having Max wrapped around me while he crooned about being deep, but as a client I’d be pissed if I paid five grand for four minutes.
“Oh, she’s your girlfriend?” the brunette says, not even bothering to conceal her envy. “I thought you two looked too cozy on stage to be strangers.”
“What can I say?” Max says as he puts his arm around my waist. “I just can’t hide my feelings when she’s near, no matter how hard I try.” He bends and grazes his lips over my cheek. It sends a rush of tingles through me that are so powerful, I suppress a full-body shiver.
The brunette’s friend lets out a snort. “Oh, I bet it’s hard when she’s around.” They all gaze at his crotch then giggle again.
See? This is exactly what I’m trying to avoid becoming. I’m sure all these ladies are strong, accomplished, and clever in their own ways. And yet, right now, they’re like a gaggle of school girls.
My face must show my inner thoughts, because Max whispers, “Just smile and nod. And don’t show any fear. They can smell it.” Then he turns back to his admirers. “Well, gotta go, ladies. Nice to see you all. Have a great night.”
There’s a general murmur of disappointment as he takes my hand and leads me past two burly security guards monitoring the door to the backstage area.
“Thanks for the cover,” he says as we walk down a long corridor. “Getting away from them can be tough.”
His hand is warm around mine.
“Where are you taking me?” I ask.
He stops, confusion coloring his expression. “Back to my dressing room to fuck, of course. I’m sorry, have you not read the groupie handbook? It’s one of the first things they teach you.”