17
Adrenaline pumped through my veins. My skin buzzed with frantic energy. My heartbeat jackhammered against my ribcage.
The concert was in full swing and Cherry Lips was bringing the house down.
Every note, every beat, had our fans jumping and stomping. Every word that left my lips elicited an explosive response from the audience.
My band members and I were in a state of pure ecstasy. There was nothing better than this.
Nothing, except for Liam's piercing eyes tracking my every movement on stage. Nothing, except for his lips nearly touching mine as he leaned into the microphone for a brief duet.
There was nothing better than being on stage with my band — except for having Liam up there with me.
I had wondered what our chemistry would look like, would feel like, during a live performance. But all my worries were set to rest.
When Liam leaned his back against mine, when he arched against me as he wailed on his guitar, when his heat seared through thin layers of clothing and sent flames licking across my skin—
The flush on my cheeks wasn't just from the hot spotlights. The clench of my stomach wasn't solely from exertion. The ache between my legs wasn't some sort of egotistical arousal from having enraptured the audience, as sometimes happened.
It was his fingers, moving so adeptly across the strings of his guitar. It was his eyes, narrowed with a single-minded resolve. It was his body, vibrating against mine from the same adrenaline high I was so familiar with.
And it was the crowd below us, waving their arms frantically, screaming their hearts out, singing along with every lyric, tears pouring down their faces.
We'd never experienced a concert like this.
And I knew it was because of Liam.
I'd been roused by his presence before. I'd experienced thrills and heat and lust.
But right then, up on stage with him?
I'd never felt so strong. So alive.
This was why I did what I did. This was why I sang. Why I performed.
I was unstoppable. I was fearless.
It really did feel like I could take on the world.
And I was just now realizing I wanted Liam by my side as I did exactly that.
As the concert wound down, as we played our final encore song, Liam drifted closer and closer, until he was right next to me, hips cantered forward. As he played, he rocked back and forth, rubbing his guitar against his body, bringing attention to his abdomen… and lower.
The suggestive pose set my body aflame. All I could think about was rushing off the stage, pulling Liam into the closest dark corner and—
And what?
My mind, body, and heart were caught in a three-way war.
My body told me I needed that man's lips on mine. I needed his hands on my skin. I needed his hips between my thighs.
My heart told me I needed his arms wrapped around me. I needed his heart beating next to mine. I needed him to hold me close and never let me go.
My mind told me either of those two options was a bad idea. The worst idea.
Jumping into bed with Liam would ruin any sense of professionalism I'd been trying to achieve between us. Giving my heart to him would only lead to heartbreak and regrets.
In the final few moments of the song, our eyes met.
