Kylee felt her whole body flush.
Kelly elbowed her. “Bitch…. BITCH!!!! That man is singing to you.”
“I think I forgot how to breathe,” Kylee whispered, laughing, dazed.
Every time Rio returned to that side of the stage, his eyes found her lingering, burning. She didn’t smile. Didn’t try to act cute. She just let him look. Let herself be looked at. Like a woman. Not a wife. Not a mother. Just a flame in the dark, daring him to reach for her.
The next song,“Saints and Gasoline”, was slower. Grittier. He dropped to his knees as he sang the first verse, dragging the mic across his lips, every lyric soaked in heat:
“Your name on my tongue tastes like fire and regret.”
“But I’d beg to burn again.”
When he looked up, it was only at her.
Kylee stood still, spellbound, her hands curled tightly around the barricade. Her heart was a war drum. Her thighs clenched.
Rio gave a slight nod before rising, like he knew. Like he felt the gravity between them, pulling tighter with every chord. He turned back to the band, shouting something that made the drummer laugh but even then, his glance flicked back once more.
And Kylee felt it.
The final song tore through the speakers like a storm“Blood on Bourbon Street.”It was wild, reckless, all crashing drums and snarling guitars. The crowd was feral now, bodies jumping, hands in the air, sweat slick and shining beneath the strobes.
Rio stood center stage, shirt half open, chest heaving. His hair stuck to his face, and his eyes burned like he was lit from the inside. He gripped the mic stand and shouted the final chorus, voice ragged and gorgeous:
“And I found heaven in a sinner’s kiss
down on Bourbon Street, baptized in bliss.”
The last chord rang out like a scream, and the lights cut.
Blackness.
Silence.
Then…explosion!
The audience erupted, thunderous and unhinged. Kylee’s heart was pounding so hard it echoed in her ears. Rio tossed his guitar pick into the crowd. It landed two feet from Kylee’s heels. One of the security guards stepped forward, picked it up, and handed it directly to her.
“Compliments of Mr. Riot,” he said with a knowing grin.
Kelly squealed. “Girl, he is going to eat you alive.”
Kylee said nothing, just curled her fingers around the pick. It was warm.
A sleek woman in all black with a headset appeared beside them. “I’m Taryn, Rio’s assistant. Come with me please.”
She led them through a side gate, past heavy security, down a narrow hall that still shook from the bass. The backstage area was buzzing with crew and laughter and empty liquor bottles. Lights flickered. Someone offered them water. Someone else offered tequila.
“Rio’s cooling off in the green room,” Taryn said. “You’ll have about ten minutes. Just a heads up, he’s... intense.”
The hallway seemed to narrow as they walked. Kelly trailed slightly behind, letting Kylee take the lead. Her heels echoed on the cement floor as they reached the last door. Taryn knocked once, then pushed it open. “Your VIPs are here.”
Inside, the room smelled like citrus, sweat, and smoke. Dim lighting. Leather couches. A few band members lounged nearby, cracking open beers, laughing. Rio stood near the back, shirtless now, a towel slung around his neck, tattoos gleaming under the soft glow of the lamps.
He turned. His gaze locked on Kylee like gravity had a vendetta. The world stilled. He moved toward her slowly, eyes raking her body like a song in progress.
“You made it,” he said, voice low and thick with post-show rasp. “Didn’t want to leave without meeting the woman who almost made me forget my lyrics.”
