His throat bobs. “You look…”
“Sweaty,” I quip, eager to lighten the mood. “I’m already sweating and we haven’t even hit the stage.”
“I had a different word in mind.” His eyes blaze, paralleling the setting sun. “You doing okay?”
I blink. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“We haven’t really talked since…” His voice trails off. He rubs his chin.
My stomach pitches with arousal-steeped memories.
Biting my lip, I take a slow step forward, until we’re merely a foot apart.“And you haven’t really smiled since…” My leg extends, and I grip my ankle with one hand, pulling it vertical, mimicking the charade from his hotel room a few days ago.
Unfortunately, it barely reaches a one-eighty-degree angle, and I teeter sideways, doing a one-footed hop.
Damn leather pants.
At least it gets a smile out of him.
Chase takes me by the shoulders, keeping me steady. His hands are soft, gentle, trailing down my arms as he exhales a deep breath. “I’m feeling a little better.”
“Really?” Relief sweeps through me, brightening my smile. “Your headaches?”
He nods.
“Chase…that’s great. That’s amazing.” I inch closer, blanketing myself in his warmth. My heart rate kicks up from our proximity. He smells like sandalwood and sin. Letting out a shaky breath, I press a hand to his chest. “Maybe after the show…we can talk?”
He swallows. “Yeah.”
“Limo’s here,” Tag interrupts.
Rock whistles loudly. “Let’s fuckin’ go!”
Kenna calls my name while Zach jogs over from the bar, his bass in hand. We all pile into the limo, spirits high and adrenaline soaring. I squish in between Chase and Kenna, while Tag slides in beside my friend.
He hauls an arm around her. “Tonight’s the night, baby.”
“Oh my God, you’re right. Tonight’s the night you get stabbed in the face for calling mebaby.” She scoots closer to me, untangling herself from his arm. “Jeez, Tag. A little awareness goes a long way.”
My brother is unfazed. “Oh, I’m aware. I’m aware you’re secretly obsessed with me, and it’s ruining your life.”
She hums with disinterest. “I cry into my pillow every night thinking about your man bun.”
Tag grins, kicking his boots up onto the opposite seat. “Healthy coping mechanisms, Kenna. Proud of you.”
Chase chuckles low beside me, his hand cupping my knee as the limo lurches forward into the sunset. His lips brush my ear when he leans in. “You smell so fucking good.”
Tingly heat bursts through me as I press closer to him. “Must be the sweat.”
“Must be.” His hand drifts up my leg, squeezing my thigh. “I just want to talk tonight…if that’s okay. Take things slow. There’s a lot I need to say.”
I look at him, the city streaking through the window in a stream of headlights and marquees. “Yeah,” I whisper. “Me too.”
As much as I want to strip him out of his clothes and ride him until dawn, he’s right. We should talk. Reconnect. Do this the right way.
Rock lights up a joint, the smell of marijuana wafting through the limousine. “Here’s to Honey Moons, motherfuckers. Taking over the world, one shred at a time.” He passes it to Zach.
Taking a long drag, Zach blows smoke through his nose. Then he leans back into the seat, the streetlights flashing across his face as he exhales slow and steady. He looks around at all of us. Really looks.
