“No fucking way,” he said, swallowing. His voice was low, rough, his breaths coming faster as I slithered against him. “I’ve done it with Dirty. When I was younger and stupider. I’m not doing it in my solo show.”
I relaxed away from him an inch, my breasts still touching his back. I made sure he felt my hard, swollen nipples dragging against him. Yes, I was torturing myself, but as long as I was torturing him too, I didn’t care. I ran a fingertip down his spine and stroked that lovely notch at the top of his ass, which made him buck against me. The groan he let out gave me goose bumps.
“Then I guess you’re not doing me,” I said, sounding a hell of a lot more sure than I felt.
“Katie…” He blew out his breath through gritted teeth as I stroked him again.
“Jesse,” I whispered.
He rolled back, almost crushing me, but I slipped out of the way. He lay on his back, looking at me in the near-dark as the bus rumbled along. His eyes were in shadow, his dark eyebrows drawn together. His bicep flexed, his hand shifting under the sheet as he adjusted himself.
I hoped he had the hard-on from hell.
“Youlose,” he growled, “and you give me aprivateshow. Naked.”
I stretched, leisurely, arching my back, and pretended to yawn a little. “Not gonna lose,” I mumbled as I cuddled into my pillow and went to sleep. Or at least, pretended to go to sleep. As I lay there aching in the dark, I really didn’t know who I was torturing more.
Jesse groaned and grumbled. I opened one eye to peek at him. He was still on his back, and I watched as he gave his cock a single pump, then said, “Fuck,” and threw his arm over his eyes in defeat.
And when he said, “You’re gonna kill me, Katie Bloom,” I smiled.
CHAPTER 19
KATIE
By the time we arrived in New York City a few days later, I’d more or less wrapped my head around the whole crazy rock ’n’ roll routine.
Each night was pretty much the same. Concert. Rabid fans. After party. After-after party. Fake make out.
Followed by a raging case of blue clit.
Even on the nights when there was no show, there were always so many events to go to, to “be seen,” that it felt like Jesse was always performing in some way. It was pretty inspiring, actually, to be around someone who was living his passion twenty-four-seven. And of course it was thrilling to be on the receiving end of some of that potent, seductive energy.
Somehow, I was even managing to hold my own in the insane battle of will otherwise known as our fucked-up little bet. Though I didn’t feel as confident about actually winning the bet as I pretended to be. I just knew I couldn’t lose.
But Jesse wasn’t showing any real signs of giving in either.
It was our third day in NYC, following two sold-out shows, and I was wandering SoHo with Flynn after lunch, dipping in and out of shops looking for the perfect gifts for Devi and my sister, when Jesse called me.
Jesse had never called me before.
Normally Flynn just coordinated my “schedule” with Jude, and took me where I needed to be, which was wherever Jesse wanted me to be. Days were a little calmer than the nights, but no less packed. Usually Jesse sprang out of bed mid-morning, long before I was coherent, went for a run or a workout with Jude, then spent some time with his guitar. By then I was up and we had breakfast more or less together, though sometimes the other guys were also in and out, and Jesse was often on the phone, so it wasn’t exactly quality time. In the afternoons he was scheduled up the ass with interviews, meetings and appearances, some of which I accompanied him to—mainly the ones where any kind of camera was involved. There were none of those today, and no show, and no one had yet told me what we’d be doing tonight. I hadn’t really expected to see Jesse until the evening.
But here I was, standing in the street listening to the slow, sexy classic guitar riff at the beginning of Heart’sMagic Man, completely confused as to why it seemed to be coming from my purse… when I remembered that Devi had programmed it into my phone as Jesse’s ringtone before I left Vancouver. I’d forgotten to change it.
Flynn raised an eyebrow as I dug my cell from my purse. Blushing, I turned away and answered. “Hey, Jesse.”
“Hey, beautiful. Meet me for an early dinner at five? Flynn knows where.”
“Okay. Sounds good.”
“Perfect.”
He hung up. I grinned at my phone a moment, then tucked it away and continued shopping.
For the rest of the afternoon I pretty much floated around, light on my feet, with this stupid-happy feeling percolating in my chest.
I was having dinner with Jesse.
