But I couldn’t dothat.
Wecouldn’t dothat.
Because he had to get up and clear out ofhere.
I had a life to get back to. A life Seth Brothers did not fit into… despite the fact that I’d done exactly as he’d accused me last night—summoning him here in hopes of something happening betweenus.
And now, here I sat. Frozen, clutching the sheet around me, just watching him sleep. Not knowing what to do or say when I woke him. How to not make it awkward andawful.
On those few occasions when I’d been horny—or drunk—enough to have a one-nighter with some random fanboy, I’d had my staff brush him off in the morning. I’d head out for breakfast or whatever, before he got up, and by the time I got back to the hotel, he’d be gone. Joanie or Maggie or security would have whisked himaway.
Sometimes they left a number in hopes of hearing from me again. Of course, I never calledthem.
But I couldn’t do that toSeth.
This wasn’t some hotel on tour, and he wasn’t somefanboy.
And this did not feel like a one-nighter.
It felt like something I wanted to do again. Andagain.
Of course, it was a one-nighter. Because there was no universe that I knew of where Seth and I could belovers.
If, by some miracle, he ended up with Dirty again, the two of us together was a bad, bad idea. I’d been down that road with Jesse. I wasn’t doing itagain.
And even if he didn’t ever play with Dirty again… I wasn’t exactly gonna carry on an affair with him in secret and lie to everyone else I caredabout.
And out in the open? A few days in Hawaii were one thing. Those paparazzi photos were suggestive but inconclusive. And weweren’tsleeping togetherthen.
Now, we were. Or at least, we had.Once.
Well…twice.
If I was openly sleeping with Dirty’s ex-guitarist, how the hell would that ever work? What was I gonna do, put him up in a separate hotel when we were on the road, my scorned lover stashed away where he wouldn’t ruffle anyfeathers?
Not fuckinglikely.
I just could not see any way that this could play out. That he and I could be together in any sense of theword.
And I did not need this guilt hangover every time I slept withsomeone.
As I sat here in my guilt, I knew I had to be much smarter than this. When had I started letting my pussy make my decisions forme?
The longer I sat, the more anxious I felt about itall.
I just had so fucking much tolose.
Seth… he had everything to gain. Those photos would do nothing for him but good. The documentary series would do him good. Attaching himself to me, in any way, would only helphim.
But those photos opened me up to judgment, criticism, and the possibility of damaging my relationships with my band members, not to mentionBrody.
Suddenly, I feltridiculouslyvulnerable.
On a whim—a delicious, stupid whim—I’d jeopardized everything. My band, my friendships, my public image. Who knew how this could be twisted, to be used againstme?
And yet… I didn’t regretit.
I didn’t feel like this was done. But ithadtobe.
