Cas: Ok, you’ll let me take you on a date?
Vivienne: I don’t know.
Cas: You can be my arm candy. We’ll get some great PR out of it. I’ll make it worth your while.
Vivienne: What exactly does that mean?
Cas: The things I’m going to do to you would get my account flagged, and then my manager would have my ass. Give me your number.
Vivienne: No. That would make your research assignment too easy.
Cas: Touche. You want me to put in the effort. Understood.
Cas: But then you have to promise when I surprise you, that you’ll come with me.
Vivienne: Not if I’m at work.
Cas: I agree not to interrupt your work.
Cas: Give me one more night with you.
Vivienne: I promise I’ll go with you if you show up.
Cas: I’ll be there. Don’t worry. It’s a date.
Chapter eleven
She can’t have known how seriously I’d take her recommendation to do some research. I spent several hours of our drive to Arizona doing exactly that. I found out a lot just by scrolling through years of her life on social media. I also learned that her father passed away a few years ago, and from there, it was pretty easy to find out where she lives. Her house is full of character. It’s an older two-story brick home west of Denver in a really nice area known for its charming old mansions that have been updated to a more modern interior design.
Vivienne’s social media also provided clues about her career. She’s an insanely talented comic book artist who appears at comic cons all over the world. She’s worked on covers and comic series with some of the best artists in the industry. It’s almost mind-blowing how famous she is within her industry. I know this means I should be careful, but I can’t stop. All it took was one night with her, and now I’m addicted.
I’m so obsessed that between our shows in Arizona and Las Vegas, I had Matt and Brian do some extra digging, and since she hasn’t been on Instagram to check the messages I’ve sent her, I even had him pay his cousin to fly out there and check on her.
The folder full of photos taunts me on my phone screen as I stare at it while lying in bed. We have one more show in Vegas tomorrow, and then we’re on our way to California. Once we finish our last show in San Diego, we’ll get a couple weeks off to film content and do some additional PR for the second wave of the tour. It’s hard to believe, in just over a week, I’ll finally have some time to make good on my promise to take her on our first date.
I want everything to be perfect. Which is why I told my manager, Todd, to have one of his assistants handle the plans. The most important instruction I gave Arty is to help me keep a low profile, because I don’t want the paparazzi to know I’m in town. I also told him to go all out, no expense spared. I really want to impress my future wife. She’s mine—whether she knows it or not, eventually I know I’ll win her over. All these miles between us have me on edge. I’m one reckless rogue plan away from fucking up this tour. Truthfully, I’m not sure how I’m goingto make it another twelve weeks for the second half. Although, during the second leg, I have a stop in Chicago, I could probably sneak away for a few days together.
Fuck it. I could always kidnap her and bring her with me on tour. Well, not actually kidnap her, but selfishly take her with me and beg her to stay. I shake my head. I’ve got it bad for this girl. Cas Wilder does not beg.
My hyperfixation is out of control, and my self-aware ass has a front-row seat to the show. I’ve played out several different scenarios about how our second date will go. Each one of them has me running back to be with her. In Chicago, I have a month-long break to do some recording. There’s no time between my songwriting retreat in Michigan and our shows on the way to Florida. After we spend a few weeks shooting more content, we’ll be on the final stretch of the tour. I’ll be making my way up the coast to New York, where we’ll play our last show for New Year’s Eve. I need to get her to come to that show. I want her to be there for the last show since we met during the first one. I’ll find a way to make it happen. I don’t know how, but I will.
I look at the time. It’s after midnight, and I have a busy day tomorrow. I can’t resist the temptation of the photos. It feels wrong, but my desire to know what she’s doing cancels out all the second thoughts slamming through my mind. My finger taps the folder, and a gallery of photos opens, revealing snapshots of my girl.
Vivienne, laying on her couch doodling on an iPad, her face scrunched up in deep concentration. Later in the day, Vivienne is hunched over her drawing table sketching. Even later, mygoddess is curled up in bed, sleeping peacefully. She has no idea I’m watching over her. Now that I’ve had a taste, I need more. My thoughts spin. A camera system, surveillance with a live feed to help me pass the time on tour. She never has to know. I spend the next few minutes convincing myself it’s okay to keep an eye on her.
With the moral debate settled, I roll on to my back and slip my cock free. One hand grips the base, the other holds my phone, swiping me through the last few days in the life of my little muse. She’s perfect for me; the inspiration I need to do great things. A reason to give this my all, and a purpose to keep going. One day I’ll give her the world. She went through so much as a child, and then lost her father as an adult. Neither of us have any close family. We have so much in common.
Precum leaks onto my belly, but I keep going. I close my eyes and remember our night together—how good she felt. The way she took every inch of me and came all over it. My release is close. I can feel the familiar tug. I stroke myself harder and faster, driven by my need to come. I look at the picture of her curled up and sleeping, not a worry in the world. An intense moan rips from my chest, and then I’m coming. The warmth lands on my belly, adding to the sensation of it all. When I’m finished, I roll out of bed and head to the shower. There’s too much of a mess to make cleaning up simple. Besides, it might help me relax enough to actually sleep.
I rinse off quickly, thankful for another night in a hotel room. Before I crawl back in bed, I send one more message to Vivienne.Soon,it says. This might be the last message I send on socialmedia. I found her phone number, and she basically told me last time we messaged, if I found it, I could use it.
Chapter twelve
My days and nights have been fueled by deadline mode. I’ve worked nonstop on this project to get it finished today. It hasn’t left much time to daydream about hooking up with a rockstar. But here I am, zoning out on the couch with a pile of sketches I’m supposed to be finalizing. My thoughts keep drifting to him. I’m tempted to let them run wild. Cas is very experienced in the bedroom department. It’s not our compatibility that’s a problem—it’s his silence, and my heart refuses to be broken again.
I basically challenged him to find my number, then disappeared from social media completely to work. The first week I didn’thear anything from him, I brushed it off. It’s nearly the end of the second week, though, and now I just make excuses to convince myself he’s busy. He’s probably been traveling nonstop. It could be true. He’s a rockstar on tour, and I’m sure he doesn’t have endless amounts of time to spend researching me.
Maybe it’s just something he tells all his one-night stands. Every time I think I’m over him and ready to move on, I can’t. It’s ridiculous, but I can’t bring myself to face more rejection. I thought the one-night stand life could be for me, but it turns out I’m more of a comfortable relationship girl—even if that comfortable relationship is a buzzing friend and solo sessions.
