Page 90 of Snared

“How the fuck did they know we were here already?” Bash asked.

“They always find out,” Tristan said.

Jax put his hand on my shoulder. “You sure you’re okay, Charlie?”

I tried to shift slightly away from Josh again, but his fingers tucked into my waistband, and I swore I felt his fingers shake. Had he been as nervous as I’d been when the fans had swarmed?

“Yeah. I’m fine. Knocked me off-balance for a second when your adoring fans were desperately trying to get to you,” I teased. This elevator car needed a little levity.

Jax grinned and winked. “I can’t help that I’m irresistible.”

“Irresistible like a cold sore,” Bash deadpanned.

“You would kill to have me on your lips, fucker,” Jax taunted back.

I bit back a gasp as Josh’s thumb brushed against my lower back, right above the edge of my panties. If it was meant to be comforting, it was not working. I knew if I looked at him, he’d see the heat in my eyes.

Finally, the floor bell dinged, the doors opened, and security stepped out to make sure we didn’t have any more fans waiting to ambush us.

Glen turned back to us. “All clear. I’ll call in a couple more guys, especially since we’re staying here a couple days and they already know we’re here. And I’ll talk to hotel security.”

“Good. Relax and be ready to head out in two hours. We have an interview with one of the radio stations and then sound check,” Josh said as we stepped out into the corridor.

I dreaded the interview. It was going to be another attempt to get me to slip up. To talk about Troy. The article. Josh.

I was on fucking tour with my band, the best band ever. And here I was stuck dwelling on my dick of an ex and the media’s obsession with him instead of enjoying every moment behind my kit and on the bus.

I choked down my desire to yell out my frustration. This was not how my first big tour, as a full member of my dream band, was supposed to go.

“Go get your beauty rest, kids. You all need way more than I do,” Jax called out before he ducked into his room.

“Idiot.” Tristan couldn’t avoid having the last word, shutting his door as punctuation.

Bash had already disappeared into his room while I’d been in my head.

Well, fuck.

Josh’s fingers weaving through mine grabbed my attention. “Stop it.”

“Stop what?” I barely could hold back a whine, but I didn’t even care that I sounded like a child. I was so damn tired of it all.

He reached up, tucking a strand of my hair behind my ear, tweaking the lobe as he did, and I couldn’t stop my shudder as need rocked through me. I shouldn’t have craved his touch, but right now I wanted to forget everything except how he made me feel.

“Stop thinking about all the bullshit. At the end of the day, it doesn’t matter,” he said.

He must have felt like a broken record at this point, and that infuriated me, too—that he felt the need to keep saying it over and over again, because honestly, it did fucking matter.

I was a strong, kick-ass woman, but the hits were cracking my armor and sliding beneath.

Never had I imagined it would be Josh trying to pull out my insecurities and then seal those cracks.

And that made me fall for him more.

“Charlie,” he said, his fingers twining with mine when I half-heartedly tried to drop his hold. He pulled me into our suite at the end of the hallway and shut the door—and the world—out.

“It’s so easy for you,” I said in a moment of vulnerability. I always tried to keep that part of me deep inside—I knew the game when I entered this business—but it was coming out more and more.

He sighed but refused to release my hand. “It’s not easy for me to see what this is doing to you. I cannot apologize enough, but at the end of the day, you’re stronger than all this garbage. And the only thing that matters is you.”

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