Page 45 of Stone Rules

Slowly, people work their way into every available square inch to get closer to the stage. Bodies are mashed together as we become one big sea of humanity. I scoot even closer to Ethan, trying to avoid being stepped on by the large man who’s decided invading my personal space is his inalienable right. Ethan pulls me in front of him, caging me in his arms to protect me from the onslaught of fans edging closer to the stage.

The body heat we are both producing makes it even hotter, but I press myself into him anyway, loving the way his large frame envelops me.

After a few energetic songs, the band starts a slow ballad. Adam comes to the mic and says, “This one’s for you, Charlie. Make sure big brother treats you right.”

I crane my neck around and look at Ethan. He laughs and I can feel him shrug against me as if he had no idea that was going to happen.

The song is sad. The words tell a tale about a man who can’t have the woman he longs for. Surely Ethan didn’t tell him to dedicate it to me. I was with them the entire time backstage. Plus, Ethan doesn’t do relationships.

No, I imagine Adam simply did it because it’s my first concert and because he could.

The slow song has Ethan swaying his hips back and forth. And since his arms are still keeping me pressed against him, I’m swaying with him. Our bodies move in tandem, as if they are connected.

I think back to the two times they reallyhavebeen connected and it makes me press myself harder into him. Suddenly, I wish all these people would disappear. I wish it was just the two of us, dancing back to front. Sweating, swaying, sighing.

His chin rests on the top of my head and his breath flows over my hair. No one has ever held me like this before. I’ve never felt more safe. More protected. More wanted.

My mind knows he’s just keeping me from getting trampled. My heart knows it doesn’t care why he’s doing this, just that he is. My body knows he must be experiencing something because of the bulge I’m feeling when he leans into me.

Maybe it’s only because of the friction we’re creating. A physical reaction that any man would have in this situation, regardless of his feelings for the woman in front of him.

I reach up and put my hands on his arms that surround me and he gasps into my hair. He grinds his erection into my lower back and I know it can’t be unintentional. I know he’s reacting to my touch just as I’m reacting to his.

One of his hands finds the sliver of bare skin between my shirt and my pants. He plants it there, holding it against my sweaty skin, his thumb caressing circles into my burning flesh. I inhale a shaky breath. I’ve all but forgotten about the ear-splitting music and the mosh pit of people surrounding us.

Even when the song changes to a faster one, we continue the private dance we started. Sweat is pooling between us, drenching the back of my shirt and the front of his. It feels like we’re skin to skin through the thin material of our soaked t-shirts.

We’re invisible to those around us. Lost in a sea of fans who only care about the five performers on stage. Lost in our own world where we only care about each other.

Emotion overcomes me and I know if I don’t tear myself from him, I could get lost forever. He feels me pull away, but his arms tighten, keeping me captive against his body. “Don’t,” he pleads the single word into my ear.

I obey his command. It’s the only command I’ve ever wanted to obey. It’s the only command I’ve everneededto obey. And it’s the moment I succumb. It’s the moment I realize I’m head-over-fucking-heels for Ethan Stone.

We spend the rest of the concert joined this way. I’m afraid to move a muscle out of fear that he might remove his head from its perch on top of mine. He hums some of the tunes and I feel the vibrations throughout my entire body. My legs are almost numb from hours of standing in one place. But I don’t care because the rest of my body is teeming with excitement. I’m about ready to explode from our constant connection. And if his breathing, his continued caresses on my skin, his constant erection are any indication—he’s about to explode as well.

I can feel nothing but exhilaration when the concert comes to an end. I know nothing more about White Poison than the first few songs they played. The rest of the time, my mind was otherwise occupied with all things Stone.

“Let’s get out of here!” he yells through the cheers and encore calls.

He takes my hand and plows a path through the sea of people until we reach the backstage door where a large man examines our badges before allowing us entrance.

As the band goes out for one more song, we find Chad and Nikki standing with some of the stage crew. Ethan shouts to Chad over the music, “We’re taking off, can you call the driver?”

Chad whips out his phone and taps in a text. “Nik and I will head out too. We’ve all been invited to the after party at Vibe. Wanna come?”

Vibe is one of the premier clubs in New York. You get in by invitation only. I’m sure there are a lot of people there. Rich people. Famous people. People I don’t care to have anything to do with. Plus, I’m wound up like a fucking clock. And based on the look Ethan and I are sharing, he feels exactly the same way.

“Nah, we’ll skip the party if it’s all the same to you,” Ethan says. “Can you drop us off on your way?”

“No problem.” Chad checks his phone. “The limo’s outside. We can bounce.”

The four of us make our way to the same door we came in earlier and scurry into the limousine under the protection of White Poison’s security.

The driver lowers the partition. “Where to?” he asks.

All eyes look at me. I give the driver my address and then accept the glass of champagne being handed my way.

I look down at my shirt. It’s soaked with sweat. It’s a big shirt on me, but it’s plastered to my body. “Oh, God, I need a shower.”

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