Page 12 of Rockstar's Accidental Marriage

And now, here we are, secretly married for a year, though she’d rather die than acknowledge it. Her light floral scent has been driving me crazy since she stepped onto the bus. She's all shapely legs and rigid posture, and I can't decide if I want to push her as far away as possible or pull her closer until she melts against me like she did that night in Vegas. The memory of how she felt beneath me, all soft curves and desperate sighs, hits me like a physical blow. I shift in my seat, grateful no one can read my thoughts.

We stop at a gas station just outside Atlanta, and everyone piles out, stretching their legs. Emily stays on the bus, probably hoping for peace and quiet, but I can’t resist the urge to check on her.

“Not joining us?” I ask, leaning against the doorway.

She glances up, her expression guarded. “No, I have work to do.”

I step inside, letting the door close behind me. The bus feels smaller with just the two of us inside. Her sweet scent fills the confined space, and watching her try to maintain her composure does something to me. Her silk blouse clings to her curves, and I remember all too well what's underneath. When she glares at me, her cheeks flush with irritation. It takes everything in me not to close the distance between us to see if she still tastes as sweet as she did that night.

“Come on, Em. Live a little. We’ve got a solid fifteen minutes here before Luke finishes buying snacks.”

“I’m fine here,” she says, her voice curt.

I take a step closer, crossing my arms. “You’re miserable, why won’t you admit it?”

Her eyes flash, and she sets her tablet down with too much force. “I’m not miserable, Sam. I’m adjusting.”

“Adjusting to what? Sharing a bathroom with four guys who consider showering optional?”

Her nose wrinkles, and I know I’ve hit the mark.

“I can handle it,” she insists, lifting her chin.

I laugh, the sound echoing in the small space. “Damn, but you’re stubborn, I’ll give you that.”

“And you’re infuriating,” she snaps back.

Our eyes lock, and for a moment, the air between us sizzles, heavy with something neither of us wants to name or admit to.

“Sam!” Vince’s voice cuts through the tension, and I step back, breaking the moment.

“Coming!” I call out, glancing at Emily one last time before heading out.

Our first show in Atlanta goes off without a hitch. The crowd’s electric, the band is on fire, and Cass is in his element, pouring his heart into every note. Watching him reminds me why I love this life—the music, the energy, the connection with the fans.

As the night winds down, my attention again drifts to his sister. She's standing off to the side of the stage, and even under the harsh lights, she's breathtaking. Her pencil skirt hugs every curve, and when she bends to check something on her clipboard, I nearly miss a chord.

I’m totally mesmerized and can’t look away. The memory of those legs wrapped around my waist flashes through my mind, and I have to force myself to focus on the music instead of how badly I want to feel them there again.

When the show ends, the band heads backstage, and I find myself lingering near her, unable to resist the pull.

“Not bad for our first night, huh?” I question, approaching her.

She nods, her gaze still on the stage. “It was... good.”

“Just good?” I ask arrogantly.

She glances at me, her lips twitching like she’s fighting a smile. “Fine. It was really good. Happy?”

“Ecstatic,” I say, flashing her a grin.

She rolls her eyes but doesn’t move away, and for a moment, it feels like we’re not at odds, like we’re just two people sharing a pleasurable moment.

But then Luke walks by, clapping me on the shoulder, and the spell is broken. Emily stiffens, stepping hastily back, and I know she’s already retreating behind her walls.

The drive to Nashville is even worse than the tour's first leg. Emily’s frustration with the close quarters is starting to show, though she’s too stubborn to admit it.

I should leave her alone. I know that. But something about her gets under my skin in a way I can’t ignore, and it’s not just sexual.

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