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“You keep interrupting my praises,” I tell him in an attempt to sidestep the paralyzing effect of his words. His grin doesn’t reach his eyes as he opts to place his retrieved hat on my head, pulling it down over my hot mess of curls. “It’s like you don’t even care about my opinion.”

Something sparks in his eye as he dips in a whisper. “That’s the thing, Beauty. With me, you rarely have to say a word.”

“You keep calling me that.”

“Yeah, well, it’s a large part of the reason I drove to Austin to collect the girl I met. Because that’s all I see when she reveals herself to me.” He runs a gentle thumb across my lower lip. “Raw. Fucking. Beauty.”

“Ohhhh,” I draw out in my best Texas twang and another useless attempt at self-preservation, “you’re really good at that. You should be a songwriter or somethin’. Women will fawn all over you for pretty words like those—”

“—while other parts of her remain purposely oblivious,” he retorts dryly, rolling his eyes before knocking the brim of his hat down, temporarily blinding me. Gripping my hand, he starts to navigate us from within the confines of the curtains. Once we’re free, I notice that LL and Syd are closing their cases, and Tack’s made good progress dismantling his drum kit. The noise from the audience on the other side of the curtains is now noticeably absent.

How long were we kissing?

“That was amazing!” I belt out in an attempt to draw their attention, extending my clapping hands toward them. “Bet you fellas good money you make all the OK headlines tomorrow.” Syd and LL flash me grins. LL’s cerulean gaze flicks between Easton and me, letting me know he’s onto us. Dodging his prodding assessment, I turn to Easton, his expression drawn up in amusement. Gripping his arm, I lift on my toes, commanding his attention and pulling him closer for his ear. He snakes his arm around me, his warm skin sending a shiver up my spine. “What I was going to say before you interrupted me with yourtongueis that performance was every imaginable adjective for incredible, Easton. Thank you for sharing this with me,” I pull back as he wets his lips and shakes his head.

“What?” I draw out, frowning. “Not enough praise for your highness? Still think I’m a shitty writer?”

“You really have no idea, do you?” He asks as I look helplessly over to Joel, standing guard just a few feet away.

“What am I missing?”

“The whole point,” Easton taunts, running his knuckles down my cheek.

“Enlighten me, then,” I say in a stupor, as all nearby hands-on-deck blur while I get distracted by the intimacy still bouncing between us.

Easton’s chest pumps with his silent chuckle.

“Well?” I prompt.

“I’m working on it,” he murmurs as a stagehand approaches with a water bottle. Easton takes it and thanks him before downing the whole thing in a few swallows. “I need to help break down and load up,” he relays apologetically through a hasty inhale.

“How can I help?”

“You can’t. Joel is going to get you checked into the hotel. Are you tired?”

“Hell no. I could run a marathon.” I turn his hat backward and pretend to push up my sleeves as his easy grin returns.

“Let’s have a late dinner with the guys at the hotel. Two hours?”

I curl my lip, renewed energy coursing through me. “Sure I can’t help?” I point to myself. “I’ve got all this pent up . . .”

Easton lifts a brow as Tack speaks up from behind him. “Do you know how to break down a drum kit?”

“I’m a quick study!” I shout, sidestepping Easton and heading in Tack’s direction just as Easton grips my arm.

“Deal with your own kit, asshole,” Easton snaps as Tack gives him the bird without glancing up.

It’s then, over Easton’s shoulder, that I spot a handful of women waiting side stage, not a single swinging dick to be seen. Their view of us is obstructed by Joel as he moves toward them, arms outstretched before he ushers them further back. Easton leans in, forcing my eyes back to his. “I’m not trying to get rid of you, Natalie.”

I muster a shrug as if I haven’t a care in the world. “It’s not my business.”

His nostrils flare in clear irritation, and he gives me a dead stare.

“I’m golden, and it’s not my place, so let’s drop it.” Turning, I start a search for my heels just inside the curtain and fish them out one by one. Without prompt, Easton grips my hip for support as I push into them, his fingers brushing my skin when he releases me. Swallowing, I brave a look up at him to see the same intensity I’ve seen several times before.

He leans down, so we’re eye level. “Your lips are swollen from my kiss, and I’m willing to betgood moneythat your panties are fucking useless. Should we find a place backstage where I can make my point clearer?”

“You don’t have to . . . say things like that.” I feel my neck reddening as he presses in.

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