Page 114 of Playing For Keeps
I turn and place my hands on his shoulders, singing along with the music.
He holds my waist and dances with me. “You’re absolutely gorgeous. I’ll be fighting the men off you tonight.”
“No, you won’t, because I only have eyes for you.”
“Are you saying Cash or Guns do nothing for you?”
I raise a shoulder to my ear. “They’re okay for rock stars.”
He laughs from deep in his lungs. “Okay, temptress. Whatever you say.”
My stomach somersaults as I stare at the man of my dreams. He may think I’m saying that about Cash and Guns, the lead singer and lead guitarist of Mayhem, but I’m not. Jami’s the sexiest man alive by miles, and I’m the lucky woman who gets to say he’s mine.
I breathe in the natural high that comes with that realization. It’s not something I thought I’d get to say. Not in this lifetime anyway.
It’s crazy to see where we are now from where we were a year ago. So much has happened, and none of it was easy. I almost lost him more than once, and one of those times he saved my life. It’s overwhelming, to a point.
Gratitude bubbles up in my stomach, and I lunge into Jami’s arms. “If I forget to thank you, know that sharing moments like this means the world to me.”
“You’ve already thanked me multiple times, but I like knowing I’ve made you happy.”
“I’m more than happy. I’m ecstatic. There’s no one else I’d rather be with and nowhere I’d rather be.”
“Same here.” He nuzzles into the crook of my neck. “I find you irresistible when you’re out in nature and just let the weight of your life slip away.”
He holds me as he sucks and nips on my pulse point like he can’t get enough of me. I’ll never get sick of him doing this. Knowing my skin is his drug is enough to make me lean into it more.
The lights dim, and a deep male voice with a slight Irish accent cuts in near where Jami’s kissing my neck. “Lucky man, having your girl go weak in the knees like she is. And you’re not even in the band.”
I pull away, and Cash, the lead singer, is flashing a drop-dead, sex-infused smile my way.
He pats Jami’s back and winks. “Fucking hell. What I wouldn’t give to be standing in your shoes right now.”
Jami tips his head in acknowledgment. “I don’t blame you, but you’ve got a show to do. I wouldn’t want you to let down your fans.”
Cash takes a swig off his beer and glances at Guns. He’s strapping his guitar on. The bass player, Cooper, is next to him. They give Cash a nod once they’re in position.
I check around for Hawke, the drummer. He’s sliding onto his drum throne with his drumsticks tucked into his back jeans pocket. My chest bursts with excitement.
“Enjoy the show.” Cash hands his beer to a crew member as Hawke starts in on a drum-fill intro like Van Halen’s song “Hot for Teacher.”
Hawke’s version is for one of their more popular songs. It’s fast, so the crowd is on their feet, screaming the second they recognize the beat.
Fog machines pump smoke onto the stage, giving off a dramatic flair. The bass guitar and the lead guitar join in, and the band jumps out to the center of the stage. White beams of light shine on Cash as he starts in on the lyrics.
He’s made to sing in front of a crowd. His voice is like warm whiskey that’s smooth yet powerful and angsty, like his heart is bleeding out. It’s captivating, and his words seem to come from his soul.
Being this close to them is amazing. I’m floating in the euphoria. Song after song, they work the audience like they’re part of the act. Cash jumps off the stage and interacts with the people in the front row as the bouncers fight to keep fans from grabbing him.
Jami stands behind me with his hands on my hips. We sway together and sing along with the words. My heart seems to thump in unison with the drums.
After they play a few tracks off of their new album, Jami shifts away from me. I glance at him to see what he’s doing.He rocks from side to side, but not in the dancing kind of way. He’s nervous about something.
I lean toward him and holler over the band, “Is something wrong?”
He shoots me a tight grin. “Just enjoying the music.”
I shrug and start to turn, but he pats the pocket of his jeans, stealing my attention. He spots me as my gaze dials in on his movement. I furrow my brows together.
