Page 142 of Of Heartbreak and Harmony
I look up from the phone and cock my head to the side. “You said you saw us in Chicago a few years ago?”
“Yeah. This is something Ham’s been helping me out with for a while now. Once we’re out of our contract—which will be happening sooner than we expected, thank god—I’m launching Rock Loveless Records. Not the cleverest title but Ham says my name is a successful established brand, and I’d be an idiot not to use it. Don’t tell him I said this, but he’s usually right.”
I choke out another unintentional laugh, my head once again spinning around the possibility that’s been laid at my feet.
A record deal.
A record deal with a label that Sav is starting.
The fact that it will be a brand-new venture for her doesn’t bother me in the slightest. Sav doesn’t seem to accept failure, and the way I’ve watched her mother hen this band over the last few months is proof. I’ve gone back and read the old tabloid articles. I’ve paid attention to the side comments and dark-humored jokes. The Hometown Heartless was on the brink of self-destruction, and Sav clawed everyone—herself included—from the foot of the grave by sheer determination.
I know in my gut Sav’s label will be a success. I feel it almost as solidly as the chair on which I sit. That’s what coaxes my excitement out of hiding. My faith in her—which she earned in spite of my raging grudge—and my desire to be part of this with her. My fingers itch to call Ezra. To grab my keyboard and play Beethoven’s “Ode to Joy.” I want to jump up and tell Torren right this second. I want to hug Sav Loveless and fall into a fit of hiccupping, sobbing laughter.
Instead, I give her a calm, not at all creepy smile, and keep my voice as normal as possible as I agree.
“I’ll call the guys now and ask them to meet us in LA.”
Sav claps her hands together once and bounces on the bed. “You won’t regret this, Callie. This is going to be something special. I just know it.”
My eyes start to sting as they threaten to fill with tears, and I suck in a shuddering breath.
“Me too.”
The last show at MSG is brilliant.
The Hometown Heartless are always great live, but this time there’s something else. An excitement glittering in Sav’s eyes, resonating in her voice, amping up the energy in the stadium until every person in the venue is irreparably changed by her performance.
But while Sav is mesmerizing, I can’t keep my eyes off Torren. He’s so fucking beautiful up there, stage lights shimmering off his glistening skin and talented fingers plucking the strings of his bass. I know exactly how those fingers feel on my body, how his rough callouses can illicit the most erotic sensations with just a feather-like touch. I haven’t gone asingle night without those hands on me. In me. Driving me wild. Just thinking about it makes heat surge through my bloodstream, and his unwavering attention tonight only makes it worse.
Torren’s eyes have barely left me all evening. He didn’t want me in the crowd tonight due to the newest gossip, but Ham insisted, and I agreed. We have to stay the course. We have to go on as if nothing is wrong. One misstep and we’ll only fuel the rumors. Reluctantly, Torren conceded, but the result is his eyes on me constantly.
While he sings and smirks and winks, sweaty and sexy, Torren’s focus never leaves me. At one point, while Sav works the crowd, he blows me a fucking kiss and mouthshi babyin my direction. I can barely register the crowd’s shrieking reaction over the sound of my own heart beating frantically in my ears. Sometimes this man leaves me so off-balance that it’s all I can do not to faceplant on the cement, and it’s becoming a more common occurrence with every passing day. He’s a cyclone, and he turns me into a raging fucking wildfire of hormones. It’s all I can do to breathe through it and pretend like every ounce of blood in my body isn’t rushing to all my erogenous zones.
Fucking Torren King. I’m wet in a crowd of thousands of people, and he hasn’t even touched me. By the time the band finishes the last encore song, my restraint has been worn to nothing. I’m needy and aching for him, and when he spots me backstage, I know he can tell.
He smirks, eyes dragging up and down my body as he grabs an offered towel from a roadie. Instead of rushing to me, he stops and runs the towel over his face and chest. His naked, sculpted chest. The same chest I had my palms on as I rode him last night. The memory taunts me, the ghost of his touch making my clit throb. When he finally reaches me, he wraps his arms around my waist and bites his lip before giving my ass a squeeze.
“Firebird, you need to work on your poker face because I can read every naughty thing going on in your head.”
I don’t bother denying it, and the heated flush that colors my chest, neck and face has nothing to do with embarrassment.
“Do you know what I’m thinking right now?”
God, even my voice sounds horny. Breathy and needy and horny as hell. When he presses himself against me, dick already hard against my stomach, I have to choke back a shameless moan.
“I think I have a guess.”
I press my pelvis forward and he grunts. I smile. “Then what are you waiting for?”
His expression goes hooded, lustful, then he lifts me up and throws me over his shoulder. I yelp and then laugh as he rushes to the dressing room. Roadies and stage workers watch us curiously, but I don’t have time to say anything. They’re all a blur as Torren pushes past them, and within seconds he’s barging into the dressing room and pointing at Jonah.
“Get out.”
“The fuck?”
“Out. Now.”
“For fuck’s sake,” Jonah grumbles, but he doesn’t argue, and he doesn’t even look my way as he stalks out, slamming the door behind him.
