Page 93 of Filthy Rock Stars

“Yeah.” His voice is rough as he sits on the bed. “You remember I told you there was a curve ball last week? But I think I’m getting it sorted out.” He shakes his head and offers me a sad smile. “Anyway. Yeah. Just thought you’d want to know.”

I pull off my pants and crawl onto the bed, kissing him. “It will all be better soon,” I tell him. “I promise.”

He strokes the back of my head. “Yeah.”

As we lie down, I curl against him. We’re so close. I can feel his heart beating. His breath is warm on my skin. So why is there this sensation like he’s slipping away?

“I can’t believe I won’t see you for a week again,” I say with a sigh.

Shadow pulls me onto his chest. “At least we’ll be on the same continent. Hell, same coast. You’re in New York Wednesday, right? I’ll be in Boston until Thursday.”

I laugh. “I guess that’s a little closer.”

Is this how it’s going to be? If we’re constantly away from each other, will we always feel awkward and distant when we’re finally together again?

I curl up tighter to his chest, my cheek on his shoulder, breathing him in.

Needing him just as bad as I do when he’s gone.

“How far is Boston from New York?” I ask.

He chuckles. “I’m not sure. I’d only have time for a quickie anyway.”

“It’s been a while since we had a field trip,” I point out. I kiss his neck, flirting with him, hopeful and a little desperate to secure even just a minute more together. “Remember the arena?”

Shadow groans and strokes the back of my head. “How could I forget? Hottest Catwoman at the rock fest.”

I laugh. “Is that a yes? Could you sneak away from your band long enough for some boyfriend time?” When he doesn’t respond right away, I kiss his neck again, and Shadow ruts his erection up against me. “Please.”

After another pause, he drags his hand down my back. “Of course, sexy,” he answers, growling his words as he holds me. “I’d fly around the world if you asked me to.”

CHAPTERTWENTY-NINE

SHADOW

Shit,is it ever complicated to pick the right place to fuck in New York City.

At least the challenge is a good distraction. Something real I can do for Nico. A way to satisfy him and treat him right, how he deserves to be treated, after I made such a horrible mess out of everything.

When I tried to tell him what happened with Forbidden Destiny, I choked. I stumbled over my words, flailing, until I finally just told him that there was a new legal problem. I relied on that tired old excuse, still vaguely true so I could convince myself that I wasn’t lying.

I was ashamed and terrified, physically unable to tell him that I had failed. Just earlier that day, I had thought so certainly that I was about to confess my love.

At least, at my urging, Nico sent his original songs in to the studio. That’s good. The lawyer I hired assures me that the recordings and other incidental evidence will trump any claims the band might try to make.

But it doesn’t mean we’re in the clear. Even through all the pain, one thought is louder than all the others in my head.

It’s up to me to keep Nico safe. It’s my job to protect him, even if it means throwing my body over a grenade.

And I’ve failed.

What if I have to tell him goodbye instead ofI love you? What if I lose him?

I speed up, racing down the highway and into the city. The only thing that matters is that I protect Nico and his music from Forbidden Destiny. I can’t let the bullshit and chaos from my fucked-up life avalanche over him. My parents have stopped answering my calls, so the long walk to ending up alone has started anyway.

Doubts flood my mind. I should walk away from him and music and society in general, retire into anonymity, a sad loser just like my old man. Nico can go on and have his beautiful career, and I’ll sit around like a miserable sack of shit, problem solved.

The emotion guts me every time my spiraling thoughts arrive back at that conclusion. I have to fight for Nico, find a solution where I don’t lose him, but I don’t know how.

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