Page 34 of Fractured Kiss

“Looks that way,” he cut her off before she said anything that might piss him off. And it wasn’t exactly a lie.

The woman’s gaze drifted up and down Cassie, and tension vibrated through the slender form under his arm. God, they really hadn’t thought this thing through at all. Fans took ridiculous liberties sometimes. The four of them had learned to cope with the invasion of privacy over the years. He could put up with a lot of shit, but if Camille tried to say anything about—or to—Cassie, she’d learn his patience only went so far.

If Camille had an opinion, she kept it to herself. She gave him another smile, a slightly disappointed one, but seemingly genuine. “Well, thank you for…” She gestured to her chest before her eyes widened and darted toward Cassie. Her cheeks turned red as if she suddenly realized she’d just asked Cassie’s boyfriend to sign her breast. “Um, yeah, thank you.” With a last glance at Cassie, she headed toward Noah and Tex.

Zac loosened his arm, and Cassie stepped away from him. The side of his body cooled with the space that opened between them.

“I’m sorry if that was weird for you,” she said quietly. “I’m not really sure how we’re supposed to do this.”

He gave a low laugh. “It’s not exactly something I’m familiar with either.”

She shot him a self-conscious smile. “I guess we just play it by ear, then. But if I do something, or say something you don’t like, just tell—”

“Hey.” He gripped her chin between his thumb and forefinger. “You’re not going to do or say anything I don’t like. Look, I know this situation is less than ideal, but it’s only for a couple of months. Then you’ll find another job, and we’ll be out of it. Okay?”

The smile she gave him this time was stiff. He probably could have phrased it a bit more tactfully, but it was true. This wasn’t something either of them had wanted. But since he was the one who had caused the problem, he was going to do what he needed to do to fix it.

A group of fans approached. Without thinking too much about it, Zac reached out and linked his hand with Cassie’s, pulling her toward him again. There was an upside to this. He’d be less likely to be groped and propositioned all night. He might be used to it, but right now his only focus was on getting through these after-parties as quickly as possible so he could get back to the bus and work on the album.

The next forty-five minutes passed quickly. He was right. Having Cassie by his side seemed to calm the more enthusiastic fans down. Not all of them. But enough that he was actually enjoying interacting with most of them rather than trying to guess which one was going to stick their tongue in his ear or slide their hand down the back of his jeans while they were taking photos.

When the party finally wrapped up, the eight of them headed back to the bus. Lexie and Cassie were walking in front, talking quietly. Zac couldn’t hear what they were saying, but the sound of Cassie’s soft laugh made him smile.

“Hey, Tex, do you recognize that expression on Zac’s face?” Noah asked.

Zac didn’t give the drummer the benefit of acknowledging his comment.

“Not sure I do,” Tex drawled. “Don’t think I’ve seen that one before.”

“You know, I think it could have something to do with the woman who was glued to his side all night long.” Connor got in on the act.

Now they were starting to bug him. He shot a look at all of them where they were walking to his left and grinning like fools. He didn’t have a problem with them giving him shit, but he didn’t want Cassie overhearing and reading something into it. Not that he really thought she would. She knew the truth just as much as he did. But he couldn’t be too careful. He’d spent his life avoiding emotional entanglements. The last thing he wanted was to get caught up in one with Cassie.

“Nope, it’s gone. Back to the usual inscrutable one now,” said Noah.

Connor snickered. “Don’t make us call Cassie back here.”

“Cut it out, assholes,” Zac said through clenched teeth.

“Don’t get your panties in a twist.” Tex couldn’t hide the laugh in his voice.

“Stop talking shit, then.”

Tex held up his hands, but he still sported a wide grin on his face. Zac shook his head. His friends were having far too much fun with this situation.

Around them, the remaining trucks and buses were rumbling to life, filling the air with the smell of diesel. Most of the convoy had already headed out on their way to the next venue.

Zac watched Cassie walk in front of him and wondered whether she would still join him tonight. Or if she’d hit the sack early, having worked all day and night, then come to the after-party to be with him.

He’d gotten used to the soft scratch of her pen across the paper while he worked. It formed a calming backdrop to the sometimes-heated conversations that occurred—common enough when you were trying to write music with four different personalities.

As soon as everyone was on the bus and sprawled around the now crowded living room, Maggie got them on the road. Thirty minutes later, the others headed to bed. Cassie, who’d been chatting with the three other women, collected her notebook and sat in her usual spot. She rested her back against the padded armrest of the couch and pulled her knees up so she could lay her notebook on her thighs.

He watched her with a faint smile as he waited for the other three Crossfire members to get their shit together on the other side of the video call. Tonight, she was wearing little gray shorts with pink hearts and another clingy white cami top. On her feet were a pair of fluffy pink socks that only emphasized the smoothness of the skin above them. Zac shifted in his seat. Jesus, was he actually getting a semi from a pair of socks?

Cassie’s dark hair was piled in a messy bun on top of her head and her eyes were cast down at her notebook. Her long, dark lashes threw spiky shadows across her cheekbones, and her full lips were wrapped around the end of her pen as she read over whatever she was writing.

Fuck. Those lips. Damn it. He’d spent all day and night trying not to think about her mouth. Because remembering how she’d tasted last night, how she’d felt pressed up against him, was too fucking dangerous. He needed to stop. It would only make this thing more difficult. But his dick hadn’t got the memo. It was throbbing against his fly as he remembered the sound of her moan when he kissed her. Would she moan the same way if he pressed his mouth to other parts of her body?

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