Page 82 of Give Me What I Want

“Getting our tour manager laid, aren’t you a generous little rockstar,” he teased, then pulled me close, letting me lean my weight on him. “You wanna get out of here?”

“Not yet,” I declined his offer, peering up at him and licking my lips. “But I wouldn’t mind if you felt me up while we danced.”

“How can I say no to that?” He laughed darkly, then pulled me into his arms, swaying us from side to side as his hands roamed down my back and cupped my ass.

“You’re an awful dancer,” I said, tilting my head to meet his eye.

“I know,” he said with a growl. “I can’t be good at everything, how about I show you some things that Iamgood at?”

“Later,” I said, swatting his chest with a laugh. And by later, I meant tomorrow, not that I’d specify that to him, I was certain he already knew. I wasn’t going to fuck anyone until we got home.

I woke up so early that it was still dark outside, and I was still a little drunk. Ro’s head was on my lap, and I craned my neck to find the rest of my guys. We were in the lounge in One Last Time’s Brighton home, having not had the energy when we arrived back here to make it up the stairs to a spare bedroom. We had all crashed, and I was only wearing one shoe. I had no idea where the other one was, or if it had even made its way here on my foot. All I knew was that my neck hurt, I needed water, and my hair was wet.

Why the hell was my hair wet? I raked my fingers through my hair, checking it out. Why was it only in one spot? Then I realised what it was. Dribble. Of course it was. I had probably dribbled all over the cushion too. Ah well, I could pay to get it cleaned, or replaced.

“Ro,” I whispered a little too loud, wriggling beneath him in an attempt to wake him as I grabbed the cushion from behind my head and launched it at Cole, snoozing peacefully on the opposite sofa.

“What?” they both mumbled.

“Where’s Mav?”

As if I was summoning a genie, he appeared in the doorway, looking way fresher than the three of us in a borrowed pair of sweats. “They have a really nice home gym, we need to remodel ours when we get home,” he said as he wiped the sweat from his flushed face.

“How do you not feel like death?” I asked, squinting at him.

He laughed. “Because I paced myself and cut myself off when I was feeling good.”

Ro grunted. “It was our last night of tour, evenIlet loose.”

Ro had a point, but I’d never ever push Mav into doing anything he didn’t want to do. If his limit was a few beers and a good time then so be it, as long as he was happy and had a good night.

Mav shrugged, pulling a borrowed tee from the waistband of the sweats and slipping it over his head. “We sticking around today? Or are we heading back soon?”

“It’s too early,” Cole complained, curling into a ball.

“I think we should go soon,” I answered for us all. I had woken up in the mood to jump my guys, and seeing Mav’s sweaty, muscular body had intensified that urge tenfold.

Ro glared at me. “I agree with Cole.”

I wriggled again, biting my lip as I held his gaze. “It’ll be your loss then.”

Realisation hit him in the face and had him jumping up, grabbing his things and tugging Cole out of his curled-up position. “Get up, we’re going home.”

One Last Time’s drummer, Kellan, came strolling into the lounge as Cole reluctantly uncurled himself and groaned his way into a sitting position, dropping his head between his knees and complaining about feeling like ass.

“Morning, bru,” Kellan said, slapping Cole on the shoulder and laughing, a loud, booming noise, as Cole cursed him out for being so energetic and lively in the morning.

“We’re gonna make a move when the car gets here,” Mav said to the drummer. Our bus had gone back last night so we were depending on a private car company to get us up to London. “I’ll call them now.”

I nodded, stretching and searching for my shoe. “I don’t suppose anyone knows if I came back here with both shoes?”

Elijah came down the stairs, laughing. “You hobbled back here with one shoe on after chasing Ronan around the VIP area with the other one in your hand, threatening to stab him in the eye with the heel.”

“I did?” I asked. I wasn’t usually one to forget my drunken nights, but parts of the night were a blur. Shame, that sounded fun.

“Sure did,” Elijah said, coming to perch on the edge of the sofa as I took my single shoe off and decided I’d be going home barefoot. “You lost your weapon when you tried to throw it at him, and it went flying over the balcony.”

“Oh.” I laughed.

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