Page 92 of Crimson Desires

“You’re not mad at me?” I asked.

Jack shook his head. He sat down and cracked open his box of takeout. “Of course, not. Look, Aster; I didn’t get it before, but now I do. Falling for a rock star is scary. So, if you need time to trust that I mean it when I tell you that I love you—I’m willing to give you that time.”

Tears welled up in my eyes, and for once, I didn’t try to push them back down.

I wiped them with the butt of my palm. When my voice left me, it was only a whisper. “Thanks, Jack.”

***

Ava and the guys came back ten minutes later. They seemed to be in good spirits, joking and laughing as they walked through the door.

Thankfully, I had composed myself by the time they returned. Jack and I had spent the last ten minutes of our time alone in the studio chatting about the remaining stops on the tour. I tried not to think about how few there were left.

We had the Nashville show. Then Louisville. Then we’d go back up north, to Detroit. After that, there would be one show left—in Cleveland.

And then, just like that, the tour would be over.

“Hey.” Kane’s voice pulled me out of my thoughts. “It’s the lady of the hour.”

Zephyr sat next to me as Ava sent Jack into the sound booth to record his vocals. “Can I get your autograph?”

I cracked a weak smile. “It’ll cost you.”

“How much?” Zephyr asked.

“A million.”

“Charge him more,” Ava said from her seat at the helm of the mixing table. “I have high hopes for this song. I’m betting it’ll chart within one week of release.”

“If Jack can get his head out of his ass and record some usable vocals,” Damien cut in.

“Fuck off,” Jack said. I could hear his voice through the mixing room speakers. “I’m good now. I’m going to track this vocal on the first try. Just watch.”

“Please do,” Ava said. “Every hour we spend in this studio is money off our bottom line.”

“Just roll the damn track.”

Ava laughed. She hit RECORD and began playing the song.

Instantly, Jack’s voice filled the mixing room. Gone was the nervousness that he had displayed when it had just been us in the studio. This time he sang with his full chest. His confidence radiated through his voice, and I felt my heart swell again at hearing the lyrics he’d written for me.

As soon as the song ended, Ava stopped the track.

She clapped her hands together, grinning like a madwoman.

“Jack, you motherfucking genius—that was it!” She saved the track, then opened a new one below it. “Keep that energy, and don’t get fucking cocky. We’ve got a lot of doubles to record still.”

Jack beamed.

Zephyr narrowed his eyes. Then, he leaned over to me and whispered harshly in my ear: “This couch, or the one in the studio?”

I blushed up to my ears. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I’m not mad. I just don’t want to put my ass anywhere near where Jack’s bare balls have been,” Zephyr said. “Now, which couch was it?”

I bit my lower lip. “The studio.”

“Uh-huh. Got it,” Zephyr said. He patted me on the shoulder in an almost brotherly fashion. “Hey, don’t be embarrassed. You got Jack to record his vocals right in a single take. That’s a fucking miracle in and of itself. Hell, if that’s all it takes, I’ll personally fly you out to California while we’re recording our second album.”

---