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“I mean, you can totally stay if you want.” Micah studies me.
“It’s just… I do need to…” I sputter, and Tarrah stands taller as she purses her lips.
Oh, God. Is it possible for her to know what I’m thinking? That I’m foaming at the mouth for her brother?
I definitely am. And it’s not just because he’s a hot rock star. No, I’d want to sleep with him even if he had a negative level of celebrity status.
Shit.
“I just need to give Elijah something,” I say, managing to only squeak once during the lie.
“What do you have to give him?” Tarrah searches my eyes, but it’s clear she doesn’t know what she’s looking for. She made the same confused face when we got lost during a girls’ trip to Niagara Falls last year.
“Roommate stuff.” I shrug, but what I really want to do is slap a palm to my forehead.
“Like a retainer?” Tarrah lowers herself into a squat and bursts into another fit of laughter while Micah and I stare at each other.
“I’ll make sure she gets home safely,” Micah reassures me. “Are you okay?”
Since my body is a hormonal mess, I take the easy route and keep my mouth shut, offering only a nod in response.
“Text me when you get home.”
Again, I nod and give her my best, most confident smile, but it doesn’t even convince me that I know what I’m doing.
As they maneuver through the surrounding crowd, I bite my lip and find Elijah’s eyes again. Right before the lights cut out, I swear he tilts his head to the side as if to invite me backstage.
And I definitely want to go.
The audience lulls into a collective sad ahh as Elijah waves goodbye, and with the following uproar, they beg him to come back for an encore. I’d join them, but I have other plans.
And they involve complete privacy.
“Is that because you’ve never been properly fucked?”
His question from last night courses through my veins like a drug as I make my way to the side of the bar, rush past heavy red curtains, and duck into the bathroom. I skim the stalls until I find an empty one and close myself inside.
No time to think.
Just do.
Once I stuff my panties into my purse, I shift Tarrah’s skirt back into place around my thighs and silently wish for her forgiveness for what I’m about to do.
As I exit the bathroom, I have no idea how I’m going to actually get to Elijah—don’t rock stars have security or something?—but I know without a doubt that I need him.
Now.
Chapter 5
Elijah
“Eli, this woman claims she knows you?” It’s a statement, but Lowell says it as more of a question.
I rise from my seat, my back a river of sweat, and step over Boone, who makes no effort to move out of my way. He’s a damn good drummer, but the dick needs to learn a few manners.
Yesterday, he tripped our bass player because he thought it’d be a funny prank. Shane almost cracked a fucking tooth, and Boone’s only response was a smirk.
As I cross to the other side of the green room, the smells of beer and spicy snacks on the coffee table fill my senses.
