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"I suppose there aren't a lot of researchers sharing tour buses with musicians, are there?"
"No, there aren't."
He knew he should stop there. Should call it a night. Should turn and walk away and lock himself in his bedroom. Should put enough space between them that he could remember why he needed to make sure they never became anything more than friends.
But he couldn't do it, couldn't lie to her anymore the way he'd been lying to everyone else.
"They're not totally wrong, Ash. Not about how much I want to kiss you."
If she'd looked surprised by the realization that people thought they were together, now she looked as though someone had just told her the earth had been scientifically proven to be flat.
"Excuse me?"
It was the last response he would ever have expected. And yet, at the same time, it was exactly the right one. Because Ashley wasn't like anyone else. And just because he'd told her he wanted to kiss her, didn't mean she'd jump into his arms like all the women at his show tonight would have.
Instead, she'd do what he already understood was her way of dealing with everything she wanted to understand better--she'd try to dissect and analyze what was actually going on.
Only, he didn't want to let her dissect anything at all when it came to them. He wanted her to feel it, to be as overwhelmed by it as he was already.
"I want to kiss you." He knew he should be putting more space between them, rather than closing it by taking a step closer, but where Ashley was concerned, his rational brain was always a step behind. "I've wanted to kiss you from the first moment we met. And I've wanted to kiss you dozens of times in the past twenty-four hours. I know I'm probably totally freaking you out, and I swear I'm not trying to scare you away. I'm trying like hell to keep my promise to be a complete gentleman with you. I just can't lie to you about what I'm feeling."
She didn't say anything for several long seconds until, finally, she said, "I don't want you to feel like you have to lie. Not to me."
"I can't. I won't."
He watched a play of thoughts cross her face, thoughts that shifted from the surprise she'd initially felt, to processing, and then, finally, to a point where it seemed that she was warring with herself.
"I want to be honest with you, too, but I don't..." She paused, licked her lips, and he had to shove his hands deep into his pockets to keep from reaching for her. "I don't have much experience with this kind of thing." Finally, she lifted her gaze to his and held it. "I've been wanting to kiss you, too."
If she were any other woman, he would have been kissing her already. He would have known how sweet she tasted. Would have finally gotten to hear--and drink in--her sweet gasps of pleasure.
Instead, it nearly killed him to say, "But we can't."
At the exact same moment that she said, "But we can't."
Perhaps their words echoing off each other's should have broken the tension between them, but it didn't. Not even close. Not when they both obviously still wanted the kiss just as much.
"My father--"
"--would kill me if I so much as touched one hair on your head."
"It's not you," she said, as if she needed him to know that it wasn't personal. "It's what you do. He doesn't think this is a very stable business. And he thinks that--" Her face flushed, and she didn't finish her sentence.
But he could easily finish it for her. "He thinks all musicians sleep around."
When she nodded, he realized he already needed to face the first test of always honest. A first test he wasn't particularly proud of.
"I wasn't the worst," he said slowly, "but I wasn't the best either. Not at first." Not when he'd been young and stupid enough to want to take advantage of the fact that there were no limits. That absolutely everything he wanted could be his without having to try for it. "But I didn't act that way for long." Not when waking up next to one stranger after another had come up empty so quickly. And not when his parents had raised him better than that. They'd clearly known that he was sowing some wild oats, and they'd never come down on him for it, but he'd known they hadn't been thrilled.
"You don't have to explain things to me."
But he did. Because he wanted her to respect him the way he respected her. "I want to. No lies, remember?"
She nodded. "No lies." She took a deep breath, one that he knew was going to precede an admission of her own. "First of all, the truth is that my father isn't the only one who assumed there was a stereotype of what a rock star's life is like. How they think and act. But even though I haven't known you that long, I don't think you fit the stereotype at all. And also..." She scrunched up her face as if she really didn't want to tell him anything more. "I was a huge fan of yours. In high school. Way back to when you put out your first demo. And I--" She was really flushing now, her eyes squeezing shut for a second before she said, "I've had a crush on you for just as long."
When she opened her eyes, she was looking at him in that wary way he'd noticed she often looked at things. As if she didn't yet know enough about them, hadn't done enough analysis, to be totally sure that she could trust them to turn out okay.
Neither of them said anything for a while. They both just stared at each other as attraction pulsed hotter and higher than ever. She was clasping her hands so tightly in front of her that her knuckles were white as she finally said, "This isn't going to be easy, is it?"
"No." There was no other answer, no way to get around the truth. "It isn't."
She bit her lip. "Maybe I shouldn't stay."
"No." The single word came out borderline panicked. "I need you to stay. Not just because I want you. But because I feel like I can talk to you. Really talk in a way I haven't been able to in a long time."
"I feel the same way with you."
"Good." Relief was washing over him in a major way. "Then you'll stay."
"This has been the best twenty-four hours of my life. I don't want to go. But..." She bit her lip again, and he nearly lost it at the sight of the soft, wet flesh moving between her teeth. Flesh he wanted against his mouth, between his teeth. "Maybe I should move to one of the other buses."
"No." It seemed to be the only thing he could say to her tonight. The only thing he could say to himself. "The guy tonight at the venue who asked you out--he's only the tip of the iceberg. I know it isn't fair when we can't be together, but I can't stand the thought of you with anyone else."
"I don't want anyone else, Drew."
That nearly did it, nearly snapped the final thread of his self-control. "I don't either."
She started moving toward him, her hands coming apart to reach for him, and he knew that if she touched him, he wouldn't stop her. Wouldn't stop himself. Even if it meant that both of them would break their promise to her father.
But then, at the last second, she stopped. Inhaled a shaky breath. And said, "I had an idea about the VIP room. If it's okay to share it with you."
She was right to change the subject. To talk about the business she'd come here to learn rather than the fact that they wanted to jump each other. Nonetheless, the thought of moving away from her was physically painful. But he had to do it. And he also had to shift his focus away from kissing her beautiful lips to the intelligent idea he was certain was going to come out of them.
"Of course I want to hear your idea. Tell me what it is."
"That first night when the woman took off her shirt, even though it was pretty shocking, I just figured that was how things were after your shows. But then, tonight, when that little girl was there with her mom...honestly, it totally freaked me out that she'd see another woman behaving like that."
"It wasn't how things used to be after my shows. Lately, things have been getting more and more out of hand." And he'd been letting them go, because he'd been distracted. As if he were watching everything happen from a distance, even while trying to fight his way back to the front lines. Trying and failing. "We really need to screen people before they get into the VIP room."
/> But how were they going to do that? Make his fans all fill out a questionnaire? Are you planning to strip off your clothes so that Drew can sign a naked body part? If so, please step into line B.
As though she could read his mind, she said, "I don't know how you could do that, exactly. Especially because I'm not even sure most of those women are planning to do anything. They just see you and get excited." She flushed as though she understood that excitement, and he loved seeing it despite knowing neither of them could do anything about it. "But maybe you could just divide your VIP area so that there's a special area for kids. Anyone under eighteen can go in one section so you know for sure they won't see anything they shouldn't."
"That's a really good idea." Then, only adults would be ambushed by naked breasts they hadn't asked to see. "I should have been quicker tonight. If it hadn't been for you saving the day, that girl would have gotten an eyeful."
"I'm still trying to get over the eyeful I got that first night," she said with a laugh.
"Me, too," he agreed, not expecting her to stop laughing after he said it.
"You didn't like seeing the woman's boobs either?"
"No." Again with his word of the night. "I mean, I'm a red-blooded guy and all, but I'm not averse to a little foreplay," he said teasingly.
Her skin flushed at the word foreplay, and just that quickly, the air in the bus heated up again, sparkles of electricity bouncing back and forth between them.
Talk about foreplay. Ever since she'd joined his tour, the attraction had been building up like crazy. If they were to kiss now, it would be explosive. And he wouldn't be able to stop with just a kiss. He'd need to have all of her. Again and again and again, until he'd memorized the taste of her soft skin, the swell of each beautiful curve, the sounds of her pleasure as she gasped her bliss into his ear and begged for more.
"I feel like such a sexist jerk for thinking it wouldn't bother you, too," she said, breaking him out of his desperate imaginings. "You don't know those women. I was just making dumb assumptions based on the fact that you're a guy. No matter what my dad says, clearly all men aren't pigs." He could see her brain moving, working, reconfiguring her thoughts into a new pattern. "James, or one of the local security staff he's brought in for the night, could lay down the rules to the adult VIP room after your show. Clothes on. Hands off. And there could be zero tolerance for people going too far. They can say it's a security thing, if you're worried about hurting anyone's feelings. But the fact is that you're too popular now not to have those kinds of rules set up."
He never wanted to upset his fans, but things had been spiraling more and more out of control for a while now. Because he was surrounded by an all-male crew, they'd probably figured he was okay with it, too. It had taken a woman's touch--a brilliant woman's touch--to make a change for the better.
Mom would have loved you, he found himself thinking.
