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“Some friends of mine are in town; you might’ve heard of them. The Nothing?”
Halo’s grin disappeared as his mouth fell open. “Are you kidding?”
I realized that I’d somehow stumbled on something he really wanted. “Not kidding, no. We opened for them back when we first started out. I’m buddies with the lead singer and I could get us some tickets. Would that inspire—”
“Yes.” Halo nodded. “Hell yes.”
“You don’t even know what I was gonna say.”
“I don’t care. You just asked if I want to see The Nothing. The only answer you’re going to get from me tonight is yes.”
A smile slowly curled my lips. “Well, that’s certainly good to know.”
Halo swallowed, his eyes shifting over my shoulder to the door, as though checking no one else was with us, then they came back to me. “Would the rest of the guys be coming with us?”
“No. Just you and me. That cool with you?”
Halo took a breath and then bit down on his lip, and I had to dig my fingers into my palms in an effort not to grab him.
“What will you tell them?” Halo asked, and it took a second for me to get my mind off his mouth and back to the conversation.
“Who?”
“The guys.”
“I’m not gonna tell them shit.”
Halo’s brows pulled together. “You don’t think they’ll think it’s weird? Us going to a concert together, without them?”
“Uh, no. Should they?”
Halo shrugged. “I don’t know. Killian, he…”
When Halo’s words trailed off, I shook my head. There was no way he wasn’t going to finish that sentence. What had Killian done? Because if I found out he’d said something to Halo, I was going to track him down whether he was with that damn lifeguard or not.
“He just gave me a look today before he left. It made me think he might know about this.” When Halo moved his hand between us, I took hold of it, halting it midair.
“So what if he does?”
“You don’t think he’d care?”
“More like I don’t give a fuck if he does. Kill doesn’t tell me where to put my dick, and I don’t tell him where to put his. We get along much better that way.”
“And you want to put it…?”
An indecent smile tugged at my mouth as I raised Halo’s hand to my lips and nipped at his fingertips. “Wherever you let me, Angel.”
Forty-Three
Halo
LATER THAT NIGHT, a black Escalade arrived at the mansion to pick up Viper and me to take us to the American Airlines Arena in downtown Miami, where The Nothing were headlining. The others had spent most of the day out, and when they’d come back, they weren’t alone, which meant they weren’t at all interested in joining us for the show. I wasn’t sorry about that, considering I’d be getting several hours with Viper, including the time spent alone in the back of the SUV, something I was now enjoying despite my earlier freak-out.
It hadn’t hit me until this afternoon how crazy my life had become in the last few weeks. I still hadn’t adjusted to the speed and urgency of the music world that I’d been swept up into. I hadn’t anticipated the pressure that would come with not only fronting such a huge band and rebuilding from the ground up, but also going from being a nobody to being the “next big thing”…whatever that meant.
And the craziest part of it all was the surprising and intense sexual attraction I was having for the man sitting beside me, which was eclipsing everything else to the point where almost all I could think about was him. I’d never been one to let another person consume me, but Viper wasn’t just anyone, was he? He was a rush like I’d never felt before. When he walked in a room, my eyes immediately found him. If I heard his voice, I wanted to seek him out. And when his attention was on me, no one else existed—and I liked it.
The farther we drove from the mansion, the more my worries over the music and the band faded away, until all I could see was Viper.
With a privacy shield up between us and the driver, Viper and I sat together in the back, his foot casually hooked behind my ankle, the only place our bodies connected. As the lights of the city passed by in a blur, and with no one else around to see, I let my eyes roam over him.
Damn, he looked sexy tonight. He’d changed into a pair of non-ripped jeans and a black T-shirt, and he somehow looked like he’d stepped off the pages of Rolling Stone. It didn’t even seem to matter what he wore, Viper just had this swagger, this vibe coming off him that made you sit up and take notice when he walked in the room—or simply sat beside him in the car.
