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He strums his guitar, launching into their next song.
On stage, Ethan is in control. He's teasing the crowd and jumping around.
Damn, he's always been talented but he's full-on Rock God now. He's cool, effortless, bursting with energy.
I melt when he smiles at the crowd—I’d know that smile anywhere. I’d know that Ethan anywhere.
That's my Ethan, the one who loves sharing his music, the one who made me feel like I was the most important person in the universe.
And, dammit, I want my Ethan back.
I want him to be my Ethan again.
The show holds all my attention. The way Ethan moves, the sight of his muscles flexing and relaxing as he plays, the sound of his guitar—it's impossible to do anything but think about how I'd like to trade places with his guitar.
The last song fades. The lights go off. Then the crowd is screaming and applauding.
I haven't got a clue how to react here. I move out of the way, to the hall. Every fiber of my being is begging me to touch him. I need to get ahold of my senses before I do something rash.
But there he is, in the hall across from me. He's now sans guitar. He's shirtless too. Even in the dim light of the hallway, I can make out all the lines of his muscles.
"Enjoy the show?" His voice is a strange mix of cocky and curious.
"Not bad."
God, he looks good with sweat dripping off his chest. There's no pretense on his face—just the afterglow of performance.
This is the Ethan I fell in love with.
I want to touch him. I want to kiss him. I want to throw him against the wall and strip him out of those jeans.
Once his lips touch mine, there's no going back. My body will remember how much it needs his. My heart will remember every time he made me float. That's one hell of a dangerous kiss.
I'm not ready for it yet.
So I stare into his bright blue eyes. He is wearing eyeliner, navy eyeliner. It makes his blue eyes look even bluer.
It's hot as hell.
He takes a step towards the back door. "You staying to watch the headliners or you heading back to the bus?"
There isn't a single part of me that wants to stay. Not with the way Ethan is looking at me like he wants to throw me against the tour bus, slide my jeans and panties to my knees, and fuck me until I'm screaming his name.
Dammit, get ahold of yourself, Violet. The man threw you away. Are you really going to throw yourself at him again?
The band is playing in San Francisco the day after tomorrow. We're leaving after the show tonight and driving through the night to skip the traffic.
"I should start on that work." I slide my hands into the back pockets of my jeans so I won't reach out and touch Ethan. "Mal said he left his laptop."
Ethan nods. "Sure. This way." He presses his palm to my lower back then he leads me out the door.
The air outside is cool. The sky is dark. I take a deep breath and try my best to exhale slowly.
I can't move forward with Ethan yet, even if he is acting like the Ethan I fell in love with and not like the obnoxious playboy rock star who uses girls like me.
He nods to the roadies and various hangers-on smoking by the side door. They nod back in an of course Ethan is bringing a girl back to the bus already, attaboy kind of way.
The bus is only a few dozen feet away. There are metal barricades farther out. At the moment, there are only a few fans hanging by them.
