Page 41 of Before the Encore

This wasn’t the first time Kam had been Madison’s wingwoman—or the first time it could cause complications. But it was the first time Madison hesitated. Being alone with Bonnie was one thing; being alone with her when they were stoned was asking for trouble.

But she replied with a confident nod and a shrug, telling herself it was more to do with her heavy limbs rather than the idea of having Bonnie to herself without her bandmates dissecting every move.

“Security will want you out soon to close up,” Frank said, picking up his frayed shoulder bag and hanging it over his neck.

“Thanks, Dad. Don’t forget to hold the door open for Mum on your way out.”

Kam laughed; Frank gave her the finger. Then they left, chattering down the hallway.

Madison let out a breath, muscles relaxing. Their small dressing room instantly felt more intimate. She tilted her head. “How you feelin’, princess?”

“Gooood.” Bonnie nodded, smile stretching. “Apart from I can always see my nose. That’s a little annoying. Do you think it’s annoying?”

Madison’s lips quirked. “Your nose or mine?”

She poked her cheeks with her fingertips. “I feel like I’m trapped in my face.” Bonnie stilled. “That could be a song lyric.” She flipped her hands, tracing the lines in her fingertips again. “About how we’re artwork…trapped in our faces.”

Madison had no idea what high-Bonnie would be like. So far, she wasn’t disappointed. She leaned closer. “Did you know that identical twins have different sets of fingerprints?”

“Really?”

“Fingerprints are formed in the womb when we’re floating around in the amniotic fluid, so they’re all unique. Even for twins who share the same DNA.”

“That’s beautiful,” she whispered. Something about the way she said it, so soft, so breathless, raised the hairs on Madison’s neck.

Madison became aware of her thumping heart—louder and more physical than it ever felt in her sober body—as though it had a presence of its own, pounding with such force in an attempt to break free of her ribcage and present itself to the woman beside her.

Oh man, I’m stoned.

Her breath hitched as Bonnie reached for her hand. “Can I see yours?” When Madison nodded, Bonnie brushed her thumb across her palm, tracing each line delicately to the hardened tips of her fingers. A shiver ran up Madison’s spine. “Yours are so swirly. That makes sense. Your emotions are all over the place.”

She snorted, a laugh clawing out her throat. “What, me?”

“I never know what version of you I’m going to get. Nice Madison or Madison, the dickhead.”

A grin tugged at her mouth. She took Bonnie’s soft hand in hers. The leather creaked underneath her. “Let’s see…most of yours are loops.” Bonnie glanced up through those long eyelashes, the whites of her eyes bloodshot. “That makes sense. ’Cos you’re a complete fruit loop.”

Bonnie punched Madison’s thigh. “Damn. That’s hard. You could’ve broken my hand.” She cupped it, bringing it to her chest.

“I’m sure you’ll survive.” She covered Bonnie’s hand with hers, fighting the urge to bring it to her lips. She swallowed, her throat tight. Don’t look up. If she did, she might do something stupid. But the thought embedded in her brain anyway.

“You know something?” Bonnie asked.

“What?” Her focus fell to Bonnie’s cupid’s bow. Full and soft. The corner of her mouth curled upwards.

Madison leaned closer, wetting her lips.

“Your fingers kind of look like parsnips.”

Laughter burst from both of them, and Bonnie’s real laugh—her raw, unfiltered cackle—only made the feeling swell. Bonnie’s thigh warmed hers, their shoulders brushing. Once they started, it was hard to stop. Tears streaked down her cheeks.

Madison’s abs ached. She stretched, her vest riding up and exposing her stomach. Bonnie’s gaze tracked the movement, and something shifted. It wasn’t funny anymore. Bonnie’s chest heaved, the sound of her breathing spiralling heat through Madison’s veins. She wanted to feel the swell of her body, to hear her moan slip between her lips.

Madison clenched her fingers, stopping them from reaching out. A jolt of pleasure pinged in her clit. Fuck. She wanted every inch of Bonnie on top of her. To pull her hair, to spread those juicy thighs, to have that little diva pleading Madison’s name.

Then Bonnie’s mouth curved into a mischievous smile. “Oh, no.” Bonnie giggled. “I just got really hungry.”

Madison blew out a breath. Damn the weed. She couldn’t do this when they were stoned—she didn’t want Bonnie to think she was taking advantage. She shouldn’t make a move when they were sober either, but when has sense ever stopped her? She wanted this. She couldn’t deny it anymore—even her bandmates knew.