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I turn around, intending to knock on Gavin’s bedroom door only to find him standing in the doorway, watching me. Those bright blue eyes do a quick scan of my body and a rush of heat floods my skin, scorching me from the inside out.
“Gavin…”
His eyes narrow and his full mouth twists into a scowl.
“I’m agreeing to this laughable plan, Hale. Only because Ross says it’s the only way to end this shit and I don’t want to disappoint my band mates.”
My mind goes blank when my gaze drops to his chest. Gavin’s shirt is so tight I can see the outline of his piercings. I swallow back lust, need, and whole lot of dirty thoughts and force my eyes back up to his face. “Okay.”
My stupid eye twitches.
Gavin smirks, crossing his arms over his chest to hide the glorious view, knowing exactly what I’m thinking. Dammit.
“Good,” he snaps.
“I-I’m sorry, Gavin.” My hand lifts towards him of it’s own volition, wanting desperately to feel the heat of his skin.
His expression softens, revealing something more than the irritation he’s revealing. Regret? Longing? I’m not sure. Before I can figure it out, Gavin disappears into his bedroom, shutting the door and effectively ending the most awkward conversation to ever take place.
Gavin
“Gavin!”
“Over here!”
“Mitch! Are you two getting married?”
“How does it feel to be out?”
“Can we get a shot of you two kissing?”
The hairs on the back of my neck rise as the paparazzi shout out their questions. My palm is slick where it’s woven with Mitch’s. I can only hope his is just as sweaty as mine so he won’t notice.
“Come on, guys! Kiss for us!”
The crowd in the pressroom at the record label is getting rowdy, clamoring for a physical display of affection between my ‘boyfriend’ and me. A glance over at Ross shows him urging me on with his eyes, begging me to continue the ridiculous charade.
Putting on the most convincing smile I can manage, I lean in and growl in Mitch’s ear. “We have to kiss for the cameras, Mitch. Is that a problem?”
Mitch’s hand grips mine tighter and his body tenses up. “No, not at all.”
I desperately want to roll my eyes but the whirring of cameras reminds me that I’m on display. I let go of Mitch’s hand and cup both sides of his face. His day-old stubble rasps against my palm as I tilt his head to one side. When I lean in, I get a full-on hit of his familiar scent. Lust rears its inappropriately timed head, sending a rush of blood to my cock.
Thank god we’re sitting behind a long table, the entire band, Ross, and our PR manager, Rachel Whatley, all in a row with us.
Mitch allows me to lead the kiss, parting his lips for me at my urging. As much as I want to dive in and devour him, I keep the kiss quick and G-Rated considering we’re not alone. Also because I hate him right now even if he is a sexy son of a bitch.
When I pull away, the crowd claps and cheers, but all I hear is the beat of my heart thundering in my chest. My eyes lock onto Mitch’s, the grey nearly eclipsed by large pupils. Longing like I’ve never felt before slams into me, threatening to drag me under and steal my breath.
The spell is only broken when Mitch blinks a few times, a shocked look on his face. Those rough cheeks turn red and he pulls away, clearing his throat nervously. Finally, I can suck in a lungful of much needed air to clear my head.
“There,” I announce, hoping no one saw the quick exchange of emotions. I grin at the audience. “Satisfied?”
The journalists toss more questions at us, including some very explicit and frankly, quite rude ones about our supposed sex life. I can see Hawke shaking with laughter out of the corner of my eye.
Ass!
Of course they’re not satisfied. They never are.
