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Abby’s familiar scent envelops me. The light floral fragrance with traces of the beach has my blood pounding in my veins like molten lava, the majority of it heading straight for my dick.
I try to shake the thoughts out of my head. It’s not exactly appropriate to have a massive hard-on when picking up Abby for her date as my friend. I want to touch her so badly I could scream. Despite my attempts to divert my brain, images of ripping the tight blue gown off her perfect body and sinking deep inside her tight hot pussy dominate my thoughts. Instead of grabbing her, touching, smelling, tasting… I dig my fingernails into my palm and bite the inside of my cheek until I taste blood.
When I finally calm down, I decide to take a moment to explain the fallout that Abby can expect after tonight. “Can I come in for a minute?”
She nods and steps back, closing the door behind me. “Is everything okay?”
“Yeah.” My voice catches, so I clear my throat. “I just wanted to give you a chance to change your mind about tonight.” Abby’s sweet face crumples and her blue eyes shine wetly.
Fuck!
“I don’t mean I don’t want you to go, Bee. I do…shit.” I drag a hand through my hair and it flops down in front of one eye. So much for taking the time to style it.
“Why wouldn’t I want to go with you?” she asks, shrinking back, her confidence broken.
I cross the foyer and pull her into my arms, burying my nose in her golden waves. My traitorous body reacts, electricity humming along every inch of my skin, and my half-hard cock stiffens again.
“Because the press was so awful that time they caught us at the Black Barn.” I lean back enough to see into her eyes, but keep her wrapped in my embrace. Our mouths are mere inches apart. My gaze is drawn to those full lips, shining with some sort of slick gloss. I shudder involuntarily.
“The press? What do you mean about the press?”
“Abby, that day in the parking lot was nothing compared to what’s going to happen tonight. We were lucky they didn’t figure out who you were after that. This time, they will. I just want you to be prepared for the fallout. You’re going to be painted as my girlfriend. Nothing we say or do to deny it is going to stop them from printing it, even if it’s not true.”
Her tight expression relaxes and the corner of that sinful mouth quirks up in a sexy smirk. “I can handle it, Hawke. Don’t worry about me.”
My arms feel cold and empty when Abby steps away to grab an impossibly small purse from the foyer table. “Are we ready?”
I glance up and down her body, memorizing every bit of fabric and how it clings to her perfect curves. “Let’s go.”
Holding out my elbow, Abby hooks her arm through mine and I help her into the car. As we pull away from the sanctuary of her little cottage, I pray I’m not making a huge mistake.
* * *
The line of cars leading up to the red carpet is long. Really fucking long. It gives me too much time to freak the fuck out and second-guess everything. I shouldn’t have brought Abby. She deserves better than to be paraded in front of the paparazzi simply because I’m too selfish to let her go.
“Hey,” Abby’s sweet voice instantly calms me. “It’s going to be fine.” She puts her hand on my knee and suddenly my entire body is on fire.
“Fine, huh?” I give her a shaky smile.
It’s impossible to act normal when I’m burning from the inside out from one simple touch. “We’ll see.”
My negative grousing is interrupted by the door whooshing open, followed by the deafening roar of the huge crowd. Abby cringes back in her seat before straightening her spine and putting on her game face, clearly pretending to not be intimidated by the chaos.
I grind my teeth and exhale. “Okay.” I manage to put on my stage face. “Let’s do this, gorgeous.”
Abby grins as I slide out of the car, turning around to help her exit. Right now, I’ve never been more thankful that the rest of the band decided not to arrive as a big group. As lead singer, mayhem follows Adam wherever he goes. I might have lost my shit if Abby got pulled into the screaming, crying “Adam Reynolds” fan frenzy.
Regardless, the paparazzi still go nuts snapping pictures as I take Abby’s hand and lead her down the daunting length of bright red carpet.
“Hawke! Hawke!”
“Is this your girlfriend?”
The same questions from outside the Black Barn are repeatedly tossed our way, only this time, there are hundreds of fans lining the way, adding their own shouts to the mix.
“I love you, Hawke!”
“Oh my God!”
