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She sighs and pulls her hand back, letting me fix my pants. “Fine.”
“Whatever happened to that sweet and innocent Chelsea Garten I met before? I’m pretty sure she wouldn’t be sticking her hands down my pants while we should already be in a cab.”
She gives me a mischievous look that sends my blood surging to my cock. “Whoever told you I was sweet and innocent didn’t know me at all.”
“Clearly,” I mutter as she heads toward the door, the sway of her hips pure temptation incarnate.
When we get to the venue, Rosa’s already in a state, pacing around looking annoyed.
“I hope this doesn’t become a habit, Chelsea, showing up late. It’s very unprofessional.”
“Sorry, that was my fault, Rosa. Won’t happen again,” I say, jumping to her defense. Chelsea shoots me a look, and Rosa looks at me like I’m something unpleasant under her shoe, but when she turns back to Chelsea, she’s much nicer to her.
“Well, hurry in to hair and makeup; we don’t have time to waste.” Rosa marches off somewhere backstage, with another mission in mind, and Chelsea whirls on me.
“Why’d you do that?”
“Do what?” I don’t know why she seems so mad all of the sudden, but I can see the fire in her eyes.
“You took the blame for me. I was the reason we were late.”
“So?” I shrug. “She already hates me. No reason for her to be pissed at both of us.”
Chelsea’s mouth falls into a thin, firm line. “Well, don’t do it again. I can fight my own battles, Ian.” And then she’s heading off back to the dressing rooms and I’m left feeling like I just got scolded for something I didn’t even know what was wrong. But I know that women have their own weird interactions with each other and things have been tense between Chelsea and her manager for a while. I wouldn’t like it if she decided to step in with Merrill, so now I feel guilty.
But when we meet in the wings, she’s all smiles. She’s wearing this sparkly black dress that hugs her perfectly and her hair is done in loose messy curls. She looks way more rock and roll than country and I dig it. But then I remember I’m in trouble.
“Chelsea, I’m sorry about—”
“No, don’t. I’m just getting annoyed with Rosa and I need to deal with that on my own. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“I shouldn’t have presumed. I—”
“Shh,” she says, pressing a kiss to my lips. “We’ve got a show to put on. It’s fine, I promise.”
And there’s no more time to argue because we’re being announced on stage. At the last minute, I think to wipe the lipstick off my lips and jog out on stage after her to the cheering audience.
After that, nothing goes wrong. The cues are perfect, our voices are working together better live than they did even on the album, and by the time we go into our closing number, I know this is the best damn show either of us has ever put on.
And Chelsea’s feeling it too. Before going into the last song, she’s already eying me like she’s ready to finish what we started back at the hotel. That song, with those words and the memories of us writing it together, only make that longing more intense.
When the final chord plays, I don’t even think about it. I sweep Chelsea into my arms and kiss her with everything I’ve got. The crowd roars behind us, going absolutely nuts, but I don’t even really notice them. All I notice is Chelsea in my arms, Chelsea’s soft lips parting for me, her tongue teasing me, her hands sliding up my chest to clutch at my shoulders.
I can still hear the crowd around us, but suddenly they’re much quieter and I look and see the curtain’s come down.
“Well, I guess that’s one way to end a show,” I say with a big grin.
Chelsea’s flushed and breathless and she doesn’t say anything, she just grabs my hand and drags me backstage—and I do mean drags, I can barely keep my feet under me—to her dressing room. And the moment we’re in there, we’re kissing again, hands roaming over each other, her dress pushed up around her hips while she works at my zipper frantically. It’s like there’s a bomb to defuse in my pants and it’s going to detonate if she can’t get them undone in the next ten seconds.
In all honesty, that’s not far from the truth. There is going to be an explosion of some kind if she gets her way, that’s for sure.
I’m on my knees in front of her with my tongue on her clit, her fingers clawing at my scalp as she squirms and moans against me, when there’s a knock on the door.
“Shit, Rosa,” she hisses, shoving her dress back down to cover herself. I stand up fast too, zipping my fly and grabbing a nearby towel to wipe her juices from my face.
She takes one look over to me to make sure I’m presentable and I nod.
“Come in!” she says, flopping on the couch, looking casual like we weren’t about to just be fucking in her dressing room.
