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He glanced at Mal, but their drummer was too busy watching her walk away. Her oversized shirt and the crazy-patterned pants the girls insisted on wearing were about as alluring as burlap, and yet Mal was looking at her like she was a damn steak.

Not like Ryan could talk.

He’d never seen Denver in anything other than jeans or the weird workout pants she wore when they were biking or hiking. Well, except for skin.

And skin trumped all. Every luscious inch of her spread out under him as he drove into her perfect body. His cock twitched in memory.

Keeping her in the best-friend box had been easy for so long. Now, it just wasn’t.

And not just because of the orgasms. They were mind-altering, yes, but the way they connected on a whole different level decimated any hope he had of keeping her as just a friend. He’d found plenty of girls over the years who liked a little fun, but nothing like that night.

No one who matched him so completely. It infuriated him that she’d cut him off without a backward glance. The exact thing she said she didn’t want to happen between them had come down like a goddamn anvil.

As Denver pulled the bus into the underground parking lot and through the winding maze of trucks, he moved to the front of the bus. “Are you coming in for the show?”

She pursed her lips and blew out a breath. “I don’t know.”

“You love our acoustic shows.”

“This is only your third.”

“I see you at the back of the room, Colorado.” He leaned into her space. “Please come inside. We can’t fix this if we don’t go back to how we were.” He lied right to her damn face, but he was desperate. Some of her was better than none right now. When she didn’t answer, he huffed out a breath. “You want us to keep it strictly platonic, I get it. Then why are you the one shutting down on me?”

He didn’t wait for her to answer.

Actually, he was afraid to see the resolute face from when she’d first started driving the bus for the band. Sure, she’d often had amusement in her eyes and offered a quippy comment now and then, but there had been almost no way to connect with her on a deeper level.

Until the day he’d found her hiding in the shadows of their practice. She’d curled into a chair in the farthest corner of the stadium and simply watched. So alone, so closed off underneath the lighthearted banter. He’d vowed to figure out how to make her smile. A real one, not the kind she dispensed as easily as her playful snarls.

And now she was one of the most important people in his life. The fact that she’d barely shared a dozen words with him in days felt like he was missing a damn appendage.

He strode through the backstage to a door labeled with the band’s name. He swung it open and found a gift basket the size of a laundromat cart sitting on the lone circular table at the back of the room. Bulk candy in every style imaginable filled the front, a plethora of gear from the local radio station made up the rest.

A piece of paper was propped in front of it with their itinerary and a sis-boom-bah, generic “you’re awesome” and the call letters as a signature. He resisted the urge to crumple it into a ball.

He knew he was just in a mood. The radio stations had been more than kind for their release tour. Of course, it helped that they had hit a streak of buzz from a few radio spots and a taste of summer in their new single, “Goodbye”. Add in the viral secret shows and they’d found the perfect way to maximize the new album.

They should be riding high on the awesomeness of the album doing so well. Instead they were all wound up in their own dramas and there’d been little more than a hum of excitement on the bus.

The stage was different.

For the first time in ages, they were becoming the band he’d dreamed they would. Anything to not have to return to the little musical repair shop of his childhood. Or to the studio-session circuit that numbed his brain.

No, he’d do anything to make sure that didn’t happen.

Jules, Elle, and Molly came in chattering with varying shades and scents. For the first time, all of them were excitedly poring over a song. Molly was usually pushing for everyone to rehearse until one of them threatened to lock her in a steamer trunk.

The chattering should have been comforting, but he was feeling bitchy and knew it. Instead of killing the mood for every else, he went back out and through the hallways to the bus. The underside was open, and Mal was picking through equipment to bring inside.

The only reason they’d been able to do this tour was because it was stripped down. No unnecessary roadies, just the instruments they could pack under the bus, and a handful of amps from their garage days.

Back to basics.

Normally it thrilled him to be so stripped down, but he’d been restless for far longer than the album recording. There was an itchiness under his skin he couldn’t seem to scratch. No matter how many different instruments he crammed into his steamer trunk, nothing felt right in his arms.

No one but her.

Fuck.

Source: www.allfreenovel.com
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