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“What the fuck is this?” comes out in the most confused tone I’ve ever heard out of him.
Riggan pulls back, and when he does, my eyes scan the three guys standing across from me, just outside of the garage. Landon is in the middle in only jeans, no shirt, no shoes. Uh, that’s hot. “Riggan doesn’t hug people,” Maddox adds.
Riggan shakes his head. “Just because I don’t hug you three dicks doesn’t mean I don’t do it at all. You have to earn it.”
“Wait, what am I tagged in on Insta?” Konnor asks as he looks up from his phone. Always the serious one in a chaotic scene. “We’re playing on the strip?”
I hold out my hands and wiggle my fingers. “Surprise.”
Maddox is wearing a grin, Konnor looks surprised, and Landon, he turns around and storms off. I watch him walk inside, a little shocked. Gabby makes her way over to where Maddox is standing and wraps her arm around his waist. “Landon doesn’t like to be left in the dark,” Riggan says from beside me. “And he doesn’t have a good track record when it comes to your Insta account. He’s not like the rest of us. You’re guilty until you’re proven innocent. Might wanna go put things in perspective with that permanent dedication on your rib and clear my name while you’re at it.”
Fuck.
I wasn’t even thinking about the Instagram post before showing him. I don’t post as much, so I didn’t think he still paid it much attention. I just wanted to give the shop some credit.
I make my way to the house and walk inside, quickly navigating through it and climbing flight after flight of stairs until I’m on the third floor, opening the door. Sayler pointed as soon as I walked inside from where she was rocking Chloe in the living room while watching the television.
Landon is sitting on the edge of the bed, hunched over, forearms to thighs. I shut the door. He’s looking at the floor, refusing to look at me. “You’re making it really hard for your parents to trust me with this tattoo shit,” he says. “I already have to watch my back because of your age.”
My heart sinks. It didn’t bother him in the beginning. My parents are fine with it. I wasn’t aware it was an issue now aside from a stupid law that’s as old as time.
I drop my purse by the door. “I approved it with my mom before I even went to the tattoo shop. Riggan can vouch for me. He made me show him before he would do it. I’ll show you if you want.” He finally looks at me. “Even if she hadn’t, she wouldn’t blame you. I’ve always done stuff when I wanted it, the law be damned. That’s how I got a belly button ring and a nose ring.”
“You should have told me. It’s common courtesy. I don’t like seeing a guy’s hands that close to your tits on social media when I know nothing about it. You wanna see a girl with my dick in her hand, ready to shove a needle through the tip before I even tell you I want it pierced? Because that’s the same fucking thing.”
My heart beats faster, hating that visual in my head. “No. I didn’t want you to know what I was getting. It was a surprise.”
“Next time, try, ‘it’s a surprise’, and I won’t ask questions. I rarely do.”
When he doesn’t continue, I smile accidentally, realizing his tone is much calmer. “You mad at me?”
He sits upright, giving me a spectacular view with him being shirtless. “I was. At you and Riggan. It’s bullshit that neither of you so much as texted me. I’ve never laid a finger on either of their girls. Period. But then I saw the Insta post when my phone vibrated from the tag. It was like cold water on hot coals. I thought this band shit was just you being a decent girlfriend, but it’s obviously something you want to see through, so I’ll give it everything I’ve got.”
That word hit the spot. I pull off my shirt and come between his legs. “Only decent?”
His eyes go to the rectangular taped area on my ribs, and then back to mine. “Sometimes more,” he adds, not dishing out compliments.
I grab a corner and pull it back, slowly uncovering the tattoo from the end of the script to the beginning. “Read it to me.”
He looks down at the one line of script running underneath my left boob in a feminine font. “All About That Bass.”
“Band bitch. Property of the bassist,” I recite from a previous conversation. “I’ll still get a shirt.”
When his gaze penetrates mine, his whole demeanor is different. He pulls me on his lap. “The fucking best.”
I close in, smelling the whiskey on his breath. “You smell like a bar,” I tell him, not mad, because it means he cares. Back at Christmas he would have shown his ass. This time, he waited ‘til I got home, and then waited until we were alone. We’ve made a lot of progress as a couple.
Our lips linger, almost touching. “Yeah,” he replies, his gray eyes lazy and glassed over. “It was that or send you texts I’d regret, especially after seeing what you were doing today.”
I smile. “By the way, you’re sort of stuck with me. You’re looking at the new manager of Savage Saints. Riggan made it official.”
He grips my hips, gyrating my middle against his pelvis, both of us shirtless. “Yeah? Does this mean I get to fuck you backstage and us share living quarters on the tour bus?” he jokes, but if I have anything to do with it, there will definitely be shows and tour buses involved, hopefully sooner rather than later.
I reach behind me on a laugh, already unhooking my bra, and then toss it on the floor. My skin looks angry where the tattoo is, and it’s sensitive, but I’ll have to deal with it. “Fucking me backstage would be inappropriate, and highly unprofessional.”
“Pfft,” he says. “When has a rock band ever been professional, or appropriate?”
He has a heavy buzz going on, and it’s very entertaining. I feel like I was late for the party. We’ll have to make this quick so I can get started before he’s three sheets to the wind. It’s no fun being the sober one. “How do you know I’ll be able to tour with you? I may have other clients by then. After today, I’ve decided I want to go into music management. You should have seen me slay it with that club manager.”
