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“What’s wrong?” he asked, and when I smiled, I knew it didn’t reach my eyes.
“Nothing,” I lied.
“Baby?”
“What’s going on? You said you needed me?” I asked, changing the subject. He studied me for a moment. Someone called his name, and he said he’d be right there.
“You okay?”
“Jax—"
“What’s going on?” he asked, too astute for his own good.
“Nothing.” I exhaled and relaxed into his touch. “What’s up?” He made a face and sighed.
“I wanted to see if you could help pick out my clothes for tonight? The stylists brought out some stuff for me, but I’m not sure.”
“Okay, I got you. Is it in your dressing room?”
“Yeah.” His hand found mine easily, and before I knew it, he was leading the way to his room. Shutting the door, he pressed me against it. One hand rested on the door while the other tipped my head forward.
“What’s up, baby girl?” he growled. I licked my lips.
“Nothing,” I lied again because I was terrified to ask him. What if I had fallen and he hadn’t?
“Bullshit, baby. I know you,” he growled as his dark gaze searched mine. I opened and shut my mouth.
“We can talk about it later,” I suggested as calmly as I could, but I could see from Jax’ dark, stubborn gaze he wasn’t going to let it go.
“The hell we can.”
“Honey, you have a million and a half things to do before the show and?—"
“Talk to me,” he urged. “All that shit? The things you think I have to do? It’s all bull. You’re my priority.”
“I just… I think I’m hungry,” I lied and sighed. “And tired. We haven’t really been sleeping that much,” I reminded him while I ignored the way I started to blush. A sneaky little grin flashed over his lips before the hand on the door slid down and touched my face.
“I shouldn’t have kept you up so late all these nights. We were supposed to be resting.”
“I’m not complaining.” And I wasn’t. I loved staying up late because we couldn’t seem to get enough of one another for the last couple of nights. “I was thinking about going to get some fresh air.”
“Not without security,” he muttered, and I rolled my eyes.
“Jax.”
“I’m serious, baby girl.” Something flashed in his eyes. “You know what? Fuck it.”
“Fuck what?” I squeaked as he pulled me off the door and pointed at two different outfits hanging on the wall. “Before we go?—"
“Go where?”
“Which one?” he asked. I pointed at the outfit on the left. Black leather jacket with matching pants and white tank that would show off his muscles and tattoos would look great on him.
“Good. Now that that’s done, come on.” He opened the door, and we started to walk, only stopping at the door where I’d accidently overheard the rest of the band talking. “Hey! We’re doing a coffee run. Text me your guys’ orders.”
“Sounds good,” Jameson muttered.
“Thanks,” Mason said.
