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Where anyone could see us.
He must have the same thought when he breaks the kiss with a frustrated sigh and rests his forehead on mine. Eyes closed, bodies still locked in excruciating alignment, we breathe through the tension for several long seconds.
“What am I going to do with you?” I whisper, my insides still sparking and sizzling. How am I supposed to let him go?
“I’m a big fan of this,” he replies with an adorable smile. I’d give up everything for that smile, and it fades way too fast.
“I’m going to find a way,” I say softly, running my fingers along his jaw.
He searches my eyes for a moment and I don’t like the doubt I see there. In me or himself?
My phone buzzes in my pocket like some kind of alarm clock for fantasies.
Wake up! Your sucky situation is waiting! Also, parking lots are bad places for secret rendezvouses!
“Remaining,” I say as I reluctantly straighten from the wall.
“Remaining?”
“The second line of the first verse in ‘Third Last Kiss.’ It should be remaining instead of waiting.”
A slow grin leaks onto his face as he shakes his head in amusement.
“Nice edit,” he says.
“Thanks for helping with the research.”
His laugh earns one more kiss before I check the message on my phone.
11—DALLAS (RESERVED ROOM)
LARINDA
Yep. Totally forgot about brunch with my family. I wasn’t entirely sure there was a plan for brunch. They live an hour from the venue, which is just enough time to make a visit required, but not enough for me to travel. My call-time is five tonight, so a brunch date at the venue seemed like the perfect compromise. Well, until getting caught up in the drama with Val and totally forgetting about it.
Thankfully, there’s an easy solution.
“Are you sure about this?” Val mumbles as I practically drag him through the building toward the room Bruce and Steve arranged for our reunion. He looks concerned as he scans the halls for some hidden threat, and I can’t tell if it’s nerves about meeting my family or fear of getting abducted by the Badge Police again. Either way, it’s so hard not to take his hand, but we can’t risk any PDA on this tour. (Fine, any more PDA.)
“So sure,” I say, glancing back at him.
Doubt flickers in his eyes, causing a pinch in my chest. How can he so effortlessly flood others with confidence, but not have any in himself? His name is already popping up in conversations about elite producers. People are constantly flirting with him, both professionally and romantically. (Although, since he’s always the same level of polite, I can never tell how much he notices or cares.) I’ve even had a few mega-star friends ask about him for their own work. Despite all of this, he still sees himself as an unknown dreamer playing with beats at his kitchen table. Sometimes the humility is refreshing. Most of the time, it makes me want to strap him to a chair in a million-dollar studio and force him to see how amazing he is.
Also, that might be illegal, but whatever.
“Don’t you want time alone with them?” he asks, slowing as we approach the open door. A shrill laugh blares from inside. Guess they’re here.
I grab his sleeve and yank him forward.
“Pretty sure they’ll want to see you more than me,” I say.
“What?” Now he really looks concerned. “They know about me?”
I squint at this highly intelligent, clueless man. “Do they know about the extremely talented producer who revolutionized my music and has become the talk of the industry? Yeah, they’ve heard of you.”
“You know what I mean.”
I sigh and press him against the wall beside the door, just out of view.
