Five Weeks (Seven Series #3)(70)

Jericho moaned against my neck, moving his mouth to my shoulder. “Stop, Isabelle. Don’t touch me. I want to make you come. No sex has ever compared to making you come with one touch. Let me touch you, baby.”
His fingers went deeper, and I moaned with so much need and lust that I pulled down his underwear and stroked him behind my back. I reached up to wiggled out of my shorts when something stilled the both of us.
“Izzy Monroe!”
The crowd roared.
Jericho backed up. “Shit. We’re on.”
I slowly turned around, leaning against the bark of the tree with my shorts pulled halfway down my hips.
Jericho bit his lip. “I don’t know if I can go up onstage with you looking at me like that, Sexybelle.”
I tugged my shorts up and smiled at him. “I told you all those donuts would be nothing but trouble. Get up onstage. I want to watch you perform.”
He stalked forward and kissed me hard, his tongue crashing against mine and igniting those feelings once again. “The first song is for you,” he said.
Jericho zipped up his pants and headed toward the stage, the edges of his blazer flapping with his rapid pace. I pulled myself together and laughed quietly. “Jericho Sexton Cole, you’re going to get me into so much trouble,” I whispered, watching him climb onto the stage and swing his guitar over his shoulder.
The stars were magnificent overhead, and I slowly made my way toward the stage, hypnotized by his voice that called out to me in a song. It wasn’t a song I’d heard before. He began the show with a bluesy acoustic melody—a ballad.
The audience was captivated.
I battled the demons that darkened my soul,
I broke into pieces but you made me whole.
I promise to make you a home in my heart,
we’ll rebuild our lives, and we’ll make a new start.
Mmm. My Isabelle, I can tell… by the look in your eyes…
My breath caught. The crowd vanished, and I gravitated toward a man who sang into a microphone that connected to my soul. His eyes roamed through the crowd and then found me. I lifted my bracelets and smiled. Jericho winked and finished singing the song he’d written for me.
On the spot.
I kissed the palm of my hand and raised it up in the air. He reached out as if to grab something and then held his closed fist to his chest. All the girls around me screamed and someone threw her panties at his feet.
I laughed and wondered how I’d gotten myself into this. Was I really standing here falling in love with Jericho Sexton Cole beneath a starry night? I’d always loved him, but this was something entirely different.
Maybe it was just seeing his sexy eyes searching for me in the crowd. Could have been his bare chest beneath his jacket, or the way his mouth caressed each word he sang into the microphone. It might have been the roar of tingles I felt between my legs when I thought about the way he’d gently handled me not five minutes ago and how I needed him.
More of him.
When the song ended, the band huddled together.
“Hey, Izzy!”
I blinked into reality and turned my head.
April approached in a white cutoff shirt and had about seven blue glow sticks tied around her neck. “Isn’t Trevor amazing?”
I laughed quietly. “He hasn’t played yet.”
She brushed her blond bangs to the side. “You just wait. Trevor can do anything he puts his mind to, and he’s going to knock their socks off. Plus, look at him! He looks so charismatic up there.”
“Trying to make me jealous?” Reno said in a gravelly voice, holding her from behind. She leaned her head back and kissed him feverishly.
“Is anyone else here?” I asked.
“Everyone! Somewhere,” she said with a laugh. “Except for Denver, and he’s pissed about it.”
Joker began a beat on the drums, and Trevor stepped forward and ran a bass line. Women screamed in unison, and April was one of them. Jericho laughed and shook his head, watching Trevor with disbelief.
The cocoa began working its way through me. “You guys have fun! Maybe we’ll bump into each other again,” I yelled over the music.
Jericho owned the stage, hammering out a rock song that had everyone throwing their fists into the air. I couldn’t hear my own thoughts as I made my way to the portable toilets. That was one memory I didn’t miss from our heyday.
After executing what I liked to call the “hovercraft pee,” I used the sanitizer on one of the tables to wash my hands and found myself bobbing my head along with Jericho’s band. As much as I loved hearing his covers of popular songs, I melted to his original stuff.
I bristled when a set of arms wrapped around me from behind.
“I’m so glad you’re okay,” I heard Ivy say.
I blew out a sigh of relief and turned around. “You scared me.”