When he pulls away, our eyes lock tight, and I know he can see right through my shades, through my head, and straight down into me. It's a trick; it's gotta be. I want to remember the way he spoke to me on the phone, the way he left that poor girl half-naked over the PA speaker, but I can't seem to grab any memories that haven't been made right here, on this stage. What else is there? my soul asks me as Turner uses the cord of the mic to spin it in a circle and snatch it back in one tattooed hand.
My solo comes to a natural end, and I fall right back where I left off, taking the band with me, opening my ears up to Turner's voice as it slides into the microphone. It's unbelievable – my words from his lips. I step back and Hayden moves up beside him, doing her best to out sex her colleague.
It doesn't work.
I don't think it's even possible to out sex Turner Campbell.
He grabs the hem of his shirt and slides it up, flashing his taut belly and a sea of tattoos against pale, sweaty flesh. His fingers rub the dark hair above his jeans and then drop the fabric back into place, much to the dismay of the crowd.
“Tearing me up, shredding me inside; my walls are coming down in flames.” Hayden's voice slides in alongside Turner's and for a split second there, I'm jealous. Of what and who and why, I have no idea, because I fucking hate them both, and they deserve each other, but … I brush the feeling aside and slam my axe to bits with my pick. “If you break me, baby, be prepared to pick up the pieces.”
Three. Two. One. And the song is over, and my pick is flying out across the crowd and landing in greedy hands. Sweat pours down my face in sheets and my body is wracked with violent trembles. Turner spins around and grins at me as the crowd explodes into a riotous fervor that makes the bouncers nervous. And they have every right to be. It is crazy hot up in here, and there's this primal vibe in the air that makes the hair on the back of my neck stand on end. I wet my dry lips and watch as Turner slides my mic back into place and snatches up a water bottle from the side of the stage. He takes a swig and then hands it over to me.
My hands drop down and take hold of it, even though I'm not thirsty, even though I can't imagine anything as earthly as hydration. When he reaches out and plucks the shades from my face, I don't stop him.
“That was tight, Knox,” he growls as he uses his middle finger to slide them up his nose. “Real fucking ugly.”
Show time.
I swipe my hand through my already sweaty hair and stalk onto the stage, listening with an inner smirk to the sound of the crowd going bat shit crazy for me. I pause behind the mic and slide one hand up the stand while I rest the other around the grip.
I wish Naomi were offstage watching me, but I already saw her make a run for it. As soon as Amatory Riot's set was done, she took off like a bat outta hell, bursting through the door backstage; she didn't even ask for her shades back. I wonder if she'll take me up on my offer for drinks tonight. She better after that little impromptu show we put together. Didn't expect that, but it was fucking hot. My cock tingles at the thought and my tongue slides across my lips, boiling the crowd into a wild frenzy.
I thought Milo was going to wring my neck for that shit, but listening to him bitch was worth it. I can still taste Naomi on my mouth, hot and sweaty and perfect.
I have to have her.
My itch for info has become an all consuming burn, one that's eating me up from the inside out. I need to know who she is and where she comes from and then I have to make her mine for a little while. If I don't, I think I'll go fucking crazy. I've never felt this way before, and it's scaring the shit out of me. Mystery Girl's got me interested.
“Good evening, San Diego,” I growl over the roaring voices below me. I feel like a fucking king up here, like I'm being worshipped. A smile crawls across my face. “Looking fucking beautiful tonight.” I point to the prettiest girl I can find and tilt my head to the side. “I hope you liked my little prelude earlier.” I pause and slide the mic slowly out of the stand. “But I'm fucking warning you because that was just a taste. I hope you've had a lot to drink because this is gonna hurt.” I grin. “This is my hour to destroy you.”
Treyjan starts up our most popular song, 'Breaking Pretty', and trashes the stage with his guitar. Jesse isn't far behind him, cutting up the crowd while I bounce on my toes and swing my head in time to the music. The bass line sneaks in strong from Josh's side of the stage and punches the venue hard when Ronnie smashes his kit into the mix.
Instead of pushing Naomi out of my mind, I think about her hard. I imagine my body slamming into hers, imagine her back pressed up against a cold cement wall and her hot heat gripping me. I put that fire into my voice and snarl out the lyrics to the song, lacing them with sexual tension, with intensity, biting the words off and pissing all over that goddamn stage.