Shocked, I sit there, unable to comprehend. “I don’t understand.”
“What’s not to understand, baby doll? Cameron wants you for himself.”
“But I don’t want him,” I blurt, before I fully comprehend the implication it will have on Jackson.
“She’s made her decision. Go home, Cam, and while you’re there, make some new friends.” Jackson smirks, taking my hand. I allow him to lead me to backstage.
“I don’t want you either,” I snap, once we’re away from the crowd.
His smirk falls, and he pulls me into an empty dressing room. He kicks the door shut behind him, and I look around. The walls are made of brick, and there’s a sofa on the opposite side of us. It looks really well-used.
I back away, not wanting any part of a sofa with Jackson, especially not that one. When I hit the wall, the rough brick bites at my skin.
“Why not?” he asks.
“Because I don’t know what you did backstage, before you sang, but I saw what you did on stage, and how you looked up there, with that on.”
“This shirt is upsetting you?”
I nod. “You didn’t have it on before.”
“It’s what the entire band wore, but if you don’t like it…” He rips it over his head. “No one dressed or undressed me, Bliss.”
I can’t stop staring at him, at his tight abs, the multiple tattoos, or the way his jeans hang on his hips. “But the two of you singing—”
He cages me within his arms, one hand planted on the wall behind me. “It was an act. Nothing more. Every time I’ve performed with June it’s been an act. I’ve had to perform when I was sick, exhausted, sad, and heartbroken. None of that mattered, because the music came first. Didn’t you see they way Violet and I performed together while we were on tour?”
“Thanks for the reminder,” I say, my misery doubling. Where was I ranked on his list of things that mattered—third, fourth, or only when he remembered he had a wife?
“Old me wanted her, but Violet wanted nothing to do with me. Could you tell that from our act? Could you tell that she despised me at one point?”
I shake my head.
“I know you don’t get it, but I’ve been doing this for so long that it’s second nature. When I sing with a girl on stage, the crowd has to believe she’s the one I’m all into. If not, then they don’t come back for more.”
“Then I don’t want them to come back for more,” I snap.
His gaze drops to my lips. “I want you to keep coming back for more.” He picks me up, and I wrap my arms around his neck and my legs around his waist, my skirt riding up past my thighs. Big hands slide to my butt, cupping my cheeks. “When we make love, I want to hear you say more, more, more.”
He rocks against me, getting me wet, making my nipples hard. He trails slow kisses down my neck and over the tops of my breasts. Desire, love, lust, and heartbreak envelop me, but before they can drown me, I break free and ask, “You know what I want to hear you say?”
“What’s that?” He manages to push my shirt up and the cup of my bra down. My breast pops out, and he captures the nipple in his mouth. “Better than candy.”
Bracing me against the wall, he unzips his jeans and shoves my panties to one side. In one smooth thrust, he’s in me, and I jolt at his sensual invasion.
“Say it, baby doll.” He strokes me, hard and unrelenting, bringing me closer and closer to the edge. I don’t want to fall, because if I do, I won’t get up. “Tell me, beautiful girl. Tell me what you need for me to say. I’d say anything for you. Anything.”
I whimper, fastening my mouth to his. I’m greedy for him. Our kisses become frantic, his thrusts more intense, and my head falls back.
He licks my throat, and then slips his hand between us, firmly working at my clit. “Say it.”
“I love you.” The words burst free from inside of me, at the height of my orgasm. “I love you. I love you. I love you.”
“Bliss, damn it… Bliss.” He groans my name, joining me.
But he doesn’t say those three big words back to me. In fact, he doesn’t say anything at all. He simply kisses my lips, my nose, and my forehead, then holds me for the longest time, until he pulls away to help me get cleaned up.
June throws open the door right as we’re done. “Next set, lover boy.”
“Let me find my shirt.”
“You don’t need it.” She flicks her gaze down his lean form as he searches for it, and I want to claw her eyeballs out.
“I have to go,” he says to me while putting the Downward Spiral t-shirt back on. “We’ll talk later.”