“Where are you going?” She stepped closer, silently imploring him to stay. “The guys are heading out to Sharkey’s for an after-party in the VIP room.”
Gray snorted. “What VIP room? That place is a dive.”
“They remodeled it, I guess. We’ve been away for a while.”
Talk about an understatement. Their whirlwind tour had ended up getting extended when they switched management and record companies and their new team had wanted them to be seen in a few more key venues before they packed it in for a few months. Not that they’d be on vacation. They had a new album to cut, which meant studio time as well as serious hours spent writing new material. They didn’t have nearly enough to go into the studio with yet. That also meant they’d need to put away the shit between the band members long enough to actually sit still and work on some words and melodies together.
Long meet shot.
“Simon’s got a disguise too,” Jazz went on, clearly oblivious to Gray’s disinterest. He hadn’t been all that fond of hanging out with most of his fellow band members before the big contract mess that Nick and Simon had instigated. Now he definitely couldn’t be bothered.
Especially when there was all that pretty blow, just waiting for him. Maybe. All depended if Cricket really would come through without him having to do her. Some females just had a thing for rock stars, even sweaty, hyper ones who were more interested in powder than pussy.
Still, he had to try to pay attention to this conversation and possibly even show up at the after-party. For Jazz if no one else. “A disguise? What the hell?”
“You know, so he won’t be recognized.” She rolled her eyes. “I think he stole your hat too. I swear he was carrying that around with this freaking curly red wig that makes him look like Carrot Top.”
Gray frowned. “I was wondering where it went.”
She smiled faintly. “I was amazed you could go on without it. In the old days, you would’ve refused to play.”
In the old days, I would’ve refused a lot of things.
He rubbed his hand over the back of his damp neck. “Babe, I need a shower.”
“So? I do too. That doesn’t mean you can’t come to Sharkey’s.”
Rather than stand there and envision things he had no business envisioning—namely his best friend naked and soapy under a stream of hot water—he stepped back. “Why don’t you go ahead? We can connect later.”
She gave him a pleading look that never missed its target. “It’s New Year’s Eve. A fresh start. Please, Gray.”
And those words right there? His undoing.
He sighed. “I’ll meet you there, all right?”
“No. Not all right.” Eyes narrowed, she closed the distance between them again. Apparently she had no intention of giving up easily. “Who is that woman? I don’t like the looks of her.”
“You don’t like the looks of anyone.” He couldn’t resist tapping the side of her head, right above one of her bedraggled rainbow ponytails. “Very suspicious mind you have in there, young lady.”
“Someone has to watch out for you.”
“Oh really?” He cocked a brow, still a little sore from the ring he’d had put in yesterday. Pain was his new thing. At the rate he was going, he’d have tattoos and piercings all over his body. “I think that’s my job.”
“No, it’s mine.” She wet her lips and grabbed the lapels of the leather vest he’d worn over skin onstage. That skin was currently soaked to the bone from their crazy-ass set under the lights, but she didn’t seem to mind. Why would she? Her bangs stuck to her forehead in a thick clump. Even her lashes had tangled in the heat.
And that wet look only brought him right back to thoughts of her in the shower, her body pressed tightly to his from the tips of her full breasts to her shapely thighs and everywhere in between.
His dick veered against his zipper. Christ. He needed to get his head straight or else he’d make some serious mistakes while he was waiting for his fix.
Like indulging in an even darker, more dangerous one.
“I’ve been watching out for you since I was fourteen, Grayson Duffy.” Her fingers tightened on his vest, as if she suspected he was on the verge of pulling away. “Nothing and no one will make me stop now. So get your ass into that shower, get cleaned up and presentable, and come with us to Sharkey’s.”
The devil on his shoulder—or in his pants—made him lean close to speak against her ear. No less than six miniature hoops cupped the curve of her lobe. “What, you don’t think I look presentable now? I think there are some ladies here who might disagree with you.”