Gabriel

“YOU TUG at those cuffs any harder and they’re going to fall off.”

I don’t bother turning to acknowledge Killian at my side. It will only encourage him. And I don’t have it in me to pretend I’m impenetrable right now. I hurt Sophie last night. I ruined her fun and then made her think she was a problem to be solved.

I didn’t realize how badly I was mucking things up until she stormed out. I’d only thought to protect my private life as I’ve always done, by putting up a wall and sniping at anyone who tried to look over it.

The method still works; she left. Cut me off at the fucking knees. I’m stuck walking on stumps and trying to pretend it isn’t agony.

Around us, stagehands, lighting engineers, and sound techs scurry to and fro, getting ready for the concert. On the other side of the massive screen we’re standing behind, the crowd fills up the stadium. Their murmurs and laughs create a constant hum.

“Shouldn’t you be in the dressing room getting your hair artfully disheveled?” I ask him.

“Libby does that for me in her own special way,” he answers easily.

Of course she does. Every damn person on the tour has been treated to the sounds Killian and Libby preparing for concerts. And celebrating the conclusion of each show. I don’t know how they ever thought they were being secretive.

“Then go find your wife,” I say. “I’m fairly certain she’s waiting for you in the lavatory.”

“Man, don’t let on that you know about the bathroom hookups or she’ll never give it to me there again.”

“It would do well for you not to provide me with ammunition at this moment.”

He falls silent, standing at my side and watching the well- choreographed art of the stagehands’ work. I know what he’s doing. Babysitting. Killian knows me too well. Just as I am able to tell if he’s hurting with one look, so is he. Granted, it’s been over ten years since he’s seen me hurting. Thinking about that time adds another stone to the gravel pit that’s formed in my gut.

Sophie didn’t come home last night. Home. I have not thought of any place as home for so long I’m surprised I even remember the concept. My houses are dwellings in which I rest when not working. Given that I’m always working, I rarely spend time in any of them. Yet from the first night Sophie settled her things alongside mine and filled those quiet, orderly spaces with her effusive nature, wherever she is feels like home.

Last night, alone in my bed, it was more like hell. I wasn’t able to lower my pride enough to ask any of my crew if they knew where she was. But it was a close thing. I’d been tempted to beg. That chafes too.

Eventually the tour will end. Sophie will move on to other projects, and my life will return to normal. Why that thought makes my gut clench isn’t something I want to dwell on.

Knowing Killian as I do, it isn’t a surprise that he can’t keep quiet for long.

He huffs out an impatient sound. “Seriously, dude, what’s got your dick in a knot?” From the corner of my eye, I can see him grinning, wide and smug. “I thought for sure your coach would be rocking for a few hours.”

“Don’t be disgusting,” I snap, leaving my damn cuffs alone. “Hot lovin’ is never disgusting.” He nudges me.

“I might be emotionally scarred for life after hearing you say hot lovin’.

And mind your business.”

“Oh, please. It’s not like you’re hiding anything.”

I finally glare at him, and he keeps that smug grin in place.

“You are so gone on Sophie,” he says happily. “You have been since you got off that plane.”

Sophie had been so happy, dancing like an erotic weapon and rapping— the lyrics falling from her lips in syncopated rhythm without falter or embarrassment. It was unexpected and lovely. I’d wanted to laugh just for the joy of it. I’d wanted to haul her over my shoulder, take her to my bed, and have her sway and thrust those hips of hers right over my mouth. My cock stirs at the thought, and I remember Killian is standing there, looking at me as if he’s never seen me before.

“Why are you grinning like a fool? You don’t even like her.”

“Eh,” he shrugs. “I was pissed about old shit. She’s cool. Just took me a bit to let myself see it.”

Despite the fact that I want to tear my skin off and throw myself into traffic for putting that hurt on her pretty face, I’m mollified by Killian’s acceptance. The fact that it means so much to me also irks.

“Everyone likes her,” he adds as if he’s trying to reassure me.

“It’s impossible not to,” I mutter. A mistake. It gives Killian an opening. “So…” he prompts with a wave of his hand. “Why aren’t you knocking

boots with Sophie right now? You two are clearly dying to fuck like horny bunnies—”

“One well-placed punch, Killian. That’s all it would take to have you silenced for the rest of the night.”

“Touchy. Touchy.”

He’s loving this. Throwing myself into traffic sounds more appealing by the second.

“I’m just saying,” he goes on, “I’ve never seen anyone more in need of a good, hard fuck than—”

“Shut your fucking gob.”

“You,” he finishes broadly, dancing out of striking range. “But it’s good to know you’re protective of Sophie’s rep. Means you care.”

My hand curls into a fist. Killian dances back a few feet more, flashing me a cheeky smile. “I’m done. No more poking the bear. I’m going now.”

“Your timing has been off during ‘Distractify’ lately. You’re late on the opening riff by two seconds.”

Killian laughs. “Low blow, man. But correct. Don’t know why I’m off, but I’ll work on it.” He pauses, his heel poised to turn. “Whatever you did to make Sophie storm into Brenna’s coach, just tell her you’re sorry.”

Regret is a fist through my heart. It’s a struggle to get in a breath. But at least I know where she is now. Safe with Brenna.

“Women need us to acknowledge their hurts,” Killian says, digging the knife in farther.

“You think I don’t know as much?”

His dark eyes are suddenly solemn, and I know he’s about to gut me. “She missed you when you weren’t here. As much as you hide, Sophie sees right through it and still cares. Don’t fuck that up, man. Trust me on this.”

I don’t nod. I don’t have anything to say. I’ve already fucked it all up.

Sophie

“YOU’RE TAKING the night off.” Brenna’s tone brooks no argument.

Doesn’t mean I’m not going to try. “That’s ridiculous,” I say, dabbing a bit of her concealer beneath my eyes. No way in hell am I allowing Gabriel to see me with puffy, bruised eyes.

I haven’t cried over him, but I did spend a good chunk of last night drinking vodka tonics and cursing his name while a sympathetic Brenna and Jules agreed that the man can suck it. “I’m fine.”

Brenna slicks on a deep plum lipstick before handing me a tube of rosy red. “I know. Doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy a night off.”

We stare at each other’s reflection in the mirror of Brenna’s bathroom, both of us wearing stubborn expressions.

Jules pops her head in. “Yeah, read a book, watch cheesy movies.” Cheesy movies just makes me think of Gabriel and his threat to force a

Star Trek marathon on me. Less than twenty-four hours, and I miss him like a lost limb.

“If I stay here,” I tell them, “I’ll go batty.”

Brenna smoothes her hair into her trademark high ponytail. “So go to the concert and enjoy it as a fan.”

The idea doesn’t sit well with me; I’ve been hired to do a job, not wuss out because my feelings have been hurt.

Unfortunately, if I want to work, I have to go back to the bus and get my equipment. That’s not happening. Maybe I am a wuss, because I need to lick my wounds a little longer.

“I don’t have anything to wear.”

Brenna is at least three sizes smaller than I am, and Jules is four inches shorter.

“Excuses, excuses,” Jules says. “I’ll find you something. Hold up.”

Her bright head disappears, and then she comes back with a flowing green, stretchy jersey skirt and white tank top. “The skirt is mid-calf on me

so it will probably be at your knees, but it’s better than chocolate ice cream- stained clothes.” She grins wide, showing her dimples.

“Don’t remind me.” Last night ended with a raid on their emergency ice cream stash. I’m still feeling a little queasy.

I put on the skirt and top and frown down at myself. “I look like I’m headed to the beach.”

“You look hot,” Jules says, giving my butt a slap. “I’m off. A certain man who shall not be named just texted that he’s at the stadium, and he gets pissy if his employees aren’t on time.”

She shakes her head, but there’s no real irritation in her expression. If I’m not mistaken, she looks eager to start her night as she hurries off. I envy her.

With a suppressed sigh, I run a hand through my hair. Still rose gold, it falls in waves to the tops of my shoulders. A small line of darker blond roots shows. I’ll have to pick another color soon, but at the moment, I’m just tired.

“Fine, I’ll go,” I tell Brenna. “But I’m doing so under protest.” She smiles. “So noted. And look, about Scottie…”

“Don’t worry,” I cut in, not liking the pity in her eyes. “I’m over it.” “No, you aren’t.” She shakes her head, smiling softly. “But that’s okay.

He’s…well, yes, he can be an ass, but he’s one of the best people I know. Behind all that starch is a marshmallow who any one of us would kill for.”

I slump against the counter. “I know that. Too well, unfortunately. It’s just the asshole part is getting in the way at present. How do you let yourself care for someone who won’t let you in?”

Brenna’s pretty face closes up, and she makes a production of quickly putting her makeup back in her travel case. “I think we’d all be happier if we knew the answer to that question.”

“Hell. Let’s just go back to ‘men can suck it’ and leave it at that for now.”

Brenna laughs. “Yeah, except part of the problem is that we love it when men suck it.”

“True.”

Laughing together, we head out for the venue. And I pretend the whole way that I’m not both dreading and anticipating seeing Gabriel again.

Having worked multiple concerts at this point, I know the places he haunts backstage and how to avoid him. That doesn’t stop me from catching glimpses of his sharp, stern profile now and then. And each time I do, my stomach cramps, and my heart gives an unruly thump.

I want to look longer, but I know he’ll notice me if I do. I swear the man has a sixth sense that way. Even skulking in the shadows, I can tell he’s scanning the area, a dark scowl on his face. Looking for me? Or just in his usual work mode? It’s hard to tell without studying him for too long.

And I hate that my awareness is constantly on him. I barely notice the concert as I tuck myself behind a stack of crates on the far to the side of the stage. Leaning against a concrete wall, I close my eyes and let the music pour over me, the pulsing throb of it vibrating my bones.

I don’t think I can stand it if Gabriel seeks me out, only to apologize and expect everything will go back to normal. I cannot go back to what we were.

Maybe it’s because my eyes are closed and my other senses are more alert, or maybe it’s because I’m just that attuned to him, but I feel it the second Gabriel comes to stand next to me.

I don’t have to look to know it’s him; even in the dank humidity of backstage, I catch his scent. And no one else but him makes my skin tighten and my heartbeat go into overdrive just by being near.

He stands so close, my shoulder blade brushes against the sleeve of his jacket.

Keeping my eyes closed, I swallow hard and try to remain passive. My body betrays me, sending happy little zings of pleasure through my chest

and along my skin.

I’m pissed at him, yet it doesn’t stop me from thinking, Finally, you’re here. What took you so long?

We stand there, listening to “Apathy,” neither of us moving, even though the crowd is going wild. The song ends, and Jax and Killian begin to talk about a new song they’re going to play.

Backstage, it’s quiet enough that I hear Gabriel when he speaks, his words stilted as if he’s forcing each one out.

“I am a cold man. Any happiness or warmth I’ve felt died when Jax tried to take his life. Until you.” His ragged breath gusts over my cheek. “You are my warmth.”

My heart stops, my breath hitching painfully.

His voice gains strength. “The second you are out of my sight, I want you back where I can see you.”

I want to turn and tell him I miss him too. All the time.

But then he moves. The tips of his fingers skim the curve of my shoulder, and I stiffen in shock. We have held each other night after night, without hesitation or fear. But outside of bed, Gabriel rarely makes prolonged physical contact.

And this touch isn’t friendly or fleeting. It’s an exploration, tender but possessive. My knees go weak, my head falling forward as he caresses my neck, a slow sweep over my skin as if savoring the moment.

His voice is low but powerful at my ear. “If I can see you, know that you’re all right, I can breathe a little easier, feel a little human.”

I lean into his touch and he cups my nape, holding me steady. Holding me. I need his touch so much it hurts.

“Then why did you leave me?” My voice isn’t strong; I can’t seem to find my breath.

His fingers tighten a fraction. Before he can answer, another song starts up. Music crashes over us, and there is no more talking. I can only stand

there in the dark with Gabriel.

He does not move for a few beats, and then his fingers slide slowly up into my hair to cradle me. I don’t resist when he eases me closer, turning me into him.

With a sigh, I lean against his side, my head on his shoulder as he massages me with steady strokes.

Unable to help myself, I rest my hand on his firm stomach. A sigh rumbles through him, and though he does not move, it feels as if his whole body is melding with mine.

In the dark, we are hidden. Music pulses around us—loud, rhythmic sounds of angst and rage and defiance—but here there is stillness. I close my eyes, breathe him in. Fine wool, spicy cologne, the indefinable scent of Gabriel’s body. He is my drug of choice.

When he touches my cheek, all the nerves along my skin prickle with awareness. He is a man of business and should have smooth hands, but his skin is slightly rough and very warm.

The tips of his fingers press into my jaw as he tilts my head back. I catch the the pained look on his face, as though he’s hurting, and the regret, as if he’d do anything to make us right again. His expression subtly shifts to one of intent.

I can’t breathe. Because that look wants to own me. It reaches into my heart and takes hold of it.

And then he bends down. His lips ghost over my cheek, pressing light kisses along my temple. I clutch the edge of his jacket and hold on. I’ll sink to the floor if I don’t. Because Gabriel is touching me as if he’s been aching to all along.

He nips my earlobe, and my body jerks in response, pushing against his.

Warm breath tickles my skin.

“I can’t leave you, Darling. You’re always in here.” Gently, he takes my hand and touches it to his head.

With a shiver, I thread my fingers through his hair. It’s thick and silky, and he makes a sound of appreciation, nuzzling my neck with his nose as he continues to kiss his way around my jaw.

“And you’re in here,” he tells me, moving my other hand to his chest where his heart pounds against the solid wall of muscle.

“Sunshine,” I whisper, turning to kiss his cheek.

A tremor runs through his frame, and his arm wraps tight around my waist. I kiss him again, finding his jaw. His crisp scent and the slightly salty taste of his skin make me want more and more. But he’s holding me too close, shaking as he takes increasingly deeper breaths.

The pad of his thumb finds my bottom lip, and my breath stutters as well. For a long moment, he simply runs his thumb lightly over my lip, tracing its curve, opening my mouth a bit more. And with every sweep, I grow hotter, the sound of my blood rushing through my ears.

My lips feel swollen and dry. Without thinking, I lick them and catch the blunt tip of his thumb.

Gabriel grunts, his hand clenching. But he leaves his thumb there, pressing against my lip, pushing just slightly into my mouth as if asking for another lick. I taste his skin, suck the tip.

He groans low and deep, his body clenching. His eyes find mine, and the heat in his sears my skin.

We stare at each other, both panting, and then his gaze lowers to my mouth.

“Sophie—”

Someone bashes into us. Gabriel braces, but the spell is broken. He turns to glare over his shoulder.

“Sorry!” a guy in an ill-fitting white suit shouts.

Gabriel straightens, his hand sliding down to cup my elbow. I feel the loss of his body heat acutely.

The guy does a double take and moves closer. “Scottie! Just the guy I’ve been looking for.”

I’m beginning to suspect dude knew exactly who he was bumping into, and by the grim expression on Gabriel’s face, I’m guessing he thinks so as well.

“Andrew,” he says, his voice clear over the music.

Stage lights flicker over Andrew’s face, and I realize he’s one of the record executives. I take a step back, knowing the moment is over and Gabriel needs to talk business. But his clasp tightens, and he turns toward me with a frown.

“Go work,” I tell him.

His frown grows. He shakes his head in refusal.

I squeeze his hand. “I don’t want it to be here.” Because if he kisses me now, I won’t be able to stop—I won’t want him to stop.

For a second, I don’t think he’ll let me go. But then the mask falls in place, and he gives me a tight nod. I start to move away, but he suddenly pulls me back, bending down to growl in my ear.

“One hour. Come home, or I’ll find you and bring you back myself.”