that they’d scheduled for this part of the show. A million colors arced and crisscrossed across the stage while his and Elle’s guitars screamed.
In the midst of the chaos, he sought the redhead again. He had to. She stood out for him like a jewel, glittering so brightly that even the dazzling array of lights that shimmered at the edges of his vision couldn’t compete. There were just those eyes, and those full lips moving as she mouthed the song.
He sang the lyrics too, and he was singing with her. To her. Imagining she was beneath him, silently pleading.
All I want is to be in your arms.
Make me yours tonight.
Every night.
Open up, take me in.
Close your eyes, feel me there.
Inside.
Sweat popped out on every inch of his skin, and just moving in the jeans and tee that stuck to him was torture. But he played on, singing for her. Making his guitar shriek so she’d laugh and jump and clutch her hands between her breasts. She was so into it, her body as electric as the instrument vibrating in his hands.
Shit, if this show didn’t end soon, he was going to soak the damn front of his pants. His cock was already so rigid that his usual stage embellishments were becoming a problem. But he had to keep going, had to perform for her, even sinking to his knees as he worked the frets.
Knowing she was watching every single thing he did.
For the rest of the set, he alternated between focusing on her and his brother. But Mal was doing just fine, and the redhead dominated every brain cell, swiftly crowding out everything in his head except her. Her wild hair, her seductive movements, and the longing in her eyes were his undoing.
His fucking personal Waterloo.
He hadn’t planned on hooking up with anyone tonight. Definitely hadn’t expected to be riding a high like this. But the buzz in his blood and the look of her ate at him, tempting him to seek her out for real after the concert ended.
Backstage pass, hell. He’d give her a bedroom pass, then tie her to his headboard right through the next morning.
She could be taken. Possibly even married. Could be a psycho. Damn, she might even be underage. She definitely had that whole schoolgirl thing going on, even with her hot clothes and gyrations. But he didn’t care. Oh, he would—later. After.
Jesus, there had to be an after with her or he was going to lose his mind.
To end the show, Michael changed things up and told Ry they were going to skip “Exile” and do something else. His buddy shook his head at him, but he quickly told the others. As Michael tore into the first chords of “In The Air Tonight”, Mal tipped his head. The band hadn’t practiced the song together, and a few of the members of the group weren’t familiar with it, judging from their what the fuck expressions. Luckily, Molly had an almost encyclopedic knowledge of songs from the eighties onward, though she wasn’t particularly thrilled at the unplanned set change. But between the two of them and Mal and Elle—who was a seventies and eighties fiend—West, Ry and Juliet soon caught up.
They ended up making the song something completely different than the original anyway. Something theirs that fit the insane energy of the night. Channeling the vibe from the audience, feeding on it. Bringing down the house even though they were just the opening act.
Fuck that. They weren’t going to just be the opening act for long. Soon, they’d have their own arenas. Their own crowds to chant and cheer and cry.
Just like his redhead was doing. Not the cheering or crying part, or even the chanting. She was singing along, her fingers laced together as if she were praying. Swaying with them. With him, as he leaned toward her as if she were the moon and he was the tide. Her pull was magnetic and inexplicable. He didn’t want to fight it.
He’d been waiting for this moment all his life too, just like the lyrics of the song.
They brought the house down with Mal’s frenetic drumming and the slashing guitars that bled out into only Molly’s voice reaching for the rafters. And the audience went wild.
Pushing forward, they all linked arms and took their bows while Molly hammed it up and blew kisses to her adoring subjects. Mal hung back, tapping his black wrapped drumsticks against his thigh. Michael gave his brother a second to