yes escaped my lips more than once, and I wrapped a leg around his back, urging him to completion.
One, two, three more thrusts, and he cried out as the rush of his jet stream hit like a tsunami.
Panting, he dropped beside me, and we lay side by side, staring at the ceiling.
He was the first to speak. “You sure you can’t come with us on tour?”
“You want a groupie on your tour bus?”
He rolled toward me. “There won’t be any groupies on the tour bus. And I’d get us a hotel.”
“I wish I could.”
“Okay. But I don’t know how you’re going to live without all this while I’m away.”
I laughed. “You’ve got me there. You really are Hurricane Shane.”
His silly grin melted my heart. “That’s me.”
Nobody warned me that we’d be working on Sunday, but as soon as we’d had time to eat and grab a cup of coffee, Shane was on the phone with Micah, and the next thing I knew, I was carrying a million round boxes from the rehearsal studio to a trailer. While Shane broke down his drum set into a reverse thousand-piece puzzle, Rick rolled amps out. Noah was nowhere to be found, and Micah only arrived when we were closing the trailer. I was going to shake my very tired fist at him before I realized he was there to drive over to his townhouse and load up his own things. We walked over and arrived as Micah was carrying out a black guitar case. Then he disappeared inside.
He must have unearthed eight more guitars from his basement.
He passed by, head down, hauling gear. It had never occurred to me that they had to do this every time they went on tour. “When do they get roadies?”
Jo handed me a bottle of water and led me out of the way of the traffic. “There will be people at the venues to help them set up. They’re picky about making sure they have everything.”
A bus rolled up, and Noah climbed down. “It is a gorgeous day to get on the road.”
Everyone’s spirits were up. At least for the guys. They seemed like they’d bottled up energy while hanging around at home, practicing and preparing. Now they were kinetic and ready to burst.
Jo hollered at Micah. “Where will you be tonight?”
“Not sure. I’ll check in a minute.”
“Excuse me.” I squeezed past Micah, suddenly too curious about that bus to remain a mute spectator. I’d heard about bands’ touring buses and everything that goes on in them. I’d never personally set foot on one.
They’d shut off the engine, but the door was left open, so I climbed in, expecting to find a decadent sex cave. Maybe it needed a few rock stars to transform it into something more than a glorified mobile home. I’d been on the normal kind of buses, with the carpet-covered seats paired two-by-two to the back. I wasn’t expecting anything like that. I was still surprised by black-and-white diamond lamination on the floor. Leather sofas ran along either wall facing tables fixed to chrome poles. Farther in, a flat-screen TV graced the back wall.
“Layla?” Shane stuck his head around the front divider and stepped in.
“Just checking out your digs. Not too shabby.”
He rolled his eyes. “Not for a short trip maybe. Thankfully, we’ve got hotels every night this week.”
I pictured the parties in those hotel rooms, the groupies, the sex. “Will you call me while you’re gone?”
He moved closer and slid his hand around my back. “Every chance I get. You won’t find it annoying?”
“Maybe avoid work hours?” I could just imagine Gabe’s look if I sat at my desk, flirting over the phone. “After you’re done performing, you could tell me about the show?”
His breath tickled my ear. “Or I could tell you what I’d rather be doing.”
“Break it up, you two.” Fucking Noah had arrived. “Shane, say your goodbyes. We need to hit the road.”
I turned my attention back to Shane. He wore a short-sleeved Henley with the first three buttons undone, and I peeled it open to take a gander at his chest. “I’m gonna miss this.”
He dragged me into a bear hug. “You could come with us.”
“Stop. I have to earn some money.”
“So, grab a train and come up to Boston Friday.”
“To the festival?”
“Why not? You could hang backstage. You wouldn’t have to fight the crowds. Think about it.”
I wanted to. Backstage . . . My God, that sounded amazing. “I don’t know. My boss was already mad I