her, always close. Every brush against her seemed calculated.
Trying to remain focused, her guitar balanced on her knee, she bent her head down and dug in on a spotlighted solo. Suddenly, she felt his body behind her and his lips on the bared skin between her neck and shoulder. Shit. Though she covered up brilliantly, he’d made her flub it.
On edge, her stomach fluttered uncontrollably with nerves after that. She rushed all the way through the next song. At the end, she lifted her head just in time to catch a lewd hand gesture from a man in the front row.
Is that really the kind of attention you’re looking for?
Marcus was right. Damn him. She could feel his eyes on her even now.
After JR punctuated the last number with a frenetic flurry, Avery let out a pent up breath. Marcus thanked the audience and headed off stage.
JR hopped down from the riser and crossed to her, grabbing her elbow before she made it to the center mic. “You sure you still want to do this encore thing? Don’t you think you’ve already got him angry enough?”
She shook her head, her jaw tight.
“Ok. It’s your funeral,” he warned. “I’ll grab Dwight.”
“Hey Phoenix.” She tapped the center mic. “You want another one?”
The crowd roared in response. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Marcus spin back around.
“Ok. Ok. You asked for it. Here goes Fleetwood Mac’s ‘Oh, Well,’” she said, turning her head to look at him. “And Marcus, honey. This one’s for you.”
He scowled, digging his hands deep into his pockets, every line in his body tense as she strutted toward him. Her fingers picked out the instantly recognizable opening chords, her rebellious eyes meeting his displeased ones.
When Dwight’s bass and JR’s drums joined her, she turned dismissively away from him, flicking her hair back over her shoulder. Back at center mic, she sent him the sarcastic message, singing the defiant lyrics while sassily swaying and undulating her hips to the rhythm. Her fingers flew over her guitar during the raucous, extended instrumental portions.
As the crowd cheered their approval, she popped off her strap, guitar neck held in one hand as she strutted by Marcus, who hadn’t moved a muscle during the entire performance.
“Whoa, Red!” Bryan exclaimed, extinguishing a cigarette under his booted heel. “Smokin’!”
She acknowledged his compliment with a nod while handing her Ibanez to the tech.
Bryan closed the distance between them, grabbed her by the hips and pulled her into him. “The cover wasn’t half bad either.” He grinned.
She stiffened at first, but when she noticed Marcus watching, she covered Bryan’s hands with her own and moved them down to her ass. Then she placed her hands behind his head, brought his lips down to hers, closed her eyes, and pressed her tongue into his mouth.
She felt a breeze of cold air lift her hair as someone blew past her.
“He’s gone now.” Bryan broke off the kiss and stared down at her. “That wasn’t nice, Red.” His expression was a blend of hurt and anger. “If I want to be used, I’ll just go back to my girls. At least with them, it’s upfront and honest.”
She stood there stiffly, shame darkening her cheeks.
“Now.” He paused, pulling a rumpled cigarette pack out of his jeans pocket, his brows drawn down over glittering grey green eyes. “If you want to try that again, without an audience.” He shook out a cigarette and lit it. “Come find me. I’ll more than make it worth your while.”
The meet and greet back at the hotel was torture. Everyone gave her a wide berth, Bryan and Marcus both staring daggers at her. She kept glancing at her watch. After she’d been there the mandatory amount of time, she slunk out.
The evening had not gone the way she’d envisioned. Far from feeling triumphant, she felt like the biggest loser. Payback had been bitter instead of sweet. She inserted her key card and rode the elevator up to their reserved floor. A couple of roadies gave her wary glances as she passed them in the hall. Yeah, it’d been a shitty day.
When she stepped inside her room and fumbled for the light switch, she suddenly found herself flattened against the wall, arms pinned at her sides.
“That was quite a performance tonight, Ace.” Marcus’ eyes glittered, reflecting the city lights framed by the open curtains out her window.
She swallowed nervously as he stared down at her.
He pressed tighter into her, rocking his hips against hers.
She moaned.