the corner of my eye. After telling her we'd be stopping to get food, she'd gone off to use the showers on the bus. My lip ticked at the memory of how high her eyebrows had shot up when we'd told her the showers weren't a joke, they really existed.
Now, the young guitarist was stretched out on one of the long couch style seats. Her hair was ruffled, that wet just-out-of-bed look that made my cock firm up in seconds. The racer-back grey top she'd had on was replaced by a long sleeved black sweater, too thin to bring much warmth, and sleek enough to reveal the swells of her breasts.
I couldn't break away from eating up her sexy body. Up and down, I scanned her from head to toe, as if I could scribe her image into my mind for later. Like she sensed me, Lola flicked her blue eyes up. They met mine and stayed there.
I was the first to look away.
Shit, I thought angrily. I need to get it together, but it's a challenge when this damn woman with legs all the way up to her asshole is inches away from me. Yeah. It's just about sex, that's all.
Just sex.
Nothing else.
On the couch, she absently toyed with her hair. Right away, I thought about how her hands moved like birds through a storm when she played guitar. Lola was fucking good; I had to admit that. Talented... and with a mouth made for kissing.
I thought about how I'd held her cheeks as I checked out her injury in the back of the bus. She bit the shit out of her tongue, I reminded myself. That was both dumb and disturbing. If I told myself that Lola was messed in the head, would that turn me off?
No, you're fucked up, too.
My fingers dug into my knee cap. I wanted to push the image of her wet mouth and wide eyes from my skull. My attempts to stop thinking about Lola were backfiring.
I'm a smart enough guy to know this is a bad road to go down. The last thing I need is fucking drama because of where I stick my dick. I'd seen bands torn apart because of members fighting with each other. Relationships didn't belong in a band. One bad breakup, and boom.
The show was over with.
Literally.
Porter said something; I missed it, but whatever it was, it made Lola laugh. The sound was like sugar in my mouth. My tongue tingled as I looked back at her, stuck staring at her long throat and sparkling eyes.
She looked at me again. Once more, I broke my stare. It wasn't that I was nervous, no. I just knew that this thing in me, this fierce hunger that wanted to jump on Lola and taste her moans or her sweet pussy, rose to the surface every time she looked into my eyes.
This was a dangerous game. I needed to end it.
“We're here!” Gerald grunted. Our bus driver was a cantankerous man, easily unlikable and often in a sour mood. All I cared about was that he was the most reliable driver I'd ever seen.
Rocking from my chair, I adjusted the hoodie I'd thrown over my tank-top. I'd left it open, the zipper teeth grating across the thin, white cloth beneath. “Come on, let's get some food.” I needed to dig my teeth into something.
A hot meal would have to do.
The air outside was crisp. It was a far cry from the earlier heat in the day, but I was still amazed that the weather had shifted so fast. We were still a day and half out from Colorado, could the warmth flee so easily as the time vanished?
Craning my neck, I saw the line of cars parking behind us and across the street. The restaurant was about to get slammed by the groupies trailing the tour. I felt a glimmer of pride over knowing we could hide in our private room and avoid most of it.
“Wow,” a soft voice whispered at my elbow. Lola had come up beside me, hands shoved deep in her pockets. “I'm so used to being near the end of this caravan. Look at all those headlights.” Her attention darted up to me, making me aware of her nearness, how thick her lashes were. “It's kind of intimidating, huh?”
My heart jabbed into my ribs. Intimidating? No, what's fucking intimidating is how much I need to rely on someone like you to make sure the rest of