I slapped him in the back of the head before he finished his sentence. “I think she gets it. You don’t need to be so crude.”
“What the fuck?” Cross rubbed the back of his head like I’d damaged him in some way.
“Suck it up. It wasn’t that hard,” I grumbled.
“Damn,” Cross moaned, walking toward the front of the bus. “I’m going to go get my shit.”
Pen trailed behind him. “You can put most of it underneath. There isn’t room for much in the bunks.”
Cross gave her a thumbs up and then glared my way. He flipped me off before he descended down the stairs.
“I guess we should go get our stuff,” Kenton mumbled as he passed by.
Once everyone else was off the bus, Pen turned to me with turbulent golden eyes. “You didn’t need to do that. I’m a grown woman and know what happens on and off the bus. I don’t expect them or you to be celibate on this tour. In fact, I encourage it.”
I cocked my head to the side. “You encourage it. Really? Are you saying you won’t care if I’m with someone else? I think that’s a lie, my sweet Penny.”
“I’m not saying that.” She leaned back against the kitchen counter and crossed one leg over the other. “What I’m saying is it will be better for everyone if they don’t have any pent-up sexual frustrations.”
I stalked the few feet that separated us. My mouth brushed against her pretty pink lips as I said. “Does that mean you’re going to be fucking me on the regular?”
“I shouldn’t,” she shook her head and looked toward the front. “If we keep this up, we’re apt to get caught.”
“And you can’t risk that,” I finished for her. I’d heard it time and time again. “Do you think the guys are going to say something to get you fired if they find out?”
“I don’t know,” she shrugged. “Maybe. You can’t tell me Greer wouldn’t love the chance to fuck with my life.”
No, I couldn’t. He was even more aggressive with her, although I wasn’t sure why. Everything with him was a big-ass question mark.
“We’ll find a way,” I assured her.
“But maybe we should lay off.” Pen turned around and started to place the water bottles that were on the counter into the small fridge. “I don’t want to hold you back.”
I pushed up against her and let her feel how hard I was for her. Whenever Pen was in a hundred-foot radius, my dick knew it and was begging to be inside of her. “The only person you’re holding back is yourself, but if that’s how you want to play it, then so be it.”
“I think it’s what’s best for the both of us. I can keep my job, and you can do what you want without worrying about me.” She nodded her head and sniffed.
Turning Pen around, I took in her glassy eyes. “Why are you doing this if this isn’t what you want?”
“I…” Pen was cut short when the guys bounded up the stairs. Cross threw one of my bags at me, hitting me square in the chest, and then continued to walk by.
“We put the rest of your stuff underneath, dick smack,” Greer growled as he fell onto one of the couches. “Who’s up for a…” he leaned forward and examined the games that were neatly lined up by the PlayStation. “Tournament of Call of Duty?”
“Oh, you’re on, asshole. I’m going to kick all of your asses,” Kenton laughed. He looked to Pen. “Are you in?”
She gave him a sad smile and sniffed. “Not today. I’m going to ride in the van, so you guys can enjoy your bus without me.”
Kenton looked up at her with his sad puppy dog eyes, not understanding why Pen didn’t want to hang out with us. “But you’re going to sleep here, right?”
“Yeah, later tonight, when we stop for dinner, I’ll get on. You boys have fun, but don’t break anything. We’ve got a long tour.”
The guys saluted her and then went back to fighting over who was going to play first.
“Before I go, let’s see who gets the bedroom first?” Pen pulled a hat out of a bag that had been sitting on one of the tables. It already had tiny pieces of paper in it, but I wasn’t paying attention to the hat. I was looking at the logo on the hat. It had our album name, Twisted Youth, on it, and in big letters, it said Crimson Heat. I couldn’t take my eyes off it. We had come so far; I knew our lives would be irrevocably different by the time we were done touring. I only hoped it didn’t change us for the worse.
“Do you like it?” She asked softly.
“What’s not to like? I want one of my own.” I tipped my head to the hat, and all the guys agreed. Each of us stared at it with wide excited eyes—even Greer.
“Oh, you’re all getting a whole wardrobe, don’t worry. I’ll give it to you tonight.”
I nodded my head, dumbfounded at the sight. I had a feeling that for the next few days, I was going to continue feeling out of my element as our dreams came true.
“Who would like to do the honors of pulling out the name?” Pen asked.
Without a word, Cross stuck his hand in the hat, pulled out a piece of paper, and read it. “Pen.” He narrowed his eyes at her. “Is this rigged?”
“Nope, I guess I’m just lucky.” Her eyes met mine with the saddest smile on her face. “Keep pulling them out. That’s the order we’ll go in.”
Cross continued pulling out names until I was the last one pulled out. Maybe it was a good thing Pen had ended things. I wasn’t sure how we’d get away with sleeping together inside those tiny bunks. Still, I had four weeks to figure out how to get her back into bed with me before I took up residence in the bedroom.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
pen
What had I done? It had only been a few days that I’d been away from the band, and I was miserable. Well, not when I was with Stella, but I was as I laid here on the uncomfortable twin-size bed alone in my room while Stella was most likely getting some from the hottie crew member. Not that I blamed her. She deserved it after her ex made their divorce as difficult as possible. Plus, Remy was hot and if I wasn’t hung up on a certain lead singer, I would have been salivating for him.
I tried to convince myself that calling off whatever it was that I had with Walker was the right thing to do, but I missed him so damn much. I shouldn’t have slept with him in the first place, but I thought it was going to be a one-and-done kind of thing. Instead, I became addicted to the orgasms he gave me and how sweet he was to me.
Picking up my phone from the bedside table, I opened Instagram wanting to see Walker’s face and see how last night’s show had gone without me there. Typing in the hashtag, Crimson Heat, I instantly regretted my decision. There were multiple pictures of Walker with scantily clad girls pushing their big breasts into his side, against his arm, and he was… happy. Or at least he looked happy. Walker rarely smiled in public. He was the epitome of the bad boy rocker to his fans.
“Hey, why the sad face?” Stella asked, scaring me nearly half to death.
Pressing my hand over my rapidly beating heart, I took in a stuttered breath. “Oh, my God, Stella, knock or something.”