“There you are!” Marlow said, consulting a tablet. He passed it to an assistant and drew me in for a kiss. “We don’t have time for much. The guys are warming up in there, then they have a few interviews. I need some behind the scenes promos to keep the Rutherglen happy. You on it?”
“Sure. What else? Just the band?” I eyed a stream of people who were heading for the change room, taking elaborate costumes off the rack as they went. People were packed inside, stripping off, getting dressed, applying makeup.
“You wanna go into the zoo?” Marlow took a quick look. “I guess some ambience shots would work, introduce the whole carnival thing Avalon’s going with. Shoot the boys, then come and find me.” His smile was slow and shy when I took a step towards him. “Then we’ll discuss the next lot of shots. I’ll set your camera up to send files to the corporate Dropbox account, so I’ll be able to keep an eye on what you’re taking.”
For some reason, the thought of him digitally looking over my shoulder as I took my photos was kinda hot.
His gaze was on the camera, but he gave me a small smile. “You’ll need to be careful in there. They have to work themselves up to perform before all these people and…”
“Yep, I get it,” I said.
“Just stay safe and call the sentinels if things get out of hand.” He held my eyes for a minute, then handed back the device.
Ohhhkay, that wasn’t off putting at all. I walked down a hall behind Anna, who was showing me where to go. There was a series of rooms just backstage, and each musician had been given one to warm up in. I looked in the open door of one and saw Jake standing there, pants undone, two girls fighting over who got to lick his dick. He gave me a cheery wave as I passed, then it was Lucas and Billy talking intently before I got where I wanted to be. Johnno stood by an amp, looking about as hot as he could be. He was shirtless, his hair much the same as when he’d woken up, but that wasn’t it. He cradled his guitar in his hands, completely focused on the ways his fingers danced along the strings, and so was I. He didn’t play any specific tune, nothing to catch at my ear, but it did. I found myself drawn in, camera in hand.
Right now, he wasn’t Johnno, or my preceptor, or the guy I’d jerked off beforehand. Now he was the rhythm guitarist for The Changelings, and there was something eternal and untouchable about him. I could see why guitarists were so much crack for women. The world didn’t exist for him outside that fretboard. He just focussed entirely on pulling faster and faster flurries of notes from the instrument, his hands almost a blur as they moved along the guitar neck. You couldn’t hear my shutter click as I took shot after shot, trying to capture that intent, pure, seductive intensity. I wanted what most women would want in the same position—for him to toss the guitar away and turn to see me, and then devote all that same attention to my body.
What would those hands do if they touched me? Could they strum where I ached the most just as quickly, drawing me up and up to greater heights? His nostrils flared, and his head whipped up, a smile of pure pleasure on his face.
“Kira…” He breathed in deeply, as if he wanted to savour my bloom. “Damn, I can see why Aen calls you his flower. C’mere.”
“No fucking way,” I said, flopping down on the bench in front of him and taking some shots. Sweat trickled down his brow, and I followed its passage down his chest with my lens, the muscles standing proud under that tanned skin. “Keep playing.”
“Yeah?”
His fingers moved restively on his guitar, not playing a note yet, but itching to. We watched each other, and he seemed to take in every single thing the sight of him in this role was doing to me. Something hardened a little in those golden eyes, his smile taking on a slight twist.
“This gets you off.”
“If you asked me beforehand, I wouldn’t have said yes. But yeah, you look fucking hot playing.”
“What? Like this?”
He slid his fingers along the fingerboard, strumming a few notes, and his smile widened when he saw me pause, my camera hovering halfway between my lap and my eye. His brow creased momentarily, looking slightly stunned as he continued to play, something slower and sweeter now, as if he couldn’t believe that this was all it took. I was caught under his spell and unable to look away, until the notes faltered, then stopped.
“This is turning you on,” he rasped, putting the guitar back on its stand, then crossing the gap between us.
“Of course it is. This is a fan’s wet dream,” I gasped as he leaned in close, taking great lungfuls of my scent. “Guys become…something else with an instrument in their hand. You look completely at ease, like you know exactly what you’re doing.”
“Except with you.” His voice was a low buzz in my ear as his lips brushed the tip of it. “Kira, I have your scent on me, you fill up my lungs. You make me so fucking hard. Shut the door and lock it. I need your taste in my mouth.”
I walked toward it on shaking legs. Whatever olfactory aphrodisiac he was breathing in was working on me too. My hand went to the handle, and I chanced a look over my shoulder, watching the muscular body pace across the concrete floor as he waited for me to return.
“And what are you up to, butterfly?”
My head whipped back to see Liam looming in the doorway. His pupils were dilated, his grin crooked as he looked at me and then beyond.
“You warming our boy up in a whole other way? Well, I gotta see that. Wonder if his fingering’s improved.” He pushed past me, forcing me to back up or come face to face with his muscular chest. He did my job for me, closing the door and locking it, though that didn’t feel anywhere near as comfortable. He strolled over to where his brother scowled at him. He made a great show of breathing in the air. “Brother, you’ve got her perfuming like night blooming jasmine. What’s dampening our little butterfly’s knickers, and after that show in the bus too?” His eyes dropped to the guitar on its stand. “Do we have ourselves an honest to goodness groupie on our hands?”
“I need to take some more shots before your interviews,” I said, moving towards the door. “The Rutherglen—”
“Sit. Down.”
Liam was a prick, there was no two ways about it. The guys had said it was all five of them that had visited my dreams, but I was pretty damn sure Liam had little to do with it. How could he? He was a pushy arsehole, and couldn’t seem to keep his shitty comments or opinions to himself for more than a second. But there was a crack in his voice that had both of us planting our butts at his command. He had to be aiming to be the Hartley, to step out from under Rutherglen and forge his own path, and someone had to be lord. As he took a seat beside his brother, his eyes on me, he smiled.
“Like seeing our boy’s fingers dance, do ya?”
He reached up and tousled Johnno’s hair, who responded by shoving his elbow into his brother’s ribs. He winced at that, but rallied pretty quickly. I noted that Johnno picked up his guitar though, my eyes tracking the way his hands cradled the instrument. I flicked my camera into video mode out of instinct, while Liam rattled off a few notes as if to warm up his throat.
“So what are we playing, brother?” Johnno said, shooting him a sidelong look.