Managed (VIP #2)(73)

“Don’t remind me.” Last night ended with a raid on their emergency ice cream stash. I’m still feeling a little queasy.

I put on the skirt and top and frown down at myself. “I look like I’m headed to the beach.”

“You look hot,” Jules says, giving my butt a slap. “I’m off. A certain man who shall not be named just texted that he’s at the stadium, and he gets pissy if his employees aren’t on time.”

She shakes her head, but there’s no real irritation in her expression. If I’m not mistaken, she looks eager to start her night as she hurries off. I envy her.

With a suppressed sigh, I run a hand through my hair. Still rose gold, it falls in waves to the tops of my shoulders. A small line of darker blond roots shows. I’ll have to pick another color soon, but at the moment, I’m just tired.

“Fine, I’ll go,” I tell Brenna. “But I’m doing so under protest.”

She smiles. “So noted. And look, about Scottie…”

“Don’t worry,” I cut in, not liking the pity in her eyes. “I’m over it.”

“No, you aren’t.” She shakes her head, smiling softly. “But that’s okay. He’s…well, yes, he can be an ass, but he’s one of the best people I know. Behind all that starch is a marshmallow who any one of us would kill for.”

I slump against the counter. “I know that. Too well, unfortunately. It’s just the * part is getting in the way at present. How do you let yourself care for someone who won’t let you in?”

Brenna’s pretty face closes up, and she makes a production of quickly putting her makeup back in her travel case. “I think we’d all be happier if we knew the answer to that question.”

“Hell. Let’s just go back to ‘men can suck it’ and leave it at that for now.”

Brenna laughs. “Yeah, except part of the problem is that we love it when men suck it.”

“True.”

Laughing together, we head out for the venue. And I pretend the whole way that I’m not both dreading and anticipating seeing Gabriel again.

Having worked multiple concerts at this point, I know the places he haunts backstage and how to avoid him. That doesn’t stop me from catching glimpses of his sharp, stern profile now and then. And each time I do, my stomach cramps, and my heart gives an unruly thump.

I want to look longer, but I know he’ll notice me if I do. I swear the man has a sixth sense that way. Even skulking in the shadows, I can tell he’s scanning the area, a dark scowl on his face. Looking for me? Or just in his usual work mode? It’s hard to tell without studying him for too long.

And I hate that my awareness is constantly on him. I barely notice the concert as I tuck myself behind a stack of crates on the far to the side of the stage. Leaning against a concrete wall, I close my eyes and let the music pour over me, the pulsing throb of it vibrating my bones.

I don’t think I can stand it if Gabriel seeks me out, only to apologize and expect everything will go back to normal. I cannot go back to what we were.

Maybe it’s because my eyes are closed and my other senses are more alert, or maybe it’s because I’m just that attuned to him, but I feel it the second Gabriel comes to stand next to me.

I don’t have to look to know it’s him; even in the dank humidity of backstage, I catch his scent. And no one else but him makes my skin tighten and my heartbeat go into overdrive just by being near.

He stands so close, my shoulder blade brushes against the sleeve of his jacket.

Keeping my eyes closed, I swallow hard and try to remain passive. My body betrays me, sending happy little zings of pleasure through my chest and along my skin.

I’m pissed at him, yet it doesn’t stop me from thinking, Finally, you’re here. What took you so long?

We stand there, listening to “Apathy,” neither of us moving, even though the crowd is going wild. The song ends, and Jax and Killian begin to talk about a new song they’re going to play.

Backstage, it’s quiet enough that I hear Gabriel when he speaks, his words stilted as if he’s forcing each one out.

“I am a cold man. Any happiness or warmth I’ve felt died when Jax tried to take his life. Until you.” His ragged breath gusts over my cheek. “You are my warmth.”

My heart stops, my breath hitching painfully.

His voice gains strength. “The second you are out of my sight, I want you back where I can see you.”

I want to turn and tell him I miss him too. All the time.

But then he moves. The tips of his fingers skim the curve of my shoulder, and I stiffen in shock. We have held each other night after night, without hesitation or fear. But outside of bed, Gabriel rarely makes prolonged physical contact.

And this touch isn’t friendly or fleeting. It’s an exploration, tender but possessive. My knees go weak, my head falling forward as he caresses my neck, a slow sweep over my skin as if savoring the moment.

His voice is low but powerful at my ear. “If I can see you, know that you’re all right, I can breathe a little easier, feel a little human.”

I lean into his touch and he cups my nape, holding me steady. Holding me. I need his touch so much it hurts.

“Then why did you leave me?” My voice isn’t strong; I can’t seem to find my breath.