The Girl in the Love Song (Lost Boys #1)(114)

“Everything okay?” Violet asked, joining me as I blinked hard, watching Sam take his pictures and smile and laugh like a little kid’s supposed to.

“Everything’s perfect.”





Chapter Thirty





Showtime arrived. That night, the air felt electric. The crowds were pouring into the Key Arena at the Seattle Center, and Violet listened to the thunder above and around us from the green room, her eyes shining.

“They’re all here to see you,” she said.

An assistant poked his head in. “Yo, Miller. Time to roll.”

“You know how crazy it gets in the front row,” I said as we headed for the door. “You sure you can handle it?”

She ringed her arms around my neck. “I’m going to drown in it and love every minute of it, watching my rock star.”

I rolled my eyes. “I hate that word.”

“But you wear it so well.” She kissed me softly, then grinned. “It won’t throw you off, will it? Me being out there?”

I hauled her to me. She wore a tight white T-shirt and short black skirt. My gaze swept over her, taking in every detail. “Every show I’ve ever done, you’re out there.” I brushed my thumb against her lip. “I told you, Vi. It’s all for you.”

I watched her delicate neck move as she swallowed. “I love you too, Miller.” She closed her eyes and kissed me, then hurried out where another assistant waited to take her down to the front row.

I joined the band and we took the stage together as the lights went down. A thunderous roar from the crowd went up. We huddled in the dark around Chad’s drum set.

“You guys have been really fucking great, every show,” I said. “I don’t say that enough.”

“Or ever,” Antonio said with a laugh. “We’ve only been on tour with you for about six months.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. I got my head out of my ass. Better late than never.”

“It’s all good, man,” Robert, the other guitarist said. “Let’s give them a hell of a show.”

And we did. Goddamn, I’d never felt so alive on stage before in my life. The music flowed through me, amplified by the guys in the band. And Violet was there in the front row, swaying in a sea of faces, so goddamn beautiful.

I poured my heart out onto that stage, into the microphone, laying it all out there, leaving nothing back. And when it came time to sing “Wait for Me,” it was just me on the stool, my acoustic guitar, and Violet.

Everything I hadn’t said to her in the last two years rushed out of me. The longing, loneliness, love. God, the endless well of love I had for that woman, as if I were born with it already inside me, in my marrow and cells. She was in every part of me that was whole and good, and what was broken in me, she had dedicated her life to healing.

When the last note of the last song dissipated, the applause and cheers rolled through me. I absorbed every single bit of that energy until I felt invincible. Sweat-soaked and powerful. I strode off stage after performing for fifteen-thousand screaming fans, and for the first time, I let my ego have a moment. My blood ran hot in my veins with the dire need to have Violet.

She was waiting for me in the green room, and in one glance, I felt the same need from her. A bunch of other people were hanging around, congratulating me as soon as I stepped in the door. I ignored them, striding to Violet with a single-minded purpose.

“Can I talk to you?” I said to her in a low voice, practically a growl.

Her lips parted with a breathy little gasp. “Yes,” she whispered. “Yes.”

I took her by the hand and led her out, though I wanted to throw her over my shoulder like a goddamn caveman. Behind the green room, the venue had an executive suite set aside for me. I locked the door behind us, lifted Violet without a word, and set her on the long counter that ran along one wall.

Her skirt and T-shirt clung to her curves, hiding nothing. I moved between her legs, kissing her ferociously, mauling her, my hands in her hair, while her hands tore at the buttons on my jeans, her need as dire as mine.

“It was one thing to see you open for Ed, but you…” she breathed between kisses, lifting my T-shirt off. “All those people there for you. Now I know why rock stars have as much sex as they want. Why women throw their panties…flash their boobs. I get it now.” Her hands were everywhere on my heated skin. “That was sexiest thing I’ve ever seen in my life.”

I had no words but to kiss her hard, sucking at her luscious lips that were red and sweet. Something primal in me was coming awake. I needed to have her. To possess her. For years, I’d been singing to her since we were kids, cherishing her with every breath I took. When I finally had her, we’d been torn apart, leaving me wanting her from across so many miles and continents. My heart had pined and ached and loved. And now she was here for good, and my heart and soul could relax while my body took over. I wanted to fuck her hard and raw. No more poetry. No more music but for the banging of the furniture, her cries of pleasure singing out, the slapping of flesh on flesh and my own feral grunts as I took her.

My hands slid up her thighs and came back down with her silk panties, already damp. I grabbed a condom from the pocket of my jeans before they could drop to my ankles, put there for this exact moment.

I held her face in one hand, the other sliding under her ass, hauling her to the edge of the bar. She spread her legs wider to let me in and cried out as I thrust hard.