Destroyed (Lost in Oblivion, #3)(19)

But it was much more effective to take them off for the crowd and to play to the screams. He knew how to play the game. Hell, he lived for the game. The other twenty hours in the day were merely killing time so he could get on the stage.

He needed to tour again.

Needed to feed that addiction.

They’d been off the road for too long now.

But the way he felt around Margo could mirror that. And he hated her for it. Those moments in her arms had been as thrilling as the stage. Enough that he’d offered himself to a woman for more than a night and she’d run as far and fast as possible in the opposite direction.

He hated her even more now that he’d seen how affected she really was. Here she couldn’t hide it. When they were alone, she couldn’t hide behind a cool mask.

He moved closer until her honeysuckle scent teased his nose and tried to draw him closer. Mixed with smoke from the machines and the spice of something else. Cloves.

He leaned into her hair where it clung.

“Why, Violin Girl, did you sneak away for a clove cigarette?”

She flushed. “Of course not.”

He walked around her and sifted his fingers through her hair until it fell down her back. “I haven’t smelled that scent in too many years to count. I didn’t know anyone actually still smoked them.”

She tried to move out of his space, but he curled his arm around her waist and spread his hand across her midsection. In the mirror they lined up, her shoulders easily tucked in against his upper chest. So similar in height that his cock brushed against her high, rounded ass.

He kept his grip loose enough that if she really wanted to get away, she could.

But she didn’t.

And he knew she wouldn’t.

She closed her eyes against the way they looked together in the glass. Because she lied. She knew just how good they were together.

What he wanted to know was why she felt the need to lie.

“You see this, right? Know it’s good.” He brushed his lips against the shell of her ear. “And yet you walked away without a second look.”

“It would have been just another few hours of sex. What would that have accomplished?”

“Why did it have to accomplish anything? Why couldn’t it just feel good and right?”

“Is that all that matters to you? What feels good at the time?”

His hand drifted higher to the cup of the corset and the heavy breast he knew filled his hand to perfection. But he didn’t go there. There wasn’t time, no matter how much he wanted her right then and there.

Hated that he wanted it, but God, he did.

“There’s nothing wrong with feeding that side of you, Margo.”

Her eyes flashed open. He said her name so rarely. Because it tasted like salted caramel under dark chocolate on his tongue. And now he added the heady scent of cloves to her sensory memories.

“I don’t have the luxury of feeding that hedonistic side. I have obligations.”

“And those feelings are too messy, aren’t they?” He stared at her in the mirror. “Wouldn’t want to deal with messy feelings, right?”

“It was sex.”

Her posh voice almost had a British edge to it. And the way she spit out the words like she’d never say them unless forced helped to control his runaway dick.

A fundamental difference between them.

He’d do well to remember that.

He slid his hand away and zipped up his leathers. “And sex is bad, right, Violin Girl?”

“No, but it has its place.”

“A dirty moment in time that needs to be erased?”

“No.”

Her emphatic no made him meet her gaze again. “Then what was it?”

“A fantasy.”

And that’s all he was good for. He pulled the cotton tank over his head and tucked it in before buckling his pants. It was surprising how much he needed to be reminded of that.

“Well, then let’s get out there and let me do what I do best.”

“Simon, I didn’t mean—”

“Oh, but you did.” He opened the door and rolled his neck as he headed out. The stage was dark and house lights were beginning to dim.

He put Margo in her place. At the back of his mind where dreams and memories got to rest under the reality of his function in the band. He was the face, the body, and the voice.

He met up with Lila where she stood at the bottom of the stairs. “You’re late.”

“I had to warm up.”

Lila looked over his shoulder as Margo came out of the bathroom. “So I see.” Margo walked up. “Have a good show.”

Simon hit the stairs at a dead run. Adrenaline replaced the want of a single woman. This mistress he knew and could trust. Some nights were rougher than others, but she was always there for him.

The stage.

The music.

He slapped Nicky on the back as he passed and took a quick look to make sure his friend was set. Stage fright was a reality in Nick’s life, but a controlled one for the most part.

The first shows were always the hardest for his best friend. He was a little glassy-eyed, but there wasn’t the leading edge of panic. Determination won out tonight.

It would be a good night.

When he passed Gray, the houselights went completely down and the murmuring crowd broke out into applause. Gray and Nick exploded into “Renegade”. One of the first songs that they’d all collaborated on. The song was loud, powerful, and unapologetic.