His hold on me loosens as he comes up on one elbow to hover over me. His eyes are serious. "What do you mean?"
"I mean... I'm still your attorney, and you're still sort of my boss." I try to explain my misgivings. "This is really pretty unethical what I'm doing, and I need to know what your expectations are?"
"Expectations?" he asks, and I might add, a little thickly.
"Yes," I say exasperated. "Like is this part of my job for you? Or was this a one-night-only type of thing? Or were you just imparting a little lesson to matronly little Emma?"
Evan blinks at me in surprise. "This is about me wanting you. And you clearly want me. How do you not see that?"
"Okay, fine." I blow out a gust of frustrated air. "We want each other. But... is this just like for sex? To get off on each other?"
"Is that wrong?" he throws back at me.
"Yes," I exclaim, and then immediately know that's not quite true. "No. I mean... I don't know. I've never had sex like that before, and I'm a little off balance, okay?"
He tilts his head at me and gives me a sly grin. "You mean you never had such dirty, unadulterated sex before? Never came so many times? Never had a man eat you out like that?"
Well, yes to all of that. But that's not what I mean.
"I've never had sex with someone without having very deep feelings. I've never had hook-up sex. I've never done one-night stands. You're a professional at this, and I'm an amateur. I just don't know what any of this means."
The cocky grin slides off his face and he brings a hand to my jaw. His fingers slide slowly down my neck, over my collarbone. He slides them down the center of my chest, over my belly, and right down between my legs, which part in complete obedience to him. Evan drags his fingers through my lips, which feel wet and swollen with need even though I just had an amazing orgasm not long ago.
"This," he says softly as he flicks my clit with his fingertip. "This isn't just hook-up sex. And it's not a one-night stand as I expect you back in this bed tonight after the show. I have no clue what this is either, Emma, but I know I like this a whole fuck of a lot, and I'm not about to give it up."
"Do you even like me?" I ask him bluntly, despite the fact he's got a finger resting against me that's a bit disconcerting.
"Do I like you?" he asks in surprise.
"Well, yeah... I mean, I like you," I tell him as honestly as I can. "I can't have sex with someone I don't have some feelings for, but I think maybe guys are a bit different. You didn't even remember that girl's name you had sex with the night Keith was killed. So I'm just trying to establish some expectations... or maybe some boundaries."
Evan stares at me for what seems like an eternity, his face completely blank. Then his eyes crinkle and he smiles at me. Leaning down, he kisses my lips and says, "God, you're utterly fucking adorable. And yes, Emma... I like you. And I could never forget your name. You're absolutely unforgettable."
Pleasure such as I've never known wells up inside of me as I realize... I've thought of myself as unforgettable. Time and time again, I don't think I ever felt that I was worth notice.
Maybe that's why I make myself not worthy of notice.
It's just easier than being let down.
CHAPTER 15
Evan
Four lines into my song Near Silence, and I'm settled.
At peace.
Completely in tune with myself and the crowd as they sing along with me.
Five minutes ago, before I walked out onto this stage for my second Miami concert, I was a bundle of writhing, screaming nerves. Felt like I was going to puke. Had to remind myself over and over again while looking into the mirror that I could actually sing. I had such an exquisite case of stage fright for a few moments, I almost walked out of my dressing room and instead of turning left for the stage, wanted to turn right and walk the hell out.
Get in a cab.
Go to the airport.
Fly back home to Raleigh.
But I'm okay now. It truly only took the first line of the song for my nerves to be soothed and through to the fourth line for me to know that part of my home will always be on a stage. I have to wonder if I will always go through those moments of hell before a show, or if it will get better. Maybe I'll ask someone who's been in the business a lot longer than I have at the record label parties when we get to L.A.
It doesn't matter though right now. I'm singing from my heart, and the music from my guitar and my back-up musicians is flowing to near perfection. I feel it through to the soles of my feet that tonight will be another epic experience.
Epic experience.
My head tilts slightly to the right but not enough to displace my mouth away from the microphone. I cut my eyes hard to the side of the stage, and I see Emma standing there. Her hands are clasped together, held in front of her, and she's singing along with me.
A burst of euphoria hits me hard in the center of my chest, and I give her a quick wink before turning my gaze back out onto the audience.
Emma is a fan and that is something I like very much.
Emma is amazing in bed. And on the table. The shower. The couch. The balcony. The carpet.
She is amazing.
She fucking blossomed right before my eyes yesterday and kept blooming last night and this morning, and well... I can't wait to see how I can open her up again tonight.
And because of all of that, she's no longer a woman I can mock in any way as being too prim or matronly. I can't even make silent fun of her conservative clothes, because frankly, she'd look sexy to me in a burlap sack.
So sexy, in fact, I didn't want to do a damn thing all day except keep her in my bed until sound rehearsal. While my stamina is pretty damn good, I know it was unrealistic to think I'd be fucking her the whole time. Figured we could relax and chill. Talk. Get to know each other. Of course, we'd fuck in between, but yeah... I wanted that bad today.
Except Emma wasn't too keen on that idea. Apparently, she has some sort of work ethic drilled in deep and insisted that she needed to work. I tried to tell her I was the boss and I was giving her the day off. She sniffed and briskly told me that wasn't acceptable, and that I had to respect the work boundaries. Christ... she looked at me with straight-laced eyes meaning serious business, and I wanted to rip her clothes off and...
God, she's amazing.
So I capitulated because she is amazing and she wanted to work, and I wanted to give her what she wanted. But I did insist she work in my hotel suite, so I could at least look at her. Eat lunch with her. Talk to her if I wanted.
In fact, I insisted on it.
I made her sit right down at that glass dining table so she could spread out, and I fucking loved the way she blushed when she saw the streaks left behind from the first time I ate her out. She merely jetted over to the kitchen area and came back with some wet paper towels to clean the surface.
Fucking adorable.
It was about two PM, and I was starting to get antsy about the show. My nerves started misfiring and I was feeling jittery. I sat on the couch, going over lyrics in my head, humming tunes and otherwise trying to occupy my time. I'd glance at Emma every once in a while, who was focused with extreme intensity on her work. She'd told me she was working on the copyright case, and I had to admire her diligence in representing me. She'd gone to her hotel room to get showered and changed, and because she was technically "at work," had returned with another business outfit on. This time, it was a sleeveless dress of dark gray that cut straight across the bottom of her collarbone, and while it hugged her form nicely, it was quite sedate. She even had a lovely string of pearls around her neck.
I'd watch her as she chewed on her pen when she was deep in thought, and was fascinated the first time she'd pulled out a pair of glasses from her briefcase and put them on while she was working on the computer. I asked her about them, and she admitted she needed them sometimes if her eyes felt strained.
She looked hot as hell in them.
Finally, I couldn't take it
anymore, so I asked her, "Will you come watch the show tonight?"
Her head popped up and she pulled the pen from her mouth. "Of course."
I nodded. As her head started to turn back to the laptop, I asked, "Will you come with me to the VIP party after?"
She lifted her head slowly this time and looked at me. With a soft smile, she said, "Sure."
I muttered, "Okay."
Emma looked at me another moment, and then turned back to her work.
"Will you promise not to get tipsy so I can fuck you after without worrying about regrets?" I asked slyly.
Her head shot back to me again, and she grinned. "Yes. I won't drink a drop of alcohol."
"Cool," I said casually as I slouched back down on the couch, as if it wasn't that big of a deal, but I was already doing a football touchdown dance in my head.
"But what about Red?" she asked, and I craned my neck to look at her over the back of the couch.
"What about Red?" I asked in puzzlement.
"Well, what will he think as he's driving tonight and you're in my room?" she says hesitantly.
I shrug. "Why do you care?"
Her eyes lowered, and she chewed at her lip with worry.
"Emma?"
With the saddest little puppy dog look I've ever seen, she looked back to me and practically whined, "I don't want anyone to think I'm a floozy."
I almost snickered, but I caught myself and gave her a sympathetic look. "Emma... Red adores you. He won't think badly about you. And if you have a smile on your face in the morning, he'll be just fine with it, I'm sure."
She blushed at the thought of Red knowing what a morning-after smile would mean, and I had to restrain myself from leaping over the back of the couch and tackling her to the floor.
I play my guitar. I follow the music. I sing my song.
I love it up here on this stage.
I really do.
But I kind of can't wait to get done so I can be with Emma.
Obviously, this whole concert tour is new to me, but I know the schedule fairly well. I worked with Tyler and the tour management company to iron out details. After some shows, I'll have to attend fan meet and greets. After other shows, there may actually be an after-party, usually sponsored by some major corporation and with some other celebrities in attendance who wanted to see my show.
That's still something I'm having a hard time accepting.
Actual movie and sports stars wanting to see me perform.
So tonight is one of those parties, and it's being held up on the top floor of the arena in a private club. There's no telling how long this party will last, and we're not in a rush to leave out of here as we have two days to make it to New Orleans for our next show. Regardless, I don't have any real use for rubbing shoulders with famous people. While I know it's expected and part of the game, I don't plan on staying long. I plan to make my rounds and be sociable, then drag Emma back to the bus. Right past Red's astonished face as I haul my prize back to the bedroom.
Speaking of which, I can't help but smile as I look over the shoulder of a TV actress whose name I can't quite place, but she's talking to me like we're the best of friends. I see Emma on the far side of the room talking to Cap and Dilana, and, as she promised, she's drinking bottled water.
Good girl.
Much to my surprise, Cap, Dilana, and Jimmy all made visits to the bus and made sober apologies to Emma for waking her up the day after that debacle. She hasn't hung out with them much, some polite exchanges during rest stops and such, but right now, she's laughing at something Dilana says and she looks in her element.
Absolutely gorgeous in a simple pair of dark skinny jeans, mile-high pumps in black leather, and a loose black blouse that hangs low off one smooth shoulder. As I've figured out about Emma, she doesn't spend a lot of time on making herself up. I can attest that her skin is soft as silk so she must use lotion every day, and that her toenails are painted a delicate pink, which is a definite nod to her femininity, but that's about as far as she goes. Maybe some mascara on those long lashes, but her hairstyle is simple and her face is usually clear of any enhancements. She's one of those women who have a natural beauty, and frankly... she has no fucking clue she has it.
That right there is what really makes her sexy.
The actress says a few more nice things about my performance, gives me an air kiss on each cheek, and saunters off. Tyler immediately replaces her at my side, looping an arm over my shoulder. "You were fucking amazing tonight."
"Thanks, man," I say before taking a sip of my beer, my eyes lasering onto Emma across the room. "It felt good out there."
"With every performance and the reviews you get, those label execs are going to be chomping at the bit to get you," he says enthusiastically, and then drains the last of his whiskey. I turn and take a good look at Tyler, noticing his eyes are bloodshot, but that doesn't bother me. Tyler likes to party.
Hell, I like to party. And why shouldn't we? We work hard and we earn the down time.
"Want to do some shots?" Tyler asks as he turns to the bar right beside us.
"Nah," I say as I turn back and look at Emma. No way am I going to diminish my nerve receptors tonight. I want to feel absolutely everything.
"Come on," Tyler cajoles as he nudges a shoulder against mine. "We should be celebrating after every show. You deserve this, buddy."
"Yeah, I know," I say halfheartedly, then get positively entranced when Emma starts laughing really hard at something Cap says to her. Dilana adds something on that's apparently funnier, as Emma bends over at the waist and has to hold her stomach she's laughing so hard.
And fuck... I want to know what's so funny over there so bad that I actually take an involuntary step that way.
"What is up with you?" Tyler grumbles as he steps in front of me, breaking my line of sight.
I blink, sad not to be staring at Emma, but then focus on my friend and manager. "Sorry, dude. It's just... I'm... uh..."
Christ, I can't even say it, but I do lean to the side and look past Tyler to Emma again. I'm fucking powerless it seems.
Tyler turns slowly and focuses in on Emma, Cap, and Dilana. He turns back to me and in a low voice of disbelief, he says, "Are you fucking kidding me? You're tagging that little plain-Jane?"
My head whips to face him, and I utter a low warning. "Watch it, Tyler."
"Oh, my God," he says with a sarcastic laugh. "You actually got it bad for the little bookworm attorney."
"So fucking what?" I snarl at him.
Tyler thinks this is hilarious, and he throws his arm back over my shoulder. With an almost maniacal laugh, he says, "Jesus, Evan... if you need to get laid, I can find you something a little spicier than--"
I spin on Tyler, knocking his arm loose, and ask, "What is your problem with Emma? You've been nothing but rude and dismissive of her, and I get it... she's offering me options contrary to your wants, but she's also doing the job that I'm paying her to do. She's looking out for me the way you are, and she stands to gain nothing but a measly first-year attorney salary. So what is your fucking problem?"
I expect this to cow Tyler, who will usually back down when I'm pissed, but instead, I'm dismayed to see a coldness filter in, although his voice is heated. "I am your friend, Evan. I've got your back better than anyone, and particularly more than someone you've known for all of five minutes. She might be great in the sack or whatever the fucking reason you seem fixated on her, but you better keep your head out of the clouds. You've got some major decisions to make, and your head better be on straight when you do. And I'm sorry, man... but if that means I might have to point out all the things that could be bad for you, I'm going to do it."
"She's not bad for me," I mutter.
In fact, I have a feeling Emma can be very, very good for me.
Tyler doesn't respond but just gives me a nod and says, "I'll catch you later. Got a few other people here I want to meet."
"Alright," I say, not feeling kindly to him a
nd not wanting to engage him further.
In fact, as Tyler turns away from me, I lean over, place my half-empty beer on the bar, and make my way toward Emma.
I'm done with this party. It's time to go.
CHAPTER 16
Emma
"Ninety-eight degrees and it's only the beginning of May," Red grumbles as we walk back toward the arena parking lot and the tour bus. His bald head is shiny with sweat, and he's huffing and puffing a little.
"Well, we are in Phoenix, Captain Obvious," I point out to him.
"Your dog looks stupid," Red retorts.
Looking at Sirius as he walks in front of us on his leash, leading the way with his nose to the ground, I have to admit... he does look stupid with his feet and half his legs covered with white socks that I "borrowed" from Evan. It's so hot outside that I didn't want Sirius' pads to get burned on the concrete, so I may have rummaged through Evan's clothes for some of his socks to put on my dog.
Red and I just took Sirius on a little walk for our afternoon break. We're coming up on the end of the second week of the tour having gone from Miami, to New Orleans, to Houston, then Dallas, and finally into Phoenix. After the show tonight, we head for Los Angeles, where he has two shows scheduled and some pretty hoity-toity parties to attend with the record labels.
We've gotten into a good routine these last several days. One of the things Red convinced me to do was to join him on his afternoon walk with Sirius because, in his words, "No one should sit at a desk for that long and not take a break."
The tour is going amazingly well, and by that, I mean practically everything associated with it. Evan is magic up on that stage. I'm getting extremely comfortable taking press questions about the legal issues, but really, it's Evan who does most of the talking. And I'm actually getting some solid work done on the copyright case. I've spent most of my time researching the law, and I've even reached out to a few copyright attorneys to pick their brains. I'm now spending time on crafting all of my discovery questions to send to the other side, which will help to narrow down the issues.
The only thing that is causing me some heartburn is the fact that there truly is no reason for me to be on this bus. For the Atlanta and Miami concerts, there were quite a few questions about Keith's death--which had nothing to do with Evan because an arrest had been made, but it was sensational fodder the reporters were going to ask about. There were also questions about the copyright case, but we were only in the beginning stages and it would be months before we had something solid to report. Since then, there are days where nothing is needed of me except to work on the copyright case and, let's face it, I can do that from back in Raleigh.