Boiling Point (Feverish #1.5) Page 2

  And they would. There was no escaping the draw of a live crowd or that deep, burning compulsion to create and perform.

  They were getting ready to do that now, and that was why Clay was beyond pumped. The energy he felt flowing through him when he performed live fueled the part of him was Jet. It was hard to describe, but Jet truly was a different part of himself—part asshole, part showman, cocky as hell, on fire. Clay would swear to his dying day that he wouldn’t have been nearly as popular or well-loved by fans had he not become this alter ego.

  He was afraid, now that Emily was seeing him full-blown and out of control, that she might have second thoughts about their relationship.

  What worried him more, though, was all the sweaty assholes he was surrounded by. Jesus. He’d expected the roadies to make comments about his girlfriend, but that didn’t mean he was prepared. First off, most of them hadn’t seen her till now, but he’d figured they’d make sure not to say anything in front of him. That had obviously been a dumb assumption on his part, because it wasn’t long before the foreman of the crew told Clay that Emily had a “nice tight ass.” Clay—or Jet, rather—felt his nostrils flare and his eyes squint. As if to appease Clay, the guy quickly added, “You got nice taste, boss.”

  Clay had merely muttered, “Hmm,” and let it go.

  Worse was Devil, their lead singer, who’d gone out of his way to tell Clay that his current girlfriend was beyond fine. Clay had raised his eyebrows at the man, wondering if he needed to say anything or not. He did mention that Devil was already attached, and his friend replied, “Yeah…but I can look, can’t I?” Clay gritted his teeth, wanting to tell the guy it was okay as long as it wasn’t his girl. Instead, he again tried to relax because, after all, Emily was with him. He needn’t worry about anyone else.

  But as they’d loaded all their instruments that morning, Clay had heard various comments that, he supposed, the guys thought were under their breath but weren’t. These stupid asses had gone to way too many concerts without wearing ear plugs. They were probably deaf. Dumb fucks. You’d think they’d never seen a hot woman before.

  Well, maybe no other woman had ever let them get that close.

  Clay only knew one thing—he was going to have to keep an eye on all these filthy animals, because if one of them laid a hand on her? Only God knew what he’d do…

  Chapter Two

  EMILY SAT ACROSS from Debbie, longtime girlfriend of Sam, LFS’ lead singer. She was trying to pay attention to the woman, but Emily was finding it more and more difficult the more she spent time with her. Debbie seemed to think that Emily was going to be an ally, but—really—Emily wished she’d quit getting stuck with the other woman.

  It was partly Emily’s own fault, and she knew it. She was too nice…which was why she’d fallen head over heels with Clay, the guy who thought he had a bad ass alter ego. In some ways, he did, but the two personalities were not as separate as her boyfriend had thought they were.

  She was trying to focus on that, on the image of Clay in her head and what he’d whispered in her ear before she and Debbie had walked out of the arena in search of a coffee shop while the band was waiting for the roadies to set everything up. The guys were going to do sound checks and then the entire group was all going out to dinner before the show.

  Meanwhile, though, Emily was playing new best friend to Debbie.

  “I know it seems wrong, but I swear, Emmy, you get used to it.”

  Okay, that. Things like that, like giving her a nickname she hadn’t asked for, were grating on her nerves. Em, she didn’t mind so much, but Emmy sounded like a little sister having a hard time with three syllables. She had to focus past that and attempt to carry on a conversation—in spite of the fact that she really didn’t mesh with the woman. That and Clay’s words in her ear earlier were still rattling around her brain pan, distracting the shit out of her: “I’m sorry, Em, but after the show and the party tonight, Jet is going to fuck the shit out of you. Clay would really like to make sweet love to you, but Jet’s here and I’m afraid he’s going to bury his cock so deep, he’s going to risk suffocation.”

  Holy hell. What a promise.

  She was trying to figure out exactly how they’d do that on the tour bus—because they were right back on the road after the show. But she took a deep breath and looked Debbie in the eyes, trying to get her super-hot boyfriend out of her mind. Time for her to give Debbie a dose of honesty. “No, Deb, I don’t think I could ever get used to that. Besides, Clay has never indicated that he has those kind of plans for me—er, us.”

  “Well, of course, he hasn’t said anything. He’s waiting until you love him so much your soul would ache without him. Then…that’s when he’ll start throwing the ‘Hey, baby’ ultimatums your way.”

  Emily was already tired of Debbie’s shtick. She wasn’t about to tell her she’d already professed her undying love to Clay. Something Debbie didn’t know about Emily was that she’d already had a cheating boyfriend, a real scumbag, and it had taken her a while to realize just how bad he’d been. Clay was nothing like that guy—Clay was sweet and loving, protective and understanding. And he’d had a cheating wife long before Emily had come into the picture. They’d both had to deal with unfaithful lovers and so she didn’t imagine Clay would ever do that to her—no matter what. So Emily was shaking her head and sipping her latte, but Debbie continued to drone on and on. “It’s just a matter of time, Emmy. It’ll start with him saying, ‘Hey, why don’t we invite so-and-so to join us for a little action?’ and before you know it, he’s off fucking anything with two legs at any given moment.” She slammed her cup on the table a bit too hard and said, “I’m telling you this from experience.” Debbie looked around as if wanting to flag down a waitress, but then she leaned over the table and said to Emily, “I just want to prepare you. You’re dating a rock star. It’s an experience unlike anything you’ve ever known before, and talks with your mama couldn’t prepare you for the shit that will go down.”

  Yeah…that was another thing Emily wouldn’t tell Debbie about. She’d lost her mother years ago in a horrible car accident. It had been just her and her dad forever—and her dad hadn’t had a clue about how to prepare Emily for anything having to do with being a woman…not that he hadn’t tried. She’d also had an awesome PE teacher in middle school who’d helped her navigate the seas of adolescence. But God bless her dad—he really had tried…and he’d done the best he could.

  As for “dating a rock star,” Debbie had no fucking clue about Clay. Rock star or not, inside he was the sweetest, most genuine man Emily had ever known. They’d been through a lot of emotional ups and downs in the short time they’d known each other, and she felt as though they’d grown together, so even though she’d been feeling a little insecure, it wasn’t because of any stupid ass thing Debbie had hinted at.

  She was going to keep her mouth shut so as not to encourage any more asinine comments from the woman, but she could see that wasn’t going to happen. Best to just spit it out. “Clay’s not anything like you think, Debbie.”

  The frontman’s girlfriend lifted her perfectly sculpted thin eyebrows as her mouth froze. After several seemingly eternal seconds, she let out a long breath of air. “Look, Emmy, I know you’re knee deep in new love. I get that. I know how that works. I was there with Sam once, too. But wake up, girl. Yeah, I know you think you know Clay…but I’ve known him a lot longer than you have.” She brought her cup up to her pink lips and sipped before repeating, “A lot longer.”

  That was true…but she had to believe that Clay had been honest with her about his past—his entire past. Debbie had been looking at him not as a friend or as a lover but as the girlfriend of one of his coworkers. Of course, anything she felt about Clay would be jaded. So Emily brought her cup to her lips, trying to think of a comeback.

  Debbie began talking again, though, allowing Emily to keep her mouth shut. “Sure…it starts out pretty innocently at first. You don’t even know what’s happening unt
il it’s too late to stop it, and it’s a slippery slope. You’ll lose your guy if you don’t keep going.”

  Oh, God. Was Emily going to next hear Debbie’s horror stories? She got ready to speak, trying to think of some way to shut the other woman up, but she couldn’t get a word in edgewise before Debbie started up again. “With us, Sam said he wanted something a little different. A threesome, something fun for both of us, someone to pleasure us both, right? He even let me pick the girl. Yeah, well…the first time wasn’t so bad. Not anything I’d ask for, but I was making my man happy, right? I picked a woman I could easily get a girl crush on…but we both wound up competing for Sam’s attention—exactly one of the things I was afraid of. But by then I was locked in. Then, like at least once a month he’d make me do that. One time I asked him if we could get a guy instead and he flipped out.” Emily was trying to find a happy zone in her head where she could manage to simply half listen but then Debbie said, “Oh, Emmy, I’ll quit giving you details. I can see you’re horrified. You’ll get used to it like I did. I just don’t want you to be all naïve and innocent and unsuspecting, you know?”

  No, she didn’t know. She was beginning to wonder if Debbie drove Sam as crazy as she was driving Emily—because maybe that could explain why he wanted different company.

  Oh, that was mean and horrible even to just think…but Debbie was pushing Emily. Emily had told her and told her she didn’t want to hear her ideas and she’d insisted Clay wasn’t that kind.

  All she knew was she was grateful when they’d finished their lattes and could head back to the group and sit down to a nice hot dinner before the first concert of what was going to be a kick ass tour. Much more of Debbie’s chatter and Emily might have gone a little crazy…

  Chapter Three

  EMILY HAD BEEN acting weird all night, but Clay had had to put it out of his head. He had a show to perform—the first one of the tour—and his audience came first. Fortunately, he knew that Emily understood that, and he could talk to her later.

  And, goddamn, that first audience was exactly what he’d needed. He loved seeing a venue as massive as this one filled to the brim with people. It boggled his mind that there were that many people on the planet who loved his music, but it was even more overwhelming when he realized that this was just one city in dozens or maybe even hundreds—and they all had arenas like this one.

  Fucking amazing.

  Being the first night, there was a lot of elbow rubbing and chit chat both after the show, and at one point he asked Emily if she was doing okay. She smiled sweetly, half like his PA, the other half like his girlfriend, and said she was doing great and was so proud of him and proud to be his girlfriend.

  If he hadn’t been around so many people, his cock might have swelled as much as his heart did.

  But he accepted the chaste kiss on the lips Emily offered (mouth closed), knowing it was still a precursor to something amazing later.

  They were barely on the bus after one more long hour (that he enjoyed anyway, because he was surrounded by people who loved his music), and before the door was even closed, while other people were still boarding, he took Emily’s face in his hands and gave her the kiss he’d needed to.

  The kiss she deserved.

  One of the smart asses on the bus made some comment that Clay was going to ignore, something about getting a room. A very old and dumb joke. When he took his lips off Emily’s and opened his eyes, Clay beamed at her. Her smile in return was warm and sweet, all he needed to know. She too was ignoring the douchebags on board. He kept his voice quiet so no one but Emily could hear his words. “I’m gonna shower, babe…and then you’re in trouble.”

  The light left her eyes and the color in her face drained, almost as if someone had pulled a plug. “Here?”

  “Yeah, why not?”

  Emily blinked and looked around at, yes, what was a seemingly crowded room. “Those bunks don’t seem to be very private, Clay.”

  He cocked an eyebrow. “Don’t worry about that, honey. These guys don’t give a shit what we do…and it’s not like they’ll be right outside our bunk listening.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  Actually, he did. He’d been on enough tours to know that, if someone was watching or listening in, they’d been invited to. His bandmates weren’t voyeurs and they’d find some action somewhere else if they wanted it. There was no woman they couldn’t have for the asking. That was just the way it was, but Emily probably didn’t need to hear that. He did need to reassure her, though, or she wouldn’t enjoy herself later. “I do. It’ll be fine.” She didn’t look convinced. But he knew nothing was going to happen if he didn’t get his ass in the shower. “I’ll be back,” he told her, giving her another scorching kiss to keep the embers aflame before heading down the hall to the shower.

  The bus was in motion by the time he was toweling off. Man, he wished Emily had been there. His cock had been so fucking hard in the shower, warm water trickling over it, and he’d stroked it a few extra times while washing himself, just to keep himself in the mood.

  Not that he needed help.

  But now that he was outside the bus, the cool air made his entire package act like it wanted to crawl inside his body for warmth. He knew he had nothing to be ashamed of even when limp (he’d had plenty of women tell him that long before he became famous), but it was the idea.

  Ah, better this way. He was going to have to walk through the tight hallway to the bunks—just a few feet but enough. His bandmates had seen him with a mere towel covering his waist plenty of times—hell, they’d even seen his ass and likely his cock, too—but Clay didn’t care for the way Devil’s girlfriend Debbie had been eyeing him lately. He did not want her ogling his junk…toweled or not—especially if his member decided to be perky.

  When he got out, he halfway expected to see Emily outside the shower, doing something on her phone. He knew she wasn’t comfortable around his bandmates, so she’d been spending more time than usual on it, saying she was just checking Clay’s social media and email, something she did on a regular basis anyway, but he knew better. He’d caught her texting her dad once or twice, and he knew it was because she felt out of her element. He figured a week or so on the road, and she’d be fine. It was all new and strange to her right now. She knew his bandmates and Debbie from the recording process last fall, but she wasn’t used to everyone else that went with them on tour—and there were a shitload of people. He understood why she might feel a little intimidated at first.

  But he’d also half expected to see her out here in the hallway because she was going to tell him she didn’t want to have sex on the bus. It would have been a painful thing, but he would have agreed if she’d continued to feel uncomfortable.

  Luckily for him, though, she was nowhere to be seen.

  He strode to the curtain covering his bunk, one of the bottom ones, and he wondered how he’d managed to get one on the bottom. He should have demanded one of the top ones, but he supposed it didn’t matter. It was meant to be merely a place to sleep while on the road, and not even an extremely comfortable one at that. But he’d had a top bunk on their old bus and had just assumed he’d get one here, too.

  Didn’t matter. So far, this bus had more style and luxury than the old one, and even though he could feel the motion of the mammoth black beast rolling forward, it felt less bumpy than their last one.

  When he pulled back the curtain to his bunk, he saw lovely Emily under light covers. The little TV was pulled down from the “ceiling,” but she didn’t have it turned on. She had her reading device in hand, and she seemed to be engrossed in whatever world she was experiencing. He knew she read a lot of romance, so maybe it was a warm up for what they were going to do. He let his eyes take in her visage—her gorgeous and long dark hair, her chocolate eyes, the outline of her slender body under the covers.

  He was on the verge of hardening again. Jesus.

  As soon as he was in the tightly enclosed space, he dropped the towel on
the hallway floor and closed the bunk curtain securely. Emily was under the covers, so he had to finagle a little bit to get under there himself, but it was a lot warmer under there with her generating a little heat. “Hey, babe. Glad you’re warming things up here.”

  She looked up from her ebook. She was trying to grin, but he could see that little look of worry too, even though there wasn’t much light in there. “You sure no one will hear us, Clay?”

  “I’m pretty sure they can’t hear shit over the Slayer album they’re playing in there. We’ll be fine, Em. I promise.” He got close and started kissing the hollow in her neck just below her throat as he moved his hands to her waist. Ah, that was something to be thankful for. His girl was completely naked. A good sign. A very good sign, which meant full fucking speed ahead.

  He grinned as he moved his lips up to hers, because his cock was rock hard. It must have already known things were a go.

  Chapter Four

  EMILY QUESTIONED HER decision almost immediately, but Clay’s lips on her neck made her nipples rigid with desire, and she decided to give in. Yes, he was right—the music, while not loud, was probably enough to drown out any sounds they might make behind the curtain that posed as something of a door on the bus. Less than ideal, but she wanted her man. He was always a little extra after playing—she couldn’t quite put her finger on what made his lovemaking different—but it was as though his cock was an extension of his guitar. She wasn’t going to question it, but she knew she’d be a fool to miss this opportunity with her guy.