“Hawks versus Renegades?”

  “Hello? Sunday? Private suite. Don’t tell me you forgot?”

  A grin tugs at my lips. Nothing better than football in a private suite. “I did forget.”

  “Terrence went the other week. It’s your turn. Come with me. You like football, don’t you?”

  “Love it.”

  “Good, because Zane and my grandma are going too, and so is Nadia.”

  I’m going to meet his grandmother tomorrow. I try to hide a grin at how happy that makes me. So happy that I need some time away from him today so I don’t let on how much I like it.

  I leave the room a little later and say goodbye to Terrence. I tell him what I’ve been doing—not the specifics, of course, but the general gist, because I respect the guy too much to keep it secret.

  “Can I just say not surprised? Not surprised at all.”

  “You and Cruz have been reading from the same script,” I say with a shake of my head.

  Terrence gives me a sly grin. “Or maybe you’re transparent.”

  What can I say to that? “Seems I am.”

  Terrence gives me a reassuring nod. “I’ve got your back.”

  “Thanks, man.”

  When I reach my room, I call my sister on FaceTime. As soon as she answers, I pick up where I left off the last time we talked.

  Biting off the truth.

  “I’m seeing Stone. It’s secret and all. It’s not going to last beyond a week. I don’t know what to say, except it feels like the best thing that’s happened to me in a long time.”

  That admission scares the hell out of me.

  “Oh, Jackson.” Her face goes sweet and melty.

  I sink onto the bed, dragging a hand over my neck, a knot of tension cropping back up. “I don’t know what to do.”

  “Just let yourself enjoy something for once. You deserve all the good things.”

  I shake my head, my throat tightening. “It can’t end well.”

  “You don’t know that.” She flashes me a supportive grin, but it’s the kind that says I’m hosed.

  “I do. And you know it too.”

  “But why not? Why can’t it?” Hope springs eternal in youth.

  I slump back against the pillows, holding the screen in front of me. “Because he’s a rock star. Because I’m his bodyguard. Because he’s the boss and I’m his employee. We are just a ship. A silly little fantasy affair. That is all.”

  “Do you believe that?”

  “What I believe doesn’t matter. That’s the reality. Things like this—they’re fairy tales. There’s no way a guy like him, who’s never been in love, who likes to play the field, who loves to have a good time, is going to wind up with anyone.”

  She twirls a strand of her hair, screws up the corner of her lips, then meets my gaze. “But do you want to wind up with him?”

  My chest clenches. Tension whips through my whole body. “That’s not the point.”

  “Seems like it might be,” she offers. “Are you wanting more?”

  More. Is that what I want?

  I barely have to ask to know the answer. It came this morning in the way I felt waking up with him.

  I do want more.

  “If he wasn’t my boss, if this wouldn’t compromise my career, then yes.” I breathe heavily but feel a little lighter. Getting that off my chest helps, though it doesn’t solve the problem.

  “Will it compromise your career?”

  “Who is going to hire me if this gets out? When Stone’s done with this fling, whether I have a job with him or not, who would hire me?”

  “You’re good at your job. You’re great at it. Do you think you’re the first person in the history of the world to fall for his boss? It happens. You’ll get through it.” She studies my face, tilting her head. “But why are you already ending it? Didn’t it just start?”

  A laugh falls from my lips, unbidden.

  She arches a very curious brow. “It didn’t just start?”

  I sit up, shifting my hand back and forth like a seesaw. “Yes and no. It started more than a month ago. But it was only a kiss. Then nothing. Then we just kind of . . . hung out,” I say, giving her the PG-13 version, though it’s true—Stone and I had plenty of platonic nights. Nights that left me wanting more, liking more, caring more.

  “You dog. You’d made out with him when I saw you the other month, and you didn’t tell me. You were all ‘Jackstone? What’s that?’” she says, imitating me. Setting her chin in her hand, she bats her lashes. “Why do you like him?”

  Where do I start? “He’s passionate. And clever. And he cares deeply. For people. For friends. For family.” I picture last night when he told me he couldn’t take it if I were to play games with him. “For me.”

  Her grin stretches from Maine to Vegas. “More, tell me more.”

  I draw a deep breath, letting the air travel through me, relax me. “We get along great. Like, we’re friends. We give each other a hard time, and it’s fun. And we talk openly.” My mind travels to this morning, to his words at breakfast—more than satisfied. I’m pretty sure he wasn’t just talking about in the bedroom. “And he’s into me too,” I say softly.

  “Then don’t think about it ending. Just enjoy yourself. The look on your face right now? It’s kind of magic.”

  Being with Stone kind of feels that way, and that’s terrifying.

  The last time I gave my heart to a reckless man, he took it and ran with it.

  There’s a reason Jackstone is only a ship. It’s make-believe.

  Stone Zenith might not be reckless, but falling for a world-famous rock star absolutely is.

  Correction: falling harder.

  The only thing more dangerous is thinking this thing between us might work beyond a week.

  I spend the rest of the afternoon with blinders on. Working out. Studying Spanish. Reading articles. Connecting with Ryan via FaceTime in my room.

  “Talk to me, my man. Your next interview is this week right here in Vegas. You ready?”

  The young guy gives me a crisp nod, strokes a hand over his baby-faced cheek, then says, “I think so, but any chance you can do a mock interview with me?”

  I flash a smile. “Hell yeah.”

  I spend twenty minutes putting him through his paces, and when we’re done, Ryan offers me his palm. I virtually smack it. “You’re going to crush it.”

  “Thanks, man. Appreciate all you’ve done.”

  “You’ve got this.”

  He draws a deep breath. “If I do, it is definitely thanks to you.”

  “Nah. You put in the work,” I say. “And I’ll take you out for lunch when you’re done. Sound like a plan?”

  He flashes a smile. “I’ll see you on Thursday.”

  I wish him well and hang up.

  I check the time on my watch. It’s nearly four.

  My stomach dips like a roller coaster, since that means it’s time to see Stone.

  A few minutes later, I relieve Terrence as Stone hits the VIP hotel gym with his brother.

  I’m all business with the boss, especially since we’re surrounded by others for the rest of the evening—Candi, Veronica, Zane, Sage, and Eliza.

  Somehow I pull it off, playing the role I’ve played the last few months—his bodyguard, not his lover.

  When I escort him backstage, he turns the corner to his dressing room and looks my way. Join me, his eyes say.

  I do, and the second the door shuts, he grabs my face and kisses me. In no time at all, my head goes hazy, my thoughts swimming with him. Moaning, I kiss him back, urgent and hungry, and absolutely out of my mind with need.

  I go hot everywhere, as blood rushes south and desire wraps around me. My hands travel up and down his chest, settling on his waist.

  But why stop there?

  My palm ventures lower, covering his hard-on.

  Stone breaks the kiss, shoulders heaving, eyes wild.

  The look in them is unmistakable and irresistible. I make a show of glancing at my watch as I stroke the ridge of his cock. “Just enough time.”

  He lets out a shuddery breath. “Yeah? Would you?”

  I answer with actions, spinning him around so his back is against the wall. Double-checking to make sure the door is locked, I drop to my knees as he unzips his jeans, pushes down his briefs, and offers me his dick.

  I don’t waste a second. I take him in, drawing him to the back of my mouth.

  His groan is carnal, but too damn loud.

  I stop, shaking my head and wagging a finger. Zoe is performing, so the joint is noisy, but it’s best to be safe.

  The rocker mimes zipping his lips. I nod my approval and return to my mission: to make him come in mere minutes.

  I lavish attention all over his fantastic cock, licking, sucking, and caressing his shaft with my tongue and lips. He’s quiet—his harsh breaths are the only noise in the dressing room.

  As I suck deeper, his cock melding to my mouth, his hands roped through my hair, I picture later tonight.

  After the show.

  The things I want to do to him.

  The ways I want to fuck him.

  As the images flash before me, I wrap my hands around his ass, grabbing harder, letting him own my mouth as I suck him to the back of my throat.

  His body trembles, and his hands coil tighter.

  Mere minutes before he’s set to take the stage, he shoves deep in my mouth and shoots into my throat.

  I drink him down, loving every last drop.

  When I rise, he’s panting, his eyes big, his cheeks flushed.

  It’s a good look. I lean in and dust a possessive kiss to his jaw. “There. Now I bet you really feel like a rock star. Getting blown before you go onstage.”

  He grabs my shoulders. “You’re going to be in my head the whole show.”

  I arch a brow, trying to keep the moment light. “Blow jobs have that effect on you, Stone?”

  Adamantly, he shakes his head. “No. You do, Jackson. You do.”

  My heart tries to perform gymnastics again, but I do everything I can to resist.

  A voice whispers in the back of my mind. Be careful.

  I reach for the door handle, but he grabs my arm. “I didn’t expect that. All I wanted was to kiss you because I knew I’d go crazy thinking about kissing you during the show.”

  He ropes one hand around my head and hauls me in for another kiss, somehow making me want him even more.

  When he lets go, I leave, waiting outside the door, checking my phone as he finishes his preshow prep.

  An email from the credit card company offers me an increase on my credit limit, along with a reminder of the balance. I grit my teeth, grinding them. Yes, universe, I get the message.

  It’s loud and clear—focus on the job.

  But I can do both.

  This is only one week. When this tour ends, we’ll go back to the way things were.

  Besides, when Stone takes the stage a few minutes later, I’m sure he’s not thinking of me at all. Not once when he performs.

  Except when he swings his gaze to me in the wings that night, locking eyes with me for several delirious seconds, I’m certain he is.

  When he slides into the chorus of “Bedroom Eyes,” I don’t hope he’s singing a few lines to me.

  I know he is, and worse, I like it far too much for my own good.

  26

  Stone

  I bury my face in Jackson’s neck later that night.

  “Cedar,” I whisper. “And falling snow. That’s what you smell like.”

  His fingers skate down my back. “You sure about that? I’d think right now I smell like sex.”

  I laugh, inhaling him once again. The blow job earlier was the best way to start a show. And now, this is the best way to finish a show. This man—in my suite, tangled up in bed with me. “Fine. Right now you might be wearing eau de hot, sweaty, pent-up-all-day-from-wanting-you sex.”

  Jackson laughs, and it’s a great post-sex laugh. Husky and throaty.

  I sigh happily. “Admit it. I killed it onstage tonight. All because I was going to see you after.”

  “You weren’t so bad with the mic,” he deadpans.

  I roll my eyes. “Thanks.”

  “Fine. You were better than average.”

  I shove a hand against his shoulder.

  The man simply laughs. “Want me to say you were on fire?”

  “Yes. Because I was thinking about getting your clothes off,” I add.

  “Same. Same for me. Though I think nearly everyone in the audience was thinking that about you,” he says.

  I drag my fingers down his chest. “Doubtful. But you’re the only one I was thinking of,” I say, and dammit—this is what mind-bending sex does to me. It unlocks my lips. Makes me say all sorts of sweet, swoony shit to him.

  This is because of the sex.

  It’s only because of the sex.

  But then, I don’t think I’ve whispered sweet nothings like this before. Not to a man, and not to a woman.

  And I’ve got to get my act together. “Incidentally, this is so much better than whacking off to thoughts of you after a concert,” I say, since that’s keeping the focus on the sex, not the feelings.

  “I’d have to agree, but I would like to watch you do that.”

  A yawn threatens to overtake me. “Tomorrow? Can I have that for breakfast?”

  “You’re ordering up the sex you want tomorrow morning before you go to bed?”

  I flop to my back and mime checking off an item on a room service menu. “Dear concierge, please deliver chai tea, a breakfast bowl, and a hot hand job from the babe in my bed.”

  He laughs, chuckling deeply. “This is your week. You’ll get everything you want.”

  Week.

  The reminder that this thing between us has an end.

  The end will protect me. I won’t fall for him in less than a week. How could I? He’s not available for falling. He’s not interested in anything more than a hookup.

  I’d do well to remember that.

  Jackson slides his hand along the back of his neck, rubbing it, like he’s done before when he’s been tense. Like that time in the limo, on the plane. “J,” I say, trying to broach the subject of whatever’s weighing on him.

  “Yes?”

  “On the plane. You mentioned stuff you had to clean up from the past. Mistakes, you said. Does it have to do with Fabian?”

  Saying the name of his former partner is weird. But it also feels necessary.

  With a sigh, he says, “Yes. I have to pay off a debt of his.”

  I prop myself up on my elbow. “Can I help?”

  “No.” His answer comes out at the speed of light.

  Instinct tells me not to press. But I want to so badly. “Are you sure?”

  “Positive. I appreciate it, but please don’t ask again,” he says, gentler this time.

  I swallow roughly, accepting his answer with a nod while he keeps working his hand over his neck.

  He winces.

  “Let me help with that, at least,” I say.

  Saying nothing, he shifts to his side, giving me access. I slide my hands along his neck and knead my thumbs into his muscles, trying to ease his tension, since I can’t tackle his problem.

  He shuts his eyes, sighing, sounding more relaxed.

  “I hate when you worry. I want to take all your troubles away,” I whisper. “I’d do that for you.”

  “I know. And I like that you want to,” he says, shifting his body a bit closer to mine.

  I do the same, moving nearer, massaging his neck and shoulders until his breathing evens out.

  In the morning, we trade blow jobs, eat breakfast, listen to some new tunes his sister sent, then shower. It’s the perfect way to start a Sunday. That’s the trouble. It feels like this is simply what we do before we see friends and family.

  Like we could do this every weekend.

  The more I think that, the more I want to stay in his orbit.

  But I can’t. We can’t.

  There’s only one solution to knock myself out of this mood— inject some dirty sex into the schedule before we go to the football game.

  I’ve got a plan, and once we’re out of the shower and Jackson wraps a towel around his waist, I tug it off with a flourish, throwing it on the tiled floor.

  There. Let the sexing begin.

  He quirks a brow. “You trying to tell me something, Stone?”

  I grab his ass, squeeze it, and drop my voice to a low and dirty tone. “Jerk off on me before we go.”

  He blinks, but his surprise disappears quickly. In its place is raw lust. “You want to watch me come all over you?”

  I stare at his dick, hardening to iron in seconds. My cock is steel too, ready to go. “I do.”

  “Get on the bed,” he growls.

  I leave the bathroom and turn into the bedroom, but before I can flop down on the bed, he shoves my chest, pushing me back on the mattress.

  I shudder, loving his roughness, even as I fire off, “What’s that for?”

  “It’s to get you where I want you.” The big man grabs the lube, tosses it on the covers, then climbs over me, pushing my legs open.

  “And where’s that?”

  His eyes travel up and down my body, drinking me in. “Naked for me. Hot for me. Coming for me.”

  My dick twitches, liking the sound of all that.

  Lust skates across my skin. Jackson kneels between my legs, pours some lube into his hand, then grips his cock.

  His hand glides slow and easy down his length, then back up. His eyes lock with mine as his palm travels that path once more, squeezing the head of his cock, pushing out a liquid bead.

  My jaw comes unhinged.

  My breath hisses.

  It’s so sexy, the way he’s down for anything in seconds, the way he takes over our pleasure in an instant.

  “Yes,” I groan, my fingers brushing over my chest. The muscles in his forearms flex and his biceps tighten as he works that thick cock in his fist.

  My pulse spikes, and my dick begs for attention.

  I slide my hand lower, reaching for my shaft. Lightning fast, his other arm whips out, slapping my hand away.