Idon’t like being told what to do. It’s probably half the reason my mom and I constantly butt heads. That, and I’m stubborn as hell. But when Trent tried to caution me that I should contact my father, as if I somehow owed it to that sack of shit, the action felt suffocating. I’ve never been in a relationship, not one as intense as the one I share with Trent, but if this comes with the territory, I’m not sure I’m cut out for it. I won’t be made to feel badly about my decisions. He doesn’t know. He doesn’t understand.
And yet, he kinda does.
I’m so amped up, still angry during my show, but I throw that energy into my music, into my songs. The crowd cheers louder than ever, and I get lost in the short reprieve. It’s like therapy, being onstage. Gutting myself with my lyrics for all to see, yet healing in the process. When I’m finished with my set, Trent’s waiting for me. He catches me in his arms before I can stomp past, and holds me, pressing his lips against my forehead in a way that makes me feel like crying.
“My girlfriend’s a badass,” he whispers in my ear. Then he leaves me with a jumble of emotions as he joins the rest of the band to take their place onstage. I want to be angry. I want to be mad at him, but now I just feel like crap. Shoving my thoughts to the back of my mind, I hightail it out to the merch tables to meet with fans and sign autographs. It’s something I usually love, but tonight everything’s clouded with a haze of distaste. As soon as the crowd thins, I say good-bye to Jax and head backstage to wait for Trent.
As much as his earlier words irritate me, there’s an urge to be near him. To affirm our connection, and while I watch him onstage, I can’t help but get caught up in his charisma. He’s so damn talented—even though he can’t write a fucking word. A smile, genuine and true, graces my lips when he turns back to wink at me before he belts the lyrics to their final number.
We can work through this. I want to believe it. I’m determined to see where this goes. It’s not easy for me, giving so much of myself to someone who could have the power to break me—like my mother. But Trent is not my father, either. He’s proven it time and time again. And I’m not a groupie. What we have is special. It has to be.
He steps offstage and my body tightens with need. He’s bare-chested, having discarded his shirt sometime mid-show, and sweat covers every glorious inch of his skin. His strong legs swagger in those tight black pants, and his heavy boots come straight for me. He really is like a lion, moving with hypnotic purpose and that all alpha presence. Maybe that’s why he twists me up the way he does. I’ve never wanted to be caught until Trent worked his way into my life.
I run and jump into his arms before he can reach me, wrapping my legs around his taut waist. I don’t even care that his sweat soaks into the front of my shirt or that my fingers get all wet when I weave them into his hair and pull his lips to mine. We kiss, and it’s all I can do to not grind myself against him. I’m weteverywhere. We need a room. I don’t even want to wait until we get back to the bus. I want him now. Need him inside me.
“Trent! Come on, man. Lexi!” Austin shouts and we pull apart.
I’m not the only one whose chest heaves. Trent lowers me back to the ground and snakes his hand around my waist, pulls me to his side, and follows the rest of the band to the room set up for business associates and the fans who’ve finagled their way past the bouncers—including the super slutty groupies.
“We’ve got to say hi to Sean’s parents. Quickly, then it’s back to the bus, ’cause I need to hear you come.”
“Sean’s parents? I thought he was from Phoenix too?”
“That’s where we all met, but he only came out for school. He grew up all over. His dad moved a lot for work.”
“Gotcha.” I nod and straighten my shirt and skirt. I wish I had changed into something more conservative after my show. My fingers rake through my hair as I right it without help of a mirror.
“Lex?” Trent stops before we reach the door.
“Hmm?”
“You’re beautiful. Fucking gorgeous.”
“Oh.” I don’t know what else to say when he compliments me so boldly.
“Sean’s parents are gonna love you. Because you’re funny, and smart, and also because you’ve reformed my whorish ways. There’s nothing to be nervous about.”
I roll my eyes and laugh as he weaves my fingers through his. “I’m not good at meeting parents. I’m not a charmer like you. Can you imagine how bad I’ll freak when I meet your mom?” Crap. We haven’t talked much about what happens after this tour. Maybe I shouldn’t assume he wants to introduce me to his family. “Sorry, that’s if I meet your mom.”
Trent pauses and regards me with an amused grin.
“What?”
“Lexi, you’ve already met my mom.”
“No, I haven’t.” I pull my hand from his and place my hands on my hips. “I’m pretty sure I’d remember something as monumental as that.”
Trent laughs, his deep voice throaty and purely masculine. I have to focus on being irritated because my body’s ready to submit to whatever he wants.
“In the Hills when we first met. She lives with us. She let you in the house, I’m sure.”
“Wait, what? That was your mom?”
“Yeah. Who did you think she was?”
“I assumed she was an employee or something.” I shake my head because I can’t believe it, even though it makes sense. “Fuck. I feel stupid.”
“Why?”
