Page 29 of Grip Me Tight
Tipping my chin up, I narrow my eyes. “I didn’t start anything. I was having a perfectly normal conversation with Emil, my co-worker, minding my own business and you came down to me,” I say.
He leans in, pulling my hand against his chest. “I’m not talking about now. You started this the other night, down by the lake.”
I glance back at the stage, but Noah’s back is to us, while he chats with a tall woman with pink hair.
I lick my lips, arousal flooding my body. “And I thought you ended it the same night.”
He holds me here, jaw tight, for a few seconds, but it feels like eternity. “I meant to. A taste of you is all I should have, but now I’m greedy.” His eyes search mine. “I think you are too. You want my mouth on your sweet pussy again.” He drops his head, lips inches from my ear. “I need to feel you come against my tongue,” he whispers.
My heart is pounding, and I push him away. This time he lets go, a sexy smile on his face.
“Are you crazy?” I hiss. My world is tilting on its axis. I thought I could handle this, handle Tanner Steele, but here in his domain, things are different. I’m as far out of my element as I could possibly be.
The smile slips off his face. “Probably. I’m pretty sure my mother was, so maybe this is path I’m supposed to take.”
I flinch at the casual way he says it. I don’t actually know much about Tanner’s mother, other than she did drugs and didn’t take very good care of her son. She was in and out of hospital, jail, and other assorted places that necessitated him staying with us, but I’ve never heard him mention her to me.
“Tanner, get your ass on the stage. Some of us have other things we want to do today.” Noah’s voice echoes in the stadium.
Tanner throws up a middle finger this time but takes a couple of steps back. “I know you’re thinking about it, Silver.”
God help me, I definitely am.
13
Tanner
Iroll my neck, loosening up my muscles as I get in the zone. It’s the second night in Chicago and the roof sounds like it’s about to come off the arena.
Usually, I’m already in the zone by now, but my encounter with Sterling earlier is still on my mind. So much for being in control. No drugs, booze, meaningless sex, or any other vice designed to trip me up. My only weakness, apparently, is Sterling.
Before she arrived, I was on top, sharp, ready to take on the world and now it doesn’t matter how many miles I run, hours I practice or parties I leave. None of it matters because all I’ve been able to think about for the last few days is making Sterling’s body come apart again. My mistake was in thinking a taste would do. That I could pleasure her beautiful body without sinking balls deep inside her and be sated.
I’m afraid I’ll never be sated.
At the Whitlocks, I’m constantly reminded that none of it is mine. Not my parents, not my brother, not my home. Not really, anyway, no matter what anyone says.
But that night, under the stars, Sterling was mine.
How did I ever think I could walk away? Maybe I could have gone back to the way it was before, watching her through a screen, when she was safely in another city, living a life not overlapping mine.
Here, she is a part of my world and I can’t deny how much I want her. I don’t need distractions, but since she arrived, I find myself straining to hear her voice, seeking her in the crowd. I agreed to watch over her. Noah doesn’t notice the way my eyes trail after her, like a puppy hoping for attention. He’s too busy keeping his multiple “friends” happy. He’s focused on putting on another amazing show and nothing can shake him at the moment.
He trusts me like a brother, even going so far as to tell me to ease up on Sterling while she navigates this whole new scene. He’s pretty concerned about those phone calls while we were at breakfast the other day. Jake the jerk is definitely on my best friend’s shit-list. Which reminds me, I need to make sure Laird gets Sterling a new secure phone.
I crack open a bottle of water and take a sip while chaos reigns around me. Laird’s been pacing for the last hour, alternating between muttering to himself and barking orders into his phone. Ajax finally shows up, assuring us he just got caught up with Natalie.
We’re within shooting distance of taking the stage, Ash, our opening act is killing it out there for our second Chicago show and the energy of the crowd starts to seep into my veins. Slade makes the mistake of mentioning Natalie’s hot ass and Ajax schools him on the several ways a man might be dismembered for even thinking about Natalie’s body. Sometimes I think about Ajax’s background and wonder what he’s seen and heard, then I catch a glimpse of Serge and realize I don’t really want to know. Our security team runs a tight ship and I’m happy to leave those details to Serge and Laird. Lord knows, they’ve fucking saved our asses a time or two in the last five years.
Including mine. Even with everything going on with Ajax, Serge had someone track those phone calls I was getting. The number was traced to Natasha’s boyfriend. Laird’s talking about just paying her off to be done with it, and maybe I should.
This type of shit is not what I need before a show.
I cap the bottle, shaking my hands out, bouncing on my feet a little, feeling my muscles tighten. Emil is circling, his camera to his face, getting ready to capture us heading down the hall to the stage. Adrenaline rushes through my legs and I see Sterling lifting her phone, snapping some pictures of Emil photographing us. I roll my head from one shoulder to the other, loving the way the energy surge makes my skin prickle, my muscles getting ready for showtime. I track Sterling, knowing the instant she feels my eyes on her. She stills, like a deer scenting a predator, watching me through her phone lens.
My cock goes hard in my pants. I head in her direction unable to resist catching the scent of her perfume before I hit the stage. The song we’re opening with, Storm Surge, is a pounding, crowd-pleasing favorite that never fails to drive the audience into a fist-pumping, screaming frenzy. Sterling doesn’t back away, keeping her phone up in front of her face and I wave a hand at Emil, sending him back to the guys as I move in behind Sterling.
“Excited?” I ask, needing to bend down to her so she can hear me over the din that inevitably happens as we gear up to open a show. Her hair is tied up in a ponytail, baring her neck and I resist the urge to lick the curve where her t-shirt meets her skin. I settle for blowing a gentle stream of air, ruffling the strands that curl at her hairline, stupidly gratified at the shiver that ripples through her body. I chafe my hands down her arms. “Cold?”
