It's like she's read my mind from all those miles away, because Vera finally texts me back. I can't believe you went! I've been dying to text you all day but Jared's been in a MOOD so I've been taking care of him instead. I totally hooked up with that roadie Jeff again last night. We missed you at the hotel. Where are you now? I WANT DETAILS.

I call her because there's just too much to text back and I don't want my fingers to fall off. She squeals for a good minute straight into my ear. I tease her about having Jared over last night after she'd spent the hotel party making out with Jeff. She teases me back, telling me I'm the pot calling the kettle black and, even though I try not to let it show through the tone of my voice, my mood plummets again. She's right. I was with Gage last night. Even if we didn't sleep together, I was still there, in his bed, and now I'm with Luca.

When we hang up, I wonder, once again, if I've made a huge mistake. And I wonder, too, if Vera wasn't just teasing. If there was a hint of censure in her reminder.

But when Luca takes the stage, his lips pressed to his microphone, I hear the screams of thousands of other girls. Knowing what he was doing with that same mouth between my knees, only hours ago, gives me no small amount of smug pleasure.

This is good, being here. This is what I want.

What I need.

And after the show, Luca's all apologies. "I forgot there was a pre-show meet and greet thing," he says. "I left my phone in my dressing room and couldn't get away to grab it."

I almost point out that he could've sent someone back to grab it-but it's our first night on tour together and I don't want to ruin it with an argument that doesn't matter now, anyway.

"Whatever," I say, keeping my expression sly. "You'll just have to make it up to me. Tonight."

His mouth cracks into a smile. "Oh, is that right?"

"It is."

"Maybe we should hurry our asses back to the hotel then?"

"No maybe about it."

He yanks me through corridors and out to the tour bus. One of his bodyguards follows a few feet behind us. There's a quick introduction to his driver-a sweet older man with gray hair and friendly eyes-and then we're back in the bus. We lounge in the plush leather seats of the cinema room to wait out the ride. But there's a sharpness in the air, a sweet, sweet sharpness between us. We barely make it two minutes before he's up, standing in front of me. I start to rise, too, but he pushes my shoulders back into the seat and drops to his knees between my legs.

"Luca." I can't fight the grin stretching across my mouth. "The hotel's only a few blocks away."

He says nothing, just cocks an eyebrow and tugs my pants down over my hips, pulling them the rest of the way off.

And then he makes it up to me before we get there.

Twice.

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE.

The after-party at the hotel is much more like what I'd expect the scene to be for rock stars after a concert than what I witnessed backstage in Virginia. We're in a huge suite, packed practically wall-to-wall with people. Music thumps through the room, shared with the sounds of laughter and clinking glasses.

Some of what's going on I couldn't dream up on my own in a million years.

Case in point: Right in front of me-right in front of everyone-right on a couch, Polly's pushing some guy's head between her thighs and under her skirt. She catches me looking and winks at me. My face bursts into flames.

In another corner, the only thing keeping Steve from having sex with a groupie is the fact that they still have clothes on. Though she's wearing so little, they might not even count.

The oily, pungent scent of weed lingers in the air. I wonder if it bothers Luca, but he's sitting next to me, watching me take everything in with a smirk across his face. He leans over and raises his voice in my ear. "Can you handle this?"

I shrug-though I'm completely reeling on the inside. And, okay...to be honest, there's a part of me that's actually turned on by it all. But mostly I'm doing everything I can, including crossing my feet under my legs, to keep from running out of the suite.

Plus, regardless of all the hooking up going on around us, it's Luca people can't keep their eyes off of. Which, sitting next to him the way I am, means I'm getting stares, too. And some of them aren't very nice. From groupies with huge boobs spilling out of their shirts. (I thought my cleavage-skimming tank top was revealing, but it practically makes me a nun here.) From slick-looking industry up-and-comers who want Luca's time. From Marx across the room-though I can't tell if he's giving me dirty looks, or if his expression is just always that surly.

But I'm the one who has Luca's attention. Every few moments he tickles his fingers along my arm or nudges me or leans in to share a bit of gossip about someone he's noticed. He's trying to make me comfortable, but...I'm completely out of my element.

I don't want to show it, so I shrug again. "I can handle it. This party's tamer than I'd imagined, actually."

"Liar." He scoots closer.

"Always trying to call me out..." I nudge his knee with mine. He covers my thigh with his hand, squeezing until I giggle and try to break his grip.

"God, you're cute." He doesn't let go, but loosens his grip. "Wanna get out of here?"

"Yes." The word comes out a little too fast, giving away my discomfort, so I try to play it off by adding, "Take me to your room-and then take me."

I sound ballsy instead of awkward. I like it. And so does he, judging by the wicked little look he gives me as he pulls me to my feet. "As you wish."

We make our way slowly toward the door of the suite. Luca says goodbye, shoots the shit. I stay in his shadow. I should make an effort, probably. I'm sure I'll see these people a lot over the coming weeks, but I'm suddenly exhausted and tongue-tied.

There's a girl waiting near the door, gorgeous with long silky brown hair and bright blue eyes. She reminds me of a slightly edgier version of Quinn, my college roommate. This girl's lips are painted bloody-murder red and she's wearing next to nothing over a body built like a dream. And her gaze is eating Luca right up.

He sees her, too. I glance at him from the corner of my eye and catch him staring. The way his gaze surveys her body has dread tingling under my skin.

"I'm not into threesomes," I blurt out-and am immediately embarrassed when he turns his head to look at me, confusion across his face.

"What?"

"Polly said... She said you liked that stuff."

"Cassie. Don't listen to a word out of that girl's mouth." Annoyance shapes his features. "She was just trying to scare you off. She's way overprotective of me."

"So you're not into...those?"

"I didn't say that. But now that I know how you feel-it won't be an issue. I won't corrupt you more than you want to be corrupted. Don't worry." He winks at me and nods to the girl by the door. His eyes linger a little longer than may be necessary-but then he walks right past her.

Don't worry.

Sure.

Don't worry.

No problem.

Right. I follow him out, ignoring the scowl of the brunette as I pass her.

Luca's suite-or, rather, I should say the Penthouse-is even bigger than the one we just left. We step into the space and my jaw falls open. Because whoa. My father used to take us with him to fancy hotels for work conferences sometimes when I was younger, but I've never set foot in anything even close to this luxurious.

Floor-to-ceiling windows, stretching up twice the height, at least, of a regular ceiling, place us well above the heart of Nashville. The bright lights of the city twinkle out below us. Swanky furniture in shades of cream arranged in multiple sitting areas, a full white marble kitchen, at least four bedrooms... Sparkling chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. A huge balcony with a hot tub right out in the open. If it wasn't so unbelievably humid outside, I'd be all over it. Well. All over Luca in it.

I can't stop taking it all in-but Luca doesn't even seem fazed. He heads toward the fridge, grabbing a sparkling water and tossing one to me. "Hungry?"

"Not really." I gesture to the huge space around us. I almost feel like I should shout my answer to reach him. "This is amazing."

He looks around, as though trying to see it through my eyes. "I guess."

"You guess?" A small laugh escapes. "You're so used to this it doesn't even register, does it?"

"No, that's not it," he says. "It registers."

"So what? You don't love huge, spacious accommodations?"

"Honestly?" He pauses, waiting for me to nod. "It gets lonely."

Oh. His words bring out a tenderness in me. "I'm sorry."

He laughs a little self-depreciating laugh. "Poor, poor rock star. I know."

"No." I reach for his hand, but he wraps it around his bottle of water. "Why don't you stay with the rest of your band for company? Why do you keep so isolated from them, with a separate bus and everything?"

"It's complicated."

"I have all night."

"I can think of plenty of ways to fill your time." He wiggles his eyebrows, making me laugh.

But I pull out a chair at the edge of an island in the kitchen, dropping into it. I slide out the one next to me, too, pointing at its seat.

After a moment of hesitation, he joins me. Another pause, and then he tells me, "I had a thing with Polly."

"Oh." Oh. So many things start to make sense. "But you said she was like your sister?"

He shrugs. "I didn't want to scare you off."

Hmm. On one hand, I understand where he's coming from. On the other, he lied. I'm not sure how I feel about it. "So when you said she was overprotective of you..."

"It's true," he says. "Really. Things are just weird between us. And traveling together, crashing together... Everything was spiraling in a bad way. So I removed myself. I hang out with the rest of the band after our shows because I don't want to lose them completely-we've been friends our whole lives-but otherwise, we keep pretty separate. Polly's always with the rest of the guys, so it's a bit of a they do their thing and I do mine kind of a deal."

"You don't have anyone on your side?'

"There aren't really any sides. I just don't want to make anyone uncomfortable."

"But you don't mind flaunting me in front of her? Bringing me on tour?" I feel a little bad for Polly. That has to be so rough. Granted she was just completely getting it on with that guy at the party, so, maybe not so rough.

"I'm not a saint," he says. "What am I supposed to do? Stay celibate? It's been over for months."

"But she has to see you every day."

"She should've thought of that before she snuck into my bed in the first place."

"Or you could've said no," I remind him. But then... Why am I sticking up for her? She's been far from nice to me. I don't owe her anything. Plus, screw this whole feel-bad-for-exes complex I seem to have developed. I gave up Gage for Zoey. Well, that was part of it. But I'm not doing it again. Not for Polly. "Actually, you know what? It's none of my business. Her loss is my gain."

He grins. "Exactly."

I shift in my seat and get a whiff of weed. Great. My tank top smells like pot smoke from the suite earlier. "Does it bother you that people were smoking weed back there?"

He shrugs. "Not really."

"Would you lose your campaign if the wrong person found out?"

"What? That other people smoked weed at a party where I was?" He shrugs again. "I doubt it."

"But you're so strict backstage..."

"Media's all over backstage. It's different here." He glances at me. "Why? Are you looking to get high?"

"No. Not at all." I take a deep breath before continuing. "I'm not into drugs. You should probably know, my brother-"

"And you know I don't like them either," he assures me, and I'm thankful for the interruption. Not having to share pushes away most of the pain of the reminder. Thinking the words is hard. Speaking them is worse. Luca takes another swallow of water, oblivious to the thoughts rushing through my mind.

"I do know." I nod. "I love that about you."

Then I blush because I said the word "love," and even if it's not something I feel for him, it's still an awkward word to drop between us in any context.

"So." He stands, leaving his water on the counter and taking my hands. "You're not into threesomes. You're not into drugs..." He walks backward, leading me toward a set of double doors that must be the bedroom. "How about you show me what you are into?"

I have his shirt off and his pants unbuttoned before the doors are even closed behind us.

Later, he rolls toward me, his expression thoughtful. "I wish I knew you when Gold Rush Standard was still unknown."

"Why? To find out if I'm only here now because of your fame?" I smile, but I actually don't know what my answer would be, which makes my stomach dip with shame.

"I love how expressive your face is," he says, quieting my thoughts. "When we were a smaller band, with smaller crowds, I could've picked you out from the stage and watched your face as I performed. Like I did when you were up there with me in Virginia. God. I almost took you right there."

"Well," I say, trailing a finger down his stomach, letting a pause fill the air with heat between us. "You can take me right here. Watch my face now."

It dawns on me, after, when I let myself fall over Luca, almost completely spent, that Vera had it backwards when she said Luca was the tinder to my match. He's the match-one quick strike is all it takes to have me exploding under his touch.

And for the rest of the night, I let him strike over, and over, and over.

CHAPTER FORTY.