31. Callie
31
CALLIE
“Stopping for dinner in ten.”
The driver’s voice rumbles through the bus intercom around 9 p.m. I sigh and drop my e-reader on the bed beside me. I’ve been holed up in my room for the last few hours, avoiding the rest of the bus. There are too many pheromones floating around out there. It’s making my head spin. Every time I think of Torren’s confession, my pulse picks up speed.
You’re mine, Firebird. I’m just waiting on you.
He’s just waiting on me.
Goddamn it.
Slowly, I trudge out to the front of the bus, finding Torren and Jonah lounging on the couches. Torren’s got his guitar on his lap again, and when he glances up at me with a smile, I gesture to the guitar.
“So, which came first, the acoustic guitar or the bass guitar?”
“Acoustic. Then electric. Then bass.” His smile flickers as he sets his guitar on the floor. “My brother taught me. He actually plays piano, too. Tried to teach me that, but I wasn’t interested.”
I put a palm over my heart and gasp like I’m wounded. He laughs.
“Sorry. Not everyone is as skilled as you on the keys.”
“You’ll have to play for me,” Jonah cuts in.
I turn my attention to him and find him smirking at me. When I flick my eyes back to Torren, I expect to see a scowl, but he’s smirking as well. My stomach flips, and then I frown. These stupid attractive men and their beguiling smirks. I clear my throat and look back at Jonah .
“Sure. Sav got me a keyboard, so maybe I can play something when we get to the next hotel.”
“We’ll have to see how you measure up to Sean.” Jonah’s smirk falls with the words. “He’s a prick, but he’s a great musician.”
I’m not sure what to say to that. I want to ask about Sean, but I don’t want to pry, and judging from the uncomfortable silence, my instinct says changing the subject is the best course of action.
“So...we rented out a diner?” I say awkwardly. “Those more rock star perks?”
Torren smiles, apparently welcoming my conversational pivot.
“Hammond started doing it once we realized we can’t go anywhere public without causing mayhem. On overnight drives, he’ll pick a place in some smaller town. He tells the owners it’s a private party and has them sign NDAs, but they never know it’s us until we show up.”
I laugh. “That must be quite a surprise for them.”
“Sometimes. Once we had a server start sobbing because she was such a huge fan. We ended up taking a ton of pictures, and Sav signed a practice guitar and gave it to her.”
“Remember that pizza place that was owned by the veteran?” Jonah cuts in. “Guy had absolutely no idea who we were. It was great.”
Torren nods, laughing with Jonah. “He did spend the whole dinner telling us some great stories, though.”
The bus starts to slow, the sounds of the road changing from smooth pavement to crunching gravel.
“So, what’s this one?” I ask. “Where are we?”
“Should be a small town just on the Georgia/Florida border. Burger joint.” Torren takes out his phone and checks something, then stands as the bus pulls to a stop. “It’s called Frank and Anne’s Diner.”
I follow him and Jonah down the stairs and into a gravel parking lot. It’s dark, only two lights illuminating the lot, and I watch as the tour buses pull out of the lot and drive away, leaving us with just the SUVs.
“They’ll park at a gas station a few miles away or something while we eat,” Torren explains. “Less conspicuous.”
I nod and turn to assess the small mom-and-pop looking diner
“Well, this place is adorable.”
“Bet they cook a mean burger,” Jonah says, giving my shoulder a nudge .
“These kinds of places always do,” Torren agrees, then he takes my hand and leads me toward Sav, Mabel, and Levi. Their bus was in front of ours, so they’re already standing with their security details as Hammond speaks with the owners.
Torren nods in greeting to his bandmates, then stands next to Mabel as he addresses the group. “They know it’s us, yet?”
Mabel laughs. “Yeah, I think so. I just saw two people peeking at us through that window.”
Hammond opens the door and waves at us to come in, so I let Torren lead me by the hand into the diner. Several tables are pushed together, forming one large table capable of seating all of us, and there are already waters and several different appetizers on the table.
“Thanks, Ham,” Mabel says, throwing herself into a chair and pulling a basket of mozzarella sticks in front of her. “And these are all for me.”
Sav darts a hand over her shoulder and snatches one, taking a bite out of it and flashing Mabel a grin as Mabel scowls up at her. “I’d have given you one if you’d asked.”
Sav shrugs and speaks while chewing. “S’more fun this way.”
I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing.
Torren pulls out a chair at the end for me, and I sit. He takes a seat next to me just as an overexcited server comes skipping out of the back. She looks to be about my age, maybe a little older, and she’s grinning from ear to ear, so she must be a fan of The Hometown Heartless. When she greets us, her voice is high and quivering, belying her excitement.
“Hi there. Welcome to Frank and Anne’s. We’re so happy you chose to dine with us tonight. My name is Abigail. I’ll be your server.”
She takes our orders, then brings our food, and I notice the entire time that her eyes keep drifting back to Jonah. He ignores her all through dinner, but when she starts picking up the empty food plates, he finally makes eye contact.
“You were great tonight. Thanks for taking care of us.”
Abigail turns bright red and bites her lip, obviously trying to keep from giggling. She nods. “Yes, of course, my pleasure Jo—I mean, Mr. Hen—I mean...uh...sir.”
And then she curtseys. Now I have to bite my lip to keep from giggling. Poor Abigail. He’s said two sentences to her, and she’s about to swoon. I can empathize, though. Four years ago, I was the same bumbling mess of a fan.
Jonah flicks his eyes briefly to Torren, then looks back at Abigail. He gives her just a hint of an amused smirk, and she gasps.
Good god, the woman is going to expire.
“You can call me Jonah, sweets.”
“Jonah.” Abigail’s voice is a giddy whisper as she replies, and then she turns and rushes back into the kitchen. As soon as she’s gone, Mabel groans loudly and throws a napkin at Jonah.
“No,” she hisses, keeping her voice low so only we can hear her. “No way. Tor’s not playing, and you do not fuck where we eat, Jo.”
I feel Torren stiffen beside me, and Jonah sighs, slouching into his chair, that signature disinterested expression back on his face. I furrow my brow. He wasn’t even flirting. He just thanked the lady. Playing? Do not fuck where we eat? Mabel’s reaction more than confuses me.
“What?” I look from Jonah to Mabel. “What are you talking about?”
Mabel sends another glare to Jonah, then rolls her eyes. “This dumb game they like to play. You nickname the girl first, you get dibs.”
My jaw drops, and my heart starts to pound in my ears, but Mabel doesn’t seem to notice.
She throws another napkin at Jonah. “But she’s a server , not a groupie , dickhead.”
The rest of what she says fades out. If Jonah responds, I don’t hear it. All I hear is his voice from four years ago.
You named this one?
It’s a compliment.
My head starts to swim with all the contradicting statements swirling around inside it. You were more. A game they like to play. You were more . Nickname the girl, you get dibs.
You. Were. More.
“Thanks for dinner,” I say abruptly. “I’m tired. Night, everyone.”
I shove up from the table and rush out the door, ignoring the questions and concerned looks. Thankfully, the buses have returned, and by the time I reach the door to the guys’ bus, Torren is hustling in my direction.
“It’s not what you think.”
His voice carries across the parking lot, but I ignore him and climb the stairs into the bus. I’m just reaching the door to my bedroom when he’s climbing in after me.
“God damn it, Callie, would you talk to me?”
I whirl on him. “Is it true? You guys play a game where you nickname groupies to see who gets a crack at them first?”
He winces. “Not anymore. Not exactly.”
I raise my brows. “Okay. So, what exactly?”
“Now...it’s more like...a selection thing.”
My eyes widen and my jaw drops as I process what he just said.
A selection thing.
It ignites both excitement and jealousy, and because I’m a glutton for punishment, my questions spew from my mouth shamelessly.
“Selection for who you’re going to share ? We’re you planning to share me at ArtFusion?”
“No.” He shakes his head and steps toward me. “We weren’t doing that yet.”
I bark out a laugh . “So, at ArtFusion it was the dibs game, then?”
He nods slowly. “Yeah. It was.”
“You fucker,” I seethe. “You lying son of a bitch. I was a groupie, and you called dibs.” I laugh again. “God, if you’d have just told me the fucking truth from the jump...It’s been years . I’m a big girl. I could have handled it. I would have preferred it over being fed this you were more bullshit."
“That isn’t bullshit, Callie.” He steps toward me again. “You were more. You are more. I never, not even when I first saw you, thought of you as a groupie.”
I fold my arms over my chest and glare at him. “How many women have you played this game with?”
His eyes plead with me as he lowers his voice in warning. “Don’t do that.”
“Tell me, Torren. I want to know. How many?”
“Callie. Stop it. That’s not going to help anything.”
I know he’s right—this line of questioning solves nothing—but I press forward anyway. I’m rolling downhill and rapidly picking up speed. The thoughts that were already circling my head are finding reasons to finally jump out of my mouth and into the conversation .
“Okay, then how many have you tag-teamed? How many have you and Jonah selected ?”
“Callie.”
“I want to know.”
“Why?”
“I want to know, Torren.”
“Why?”
“Because I fucking do.”
He grinds his teeth and his jaw pops as he takes a step toward me. His eyes run over my face, and I tilt my chin up. I stare him down.
“Okay. What do you want to know?”
I flinch with shock. For all my bravado, I never thought he would just...give in. It takes him arching an eyebrow expectantly for me to actually form words, and when I do, I stun even myself with the question I decide to toss at his feet.
“Why didn’t you ever do it with Savannah?”
He narrows his eyes, no doubt weighing the pros and cons of giving me an answer. When I see the resignation flicker across his face, I hold my breath and wait.
“Because I didn’t feel secure enough in my relationship with Savannah to invite another person into the bedroom with us.”
I know he can see the surprise on my face. There’s no way I can hide it. That wasn’t at all the answer I was expecting. Because he was jealous. Because he was possessive. Because she was his . Any of those. But an admission like that? Never crossed my mind.
He takes another step in my direction.
“Anything else you want to know?”
I force a swallow and stand up straighter. I try to school my face into something more neutral. Business-like. I’m just seeking information. That’s all.
“You didn’t feel secure in your relationship with Savannah, but you felt secure with groupies? Was that the only selection criteria? Groupies?”
His head tilts slightly to the side, and I see something flash in his emerald eyes. I swear his pupils dilate, and when he speaks, his voice sounds rougher than it did seconds earlier.
“I... selected ...women who were interested in being shared for the sexual experience—for the extreme pleasure we could bring each other—without threat of getting my heartbroken.”
“So...it’s not something you’d do with someone you have feelings for...?”
His lips quirk up a fraction at the corner, and he shakes his head once. “I didn’t say that.”
I furrow my brow. “But with Savannah?—”
“With Savannah, there was no trust. I had no desire to be vulnerable with her in that way, and I wasn’t confident that our connection could survive it.”
I sink my teeth into my lower lip and hold his gaze as I contemplate his words. I keep coming back to one question. One follow-up that threatens to launch from my mouth with excessive force, so I bite harder. Torren’s lips twitch again, and he closes the distance until he’s less than a foot in front of me.
“Ask me.”
My forehead creases with doubt, and he finally lets his smirk break free. It’s small, yet infuriatingly taunting.
“Ask me the question.”
I take several more breaths. “So, if you were in a relationship with someone you felt...secure with...?”
“If I was in a relationship with someone who I trusted—who I was confident would still be mine after—and she wanted to experience it, I would do it. Once.”
“Oh.”
His admission brings a visual to the forefront of my mind. A fantasy that makes my nipples pebble and a heated flush surge to my cheeks. I watch as his eyes grow hooded, and the small smile spreads, showing those white teeth and sharp canines. I can practically feel them biting into the soft flesh of my thighs, and my blush spreads to my neck and chest.
“You naughty girl. How long have you been thinking about it?” His fingertips trace my jaw, then ghost over my lips, pressing on the bottom one before wrapping lightly around my neck. The cold silver of his rings feels erotic against my burning skin, and my eyes flutter shut. “You want to be fucked by me and Jonah, Firebird?”
I don’t let myself say yes, but I don’t say no. I can’t say no, because fuck , I do want it. I’ve wanted it ever since I learned about it. Just once. Just to know what it’s like. Just to have the experience. They’ve done it before, so I’m sure they’d make it good for me, and it’s been over a year since I’ve had sex. Goddamn Jonah for sparking these thoughts. Goddamn Torren for seeing right through me.
I press my thighs together, and Torren tightens his grip on my neck, coaxing a tiny whimper from my lips.
“Are you picturing it? Pressed between us. Both of us on you. In you.”
I suck in a shuttering breath and force my eyes open. I’m met with dilatated pupils deep with hunger. This is not where I saw this conversation going when I stormed off at dinner, but now that we’re here, I don’t even try to get out of it.
“We’d worship you,” he says, his voice low and husky. “But you already know that, don’t you?”
He gazes into my eyes, and I just know he can read my thoughts. I just know he can see the nights and nights of my fantasies portraying exactly what he’s just said. I can’t hide any of it from him anymore, and I don’t want to.
He leans in close, brushing his lips over mine before putting his mouth to the shell of my ear.
“If you want it, if you really want it, I’ll give it to you. All you have to do is ask. But only once. Your heart belongs to me, Firebird, and once you’re mine, I won’t share.”
When he steps away from me, dropping his hand from my throat, I turn and bolt for my room. I can hear his chuckle through the door. I give myself ten deep breaths to try and calm down, but when that doesn’t work, I dig through my duffle for my pajamas, my toiletries, and my toothbrush. I’m going to take a freezing cold shower to help calm me down. Then, maybe, hopefully, I’ll be able to fall to sleep.