Chapter 14
fourteen
Josh
We’ve only been in Philadelphia for a few hours, and I’m already in trouble.
Not legal trouble.
Not tour trouble.
Kate trouble.
I’m currently unable to focus on anything other than the way the black dress she’s wearing clings to her hips or how her legs seem to go on forever as she walks ahead of me toward the restaurant.
I’m supposed to be listening to her—she’s either talking about the schedule or the dinner options for tomorrow—but every time the streetlights hit her just right or those legs come back into view the only thing I can think about is having those legs wrapped around my head while I suck her clit into my mouth.
I’m trying to be respectful here, I really am, but those legs and that body are making a very convincing argument for worship.
I keep tripping over the uneven sidewalk and forgetting what I was about to say, which is normal for me, but tonight it feels worse.
Everything about her is louder than the city around us—her laugh, the way her eyes light up when she talks, the confidence in her stride—and don’t even get me started on the way she looked at me back at the hotel before we left.
Like she wore that dress on purpose and she knows she’s driving me insane.
Dinner was supposed to be a group thing.
Casual. No pressure. But then one by one, everyone bailed (“too tired,” “ordering room service,” “tracking some song ideas,” “getting some writing done”) until it was down to just me and Kate, and as she slides in across from me in this dim little booth in the corner of a very romantic Italian restaurant, it feels suspiciously like a date.
The waiter comes to take our drink orders as we look over the menu, and I decide to order the first thing I see that I can pronounce because I can’t fucking concentrate when she’s this close and I just want him to go away so I can be alone with her.
“So,” she says, setting her glass of red wine down and resting her arms on the table. “Tell me something about you I wouldn’t find in an interview.”
I shift in my seat, trying not to stare at the way the candlelight flickers off her collarbones. A part of her body I suddenly have the desire to put my mouth on.
“You don’t already know everything there is to know about me?” I ask, stalling. “Being a famous rockstar means my life is pretty much an open book.”
“I honestly wasn’t that familiar with you or the band before I took the job,” she says, looking away like admitting that bit of information is embarrassing.
“Ouch,” I say, placing my hand dramatically on my chest. “You wound me.”
She laughs and looks at me.
“I didn’t want to come into this with any preconceived notions about who you are. I read up on how long the band has been together, how you guys met, and listened to your entire backlog of songs…but I didn’t look into you at all.”
“I think I like that,” I say.
“That I wasn’t a fan?” she asks, like she’s not sure if I’m serious.
I shrug.
“That you saw me before you saw him—the version of me everyone else thinks they know.” She goes quiet, her gaze softening as she studies me and spins the stem of her wine glass in her long, slender fingers. “Although,” I add with a small smile, “you are kind of ruining the rockstar fantasy.”
“Oh no,” she says, gasping. “Whatever will you do if I don’t swoon over you?”
“I guess I’ll just have to win you over the old-fashioned way,” I say, leaning back into my side of the booth and draping my arm over the top. “Charm. Wit. Excessive amounts of pining.”
She laughs, and god, I want to bottle that sound.
“Am I what you expected?” I ask.
She tilts her head as she studies me, eyes roaming slowly over my face, then down my chest and back up. Her gaze settles on my mouth when she says, “Not at all.”
I clear my throat. “Something not in an interview…” I say, changing the subject. “I sleep with socks on. Always. Even in the summer.”
She snorts. “That’s it? That’s your deep, dark secret?”
“Hey, it’s a divisive topic,” I say. “I’m trusting you with controversial information.”
“Groundbreaking,” she deadpans, and I grin because she’s teasing me, and I love it. Love how easy it is to hang out with her. How much fun we have together.
“Fine,” I say, leaning in a little. I make a show of looking around to make sure no one is listening, and she leans in toward me like she’s about to get some juicy gossip.
“I also get weirdly obsessed with jigsaw puzzles. I once bailed on a Grammy afterparty because I was this close,” I say, holding my thumb and pointer finger up with only a small gap between them for effect, “to finishing a two-thousand-piece skyline of Seattle.”
She laughs again and my stomach flips. “Nerd,” she teases as she leans back and takes another sip of wine. I watch her throat flex as she swallows and wonder what it would feel like to wrap my hand around it. To feel those muscles work under my palm. Feel her pulse beating under my fingers.
“I am,” I say proudly, dragging myself back to reality and out of the mental bed I’m currently in with her body under mine. “But like, a hot nerd.”
She rolls her eyes.
“You’re ridiculous.”
“You’re beautiful,” I say. She looks up at me, startled. Our eyes lock and now my heart’s pounding like I’m on stage.
She doesn’t say anything at first, just presses her lips together like she’s trying to decide how to respond. Her eyes don’t leave mine right away, but then she looks down, tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, and says, “You really don’t have an off switch, do you?”
I grin. “Not when I’m around a beautiful woman.” She rolls her eyes, but I refuse to break eye contact.
“Guess I need to add ‘schedule an eye exam for Josh’ to my list of things to do when we get back,” she says, but there’s the tiniest hint of a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.
I lean back in my seat, stretching my legs out under the table until my knee bumps hers, smiling slightly when she doesn’t pull away.
“Okay, your turn,” I say. “Tell me something about you I wouldn’t find in your neatly organized and cross-referenced assistant files.”
Letting out a long exhale, she says, “I took his job to get away from an ex.” She glances at me, then down at her hands.
“He was…awful. Verbally abusive. Controlling. Isolated me from everyone I knew. Had me convinced he was the only one who cared about me. Used words to make me feel small. Cut me down little by little until there was barely anything left.”
My chest tightens. I want to find the guy and punch him. Twice. Then again for good measure.
“One of the things he used to tell me was that I was safe. Predictable. Said I never took chances or did anything out of the ordinary. So, I thought, screw it—what’s more out of character than jumping on tour with a rock band for six months?”
“How long were you with him?”
“Too long,” she says, huffing a laugh. “A little over four years. I stayed because every other person I knew was either married or having kids, and I truly believed he was the only one who would ever love me. Otherwise, why would I have been single at twenty-eight when I met him?”
I want to tell her that he clearly never knew her, not really. But I do. I know that her voice gets louder when she talks about something that matters, and she picks at the skin around her nails when she’s nervous, and she remembers everyone’s schedules but forgets to eat lunch.
I want to tell her that she’s beautiful and brave and everything good in this world, but the waiter comes over to deliver our meals and the moment is over.
“So,” Kate says, breaking the silence between us as we eat. “In all your travels, what’s your favorite place?”
“Saint Lucia,” I say, without hesitation. “It’s the most beautiful place I’ve ever seen.” She smiles. “What about you?”
“I haven’t traveled a lot,” she says. “I’ve only seen the ocean once. I’ve never even been to Disney.”
“You’ve never been to Disney?” I ask, genuinely surprised. “That’s like…a rite of passage.”
She shrugs.
“It was just me and my dad growing up,” she explains.
“We didn’t travel much—not because he didn’t want to, but because life was full enough without expensive trips.
He worked a lot to make sure I had everything I needed whether it was dance, soccer, piano lessons—whatever I was into.
He gave me stability, support, and said ‘yes’ whenever he could.
” She glances away for a beat, then adds, “I know my childhood looked different from a lot of people’s, but I wouldn’t trade it.
He did everything he could to make sure I had a good life, and I did. ”
While I’m glad she had a good life growing up, I can’t help but want to make sure she has an even better one now as an adult. Especially considering the hell she’d been living in for the last four years.
By the time we leave, it’s pouring, so we grab an Uber instead of walking, and as if strolling through the city beside her wasn’t torture enough, it’s nothing compared to being crammed into the back seat of this car.
The scent of her perfume is destroying my focus and the heat of her thigh just barely brushing mine is radiating through me.
I can’t even look at her because if I look at her, I’ll want to touch her.
And if I touch her, I’ll want to kiss her.
And I can’t kiss her without ruining everything.
We sprint from the car through the deluge and into the lobby. As the elevator doors open, I take a step forward and my wet shoes slide across the polished floor, and I stumble. Just when I think my face is about to meet the marble, Kate’s arms wrap around my waist and haul me back up.
“Got you,” she says, laughing.
If you only knew how completely you have me, Kate.
We step into the elevator and the look on her face stops my heart dead in my chest.
“Did I…did I say that out loud?” She blinks at me. Fuck. “I mean, uh…”
Her lips part like she’s about to say something, and panic barrels through me like a freight train. Instinct is telling me to run, but as I turn around to bolt like the goddamn coward I am, the elevator doors close and I’m stuck.
With Kate.
In the slowest elevator known to mankind.
“I mean—you have me…as in, like, you have my attention. Obviously.” I turn to face her and let out a forced laugh that sounds more like the wheeze of a dying animal. “Because, you know, you’re talking, and I’m listening.”
She’s still just staring at me, so I clear my throat, scrambling. “You have me—uh, interested. In this topic. The topic we were discussing. Which was…”
I’m talking too much. I know I’m talking too much, but I can’t seem to make myself stop. Because if I stop, I might actually have to face what’s happening, and to be completely honest, it’s terrifying.
“I just…I mean—”
“Josh.”
Her voice is soft but firm, and it shuts me up immediately. My pulse jumps, my stomach twists, and I feel like there’s a very good chance I’m going to throw up.
I swallow. “Yeah?”
She steps closer and my hands twitch at my sides, itching to touch her. But I don’t. I can’t. Because if I do, I will do something I can’t take back.
She smiles, and it’s like a wrecking ball to my self-control. “Shut up and kiss me already.”
Did she just—?
No way. No fucking way.
She’s looking at me, expectant and amused, waiting for me and my stupid brain to catch up.
And that’s all it takes.
I surge forward, cupping her face in my hands and kissing her like I’ve wanted to from the second she stepped out of the elevator in Cleveland. Like I’ll never get another chance.
She fists my shirt, pulling me closer, and I groan into her mouth because holy shit, she’s kissing me back. She’s all soft lips and quiet sighs, and I think I might die from how good this feels.
Better than I ever imagined.
Better than any song, any stage, any high I’ve ever chased, and I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to stop.