33. Callie
33
CALLIE
I’m watching the show from the VIP tent on the floor tonight. Levi, Savannah’s boyfriend, is here, too, along with a few other celebrities I’m too nervous to interact with.
I’ve spent every concert since the first either backstage or in a private box simply so I could do anything except watch the show. I said I would never watch from the floor again, and while this isn’t exactly the same location as the first night, the draw to experience the concert with the audience has been too great to ignore. Especially now that I know the truth about the role the band played in Caveat Lover’s downfall. The truth being they played no role at all.
It’s made me rethink my past interactions with all of them, but mostly Sav. Of all four band members, Sav was the most furious when she learned about what their label had done. This whole time I was thinking Sav Loveless was this evil villain who had the music industry under her thumb, but I was wrong. I think I was wrong about a lot of things.
“Oh my god, you’re Callie James, right?”
The question pulls me from my thoughts, and I spin my body toward the voice over my shoulder. It’s a girl about my age standing against the railing that separates the VIP tent from the general admission floor. I give her what I can only assume is an awkward smile before answering.
“Yeah, I am. ”
“Oh my god, can I get your autograph?”
My eyebrows and nose scrunch, and I have to swallow back a laugh. “Me?”
“Yeah! Please? Here, you can sign my shirt.”
How fucking weird. Fake date a celebrity and suddenly their fans start asking you for autographs. I look at Craig and he shrugs, so I shrug.
“Yeah, sure.”
Craig pulls a black marker out of his pocket, something I’ve noticed all the security details carry, and hands it to me before I slowly close the distance between the girl and me. She turns around, giving me her back, so I smooth out the part of her shirt on her shoulder blade.
“I’m absolutely obsessed with your sound. Do you think Caveat Lover will get back together? Maybe tour with Heartless? That would be so fucking cool. I’ve downloaded all your songs. You’re on my constant repeat playlist.”
I freeze just as I put the marker to her shirt. “Wait...what?”
“Your music! You guys are so good. I really hope you release some new stuff soon.”
I flick my eyes to Craig, and he grins before jutting his chin toward the shirt, reminding me that I need to actually sign the thing. The ink bled into the fabric, making a small black dot, so I move beneath it, so it’s positioned just above the i in my name. I sign an autograph for the first time in a long time, and then I pose for a picture. By the time the girl goes back to her friends, I’m stunned speechless, and Craig laughs.
“I scrolled your band’s social media page. You might want to prepare yourself for that happening more often.”
“Really?” I shake my head and look back toward the stage. “It’s weird.”
He shrugs. “Weird, but real.”
I huff out a laugh. I feel like that can be used to describe a lot of shit in my life all the sudden. The thought makes me blush. Torren says it’s real between us. He says it’s always been real for him. But what about for me?
I know I’m attracted to him. I always have been. He makes my stomach flip and my heart race, and I can’t pretend like his touch doesn’t conjure dirty thoughts in my imagination. I know the way my body reacts to him is real. I also know I find him to be fascinating and extremely talented. But beyond that? I’m not sure.
Where do I stand with Torren King now that I’m not burning with barely repressed hatred for him? Now that I don’t loathe his very existence and blame him for ruining my music career? I can’t just go back to the girl I was at ArtFusion. That girl worshipped the ground he walked on and thought of him more as a god than a man. And even if I could, I wouldn’t want to. That’s not a healthy balance in a relationship. If we’re even in a relationship...
I groan and drop my head back, tilting my face to the darkened sky and grumbling into the air. “Why can’t shit be easy?”
Craig laughs again, but he doesn’t answer. I sigh and push any further thoughts out of my head just as the stage lights signal that The Hometown Heartless is about to take the stage. As usual, the crowd starts to lose their damn minds, and the bodies surge forward, and I watch it all from the safety of the tent. It’s madness.
“People get wild.”
I look up into the face of Sav’s boyfriend. He’s watching the crowd, too.
“They really do.”
“It’s like this everywhere, too. Doesn’t matter where they play. It’s...well, it’s kind of amazing.”
I laugh at the awe in his voice. “You were on the first leg of the US tour, right?”
“Yeah.” He grins slightly. “You looking forward to the Canadian and European legs?”
The question catches me off guard. I thought Levi knew about my contract. I thought for sure Sav would have already filled him in on everything.
“Um...” I purse my lips. “Sure.”
“Sure?” He turns glittering eyes on me, his smile growing. “That’s not convincing.”
I force a laugh and roll my eyes. “Well, I just don’t know that I’ll be around for the Canadian and European shows. A lot can happen between now and then.”
He nods and looks away. “Suppose so. But just so you’re prepared, Savannah’s got it in her head to make us skydive in every country. ”
I laugh. “No way.”
“Yeah. We did it in Seattle a few months ago, and she’s already made plans for England, Italy, Germany, and France.” He purses his lips, almost like he’s struggling with whether or not to tell me something, before he glances at me again. “She called around and added you to the reservations.”
My brows slant as I turn to look at him. I lower my voice and glance around us before stepping a bit closer.
“Levi...you know it’s fake, right? Like, this thing with me and Torren? It’s PR. I’m only contracted through the rest of the US tour.”
Levi nods once. “Savannah told me.”
“So why would she be adding me to skydiving reservations in Europe.”
“She thinks you’ll be there.”
The first question that runs through my head is why. Why does Savannah think I’ll be with them in Europe? But when I open my mouth, something entirely different falls from my lips.
“How do you do it?”
He arches a brow. “Do what?”
“Handle it,” I say bluntly with a nod toward the stage. “Torren and Sav, I mean. Knowing their history.”
Despite the invasive and personal nature of my question, Levi doesn’t look offended. He purses his lips, and his brow furrows as he glances back at the band. For a brief moment, I wonder if he’ll answer me at all, but then he gives me a small shrug.
“I won’t lie. It was hard at first, and I was jealous. We got into a few big arguments. But then my daughter and I went on the first leg of the American tour, and it didn’t take long for me to realize I was worried about nothing. I trust Savannah. I have faith in our relationship. And honestly, I trust Torren, too.” Levi smirks. “Don’t tell him I said that.”
I laugh. “No worries.”
Levi returns my laugh and then sighs, looking toward the stage with an expression that seems almost wistful. It’s as if he’s filtering through a memory reel. One that elicits just as much love as regret. When he speaks again, his voice is softer and full of longing.
“Savannah and Torren have a complicated past, but so do I, and that’s just what it is. The past . Savannah is my today and my tomorrow. I’m not going to waste time worrying about what happened yesterday.”
Before I can say anything, the crowd erupts with cheers, marking the end of our conversation. The venue is so loud that I couldn’t talk to Levi even if I knew how to respond, so I turn my attention to the stage just as The Hometown Heartless appears one by one. Mabel, Jonah, Torren, and then Sav, the audience screaming louder and louder for each bandmember until the sound is nearly deafening.
Sav greets the audience, but all my focus falls on Torren. God, he’s sexy, especially when he’s in full rock-icon mode. All thoughts regarding skydiving and fake dating and Levi’s confession evaporate, until all I can think about is how insanely attractive I find him. How badly I want him. It’s almost dizzying.
I trust Torren, Levi had said. But can I?
Torren’s biceps flex as he picks up his bass and loops the strap over his head, the colorful tattoos covering his skin almost coming alive under the stage lights. His eyes seek out the VIP tent, then scan the bodies inside briefly before landing right on me. The smirk that transforms his full lips is full of suggestive promise, and when he winks, I feel it so viscerally that my toes curl in my heeled booties. My heart kicks up speed in my chest, my teeth sink into my bottom lip, and a flush spreads over my cheeks. I can feel eyes on me. The crowd cheers louder, confirming they all saw Torren’s wink, and they all know it was for me. It makes me blush harder, and his wicked smile widens.
I tear my eyes away from him to keep from spontaneously combusting, but because I’m apparently my own worst enemy, I let them drift to Jonah. My reaction to him is different, but no less strong. Less heart and more...well...lower. Jonah’s looking down, bleached blond hair curtaining his face, backlit by stage lights and resembling an angry, vengeful god. Then, as if he feels my attention on him, he lifts his head and finds me immediately. I get chills. He doesn’t smile, and he doesn’t wink, but he doesn’t have to. Somehow, his steady eye contact says enough.
It says, you are so fucking screwed, Calla Lily James, but you will thoroughly enjoy it .
I position myself for our post-concert public display of affection, trying and failing to ignore the fact that I’ve been waiting for it. Excited for it.
The moment I see him, skin sweat-slicked and glistening, I have to keep my feet from rushing to him. I stay put and smile, but he covers the distance too slowly for my racing heart, and I find myself reaching for him even before he’s close enough to touch.
His hand cups my neck while the other grips my hip, tugging me into him, and he smirks down at me.
“You want your hands on me, Firebird?”
I don’t have a response. I refuse to admit it out loud, so instead I do something I’ve never done. I initiate the kiss. I can tell by the way he freezes that I’ve stunned him, but it doesn’t last. He growls and slides his tongue into my mouth, and I can’t tell if he pulls me closer or if I press myself against his body all on my own. I let him kiss me feverishly, and I kiss him back with the same fervor. Then, remembering something he said four years ago, I slip my fingers into his hair.
Pull a little harder next time.
But not too hard, or we might end up giving these people a show they didn’t ask for.
As his voice replays in my head, I fist my hands and tug his hair at the root.
“Fuck.” He groans into my mouth, and I feel his lips curve upward before he speaks again. “You’re playing with fire, baby.”
Now it’s my turn to smirk. “Who doesn’t want to be a fire master?”
He laughs and presses one last kiss to my lips before taking my hand and nodding toward the dressing rooms. With each step, I work to calm my racing heart. The decision has been made even before we’re stopping at the girls’ door, and when I turn to him, I let the words loose before I can second-guess them.
“I want to come to your suite tonight.”
The fire that ignites in his eyes makes my breath hitch.
“You cashin’ in on your one time?”
I swallow and nod before forcing myself to answer. “Yes. I am.”
His eyes bounce between mine, the air thickening around us the longer we stare at one another. I wet my lips. My inhales and exhales are shaky as I wait for him to speak. Nerves claw up my throat. Irrationally, I start to worry he’ll turn me down. That it was a test of loyalty, and I failed. Why would Torren want to be in a relationship with someone who wants to sleep with his best friend? Tattoo or not, song or not, my curiosity might have just reduced his interest in me to rubble.
Finally, his lips curl into a slow, sinful smile, and the tension that had been gathering in my shoulders lessens.
“Whenever you’re ready, we’ll be waiting.”
Torren kisses me once more, heated and sensual, but over too soon, and then he turns and walks to his own dressing room. My whole body is flushed. My heart is still beating rapidly. I don’t want to have to interact with Sav and Mabel. My luck, they’ll be able to tell that something is up. I don’t want to have that conversation. I don’t want to have any conversations. So I turn to Craig and ask him quietly to take me back to the hotel.
He drives me back in silence and lets me into the suite I’m sharing with Mabel, Sav, and Levi. With a nod of thanks, I head straight to my room, strip out of my clothes, and take a long shower. I scrub every inch of my body. I shave. I groom. I scrub again. The whole time, I try like hell to calm myself down. I can’t, though.
I’m an anxious, excited, horny mess.
Walking to my closet, which is already full of clothes, I flip through the hangers.
“What does one wear to get spit-roasted by two hot rock stars?”
I bark out a laugh at the utter ridiculousness of that statement and cover my face with my hands.
“Oh my god,” I mumble into my palms. “What the hell is happening right now?”
I drop my hands and take a deep breath, then march back into the bathroom and look at myself in the mirror. I furrow my brow and point at my reflection.
“Get it together, James. You’re a mature adult. It’s just a threesome.” I snort out another laugh, then groan. “And now I’m talking to myself.” I take another deep breath and meet my own eyes once more. “Get your shit together.”
I turn and head back to the closet and think rationally. It doesn’t matter what outfit I pick. It won’t be on long. I might as well just head over there in lingerie and a bathrobe. I grab a lacy green set—almost everything in this closet is either shades of green or black—and then I take my vibrator out of my duffle.
I make myself come quickly to try to relieve some of the sexual tension, but by the time I’m stepping into the lace panties, it’s like the orgasm never happened. My clit is throbbing, and I have to stop myself from rubbing it. My nipples are so hard that when I put on the bra, they’re clearly visible through the thin lace. I take one last look at myself in the mirror, then throw on one of the big, fluffy hotel robes and tiptoe out into the suite.
Luckily, Sav and Mabel aren’t in the main room, but I run right into Craig the moment I step into the hallway.
“Everything okay, Ms. James?”
I flush bright red, and my eyes widen. I’m so embarrassed that I don’t even bother correcting him about not calling me Ms. James. Instead, I clear my throat and force a smile.
“Everything is fine. I, um, I just have to ask Torren a question.”
I must look ridiculous creeping out of the hotel suite in a bathrobe like some naked burglar. The man isn’t stupid. I’m sure he knows I’m not tiptoeing around after midnight to ask a question, but he doesn’t call me out. He just nods, then mercifully trains his gaze on the wall at the end of the hallway before I hurry to Torren’s door. I throw one last look over my shoulder at my security detail before knocking, and the door swings open immediately, revealing Torren on the other side.
He leans his shoulder on the frame and peers down at me, eyes flickering with heat. He’s shirtless, and his hair is wet. He smells clean. Freshly showered. For a moment, I wonder what it would be like to shower with him. He sinks his teeth into the lush curve of his lower lip almost as if he is wondering the same thing. He drops his gaze to my mouth, then to my chest, before bringing his attention back to my face. The way his eyes feel on my skin and the way he’s looking at me like he wants to devour every inch of my body both excites me and makes me acutely aware of my security detail at the end of the hall.
I drop my voice low and flare my eyes in warning.
“Stop looking at me like that.”
He arches a brow. “Like what?”
“Like you want to eat me. ”
I realize my mistake as a slow smirk turns up the corners of his full lips. “Isn’t that why you’re here?”
I force myself to roll my eyes instead of melting into a quivering puddle of lust. Because yes, that is exactly why I’m here.
“Can I come in, please?” I ask with false bravado, and he nods before opening the door wider to allow me to enter.
I feel his eyes on me as I walk past him. My heart is pounding so fast that I’m lightheaded, so when Torren gestures to the couch, I take a seat.
“Do want to get comfortable?” Torren crosses the room as he speaks to me, hands tucked into the pockets of low-slung sweats. I keep my eyes locked on his face instead of letting them drift lower. “I could get you something to drink. Wine? Water?”
I open my mouth to ask for a glass of wine, but then snap it shut again. I don’t want to suffer through small talk. I don’t want to get comfortable . I want to get fucked by two capable, gorgeous rock stars until my limbs cease to work and I pass out from exhaustion.
I shake my head and push to standing, then untie my robe, slide it down my arms, and drop it to the floor. The unadulterated need that passes over Torren’s face as he scans my body is enough to make my lace panties wet.
“That’s my favorite set. You look even sexier than I imagined.”
“You know what’s in my underwear drawer?”
He smirks. “I know every article of clothing in your wardrobe because I picked them out.”
My eyebrows shoot upward at the confession, but I don’t have a chance to speak before he’s closing the distance between us and running his fingers up the bare skin at my sides. My body erupts with chills, my stomach caving inward with a gasp.
“You have no idea how much I want to keep you to myself, Firebird.” Torren traces the outline of my lace bra, then presses his thumb to my swollen bottom lip. “But, fuck, I want to watch you go out of your mind with pleasure while we worship you, too.” I swallow roughly, then peek my tongue out to wet my lip, tasting the pad of his thumb. When he speaks again, his voice is a low rasp. “Is that what you want, baby?”
“It is. ”
He grins. “We won’t do anything you don’t want to do. This is all about you. Anything you?—”
“I want all of it. Anything you did with other women, I want.”
A low chuckle sounds from the side of the suite, and I break eye contact with Torren to glance toward the sound. Jonah is standing in front of a bedroom door with his toned arms folded over his sculpted, tattooed chest.
“Anything?” he asks, stalking toward me like a predator on the prowl. “What if I’m into debasement? What if I want to degrade you? You want that, sweets?”
Something about the way he’s staring tells me he’s fucking with me, but I can’t be sure, so I arch a brow and ask, “ Are you into that?”
He steps up next to Torren, so they’re both peering down at me, then pauses for a moment. I tilt my head to the side and study him, waiting for a response.
Slowly, a small smirk forms on his lips. “I’m not.”
Jonah drags his knuckles up my arm, then lightly wraps his fingers around my throat. With Torren’s hand at my waist and Jonah’s at my neck, my pussy throbs, and I have to swallow back a whimper. Jonah’s smirk grows before he speaks again.
“I’m not into that. But I am into wrapping my hands around your neck while I fuck you. I am into fucking you while your boyfriend fucks you, too.”
He squeezes, tightening his hold on me. I swallow again, feeling the way my throat contracts under his palm. I flick my eyes to Torren and find him watching me intently with his pupils blown wide.
“Do you want that?” Torren rasps, and I answer immediately.
“Yes.”
Torren and Jonah trade glances, an unspoken question exchanged with a single look, before they both focus their attention back on me.
“Can I fuck your ass, Calla Lily?”
My eyes widen, and my breath hitches at the question that falls from Jonah’s mouth. Torren’s lips curl into another sinful smirk. The answer is a no-brainer, confirmed by the dampness growing in my panties.
I nod once. “Yes.”
Torren chuckles. “What he really wants to know is can he fuck your ass while I fuck your pussy. Is that something you want? Is that something you can handle?”
There’s a hint of challenge in his tone that sparks my competitive nature.
“I can handle it, King.”
I give him a sweet smile, then reach behind my back to unclasp my bra. When the lacy fabric drops to my feet, I grab Jonah’s wrist and guide his hand from my throat to my breast. I don’t break eye contact with Torren, and my next statement is half-taunt, half-gasp as Jonah pinches my nipple.
“Can you ?”