* * *

At nine that evening, Ashley’s phone buzzed. Just seeing Drew’s name on her screen was enough to make her heart race, even before she read the message.

Can you come by my dressing room before the show starts?

James was standing beside her in the wings backstage. The opener had come off ten minutes ago, and the crowd was getting antsy waiting for Drew to appear. She was antsy, too, mostly because she hadn’t seen him since earlier that day when he’d been doing the radio interviews downtown. He’d been deep in writing and recording mode the rest of the day, and she’d been just as busy working on her own brainstorming about the indie label. That is, when she wasn’t daydreaming and getting all hot and bothered about the incredible things they had done together in, and out, of his bed.

She hadn’t thought of herself as a creative person before, but ever since they’d made love, the world looked entirely different. Brighter. Exploding with color—and endless possibility.

Before joining Drew’s tour, she’d been desperately worried about what would happen if she applied to Stanford Business School again and didn’t get in. But now?

She smiled, thinking about all she’d accomplished today. Not just putting together a business plan for starting a record label. But a record label that was artist owned and operated. One that changed all the rules the music business had ever played by. Ashley couldn’t wait to show her fleshed-out plans to Drew. She already knew his feedback would be hugely helpful and important in working out the kinks.

But as she went to say a quick hello to Drew in his dressing room before he went on stage, the way her body was heating up more and more with every step had nothing whatsoever to do with the business plans on her computer.

And everything to do with needing to kiss him again more than she needed to take her next breath.

The security guard stationed outside Drew’s dressing room knew her on sight and smiled. “Go on in. He’s expecting you.”

This world of backstage bodyguards that had once seemed so foreign to her was now practically normal. When she’d joined Drew’s tour, she’d had no idea just how far and wide her education would go—on all fronts, both business and personal.

She’d barely opened the dressing room door when she was yanked inside. Her breath went as Drew simultaneously pulled her into his arms and locked the door behind her. His mouth crashed into hers a beat later, his kiss ravenous. Desperate.

Perfect.

His hands roving greedily over her body aroused her just as much as his lips did. God, she loved stroking her tongue across his. Loved, too, the rough, raw, seriously yummy sound of his groan as she kissed him back just as greedily.

“There were too many hours without you today, Ash.” His hands gripped her hips tightly, holding her flush against him as if he didn’t want any space there at all. “I missed you.”

“I missed you, too.” She wanted to kiss him again, but first she needed to know, “How was your recording session?”

“Really good. But it would have been better if you were there. Everything is better when you’re there.”

The next thing she knew, he was lifting her up, then placing her on the table in front of the mirror. He was so much bigger than she was, and so strong, that he was able to pick her up as if she weighed nothing at all. He slid off her jean jacket so that he could run hot kisses over every inch of the bare skin of her shoulders and arms that he’d just revealed.

She only had two dresses—the simple white one she’d been wearing when she fell into the pool and the fancier pink one Valentina had given her. When he began to run his hands slowly up from her bare calves, she was really glad she’d decided to wear the white dress tonight. There truly was nothing as good as Drew’s hands on her skin. Only his mouth could trump it.

“You taste so good,” he murmured against her lips as he slid his hands up to her thighs. “I need to taste more of you. Now.”

There was nothing she wanted more than for Drew to do just that. But the good girl still hovering inside of her couldn’t help but remind him, “You’re on in five minutes.”

“I know,” he said as he knelt on the ground in front of her and slipped his fingers beneath the sides of her panties, “but I won’t be able to make it through my show tonight if I don’t get to at least taste you now.”

She helped him lift her hips so that he could draw the fabric down her legs and off over her feet. Yes, the clock was ticking, but so was her body—a sensual bomb that was on the verge of detonation. Just as soon as Drew—

Oh God.

His mouth.