He shrugs at my unfinished question and backs away. “I wondered what it’s like to kiss you before I go on stage. Next time I’m going to tongue your cunt so I taste you when I’m up there.”

I smile, all tingles and flutters in a very specific place as he waltzes out the door.

Next time.

Foster said next time.

* * *

The band’s mood shifts for the better once the bus crosses the Texas border. They still have three shows before the break in Austin, but it revives them. A light at the end of the tunnel, so to speak.

If only the light was an adorable lantern, hanging as a welcome to a peaceful garden, and not a bullet train ready to annihilate.

During their day off between the Dallas and Houston shows, Christian’s rented a bungalow not far from the arena for the guys to work. He usually hangs around with me and Colt, but the manager ducks out shortly after we arrive.

I’m mostly company for Colton at this point since I rarely have anything to shoot. They stay on the upper floor while we fight over movies on the main. I fold and let him pick to avoid the pettiness he’s ready to engage in. But after the band takes a break three hours in, Foster pauses on his way to the open stairway.

“Grab your handheld,” he says to me. I cock my head in question, and he angles his back. His mouth lifts, eyes soft. “The space is a beautiful thing.”

I frantically grab my cam and follow him up.

The two of us haven’t been remotely alone since he kissed me in the dressing room two shows ago. We have these intense moments where we watch each other. Maybe because we spent so much time not being able to.

As we reach the top of the stairs, his fingers skim across my back, slipping under the top of my jeans. Skin on skin.

“I owe you an interview,” he says, voice hushed. He leads me across a catwalk, overlooking the living room. “We should do it tonight.”

I smile over at him but stay suspicious. “Really? Have you run out of ways to avoid it?”

“Mmm. Not even close. But it gets me alone with you before I say fuck it and carry you off. So, it’s in everyone’s best interests.”

We stop outside a dark wooden door at the end. He looks over, my mouth his focus. He licks his lips, drags his teeth over the bottom one. But then his eyes flick up, and he studies me, growing serious.

“Then we can talk,” he says, pushing down on the handle, “about everything.”

He misses me flinching. Inside. Outside. Hell, even the aura around me jolts at what he’s asking of me. Because everything’s not the weather. It’s about everything before. The reason I disappeared on him.