“No matter what I do,” Clay whispered in the shell of my ear. “Keep your eyes on him.”

The song ended and another began, and I learned that stamina was another of Clay’s attributes. He never tired of touching me, teasing me, kissing along every bit of exposed skin he could find. He even slid my blouse down off my shoulder, sucking and biting at the skin there while I watched him before he did a subtle nod for me to turn my gaze back to the stage.

I didn’t know how long had passed before, suddenly, he stopped.

A gasp expelled from my chest when he did, and I lurched forward, toward the new, cold and empty space he left between us with the act.

“I’m going to go grab a drink,” he said.

“What? We have a waitress. She’ll be right—”

Clay stood, giving me a look before he mouthed, trust me.

I frowned, not understanding, not really breathing properly after however many songs of having his hands and mouth on me like that. But he just turned and walked away just as Shawn finished the last of his song, and I righted myself, fixing my glasses and hair and smoothing a hand over my blouse and skirt.

“I’m going to take a little break and then I’ll be back to play for you beautiful people all night long. Don’t forget to leave your requests,” Shawn said, and then he propped his guitar on the stand, running his hands back through his hair. He clicked a few buttons on the controller next to him, making a soft song fill the speakers.

The next breath, his eyes were on me.

I blanched as he hopped off the stage, smiling at a few girls at one of the tables close to him as he passed. One of them reached out to hook his arm. He laughed at something she said, and all I could make out was that he promised he’d be right back.

Then, he was headed straight for me.

“Oh God,” I murmured, sitting up straighter and praying to whatever goddess was listening that I didn’t look half as much of a hot mess as I felt. I didn’t have time to check my appearance or fix a damn thing before he was standing right there in front of me, a shy smirk on his face and both hands in his pockets.

“Hi,” he said.

I blinked. “Hi.”

He watched me, his eyes floating over my blouse a brief moment before they lifted again. He threw a thumb over his shoulder. “Thanks again for that tip. It was very generous.”

I smiled, somehow holding in the snort-laugh that threatened to bubble over. “Well, I love listening to you play.”

“You come to the bar on campus, don’t you?” He tucked his hand back in his pocket. “I’ve seen you there.”

He has?

“You have?”