The Ending I Want
Page 45
Liam chuckles.
“But, seriously, how did you get backstage passes? I imagine getting backstage passes to meet The Mighty Storm would be like trying to win a golden ticket to get inside Willy Wonka’s Chocolate Factory.”
Or like getting gold dust.
He got me gold dust.
I don’t know whether to hug him or kiss him or give him a blow job right now.
He smiles again and gives a lazy shrug. “I got them because I’m me.”
And that’s all he says. Because it’s all he needs to say.
Sometimes, I forget just who Liam is and how rich he is. I guess it’s because he doesn’t live an excessively wealthy lifestyle. Sure, he has a nice apartment, but he’s not flashy. He goes to the pub with his friends and takes me to the carnival.
To me, he’s just Hunter. Amazingly sweet, hot, funny, fantastic-in-bed Liam Hunter.
Leaning my face to his, I plant a firm kiss on his lips. “You are awesome,” I tell him.
“Only awesome?”
I tip my head back and look in his eyes. “Nope. You’re phenomenal.” I kiss him again on the lips. “And wonderful.” Another kiss. “And incredible.” I place my hands on his cheeks. “You are perfect, Liam Hunter.” I brush the tip of my nose over his, staring down into his autumn eyes.
“I’ll take all of those.” He tugs me down to his mouth, leaving a whisper of air between our lips. “But I want a proper thank-you kiss.”
So, I give him one.
And when I let him up for air, he’s breathing hard, and he’s also hard beneath my ass.
“You need help with that?” I wiggle my ass against his erection.
His eyes move from me to the clock on the wall and then back to me. He sighs. “It’ll have to wait until later, babe. We need to get ready and head to the stadium soon.” He gives my ass a slap.
So, I climb up off him and excitedly head to get dressed for my date with The Mighty Storm.
I’m going to meet The Mighty Storm! I’m going to meet Jake Wethers!
Oh God. What in the hell am I going to wear?
“Are you sure you’re okay in the standing area?”
I tip my head back against Liam’s chest and smile up at him. “I’m sure.”
“We can use my company’s private box if you change your mind. Just say the word.”
I can see his company’s private box. It’s way up high above the seating. I know company boxes are supposed to be exclusive, but it just seems too far away from the stage and the action.
I want to be right where we are, in the thick of it.
Sure, it’s pretty cramped, bodies all squished together, and I’m also sure the squishing will increase when The Mighty Storm comes onstage. But I honestly don’t mind.
I want to experience a rock concert.
This right here is the experience.
It also helps that I have Liam pressed up against my back, his hands resting on my hips with his fingers hooked through the belt loops on my jeans, while he acts like my very own personal body shield.
Seriously, no one can get too close with his six-three huge body covering mine.
He’s already warned one guy for getting too close. Poor guy. I told Liam to chill, which earned me a rumble of displeasure in response.
On the drive to the stadium, Liam said he’d gotten tickets for standing near the stage, or we could use his company box. The choice was mine. Of course, I said standing.
Being down here with him feels right.
Liam might be wealthy, but he just fits in just fine with me and everyone else.
Dressed in blue jeans, brown working boots, a fitted black T-shirt, and a biker-style jacket, he looks droolworthy. And more like he should be a member of The Mighty Storm than the businessman he is.
We unknowingly coordinated our outfits, which caused us to laugh.
I’m dressed in a black tank top and blue jeans with brown flat ankle boots and a leather jacket that I brought in my overnight bag with me to his place. I thought I’d wear these clothes to save me from going back to the hotel to change.
“I’m fine here,” I tell him, looking back to the stage. “And you can bet I won’t be changing my mind. I’m near the front of the stage—meaning, I’m literally within grabbing distance of Jake Wethers.” I grin, rubbing my hands together.
We’re on the second row back. I had a clear view of the opening band, who just finished five minutes ago. We’re so close to the stage that I could make out the words the guy had tattooed on his neck. That means I’ll be able to see Jake Wethers’s tattoos and his face and super hot body up close as well.
I know I’m meeting Jake and the rest of the band after the show. But, seriously, I want to pee just at the thought of them coming out onstage. What will I be like when I’m actually face-to-face with them?
God, please don’t let me act like a total basket case when I meet them.
My only saving grace is that Liam will be there to keep me under control.
Speaking of, he’s been quiet for a while.
I tilt my head back again to look up at him.
His face looks tight. I can see the muscles in his jaw working, like he’s grinding his teeth, and his lips are pressed together in a firm line.
His eyes move down to look at me. When I say look, it’s more of a glare. He doesn’t look happy.
“What’s the matter with you?” I say in an overly high-pitched voice to try to make him smile.
He doesn’t smile. But he does speak, “No grabbing Jake Wethers when he comes onstage or later when you meet him, Boston. I mean it.” His tone is really off. He sounds like he’s angry with me.
“But, seriously, how did you get backstage passes? I imagine getting backstage passes to meet The Mighty Storm would be like trying to win a golden ticket to get inside Willy Wonka’s Chocolate Factory.”
Or like getting gold dust.
He got me gold dust.
I don’t know whether to hug him or kiss him or give him a blow job right now.
He smiles again and gives a lazy shrug. “I got them because I’m me.”
And that’s all he says. Because it’s all he needs to say.
Sometimes, I forget just who Liam is and how rich he is. I guess it’s because he doesn’t live an excessively wealthy lifestyle. Sure, he has a nice apartment, but he’s not flashy. He goes to the pub with his friends and takes me to the carnival.
To me, he’s just Hunter. Amazingly sweet, hot, funny, fantastic-in-bed Liam Hunter.
Leaning my face to his, I plant a firm kiss on his lips. “You are awesome,” I tell him.
“Only awesome?”
I tip my head back and look in his eyes. “Nope. You’re phenomenal.” I kiss him again on the lips. “And wonderful.” Another kiss. “And incredible.” I place my hands on his cheeks. “You are perfect, Liam Hunter.” I brush the tip of my nose over his, staring down into his autumn eyes.
“I’ll take all of those.” He tugs me down to his mouth, leaving a whisper of air between our lips. “But I want a proper thank-you kiss.”
So, I give him one.
And when I let him up for air, he’s breathing hard, and he’s also hard beneath my ass.
“You need help with that?” I wiggle my ass against his erection.
His eyes move from me to the clock on the wall and then back to me. He sighs. “It’ll have to wait until later, babe. We need to get ready and head to the stadium soon.” He gives my ass a slap.
So, I climb up off him and excitedly head to get dressed for my date with The Mighty Storm.
I’m going to meet The Mighty Storm! I’m going to meet Jake Wethers!
Oh God. What in the hell am I going to wear?
“Are you sure you’re okay in the standing area?”
I tip my head back against Liam’s chest and smile up at him. “I’m sure.”
“We can use my company’s private box if you change your mind. Just say the word.”
I can see his company’s private box. It’s way up high above the seating. I know company boxes are supposed to be exclusive, but it just seems too far away from the stage and the action.
I want to be right where we are, in the thick of it.
Sure, it’s pretty cramped, bodies all squished together, and I’m also sure the squishing will increase when The Mighty Storm comes onstage. But I honestly don’t mind.
I want to experience a rock concert.
This right here is the experience.
It also helps that I have Liam pressed up against my back, his hands resting on my hips with his fingers hooked through the belt loops on my jeans, while he acts like my very own personal body shield.
Seriously, no one can get too close with his six-three huge body covering mine.
He’s already warned one guy for getting too close. Poor guy. I told Liam to chill, which earned me a rumble of displeasure in response.
On the drive to the stadium, Liam said he’d gotten tickets for standing near the stage, or we could use his company box. The choice was mine. Of course, I said standing.
Being down here with him feels right.
Liam might be wealthy, but he just fits in just fine with me and everyone else.
Dressed in blue jeans, brown working boots, a fitted black T-shirt, and a biker-style jacket, he looks droolworthy. And more like he should be a member of The Mighty Storm than the businessman he is.
We unknowingly coordinated our outfits, which caused us to laugh.
I’m dressed in a black tank top and blue jeans with brown flat ankle boots and a leather jacket that I brought in my overnight bag with me to his place. I thought I’d wear these clothes to save me from going back to the hotel to change.
“I’m fine here,” I tell him, looking back to the stage. “And you can bet I won’t be changing my mind. I’m near the front of the stage—meaning, I’m literally within grabbing distance of Jake Wethers.” I grin, rubbing my hands together.
We’re on the second row back. I had a clear view of the opening band, who just finished five minutes ago. We’re so close to the stage that I could make out the words the guy had tattooed on his neck. That means I’ll be able to see Jake Wethers’s tattoos and his face and super hot body up close as well.
I know I’m meeting Jake and the rest of the band after the show. But, seriously, I want to pee just at the thought of them coming out onstage. What will I be like when I’m actually face-to-face with them?
God, please don’t let me act like a total basket case when I meet them.
My only saving grace is that Liam will be there to keep me under control.
Speaking of, he’s been quiet for a while.
I tilt my head back again to look up at him.
His face looks tight. I can see the muscles in his jaw working, like he’s grinding his teeth, and his lips are pressed together in a firm line.
His eyes move down to look at me. When I say look, it’s more of a glare. He doesn’t look happy.
“What’s the matter with you?” I say in an overly high-pitched voice to try to make him smile.
He doesn’t smile. But he does speak, “No grabbing Jake Wethers when he comes onstage or later when you meet him, Boston. I mean it.” His tone is really off. He sounds like he’s angry with me.
