Color Me Crazy (30 page)

Backstage, there were even more people than before the show. Many were fans, and an air of expectation hovered, so tangible it almost crackled. “Meet and greet time,” Sheik said, opening the door to the dressing room. “You’ll be spending it in here.”

The door opened right into Julian. People screamed his name at the sight of him, but he only had eyes for Cleo, and they were frantic.

“Are you okay? I heard you’d fainted.” He looked her up and down for injuries.

“She swooned,” Sheik said.

“I did not. I felt faint, that’s all. Haven’t really eaten today.”

“She hit the floor,” Sheik said. “Swooned from your guitar playin’ and hip swayin’.”

Cleo rolled her eyes, but Julian didn’t smile. He led her to the couch as if she were an invalid, kissed her forehead, and started screaming for someone to bring her a cookie.

“How are you feeling now?” he asked.

“Fine. Honestly, I’m embarrassed. Of all the things I thought I might do to make a fool out of myself, this wasn’t even on the list.”

“Don’t be silly,” he said. “I’ll sit with you until you’re better.”

“Oh, no, you won’t, Princess,” Sheik snapped. “She’s not going to die. Get your fucking ass out there and schmooze with your adoring fans. I’ll get Louis to take care of her.”

“Sheik, under the circumstances, I think I should be excused from the meet and greet.”

“That’s why I call you Princess,” Sheik said. “They paid good money for meet and greet passes, and we gotta give ’em what they paid for.”

“Go on, Julian. Good grief, I’m fine.” Spoken like a true rock star girlfriend.

Julian sighed, stood, and went to the door. He glanced back one last time before opening it, then screams rose as he stepped out.

After finishing off a couple of cookies and sitting mindlessly for fifteen minutes, Cleo couldn’t stand it any longer. She stood, felt fine, and headed for the door. Bracing herself for the din, she yanked it open. But there was no more screaming, just a manageable buzz of what seemed like a million conversations. The crowd, content and patient, stood in line for turns with the band members. Cameras flashed, and mild applause and laughter rang out here and there.

Cleo nudged her way through the fans. One of the lines was longer than the others, and it was Julian’s. A girl kissed him on the cheek and walked away, and another took her place. Julian exchanged a few words with her, smiled wickedly, and popped the cap off his magic marker. Then he aimed it at…
what the heck?

The girl had yanked her shirt up! And she wasn’t wearing a bra. The fans waiting in line shouted encouragement, and without the slightest reservation, Julian cupped a breast with one hand and signed it with the other. When he was done, she jiggled the other at him. But instead of signing it, he grabbed it and posed as if he were going to bite it.

“I like to leave an impression,” he joked. The fans roared as if it were the most hilarious thing in the world. Cleo turned on her heel to march back to the dressing room and ran smack into a brick wall of muscle.

“Hold on there, champ,” said Sheik. “No need to get your panties in a bunch. It’s all part of the show. This sort of thing is expected—he’s just doing his job.”

“It’s his job to fondle breasts?” So much for the good and brave rock star girlfriend. Bitchy and possessive felt better.

“I don’t know that you could call it fondling. Chill out. You want some wine, or a soda, maybe?”

“No. What I want is for this to be over.”

Sheik’s granitelike brow softened. If Cleo didn’t know better, she’d swear he had feelings. “Well, you’re in luck,” he said, turning his attention to the crowd. “Okay, folks! The meet and greet is over,” he bellowed. Sounds of disappointment rang out, but nobody argued with Sheik.

Julian’s face lit up as he spotted her. He hurried over. “Somebody’s feeling better,” he said.

“Actually, I’m not.” She tried to be curt, but Julian didn’t pick up on it. His eyes filled with concern as he gently placed a hand on her forehead.

“Let’s get you sitting down again. Are you dizzy?”

“No, you idiot.” She spun to walk away and caught Sheik miming to Julian, snapping his teeth together.

“Oh,” Julian said, spinning her around to face him. His eyes twinkled. “That was nothing. Just a publicity stunt.”

Unbelievable.

“Are you nuts? I do not want you looking at, touching, or biting anyone’s breasts. I mean, how would you feel if I…”

Julian and Sheik waited while she failed to come up with an adequate comparison. Her face flushed. “Let’s go,” she said, grabbing Julian’s hand. “We need to talk.”

“After-party, Princess,” barked Sheik. “You’re not going anywhere.”

Oh, God. Her eyes stung. Was she freaking going to cry? This was the last place she wanted to be…backstage at a concert, watching rock stars—one of them her
boyfriend
—be idiots. She wanted to take Julian home, back to Soundbox, where people were real, the art was what mattered, and nobody bit strangers for publicity.

But what would happen if she came out and told him? She remembered what he’d looked like on the stage, the sheer magnitude of the magic. She shifted her face away before someone saw a tear escape.

Too late. Sheik saw it and let out a groan. “What the fuck,” he said to Julian. “I’ll tell Seth you had an emergency. But don’t think I’m going to let you skip one again.”

Donnie pulled the limo away from the Target Center, and the privacy divider slid up silently.

“Why so quiet, love?” Julian brought her hand to his lips and delivered a feathery kiss. “Didn’t you enjoy the show?”

“Sure,” she said. The band had been amazing—the energy insane—and Julian had performed a song just for her. But it had been a lie. Just a show.

A moment or two of silence passed. “Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?”

“One guess, genius.”

“The biting thing?”

“Wow, you didn’t even need to phone a friend. What else have you been doing on this tour that you think is totally acceptable but absolutely isn’t?”

“I can’t recall what that girl—or her tits—even looked like. I don’t understand why you’re feeling threatened.”

“I am not feeling threatened!”

“Then what is it, baby?” He took her face in his hands. “Look at me.
I love you.
”

His voice didn’t waver. He stared at her as if she were the only star in a dark sky. Her heart, frozen with worry, began to thaw.

“Can I kiss you?” Julian whispered.

There was nothing in the world she wanted more. He slipped his hand behind her head, and she closed her eyes, falling into him. He kissed her lightly, his lips soft and sweet.

She needed more. Too many emotions ran through her. She needed one of them to come front and center so she could focus on it. She bit Julian’s bottom lip—some punishment was in order—and he gasped. She took control and invaded his mouth with her tongue. He accepted it eagerly and sucked on it in a rhythmic manner that was delightfully filthy. He broke the kiss.

“Oh,” he whispered, his eyes still closed. “That was the color of rubies.”

“What was?”

“That suction sound, when we kissed. Like this.” He kissed her again. Little kisses over and over.

“Hear it? It’s like rubies raining down.”

He put his lips back on hers, then kissed his way down to her neck. She sighed in bliss.

“Emeralds,” he whispered.

He ran his tongue along her collarbone, and she moaned softly. “Mmm, amethysts. Do that again, Cleo.” His hand went beneath her shirt, and she had no choice but to do it again.

She began unbuttoning her blouse, anticipating where he was going to put that delicious mouth next. Predictably, he licked downward, following her fingers as they left each button.

“Let me,” he said. With one quick yank, all the buttons flew off. “Sorry. It’s been a while, so prepare to be ravished.” He winked, but unbridled passion flashed in his chocolate-brown eyes.

Cleo squeezed her thighs together and shivered. “Bring it.”

He palmed her breast and squeezed, then pulled the cup of her bra down, lifting her breast out and covering it with kisses. “I adore you,” he said, before moving to the other breast. He took his time, like she was something sweet to savor.

The concert, the groupies, the fans…it all washed away so she could be fully present with this man, her real boy who happened to come with a guitar, a limo, and a hit single. He was every thrill she’d ever chased, every fantasy she’d ever dreamed, and yet, all she wanted was the man, stripped of glitter and fame, naked and real before her.

She found it hard to keep still as he continued his ministrations to her breasts. He kissed, he nibbled, he used that silver stud in all the right ways and the thrill went straight between her legs, a place he wasn’t paying any attention to at all.

“Julian, please,” she begged.

“Please what?” he whispered, letting his warm breath brush her nipple.

Ah, she didn’t know what to say. She knew what she wanted. She knew it distinctly. His hand needed to go lower, up her skirt, and touch her. And she needed him to do it right now, before she combusted on the spot.

“Touch me,” she said.

He held a breast in each hand, squeezing her nipples between his thumbs and fingers. And she squeezed her thighs together in agony.

“I am touching you,” he said.

“Not there.”

“Then where?”

She moved her hips and opened her legs, issuing a subtle invitation to move the action farther south.

“Julian, please.” She grabbed his hand and put it on her thigh.

“I’m sorry, love, but we seem to be having a failure to communicate.” He pulled his hand away and went back to her breasts.

He flicked a nipple with his tongue, then sucked on it. She was so sensitive now, it was hardly bearable.

“Please?”

He let her nipple pop out of his mouth and grinned at her, running his hand up her stockings, tickling her inner thigh.
Oh, finally!
But then he stopped.

She groaned as he went back to her breast, drawing her nipple deeply into his mouth. The fingers of his right hand continued brushing her inner thigh, but they didn’t go any higher. She was going to die. She sought friction by moving her hips, trying to get his fingers where she wanted them, but it was all to no avail. “Julian,” she snapped.

“Where do you want me to touch you, baby?” he whispered. His eyes darkened, and his nostrils flared. “Say it.”

She did not have a limited vocabulary. She had a broad and extensive vocabulary. Several words came to mind, and not a single one seemed appropriate to the occasion. One or two of them, while technically correct, ran the risk of shutting things down completely. And the others…

She knew what he wanted her to say. His eyes bored into hers, urging her, daring her, begging her to say it. She placed her lips at his ear and whispered the dirtiest word she knew.

He growled in response, then kissed her hard. He called her his dirty girl, his little slut, and it should have upset her, infuriated her, mortified her, but it didn’t. It turned her on.

She grabbed his face. “Do it.”

His fingers went exactly where she needed them to go, inside her panties, inside her, and she exploded.

Julian raised his eyebrows. “You’re kidding me.”

She couldn’t breathe enough to answer. The waves and contractions flowed through her body. Julian kept his eyes on hers, watching and feeling, and at just the right moment, he moved his finger while rubbing the magic spot with his thumb.

“Stop,” she wheezed.

Julian pouted. “Really? Because you know what will happen if I don’t.”

She did know. She’d have another orgasm, and this one would be mind-blowing. And probably noisy. “I don’t want Donnie to know what we’re doing back here,” she stage-whispered.

“He won’t know. We’re soundproofed. Mostly.”

“Mostly?”

“Come on, now. Lean back, and we’ll go for the double.”

Sex with Julian was over-the-top—he instinctively knew what to do to give her pleasure—and he could do it forever. She leaned back on the seat and smiled, giving permission for him to do whatever he pleased.

He pulled her panties down over her boots and held them up in triumph before shoving them in his pocket. “My second pair of the tour. Got my first pair from a hot little number I did on the bus.”

The bus. That had been fun. And noisy. She closed her legs.

“Donnie is literally a few feet away. We’ll be at the hotel soon. Let’s wait.” She chewed on her thumbnail and held her knees firmly together.

Julian placed his hands on her knees and raised an eyebrow, then exerted enough force to part her legs. She tried to snap them shut.

“Are you struggling against me? I like that.”

She hadn’t known he liked that. The idea of putting up a fight sounded fun. She forced her knees back together and made what she hoped was a struggling type of sound.

Julian immediately dropped his hands from her knees. “Sorry,” he said. “I was just playing around. We can wait.”

Cleo sighed and rolled her eyes. “I was playing around, too, you goof.” She winked at him and went limp. “Your turn. Pretend to overpower me.”

“Oh.” He grinned. “In that case…”

In a flash, he wrenched her knees apart and held them open. Just to see what would happen, Cleo tried to close them. And they didn’t budge. He was strong. She tried again, adding a petite grunt with her efforts, but he held fast, growling in response.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m looking,” he said. “God, I’ve missed you.”

He ran his hands from the insides of her knees to the insides of her thighs, bringing his fingers together at her tingling flesh. He teased her there, then opened her legs wider, eliciting a sigh.

“Pink,” he whispered.

“What?”

“That little sigh. Hot pink. Like your—”

“Julian!”

She tried to sound exasperated but was too turned on to swing it. If Julian kept this up, she would come undone, and everyone within a one-mile radius would know it, mostly soundproofed limo or not.

He knelt on the floor next to the seat and dropped his head between her legs. She was definitely going to come undone.