So when the photographer said, “You’re looking amazing, Drew,” for the millionth time and the woman’s assistants chimed in to agree, Ashley knew it was long past time to deal with the heat inside of her in the hopes that she could function at least halfway normally again.
She got up out of her seat, intending to slip away. Everyone but James was taking the day off while Drew did this shoot, and though there were several people there from Drew’s record label, they weren’t paying any attention to her. Ashley tried not to run off the set, even had a conversation for a good fifteen minutes with the guy running the craft services table in the next room, but she couldn’t remember ever feeling like this before, where she could only think of one thing: sex with Drew Morrison.
His hands on her.
His mouth on her.
His body moving over hers. Into hers.
Oh God...she was just making it worse, having these thoughts, letting herself spin off into fantasies again before she got back to the bus, where she could lock herself in and finally try to take the edge off her insane need.
Her hand shook as she typed in the code to unlock the bus’s door. Jesus, she was panting, too. Crazy. This was crazy. Crazier than she’d ever been before.
With Max on a day off as well while they stayed overnight, the bus was completely empty and silent. Of all the things she’d expected to learn this summer, she’d never imagined that one of them would be how to sneak away to touch herself on a tour bus. But as she locked the bus door behind her, she was too far gone to care.
The curtain was pulled in front of her bunk—she tried to be extra neat in such close quarters. She yanked it back and threw herself on the small bed. She didn’t even take the time to kick off her shoes before pulling her skirt up and slipping her hand against her heated, already damp skin.
It wasn’t nearly as good as she imagined Drew’s touch would be, but it was so much better than continuing to suffer with no touch at all, the way she’d been for the past week.
She still remembered how it had felt when he’d kissed her on the beach. The way his tongue had stroked over hers. The way his teeth had scraped her lower lip. The way his hands had gripped her hips to squeeze and pull her closer. So close that she’d easily been able to feel just how much he wanted her.
Ashley closed her eyes, and as she lay back on her pillow, letting her legs fall open even wider, she pretended he was with her in the bunk, kissing her again right now.
Would he say she was beautiful?
Would he take her shirt in his fist and rip it away so that he could kiss her breasts, too?
Or would he just keep kissing her while he slid his hand right where hers was, beneath the cotton, where she was aching for him?
She was right there on the edge, but she wasn’t ready to stop yet, wasn’t ready to go back to having to try so hard to be in control all the time. For a few more minutes, all she wanted was to enjoy the forbidden pleasure of indulging her naughty fantasies about Drew.
Chapter Seventeen
Holy hell...was this really happening?
Drew had ducked into his bedroom on the bus to grab his guitar for the next set of photos. He’d needed to get away from all those eyes on him for a few minutes, take a momentary break from all those expectations and people from the label telling him what they thought he wanted to hear. Saying how hot he looked. That he was going to smash sales records with his next album, whenever he finally got around to signing the contract and recording it. Telling him he was a superstar.
But he didn’t care about any of that. Didn’t need their praise. Didn’t, frankly, care what any of them thought about him and his music. Only one set of eyes mattered today. Only one opinion.
Ashley’s.
It figured, then, that out of everyone watching the shoot, she would be the only one he hadn’t been able to read. Did she hate it? The flash? The props? The fact that the photographer had nearly sprayed his bare chest with oil? All the big-budget, borderline ridiculous things the label had convinced him were expected at this stage of his career?
Already, he’d come to respect Ashley’s opinion a thousand times more than those of any of the Chief Records guys in suits. She knew the business as well as any of them—better, probably, because he’d never known anyone to read so much, not even his sister Olivia.
What Ashley innately understood that the guys from the label never would was what was behind the music. The heart and soul of a lyric, a melody, a rhythm, that drew ears to it. She could break a song down and analyze each piece, but she could also simply close her eyes and let the magic of it wash over, and through, her.
All through the photo shoot he’d been thinking about the ideas she’d shared with him this morning on the bus. Could he go indie? Could he put together his own company and do things his way?
But overarching even those huge career questions had been an even bigger one. Namely, how much longer did he have to wait to kiss Ashley again? All week had been a series of near misses, and frustration was bubbling up inside of him as he grabbed his guitar, opened the bedroom door to head through the living room...
And realized he wasn’t alone.
He smelled her before he heard her, the vanilla from the body wash she used in the shower instantly turning him on. He was on the verge of saying her name to let her know he was in the back of the bus when he heard what sounded like a moan.
A moan of pleasure.
A rash of jealous thoughts hit him first. Was she with someone else? Had she brought a guy back to the bus while he was doing his photo shoot?