We told them everything we knew—and I even remembered to tell the investigators that Jax thought he'd seen Darrel. It turned out the side of the stage where Jax spotted him was right where the fire had started. They took it as a tip and searched his property, and found plenty of evidence for not just the Anarchy Fest arson, but half a dozen other unsolved crimes related to the Reapers.

They even found pictures he'd taken of us, showing how he'd followed Jax and me almost everywhere after that night. After Jax realized his "hallucinations" had actually been Darrel, he calmed down a lot. Every week, he was making progress in therapy, and his nightmares were getting under control.

I smiled, taking one last look at the article, and tossed the paper in the trash. Sometimes, you really could put the past behind you.

On the counter below the paper was a tiny box, with a little note on top. "With so much to celebrate, I couldn't resist. — J"

I grinned at the surprise—he must have left it there while I was showering. Opening the lid, I saw a dangling pair of earrings that dripped with emeralds and diamonds. Oh my god, Jax. I marveled as I took them out of their velvet-lined box, watching how the gems sparkled in the light. They matched my dress for the show perfectly.

Suddenly, I had an idea. I twisted my hair up, put the earrings on one by one, then dropped the towel.

The earrings glittered enticingly, contrasting against my pale skin and red hair. Perfect. I walked out of the bathroom wearing nothing but a seductive smile.

"I know you probably got them to match my dress," I said, turning the corner to the suite bedroom. Jax, his back turned to me, stood half-dressed next to the bedroom's sunken tub. "I thought you might like them better like this."

He turned around to face me, and his brow rose in a sexy arch as a broad smile spread across his lips. "You were right," he said, taking off the pants he'd clearly just put on. God, I loved the sight of his naked body—I never got tired of watching him strip. "I like it so much, in fact, that it makes me remember a certain night in Las Vegas."

On the nightstand, a ringtone started playing from Jax's phone. I looked toward it, and then toward him. "That was a good night," I said, ignoring the phone to wrap my arms around his bare skin. It had been ringing off the hook with interview requests ever since news broke about the nomination—and the last thing either of us wanted right at this moment was media attention.

Jax brought his mouth down to hover near my ear, sending a shiver through my shower-damp body. "I'm aching for you, Riley."

I looked down to see his erection, thick and rock-hard, and felt warm wetness starting to develop between my legs. He brought a finger slowly down my chest and stomach, then further down until I gasped with pleasure.

He teased at the wet folds gently, slowly, until I felt like my body was on fire with yearning for his touch. His lips brushed against my ear as he said:

"Wrap your legs around me. I want you. Now."

Distantly, I registered another ringtone playing, but I had more important things to do. I brought my legs up around his strong, muscular thighs, longing to feel him inside me. Looking into my eyes, he stepped into the sunken tub, carrying me with seemingly effortless ease.

With the warm water all around us, I brought my hand up to his face, tucking a tendril of his long hair back behind his ear—and then I felt him slip into me, filling me deeply, all at once, making my back arch with surprise and pleasure.

I loved how he fit inside me, and I gasped as he thrust in rhythm. His hands grasped my hips as we moved as one, bringing each other close to the edge of ecstasy.

Using tight, controlled thrusts, he skillfully found my rhythms, going deeper just when I needed it, just when my eyes pleaded for more. I'd never had a lover like Jax—one whose skills just kept getting better the longer we stayed together.

As his body pressed in close against mine, his cock ramming into me harder, faster, I found myself getting closer and closer to the point of no return. The ringtone kept blaring, but I just didn't care. His eyes looked into me, as if they could see all the way through me, intense, always watching, always aware of my pleasure.

My climax began with an intensity that shocked even me, bubbling through my body like orgasmic champagne, rising from the tips of my toes to the top of my head. I screamed out, thrashing in the water as my body clenched down around him, and saw his eyes grow wide with sensation as his orgasm rocked his body.

As the wave of pleasure receded, we looked at each other. "Good timing," I said.

"I try," he said, giving my ass a playful smack, and we both started laughing.

Suddenly, we heard the telltale sound of a card key being inserted into the hotel room lock. Both of us covered our bodies instinctively as the door sprung open with the sound of loud chatter.

"We tried calling," Kev's voice called out above the din, "but you guys didn't—"

When Kev turned the corner to the bedroom, Jax was standing in the sunken tub, struggling to get himself covered, and I was hiding behind him, my elbows and face poking out from behind his body.

"I think maybe you'd better wait out in the hall," Jax said gruffly, his face remaining totally expressionless while Kev's went beet red.

"I think you're right, buddy," Kev said, shielding his eyes. "You guys take your time. But, uh, not too much. I'm pretty sure they don't stop the Grammys for anybody. Not even the favorites."

***

An hour and a half later, as I sat sipping champagne from back seat of a limo, Sky pointed excitedly at a crowd gathering on a sidewalk ahead. "We're almost there! Look!"

In front of the crowd, a huge vintage limo stopped, and we watched a couple in formal clothes get out while being swarmed by fans. "Is that Brangelina?" I whispered to Sky, who nodded wordlessly, mouth agape.

We slowed to a crawl in the line of limos letting people out. When it was finally our turn, Jax turned to me. "You ready?" he asked.

"Ready as I'll ever be," I said, taking one last look in my compact mirror before putting it back in my bag.

The driver opened the limo door, and the band stepped out onto the red carpet, dates in tow. Jax and I stepped out last, and were nearly blinded by the flood of flashbulbs that surrounded us.

Reporters and audience members screamed a hundred questions at once as we stepped down the long red carpeted hallway. It took half an hour to walk fifty feet while interviewers shoved mics in the band's faces and stopped them for press photos.

"Is it true that all the songs on your album were written in just two weeks' time?"

"That's right," he said, flashing a grin and squeezing me close to him as he answered the question. "But then, I had some pretty amazing inspiration."

"What do you have to say about rumors that The Days of Wanting Her Back is the favorite to win Album of the Year?" one reporter, dressed in a red gown with a mermaid-style skirt, asked Jax.

"I can't possibly comment on that," he said, looking suave as he smiled, raising his scarred brow. "All the nominees are talented—we're happy just to be nominated today."

The funny thing was, unlike most of the people at the award ceremony, he was probably the only one telling the truth. For Jax, going from homeless runaway teenager to rock sensation was plenty. An award on a shelf, he'd told me the week before, would just be a pretty paperweight.