I tilted my head up to look at him as he stopped a foot in front of me. My mouth dried and my throat constricted. He was so close I could smell him. Nerves in my head were misfiring and bolts of desire were shooting through my core. The scent of his sweat was like an aphrodisiac, warping my senses until all I could think about was the sweat of our bodies tangled together.

My heart was beating a million times a minute, and I was afraid it was going to explode from my chest. I opened my mouth to speak, but no words came out. My brain was a jumbled mess, coherent thought mixing with visions of me licking his bared skin from head to toe.

He tilted his head.

Oh my god. Is he going to kiss me? In front of all these people?!

My eyes closed, and my lips parted. The surface of his soft lips brushed across mine as his mouth moved to my ear. The warmth of his breath tickled the tiny hairs on my ear.

"Backstage. Twenty minutes."

I opened my eyes to see him walking past me toward the door that led backstage, leaving me in shock.

Almost simultaneously, the face of every woman around me contorted into a jealous scowl. A few had what looked like pure hatred in their eyes. Two of them were the girls that had pieces of the god’s shirt. I then realized that they each had a broken beer bottle in hand and were rushing toward me.

The crowd was still densely packed, leaving nowhere to escape. My eyes darted toward the exits, but after a split second, the reality of the situation sunk in.

I was going to die.

Chapter Two

BAMBOOZLED

Through a buzzing haze, I heard a faint voice crying out to me. What was it saying? It sounded like "snack on a chip", but that made no sense. Why would it say that?

SMACK!

A blow landed across my cheek, sending me reeling. I reached out and grabbed ahold of the counter to stabilize myself before I fell on my ass.

"Snap out of it!" I heard Jen’s voice.

"Ouch, that hurt!" Grasping my burning cheek, I blinked a few times and realized I was sitting on the same barstool I’d been sitting on earlier. Jen was beside me, a look of concern etched on her face. Wasn’t I just near the stage? Had it all been my imagination? "Was it all just a—"

"No, it wasn’t a dream, you numbskull," Jen grumbled, holding an ice pack to the right side of her face. "You see this?" She pointed to the cracked lens on her glasses. The skin beneath was already beginning to swell. "That’s real. I’m pretty sure it’s gonna be black and blue in the morning, thanks to you."

"Wuh?" I mumbled, looking around and seeing that the bar had returned to its normal state prior to the band taking the stage. Except for a few stray thongson the floor, it was as if the chaos during show never happened.

"You left me to fend for myself! I got elbowed in the face by some naked douchebag. Then I ended up saving your ass from some crazy chick trying to cut you with a broken bottle. I had to carry you back to the bar and I tell ya, you may look small, but you’re freaking heavy! I should’ve left you there."

Still recovering from the fog in my head, I squinted my eyes and rubbed my temples. "Ugh . . . What happened to the crazy girl?"

"Her boyfriend grabbed her and pulled her away. Maybe he chloroformed her or shot her with a tranq, I don’t know. Good for him if he did. All I know is she’s gone."

The haze over my mind cleared, and the situation sunk in. "Wow, you saved me. I owe you big."

"Damn straight you owe me! And you can start by telling me what that rock god whispered in your ear."

For a moment, I debated whether I should tell her the truth in case she turned into a jealous psycho like some of the other girls did, but I quickly dismissed the thought. Jen was as level-headed in the workplace as she was in her relationships with men, which was more than I could say for myself. "He told me to meet him backstage in twenty minutes." Saying the words he’d whispered into my ear sent a dark flutter through my stomach.

Her left eye widened. "No way. For what? To hook up? Why’d he single you out among all the raving female fans?"

"I—I don’t know! I mean, it did happen, right? I didn’t hallucinate it, did I?" It wouldn’t surprise me if the whole episode had only happened in my mind. The rock god’s performance had driven more than a few women batshit crazy.

"Unless I was hallucinating too, it definitely happened. Everyone near the stage saw it," Jen said. She took a deep breath. "So what are you going to do?"

I raised an eyebrow and shot her a wicked smirk. "What do you think?"

"No, Riley. Don’t." She shook her head disapprovingly. "I know you have a habit of thinking with your vagina instead of your head, but you almost got yourself killed just a few minutes ago!"

"But I didn’t," I replied. I might’ve occasionally hooked up with hot guys that didn’t have a lot of other redeeming qualities, but I wasn’t going to apologize for liking sex.

"You think he’s worth the danger to your life?"

"For one, you’re overreacting. And two, that’s a stupid question," I scoffed. "Did you see him? I mean, really look at him? Because the answer is obvious."

She sighed deeply. "Through one eye, yes, I saw him. He’s attractive for sure, but not hot enough to throw away your common sense. Please promise me you won’t go. I’m not going back there to save you if you get into trouble."

"You’re acting like my mom," I groaned.

"I’m acting like your friend," she responded, her voice somewhere between gentle and concerned. "This wouldn’t be the first time I’ve had to help you out from trouble because you got mixed up with some tattooed bad boy that turned out to be from prison."

"That was one time!"

"One time too many."

I sighed. She’d been referring to Danny, a guy I’d met online and ended up dating for a few weeks. Ever the worrywart, Jen had looked up his background and discovered he’d done a year in prison for theft. I understood that a guy having a few blotches in his past kind of came with the ‘bad boy’ territory, but there was a difference between dark and dangerous and just plain dangerous. And that’s where I drew the line.

"Look, I’m pretty sure this guy’s not from prison considering he’s a rock star. Worst he’s probably done is some drugs, which is par for the course for a rocker."

"You’re really intent on becoming a groupie, aren’t you?"

"What? No. That’s not what this is—"

"Then what is it? Don’t tell me you’re expecting to sit down with him over a cup of tea and talk about your mutual interest in music when you’re back there."

I stuck my tongue out at her. "There’s probably going to be sex, sure. But so what? I’m not going to sleep with him just because he’s some semi-famous rocker. It’s not like I get a thrill out of f**king famous people. I don’t even know his name!" I exhaled deeply, regaining composure. "He’s simply an attractive member of the male species who has expressed his interest in me, and I’m attracted to him as well."

She eyed me skeptically.

"Okay," I admitted, looking away. "So it happens that he’s also a rock god. But there’s a difference between being a groupie and being a self-respecting girl deciding to hook up with a guy she’s attracted to."