I needed to talk to my sister. No, not her. She’s a woman. I needed to talk to Rock. He’d understand before Trisha would. The diamond ring I’d been making payments on for the past six months didn’t seem so damn impressive anymore. Eight thousand dollars had kicked my ass, but I was making the final payment on it this Friday.

Planning how to propose to Blythe had been an even longer ordeal. I had changed my mind ten times already. I was sure I had decided what I wanted to do now, but after this . . . could I?

FUCKED! This was so f**ked.

Twenty-four thousand goddamn dollars. Motherfucker, that was insane. And it was going to get worse. She was going to be making millions at this rate. She was almost finished writing her second novel. So then she’d have two books out there making this kind of money.

I pulled my bike over and called Rock.

“What’s up?” he said by way of greeting.

“Where are you? I need to talk.”

“I’m over at the condos Dewayne has going up. I was going with him and Preston to get some lunch. Want to come with us?”

Telling Rock this was one thing. He was family. This wasn’t shit you shared with other people. “No, just need to talk to you. When will you be done with lunch?”

“Wait a sec,” Rock said. “D, I gotta go meet up with Krit. I’ll catch up with y’all later.” Then he said to me, “I’m headed to my house. Meet me there in five.”

I slipped my phone into my pocket and turned my Harley back to the road before heading to my sister’s house.

By the time I arrived, Rock’s truck was parked outside and he was leaning against it with his arms crossed over his chest, watching me. I didn’t normally come to him with stuff. He usually gave me advice I didn’t want. The truth was, Rock might be just a couple of years older than me, but he had become a safe place for me when I was a scared kid. When he had walked into our lives, I was fourteen and trying to keep my sister alive. Then Rock Taylor had stepped in and saved us both.

He was my family.

I parked my bike by his truck, then walked over to him.

“Sounds serious,” he said, studying me closely.

“It is. I think. Fuck, I don’t know.” This was so damn confusing.

“Let’s hear it.”

I had come here to tell him my problem and get advice. Backing out now was a pu**y move. With a frustrated sigh, I looked at the man I considered a brother. “I can’t propose to Blythe. Not anymore. It won’t look right,” I blurted out. That hadn’t been exactly the way I wanted to say it, but that was what came out.

My biggest fear. The one thing that was haunting me and driving me mad.

Rock frowned. “You mean after spending all that money on a ring and working shifts for Dewayne to make extra cash, you aren’t gonna propose? What the f**k happened?”

“She . . . she published her book. She didn’t want me to tell anyone. She did it two weeks ago,” I explained.

Rock grinned. “That’s awesome. Why didn’t she want you telling people?”

“Because she was nervous. Scared. Hell, I don’t know. I just didn’t say anything. But it’s doing better than she expected. Much better. Like five figures better in two damn weeks.”

Rock let out a loud laugh. “No f**king way! That’s great, man. What’s the problem? I bet she’s thrilled.”

He wasn’t getting it. Frustrated, I shoved my hand through my hair and groaned. “Yeah, it’s great. She is thrilled, and I’m happy for her. Don’t get me wrong. I’m so damn proud of her. But . . . but now that she’s making this kind of money, I can’t go and propose. That’s like me saying that now that she’s big money, I want to get hitched.”

Rock frowned. “That’s not the truth. You’ve been working your ass off to get her a ring that was bigger than anything Blythe expects.”

“Bad timing,” I snapped.

Rock finally got it. “Shit.”

“What do I do?” I asked him.

Rock sighed and shrugged. “Dude, I don’t know. I’ve never had to worry about Trisha thinking I wanted her for her money. Maybe this isn’t a permanent thing and it won’t be this much money in the future. When she’s making less money, would you feel better proposing then?”

“I hate waiting. I want my ring on her finger. It’s just the idea of her thinking I could want her for anything less than just her kills me. I worry that doubt would be in the back of her mind. I want to ask her to marry me, but when I do it, I want her to understand that she is my f**king universe. Being with her in a cardboard box would be fine as long as she’s curled up next to me. I just need her to be happy. Now all this f**king money . . .” I wanted to scream in frustration.

“Wait. Give it a week or so. Maybe a month. If you’re worried about the money. In all honesty, I don’t think Blythe will think you are proposing because she’s had success with this book. When she sees that diamond you got her, she’s gonna know you’ve been working for this for a while.”

“Or she’s gonna think I got it on credit, planning to pay it off once I’m married to a wealthy woman,” I grumbled.

Damn money. It had to make everything complicated. I just never thought it would make my life complicated.

My girl had written a novel—gone after her dream and achieved it. Instead of celebrating, I was bitching about it. How screwed up was that?

She deserved this. I needed to get over myself. The time would be right eventually. I just needed to wait for it.

Blythe

Krit’s strange reaction and quick departure today had bothered me so much I couldn’t focus. I closed my computer and cleaned the apartment, then went to get groceries to try to keep my mind off his odd behavior.

Around four Krit came walking in with his usual charming smile and pulled me into his arms to kiss me senseless. He managed to erase all my concerns with that one possessive lip-lock. We cleaned each other in the shower—several times—before getting ready for Jackdown’s gig tonight at Live Bay.

“Don’t forget you have to sing tonight,” Green called out as he walked in the back entrance, leaving me and Krit out here alone. It was a ritual now. Sometimes they all left us alone so we could make out. And other times we just kind of . . . did it. Depended on what Krit needed.

“Fuck off,” Krit yelled back at him, annoyed.

I grabbed his face and moved his attention to me. “Be a good boy.”

Krit gave me his wicked smile. “That’s no fun, love,” he said, slipping a hand between my legs. “Good boys don’t do this.”

His finger thrust up into me with ease. I was always wet when Krit was around me. His face and the way his mouth moved when he talked, not to mention his piercing, just . . . made me aroused most of the time.

“They don’t?” I panted, trying to play along as he found the spot inside me that always sent me spiraling into oblivion.

“Uh-uh. They don’t have a clue,” he whispered against my ear, then bit my lobe before licking my neck.

I held on to his shoulders while he brought me to my cl**ax.

When I came down, he pulled his finger out and moved it to his mouth to suck on it.

Giggling, I shook my head. “You are a very bad boy. I’m very lucky you’re my bad boy.”

He moved closer to me and cocked his head to the side as a crooked grin appeared on his face. “You like this bad boy, love?” he asked, running his damp finger, which I could smell myself on, down the side of my face.

“He’s okay,” I teased, knowing that what he really wanted was for me to tell him I loved him.

He pouted, and those full lips of his made my heart skip. “That ain’t nice. I’m obsessed with your sweet cunt, and God knows I love you. I better be more than okay.”

I reached up and rubbed my thumb over his pouty lips. “You know that I love you. I screamed how much I loved you earlier in the shower. So loudly our neighbors banged on the wall to shut me up.”

The wicked laugh that vibrated his chest was delicious. “When my head is between your legs, tongue-fucking you, it doesn’t count. Of course you love me then.”

I was getting better about not blushing when Krit talked dirty, but sometimes I still did. Like when he talked about how much I loved for him to kiss me there.

“I love you, Krit Corbin. So very much,” I assured him.

He closed his eyes, pulled my thumb into his mouth, and bit it gently. “That’s it. What I f**king need to hear,” he said, then opened his eyes and slipped his arm around my waist. “Let’s go do this.”

We walked into the back entrance, and Green shook his head at us like we were naughty children. It wasn’t like Green didn’t mess around with girls backstage. Just last week I’d walked in on him nailing a girl against the wall in the greenroom. I saw a flash of his butt and her br**sts before I slammed the door in horror.

Krit had been more than pissed that I had seen Green’s ass, and he had lost it on everyone, yelling about not f**king backstage. They pointed out that we messed around backstage, so he amended it to “lock the f**king door.”

I had stopped thinking that Krit would want me out in the audience with everyone eventually. He never wanted me anywhere but back here so he could get to me and see me. Because if he saw a guy in the audience get close to me, he’d lose it and jump off the stage and end up in jail.

So to help my man and his temper, I stayed back here with him. He sang and looked at me most of the time, but no one seemed to notice or care. Girls still threw their panties and bras at him. They screamed that they wanted to have his babies and needed f**king. I could hear it all up here, but I no longer cringed.

He didn’t care what they said. Not once had he seemed tempted by them.

When I first met Krit, he had shared the apartment above mine with Green. Now I shared that apartment with him, and Green lived in my old apartment underneath. The band had become my family. So had Trisha, Rock, and their kids. I hadn’t had a real family before, so having people in my life who loved me was the most wonderful thing in the world.

I took my special corner and sat down on the seat Krit always had for me. He winked at me as he tugged off his shirt, showing his pierced ni**les and tattooed chest. His sexy ripples of muscle made me squirm in my seat. Soon he would be all sweaty onstage, and his hair would be even messier than it already was.

It was no wonder I let him take me out back or to the greenroom during intermission and have his way with me. Just listening to him was already a turn-on as it was, but seeing his sweaty, na**d chest and the way he moved onstage made me a puddle. I was always ready to get my hands on his slick body.

“Are you Krit’s girlfriend?”

I glanced over to see a blonde who reminded me of the angel on the top of the Christmas tree every year at the church. Her hair was long and golden and curled at the ends. She didn’t have on makeup, which was odd for groupies. They were normally all lacquered up. Granted, this girl didn’t need makeup. She had the kind of features that were timeless. I started imagining her as a heroine in my novel.

“Blythe, right?” she said, snapping me out of my thoughts.

“Uh, yeah.” I nodded, confused as to how she had gotten back here.

She grinned at me. It was a real smile. Genuine. “I’m Trinity, Matty’s cousin. I’m visiting him because my mom wants me to move close to Matty and go to South Alabama for college. I don’t think he’s real thrilled about it, though,” she finished, biting her lip nervously. “But he said that you’d be back here and that you were nice.”

Matty was the drummer for Jackdown. He also looked nothing like this girl, who was younger than me by a year or two maybe. Her accent was different. It had a twang to it that I didn’t recognize.