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Her face hardens, nostrils flaring. “You’re throwing everything away for her. Some small-town nothing with a dog and a sad smile.”

My fists clench; she saw me showing a few of the sound techs a picture of Laney with Merlyn. “Say her name,” I grind out. “I dare you.”

She glares, lips pressed together, then spins on her heel and stalks off like she’s the one who’s been wronged.

But I’m already done with it. Done with her.

I sink back into my seat, head pounding, and pull my hoodie down over my face.

Because the only thing I want to hear right now is Laney’s voice again.

And the only thing I feel for Tasha Monroe… is disgust.

The hotel roomis modern and cold, all marble and sleek lines, too sterile for how wired I am. My body still buzzes from the stage, sweat-dried skin tight under my hoodie, ears ringing from the crowd.

But it’s not the crowd I’m thinking about.

It’s her.

I toss my hoodie onto a chair, kick off my boots, and head straight into the shower. Fast. Just enough to rinse the grime and tension off my body, steam loosening the knots in my shoulders while my mind races ahead to one thing.

Laney.

By the time I’m out, towel slung low on my hips, I’m already hard.

One thought of her and my body answers like it’s been waiting all damn day.

I dry off fast, tug on a pair of boxers, and slide into bed. The sheets are too crisp. Too white. Not like ours. Not like home.

I grab my phone. Tap FaceTime.

My chest pounds as it rings once. Twice.

Then—she answers.

She’s in our bed. Propped up on pillows, hair messy from sleep, lips parted, skin flushed with warmth and the kind of soft light that always makes her look like a dream.

And all she’s wearing is the sheet pulled up to her chest.

My entire body reacts like I’ve been hit with a freight train of need.

“Holy fuck,” I breathe, voice low, already wrecked just from looking at her. “You’re gonna kill me, baby.”

She smiles, all slow and coy, like she knows exactly what she’s doing to me.

“I thought you’d be too tired after the show.”

“Tired?” I shake my head, shifting the phone slightly as I sink back against the pillows. “I’ve been hard since I heard your voice earlier.”

Her eyes drop to where the sheet is clearly tented. Her smile turns wicked.

“Did you miss me that much?”

“Missed you so bad I can’t think straight,” I murmur, my voice already going rough, hungry. I let my hand travel under the sheet, past my boxers, and fist my cock, stroking my heated flesh to ease my ache for her. “You in our bed? Looking like that? I’d give anything to be there right now. Anything.” I release my cock not wanting to come too fast, wanting to savor this moment.

She shifts slightly, letting the sheet slip a little lower. Bare skin. Just enough curve of her breast to make me groan.

“I waited for your call,” she says softly. “Like you asked.”