40
Jem
Six weeks with Ruby.
Forty-two days of somebody living in my life and head, consuming my every day.
How do I feel about this?
Torn.
I live and breathe her—and I’m terrified this air supply to my emotions will be cut off, and I’ll be suffocated by the vacuum again. Each day this worry lessens, but it’s there.
Tonight, I watch Ruby on stage and she thrills me as ever. Jem Jones is lucky to have what he doesn’t deserve—the love of this amazing, talented, sexy girl that the world sits up and takes notice of.
Ruby Riot had a couple of press interviews recently where Ruby refused to dress in anything suggested by PR for the photo shoot. She wore her striped leggings and I smiled when I saw the Blue Phoenix t-shirt, faded grey with the sleeves roughly cut off. I hung around, let her vent the frustration over people telling her what to do for the shoot, because I saw the anxiety in her eyes. My beautiful girl is out of her comfort zone, moving into a world that I plan to guide her through.
The venues grow bigger as word about Ruby Riot spreads. They’re not touring but gigging regularly, playing new tracks from our recording session. Steve agreed to sign them based on those tracks—a full album scheduled for April after the tour with Blue Phoenix in January. I’m proud—and vindicated. Bryn has to admit this isn’t because of my fantasies about the lead singer.
Ruby arrives offstage half an hour later, hair damp, and heat radiating from her skin. She’s on the high she always is after performing, the one that twinges jealousy because I want to be up there again. I’ve nagged Dylan about starting rehearsals for the tour, but he’s still on his own world tour with Sky. Liam and Bryn have agreed to start in November. Nearly two months.
“You okay?” she asks, sliding her arms around my waist.
I smooth a tendril from her forehead as we head to the Green Room. “Yeah. Some nights I’m jealous of you up there.”
“I bet you won’t say that a month into a tour,” she says. “Anyway, you’re always welcome to play onstage with us.”
I push through the door to the Green Room. “Sure, Jax would love me taking his place.”
“Just a couple of tracks would be cool.” Ruby kicks off her shoes then roots around in her bag and pulls out a fresh T-shirt. “He’d be okay with that.”
I can’t respond because Ruby unzips and steps out of her red dress. Does she still do this in front of the other guys?
“What?” She pushes her arms through the T-shirt.
I soak in the sight of her lace-covered tits and the tiny panties before the material of her t-shirt covers them. “I wish you wouldn’t do that. It switches my brain off.”
Happy memories of this morning skip into my mind and I shift from wanting to chat about Ruby Riot to wanting to pin her to the wall and screw her hard. Ruby gives me a warning look.
“Come here.” I beckon with my finger.
“No.” She deliberately bites her lip coyly.
“Right. I’ll come over there then.” I take the couple of steps across the space between us and back her to the wall. Her breath rushes out but not from the force, but the reaction to my hand sliding around to that perfect ass. I play my fingers at the edge of her panties. “You know not to be alone in a room with Jem Jones, especially if you’re stripping for him.”
Ruby laughs and winds her fingers into my hair, holding her forehead against mine. “I like being alone in rooms with Jem Jones.”
“Yeah, but you never know what he might do to you.” She inhales sharply as my finger slips beneath the lace, toward the wet heat that’ll be there for me. I taste the perspiration on her skin as I lick from her neck to her ear.
“He never wastes any time, does he?” She shifts and presses into my hand.
“Makes a change that I’m the groupie,” I whisper.
Ruby thumps my chest with her palm. “Do you mind not mentioning groupies when you’re about to screw me?”
“Am I?”
“Ruby, Ruby, Ruby!” calls a voice to the tune of the Kaiser Chief’s song, followed by a knock.Jax.