“No, I want the pants I spent last night making back,” Kate snarled at him. “What the hell do you think you’re doing letting her take my work?”

Ramsey flattened a hand over her mouth. “My head is splitting.”

Her eyes bulged, and she started to lift her knee. Ramsey jumped back, allowing her to see how many people had come out to watch.

Well, she wasn’t backing down. “You and your date tore through all of my work.”

“Easy now…”

Cid hooked her and crowded her through the doorway of some suite.

“See…here’s the thing,” the road manager said.

Kate shoved away from the guy, but he pushed her farther into the room.

The road manager pointed at her. “Image is key.” He stressed each word like she was some high school student sitting in the principal’s office.

“No kidding. That’s what I’m pissed off about. I spent all night making those pants,” she snapped.

“That’s why you weren’t at the show?” Syon’s voice was like a live current, stroking her senses.

Awakening her.

She looked past Cid, losing interest in the road manager. Syon had walked into the room, Ramsey and Taz on his heels. His hair was tousled, and his shirt hung open.

And he made her mouth water.

“You’re out of pants,” she answered. “Of course I was working. I needed that draping to start…”

A horrible thought occurred to her.

“Ramsey better not have screwed with my patterns.”

Cid waved her off. “Make some more. The publicity will be worth it.”

“And what kind of publicity will you get when your performers go on stage in their jock straps?” she demanded.

Cid’s expression tightened. “That’s your problem, and I’ll pack your ass out of here if you let it happen.”

He started to poke her in the chest with his finger. He went stumbling as Syon pushed him out of the way. “Keep your hands off her, Cid.”

“Then tell her to mind her mouth.”

“What the hell?” Kate demanded. “You’ve got security set up around the room where the instruments are, but not around my studio?”

Cid looked at her like she’d lost her mind. “Your work doesn’t rate on that scale.”

“I don’t what?” She propped her hands on her hips. “You can find yourselves another leather artist if that’s where I rate.”

“Like hell,” Syon cut her off. He hooked her around her waist and pulled her away from Cid.

“Get the fuck out. Everyone.”

“I am not staying in here with you.”

She wasn’t sure why she was pissed, just that it hurt to see him. Uncertainty was eating her alive.

Ramsey made sure everyone else went out the door and closed it without a backward glance. It left her alone with Syon. Which hurt.

And that pissed her off.

She tossed her hair back and faced off with him. But that allowed her to lock gazes with him, and the moment she did, it felt like a spear went through her. He was so close. So within reach. She suddenly questioned why she was mad or if it was worth it.

That hurt her pride. She was folding, crumpling under the weight of her attraction for him.

“I worked all night on those pants.”

For him.

Syon had crossed his arms over his chest and stood watching her from behind a guarded expression.

“Cid’s attitude is…counterproductive,” she added.

She was struggling to dredge up professional language. Really struggling because all she wanted to do was cuss.

“He’s an asshole. It’s his job,” Syon said offhandedly, obviously not interested in the topic. His gaze cut into hers, something else on his mind.

She blinked at him, surprised by how easily he’d agreed with her. “Well doesn’t his job include not letting your wardrobe walk away on Ramsey’s party partners? I put my heart into my work.”

His expression cracked at last, his lips twitching into a genuine grin.

It confused her and frustrated her. She tossed her hands into the air. “Why are you grinning?”

He moved toward her, opening his arms. She recognized the intent in his eyes and instantly recoiled.

Ha! You mean you’re retreating.

Yeah, whatever worked. If he touched her, she’d lose track of the conversation. Her pride wasn’t willing to bend.

“We’re not done talking, Syon.”

He captured her, gathering her against his chest so her face was buried in the open front of his shirt. One breath, and she was struggling against a rush of pheromones.

“I heard what I needed,” he muttered against her hair.

She flattened her hands against his chest and failed to push, because she was too delighted to be in contact with his flesh again.

Had it been less than twenty-four hours?

It sure felt longer.

“I missed you.”

She froze.

“At the show. Thought you didn’t think it was important.” He threaded his fingers through her hair and pulled her head back so their gazes met. “It was sold out, and I missed you.”

“I wanted to…get the pants finished. The pair you have pinch.”

He scooped her off her feet and carried her backward. She had no idea where he was taking her and didn’t really care.

She was in his arms.

He sat her on a table, kicking a chair out of the way. He cupped her cheeks, gently rubbing them. “I wanted to sing to you.”

She gasped, something tearing inside her. His voice was thick with emotion, and her eyes grew glassy.

“I got caught up in my work.”

He chuckled. “Yeah, you’re passionate.”

“That’s the pot calling the kettle black.”

He made a low sound of agreement and slid his hands down to her cleavage. “A trait you love about me.”

“Maybe.” The word “love” was a little heavy. But everything about Syon was over the top. He was a study in extremes.

He lifted one eyebrow. “The lady requires proof.”

“I thought we were checking out.” It was a halfhearted attempt to maintain her sanity.

He popped the first latch on her corset top as one side of his mouth curved up roguishly. “The crew is still tearing down the stage. We can handle a late check-out charge.”

“But…” She suddenly noticed how many footsteps were moving around in the hallway outside the closed door. Other doors opening and closing. Conversations as the rest of the band and entourage made their way out of the hotel. “Everyone will know what we’re doing.”

“I hope so.” There was a blaze of determination in his eyes.

“Syon,” she admonished him, her cheeks feeling like they had caught fire. “I am not that kind of girl.”

She was working her way away from him, wiggling across the tabletop. He cupped her hips and slid her back, spreading her legs around his.

“I know.”

He caught the sides of her dress and pulled it up. “That’s part of it, though. I love knowing I push your buttons so hard you can’t resist me.” He stroked the outside of her thighs, sending ripples of sensation up her spine. “I love knowing it isn’t in your nature to give it up so easily. I want everyone to know I drive you that insane.”

“You sound so arrogant. So full of yourself.”

Territorial.

He caught her underwear and twisted it until it snapped. His eyes glittered with intent.

“Tell me you don’t like hearing me say that.” His tone was challenging.

He leaned down and drew in a deep breath. “Tell me you don’t like hearing me say that my cock is so hard I don’t fucking care who is waiting on us.”

She shivered, her insides clenching with need.

“I…I…oh shit.”

She leaned back as he tugged the ruined scrap of her underwear off her and tossed it aside.

“Brace your hands behind you.”

“Why?”

His lips twitched menacingly. “Because I want to see you waiting for me.”

Her belly did a flip as excitement tore through her. She braced her hands behind her, intensely aware of how easily he’d reduced her to a quivering mass of need. He hovered over her, his breath hitting her lips and making her tremble.