“But she’s so cute!” cried Devon in mock misery. “I mean, look at her!”

“I’m the only one allowed to, motherfucker!”

“See you in half an hour, Devon,” I said, heading for the door.

“Sure thing, Doctor Sexy.”

Phil snagged a waffle and shoved it into Devon’s face, rubbing it in good.

“Augh!”

“You can fuckin’ walk to Fairmont, douche!”

“Phil, you’re such an ass sometimes.” I laughed as we stepped down onto the packed earth.

“I’m your ass, so get used to it,” he grumped. He huffed under his breath. “Lookin’ at you like he wanted to eat you. Only I get to eat you.”

I let out some deep-bellied laughter.

“Well, it’s true!”

“So? Like you said, only you get me, so why bother with the pissing contest?”

“Because…” he said softly as he stopped walking. We were only a few steps away from our bus. “Because he really likes you and respects you, and for Devon, that’s fuckin’ huge. The night at the House of Blues, you impressed him, and that’s on top of bein’ the type of woman he goes for.”

“So?”

“So…he’s better lookin’ than me. He’s got more talent in his little finger than all five of us combined—”

“That’s utter bullshit.”

“He’s fuckin’ loaded. And he’s got that hot-accent thing goin’ for him while he accuses me of bein’ inarticulate.”

“I like your accent better,” I said with a smile. “And the voice that backs it up—hold up. Are you insecure over Devon?”

“I know you think he’s attractive, and you were right about his face goin’ all holy at Budokan. Compared to him, I fall pretty fuckin’ short, Kenna.”

“No, you don’t. I don’t believe this. There’s no way you can honestly think I would ever choose anyone over you, Phil.”

“You get insecure. Why not me?”

“Because you’re Phil fucking Deveraux! You’ve been my hero, my fucking legend-crush, since I was sixteen years old! That’s eight years of fantasizing and one year of dating! I mean, really, you are the most beautiful, amazing, wonderful, awesome, and the sexiest guy in the history of ever. Sure, GianFranco is attractive, but you…you’re everything I’ve ever wanted. Ever. And forever,” I said, holding up my glittering ring finger. “Besides, I don’t think he’s insane enough for me.”

He cracked a smile at that. “Oh, yeah? Why do you say that?”

“I can’t picture him getting my name tattooed on him three times or getting my dental imprints on his inner thigh.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right. You need a bit of crazy in your life to make you feel balanced.”

Slipping my arms around his narrow waist, I hugged him tight. “Seriously…there’s no comparison. You gonna get nekkid for me when we get to the hotel?” I asked.

“Too fuckin’ right I am. We’re gonna sex-scream the fuckin’ walls down.”

“Yeah…you’ve got a magic dick, babe. I wouldn’t trade that for anything.”

He dropped a kiss on top of my head. “I know. After fuckin’ me, anythin’ else would have no sort of impact.”

“True. My poor crotch has been stretched to the point where any other man would think he’s pounding himself into a tube sock.”

“Oh my God,” he gasped. He busted into wheezing laughs for a few minutes. Sobering up, he grabbed my face and planted soft kisses on my lips, cheeks, and nose.

Sighing with contentment, I fully leaned into him. “You know, the physical attraction is only the tip of the iceberg between us, right?” I asked.

“Yeah. But it’s nice to hear you tell me how fuckin’ hot you think I am anyway.”

“You know you’re hot!” I laughed.

“I know I’m the lead singer of a band, and women dig that.”

“You’re so full of shit, Phil. No wonder your eyes are brown.”

As we were dropped off in front of the colonnaded façade of the Fairmont Olympic Hotel, I had another healthy glimpse of the sort of lifestyle I was simply unaccustomed to. My jaw hung open as we all exited the van and headed up the steps.

Checking in, Phil winked at me and handed me my key to our—

“Honeymoon suite?”

“Thought we could use the practice.” He grinned.

Devon sucked in his cheeks to keep from laughing.

“How much did this even—”

“You’re seriously askin’ for an ass-smackin’, woman,” huffed Phil, grabbing my arm and marching me toward the elevators. “See you guys…tomorrow,” he called over his shoulder.

Connor looked startled, as if maybe I were indeed in danger of an ass-beating. That look was priceless. Pointing at his face, I laughed as the elevator doors slid shut.

Yanking me into his arms, Phil grabbed my ass and started making out with me, grinding into me, rubbing his rigid length between my legs. Slipping a hand beneath my T-shirt, he cupped a breast, squeezing, swishing his thumb back and forth over the nipple.

“Oh my God, Kenna Baby, I’m on a fuckin’ warpath to destroy your pussy. I’m gonna fuckin’ tear this shit up.”

I snickered. “That just makes me want to lie down and spread ’em, babe. Nothing like being told I’m gonna get tore up to put me in the mood.”

“Mmm, I know,” he said, his voice hitting a deep note that made me throb from head to toe. The hand that had been molesting my boob slipped down the front of my pants.

“Phil! There are probably cameras!”

“Then, security’s gonna find out how hot you are for me—fuck, Baby Girl!” he hissed, his fingers finding exactly how destroyed my underwear was.

The elevator stopped on our floor, and we walked off, as if he hadn’t just had his hand down my pants and wasn’t sporting an erection the size of a battering ram. He swiped the key, looking all hot and bothered, shoving me past the threshold.

“I thought this was the honeymoon suite! Shouldn’t you have carried me into the room or some—”

“We ain’t married yet,” he snapped, dragging me toward the couch and bending me over the armrest. Phil successfully dragged my jeans and underwear down, and then I felt the hot, hard length of him slide right in.

Tube sock.

Burying my face in the cushions, I tried not to laugh.

“How do you need it?”

“Hard,” I replied.

Smacking my ass, Phil started to pound into me with long strokes. Grasping my waist, he delivered what I’d asked for, forgetting how to make love to me after all. I was screaming my head off in the cushions by the time I felt him stiffening inside me, bellowing like a beast.

“Fuck, I needed that,” he grunted, slowly pulling out. “Don’t move. I’ll find you a towel.”

That was it. I started cracking up.

“Hush, Baby Girl,” he admonished. “I’m bein’ romantic.” He came back, bearing a warm damp washcloth. He cleaned me up and helped me right myself before tugging up my pants.

The huge room was gorgeous. “Wow, Phil! This place is fantastic!”

He smiled, showing me a dimple. “We’ve been stuck on that fuckin’ bus for so long. I thought we deserved somethin’ nice. Wait till Vegas. We’re stayin’ at the Bellagio.”

“Cool,” I replied as I pulled out my silver cigarette case from my bag.

As I sparked up a joint, Phil filled up a small glass of water to use for an ashtray. We sat on opposite ends of the couch, facing each other, with my feet in his crotch as he played with my toe rings.

“Can I ask you something?” I handed over the spliff.

“Of course.”

“Earlier, when we were talking with Devon, you guys mentioned what the Cannibals got up to, you know, with women and all that.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Did you ever participate with them?”

“Oh. Um…well, yeah. In the beginnin’, I thought it was interestin’ and all that.”

“What happened? What did you do?”

Phil blushed as he handed back the spliff. “It was just hedonistic-style shit, Kenna. A lot of booze and whatever drugs we could get our hands on.”