Page 166 of Just Wait

Malcolm bounces over to where I’m seated on the couch.

“Damn, it’s good to see you.” His huge hand cups my jaw as he dips his face to mine. It’s a quick but intense kiss, and then he’s gone. “I gotta shower. I can smell my own armpits, and they’re rank.”

I smile and check the door, waiting for Kincaid to join us. Rather than coming into the room, he leans against the doorframe, quirking a finger at me.

“Can I borrow you for a minute?”

“Yeah.” I toss my notebook aside, stand, and cross to him, wondering what’s up.

His scent hits me before I even reach him. Warm hazelnut with smoky hints and chocolate undertones.

Kincaid grabs my hand and guides me down the hallway to an area I haven’t been before. We reach a door, and he holds it open, nodding for me to go inside.

I step in and spin around, checking out the space.

It’s an empty office.

There’s a desk with a chair behind it and two on this side, some filing cabinets, and a couch.

“What’s up?” I ask, wondering why we needed a private space to talk.

The chains on Kincaid’s jeans jingle as he prowls closer. He’s not big on wearing anything like them in his normal clothes, so he must still be in his stage jeans.

“I knew where you were supposed to be during the show.” His head tilts predatorily, and I find myself taking a step back, followed quickly by another. “But no matter how hard I tried to find you in the crowd, I couldn’t. I was losing my goddamn mind. Not even knowing Kasey was with you helped.”

“Oh, I was totally fine. Wren and I had a great view. The show was incredible.”

Kincaid continues forward, and I have no idea why every cell in my body screams to run.

It’s strange, especially when Kincaid looks smoking hot.

His long blond hair falls into his eyes as he tilts his face down to mine. “Are you scared of me, sweet girl?”

My brow furrows, and I shake my head. “No.”

“Good,” he growls, picking me up by my hips.

I squeal, and my back hits the cool leather of the couch as K climbs on top of me. His knee wedges between my thighs, but he stretches out over me, brushing my hair back from my neck before burying his nose in my throat.

“Fuck me.” His lips tease my skin as he flattens his hand on the top of my head, brushing my hair back. “I’ve never been so close to losing my shit during a show. I kept getting flashbacks of when you were stuck in front of the barricade in Savannah. All I could think about was, what if you were in danger, and I couldn’t see it because of that fucking mask?”

“I’m right here with you now.” I bring a hand up, running it through his hair as I try not to smile.

Is it sad that hearing how concerned he was about me makes my chest flutter?

That’s sad, right?

“I hate to tell you this, but I probably would have been fine that night too,” I say, enjoying having his warm body caging mine in. “I’m tougher than I look.”

He grunts, dragging his nose down the column of my neck. “My instincts are full-blown feral when it comes to you.”

“Well, I won’t complain about being looked after.”

“Good, don’t,” he says. “The paps caught pictures of you and Malcolm at the music store this morning. They hit right before we went on stage. Benji warned us. Pictures of Mal behind you while you tried on the guitar he bought. Others with the two of you walking down the street with him kissing your hand. The two of you in a jewelry store. The press is about to get unbearable, and I hate that the world will think you’re just with Mal.”

“Wow, I had no idea,” I admit.

Shit.