She’d never seen Sebastian’s band live, had only ever seen him play the piano or the guitar in the confines of the studio. But she had seen his band’s music videos and she’d watched some live concert footage as well.
For research, of course. When Greg had hired him, she’d done what she always did when faced with an unknown factor, be it an actor or a director or a reporter. She researched and looked for the reasons why they shouldn’t work with someone. Not why they should. Usually that was the easy answer.
Why Greg had wanted Sebastian hadn’t been as cut and dried. The guy had issues. Serious issues that made Tru nervous as hell about hiring him. But then she’d watched him perform. And she’d heard the music he’d created for Greg’s film.
And she understood why Greg had demanded only Sebastian.
The band played its last note and then the crowd erupted in cheers. As the house lights came on and much softer music filtered through the speakers, she found Sebastian watching her.
His mouth curved in a wry grin. “Ears bleeding yet?”
Shaking her head, she turned her entire body in his direction so she wasn’t twisted on the couch. “I didn’t completely hate it. But they’re not as good as Baseline Sins, are they?”
She saw the shock he tried to hide before his gaze slipped away to stare out at the stage. She thought he’d brush her off with some smart-ass remark.
“High praise coming from you. Thanks. Sometimes . . . Yeah, thanks. You’ll probably like the next band better. We’ve toured with them a few times. Their lead singer’s female, got a beautiful voice, more Amy Lee than Lzzy Hale.”
She knew who Amy Lee was, but the other name was a mystery so she merely nodded. “Is that the Gina Xander mentioned?”
Sebastian nodded. “She’s a good friend. At least she was before I fell off the face of the earth.”
“I’m sure she’d be happy to see you.”
He huffed out an unamused laugh. “Yeah, well, I’m not so sure about that.”
Leaning forward, he laced his fingers together, putting his elbows on his knees and letting his head drop.
The tension in his shoulders actually made hers hurt in sympathy.
“What happened?”
His head popped up, and she could tell he was about to tell her to mind her own business when she held up one hand to stave him off. “And before you bite my head off, I’m not asking for any reason other than you look like you need to get something off your chest.” She paused. “I know I’m not your most favorite person in the world,” huge understatement, “but . . . you’re part of ManDown now and this is what I do. I fix things for our people.”
His eyes narrowed. “Our people?”
“The people we work with. Creative people. I’m good at fixing things.”
She wanted him to let her help. Because she knew the tension between them was contributing to his agitation. And she absolutely hated that.
It made her feel like she was failing. And she hated to fail.
He shook his head. “You can’t fix me, Tru. I’m not a prop you can track down or a situation you can make disappear.”
She managed to not roll her eyes but only barely. “I understand that. But if you need to talk, I’m a good listener.”
He fell silent for several seconds, his gaze glued to hers. In the hazy light filtering in from the performance area and the low lighting in their secluded space, she could see that his eyes appeared more green now than they had earlier. His hair stood up in spikes from running his fingers through it and his mouth was compressed into a line.
Amazingly, her gaze fixed on his mouth. She’d been noticing it a lot lately and had even found herself watching him talk more often than actually listening to what he said. She’d told herself it was because she was trying to ignore his actual words, which were pissing her off.
Liar.
She liked his mouth. She found it sexy.
Oh, crap.
She blinked and dragged her gaze back to his eyes but found his gaze focused on her mouth.
That strange sensation returned to the pit of her stomach. The one she kept telling herself was not attraction.
Liar, liar, pants on fire.
Then he shook his head and looked toward the stage again.
“I don’t think you want to hear what I have to say.”
She almost didn’t hear him and considered acting like she hadn’t. But she wasn’t a coward.
“Yes, I do. Talk to me.”
He turned back toward her.
“It’s not that—”
A wailing guitar cut through the silence she hadn’t realized had fallen, followed by the booming beats of a drum.
Then a woman began to sing, her voice melodic and beautiful and completely badass.
And still, she couldn’t look away from Sebastian.
So she saw the exact moment he made the decision to come at her.
She could’ve pulled away. She could’ve gotten up and walked out the door.
Instead, she sat there and watched him as he closed the distance separating them during the space between one second and the next.
Part of the reason she didn’t move was out of shock.
She froze as he wrapped one hand around her nape and wove the other into her hair. He sucked in a breath just before he crushed his lips against hers.
Hard. Like he’d been dying to kiss her after months of frustration and longing. As if he couldn’t breathe until he’d kissed her.
And she let it happen.
Let him slant his mouth over hers and part her lips and slip his tongue into her mouth so he could taste her.
Oh, god, the heat that slammed through her body when his tongue touched hers was just this side of volcanic. It rocked her foundation so hard she didn’t realize he’d dragged her across the cushion that had separated them until he had her chest plastered against his.
She reached for him then. Put her hands on his shoulders, but she didn’t know if it was to push him away or pull him closer.
She certainly didn’t push him away. While her brain came to a grinding halt, her body came to life with a jolt.
Her nipples peaked and her pussy clenched with a force that made her suck in air through her nose. She probably made some kind of sound, but neither of them could hear it over the music.
Or the beating of her heart.
She could barely breathe or move, and couldn’t think as his lips pressed on hers with a purpose that intensified with every second. His tongue licked at hers, coaxed her to play with his, to participate. But it was more than coaxing. It wasn’t force, but he wasn’t exactly asking for permission, either.
No, he was taking what she hadn’t known she’d wanted to give him. But now that’s all she could think about. Letting him kiss her and make her feel more alive than she had in . . . God, she didn’t know how long.
Her fingers flexed, then slid down his arms to clench at his biceps. The thick muscles bunched beneath her palms. He’d removed his jacket shortly after they’d sat down and the heat of his skin burned her through the silky cotton of his shirt.
Her lungs burned and she drew in more air so she wouldn’t have to break away from this kiss. This amazing, shocking, panty-wetting kiss.
Yes, her panties were wet. Simply from his mouth on hers.
Her heartbeat, mixed with the loud music, pounded in her ears.
Oh, god, was she moaning?
Her fingers clenched, digging into Baz’s firm muscles as his hand in her hair tugged her head back so he could get a different angle on her mouth. His lips demanded that she give in and let him have what he wanted. And what he seemed to want was her.
The hand on her neck released, moving to her shoulder, then beginning to slide down her arm.
Her nipples tightened in anticipation of his touch, but he bypassed her breasts completely and went straight for her hip.
As his hand cupped her curves, she shifted toward him, her head tilting farther to encourage him to kiss her deeper, harder.