Only for the Night (If Only Book 2) by Ella Sheridan

hers as his lips parted, molded to hers, his hops-scented breath filling her lungs. That was all, just their mouths touching, but it felt like an avalanche, it shook her so hard.
    When the crowd erupted in cheers, Sage thought for a moment they were applauding Hank’s kiss. Only the sudden surge of sound from the stage—the opening band—broke the moment. Hank didn’t seem in any hurry, though. He eased back, a satisfied smile pulling at those full, soft—God, they’d been so soft—lips. “Come sit.”
    No apology, no embarrassment. Just taking what he wanted.
    This man was so, so dangerous.
    Hank’s words were more mouthed than heard over the roar of the music, but he didn’t wait for them to register. He tugged her along to their seats, front row center. Sage had never been this close to a stage before. The drumbeat thumped so loud through the speakers that she felt it trip her heartbeat, not really helping it slow down from the frantic pace Hank had set off. The beer didn’t really help her desert-dry mouth, either, but she swallowed a good bit of it as they stood through the first song. When Hank sat, she sat, figuring he knew the protocol; it had been years since she’d taken the time to go to a concert, back in high school, maybe. And even if she went all the time, this would be different—this time Hank was beside her, and in addition to igniting all her senses with nothing more than his presence, he gave her a unique perspective on everything. Imagining him onstage, singing, playing bass, sweating… She fanned herself with a hand and took another sip of her drink.
    She tried to keep her eyes on the bands and not on Hank, but he drew her despite her best intentions. She could see an almost animal pleasure taking him over, and it fascinated her. Hank in his kitchen, strumming a guitar, was one thing, but this man, the one who mastered the very air around him, the crowds? This was something altogether different. And when he stood—which he did at every opportunity—she had the close-up view of his muscled back in a painted-on T-shirt, his high, tight butt cupped lovingly in jeans that hid absolutely nothing. Her eyes wandered, her fingers itching to follow.
    Hank must have felt a similar compulsion, because when he wasn’t standing, he was touching her—playing with her fingers, tapping out the bass line with their joined hands… It was like he needed something to occupy him since he wasn’t on the stage, but she didn’t think he was actually conscious of what he was doing. Or maybe he was just so used to women falling at his feet that he assumed she wouldn’t mind him appropriating her body for his amusement.
    The bad thing was, she didn’t mind. At all.
    By the time Isaac Anschau started his set, Sage felt like she was plugged into a live socket. Her skin was hypersensitive, her body hot with arousal. The entire crowd surged to their feet as the blond rock god ran onto the stage, excitement crackling through the air. Without asking, Hank pulled Sage in front of him and wrapped his arms around her. Warm. Protective. She squirmed against him, against giving in, only to discover Hank wasn’t as completely unaffected as she’d assumed.
    “Careful, baby,” he growled in her ear. At least it sounded like a growl, but maybe the music was deceiving her, adding that gravelly quality that tingled along her spine all the way down to her curling toes. And when he pulled her harder against him? The helplessness that stole her strength had very little to do with Hank imposing his will and everything to do with the hard brand of his hard-on against the small of her back. All she could do was dig her fingers into the arms crossed just under her breasts and wait for him to let her go.
    And hope that wouldn’t be anytime soon.

Chapter Nine
     
     
    Isaac went through two encores before the concert ended around eleven. The crowd emptied out quickly, but when Sage stood to follow, Hank gripped her hand.