Sexy Lies and Rock & Roll by Sawyer Bennett Page A

that justice.
    Grabbing a six-pack of beer from the fridge, I don’t give Emma another thought as I head out to join my musicians.

CHAPTER 8
    Emma
    There comes a time in life
    It’s do or die
    Truth or lie
    Depending on the time of day
    Don’t let it pass you by.
    I lean to the side, let my body fall forward, and bang my head lightly on the desk beside the laptop.
    Seriously?
    He has to sing in the shower with his smooth, rich voice that’s pretty much sex for the ears? And knowing he wrote the song and the music to it, and that he’ll be singing it on stage tonight to thousands of adoring women who would want to—
    Ugh.
    I’m having eargasms listening and can’t concentrate on my work. This annoys me even more than I already am with him after his drunken stunt last night. Coming onto the bus and bringing other people, all drunk, loud, and obnoxious. Waking me up from a sound sleep, and then having the gall to think I’d be flattered they wanted me to party with them.
    Just no.
    No.
    No.
    No.
    Listen… I’m not a teetotaler by any means. In college, I went to my share of parties, although truth be told, I didn’t go to a lot. I had my share of beer and got buzzed. Mostly, I was always with my college sweetheart, Chris, who I met my freshman year at NC State but both of us were pretty serious about our studies. We never went overboard with the drinking and most certainly never did drugs, mostly because we had our sights set on graduate school—med school for him and law school for me. That was just more important to us.
    These days, I’ll enjoy a nice glass of wine with dinner.
    Maybe two.
    But to drink until my words are slurring and I’m stumbling all over like Evan and his band of heathens last night?
    It’s just not my thing.
    My hand reaches down to touch Sirius, who’s taken to lying at my feet under the small desk, but I absently remember he’s out for a walk with Red. Those two have hit it off, and Red claims he’s got to lose a little weight to get his blood pressure under control or, in his words, “The missus will not be a happy woman if I die.” So he’s started getting Sirius off the bus and walking as much as possible.
    The water shuts off in the tiny bathroom that sits no more than four feet from my desk, although Evan continues to sing. I can imagine him in there, steam all swirling around while he dries off his body that… that… is just unlike anything I’ve ever been privy to before. All sleek toned muscles and just beyond my craziest of fantasies… nipple rings.
    He has rings through his nipples, and apparently it doesn’t hurt when he tugs on them as I observed the day before yesterday.
    Just as I’d observed his very clear, very long, and very hard erection when he stood up from the couch.
    Ugh.
    Why me?
    I have no clue if he had the same… um… affliction this morning as I refused to look at him when I heard him stirring on the couch. I’d been up for a good three hours, had already showered, walked Sirius, and fed us by the time he woke up. Even though he didn’t give me the same courtesy last night, I made sure I was very quiet this morning as I moved around the bus. Although, he probably didn’t need it. I’m pretty sure he was passed out and not just sleeping.
    The bathroom door opens. I raise my head up quickly from the desk and put my hands on the laptop, blindly typing on what’s nothing more than a search engine I’d opened so I would look productive.
    “Am I going to get the silent treatment all day?” I hear Evan say from the doorway and I allow my gaze to slide over to him.
    And merciful Jesus… Evan with damp skin and a towel wrapped around his hips, so low I see that “V” of muscle pointing downward, should be outlawed. It’s making me feel muddled, and I can’t continue struggling against this. It’s just not fair.
    “It’s the silent treatment then,” he concludes as he rubs his fingers through his wet hair, and making said conclusion because