Syon headed toward a high-rise hotel with mirrored glass siding. They roared up in front of the valet parking, practically causing a riot as all the valet attendants rushed to be the ones getting the keys to the Harleys. The losers looked glum when their gleeful comrades climbed aboard the sleek motorcycles and peeled out of the turnaround, making way for a flood of paparazzi.

Syon claimed Kate’s hand as the cameras started snapping pictures around them. She twisted her hand, trying to escape the press, but Syon held it tight. There were squeals as passersby recognized the rest of the band. Eager fans reached for their idols, and the hotel security tried to keep them out of the entryway. Ramsey was surveying the crop of adoring fans near him and selected one, offering his hand.

She shook with excitement and tugged her girlfriend through the throng with her. Ramsey grinned and draped an arm over each of their shoulders.

“It’s like when you get two prizes for the price of one at one of those carnival crane games,” he called over his shoulder before passing into the lobby of the hotel. Syon shook his head mirthfully and tugged Kate away from the fans who were perplexed—and crushed—to see Syon arrive with a woman already on his arm.

Inside, a man wearing a black polo with the Toxsin logo on it stepped up and handed Syon a key card.

“This is Cid, Toxsin’s road manager,” Syon introduced the man.

“You need it, I get it for you,” Cid said as he handed her a key card. He turned to hand keys to the other band members. “We’ll go over the ropes tomorrow.”

Syon punched the elevator call button and slid his key into the security slot. The door slid smoothly open, and he swept her inside. She expected the rest of the band to join them but when the elevator doors closed, they were alone. He wrapped his arms all the way around her.

“I can’t wait to see if you have ginger curls between your legs too…”

She’d passed the point of being in control enough to form a coherent response, so they rode up to Toxsin’s suite in silence. When they reached the top floor, the sound of the rest of the band with their fangirls broke through.

Syon had her out in the hallway before she managed to brace a hand against his chest. “Look, we’re working together,” Kate said, wondering if it was too late to try playing the professionalism card.

“You’re so wet, I can smell you,” Syon countered. He forced her back until he had both hands flattened on either side of her head on the wall behind her.

“You’re crowding me,” she said. “We just met.”

“And we hit it off.” He countered her argument in a smooth voice that made her nipples tighten. She wanted to be mad about it but honestly, it was a total rush to be turned on so completely. Part of her had to admit to enjoying the intensity. She ended up smiling in spite of every reason she should have been fuming at him. Chemistry was chemistry. And, oh boy, did they combine with a serious sort of reaction.

“You like to dominate,” she said with a half laugh.

One side of his mouth twitched up as a look of approval glittered in his eyes. “I’m not into slave play, but yes, I like to control…”

Her lungs were frozen for a moment, leaving her suspended between breaths. The idea of letting him take control captivated her brain. It would be…well, epic.

Mind-blowing.

Yeah, and you’ll wake up tomorrow morning knowing you are a pushover.

He reached for her wrist. “Let’s find a bed, Kate…”

“No,” she uttered, but honestly, she was talking to herself more than him. She tried to pull him to a stop and ended up skidding on the carpet for a few steps before he gave a frustrated grunt and turned back to face her.

There was a squeal and a burst of feminine laughter from around the corner. It hit her like a bucket of ice water—she wasn’t his fangirl; she was his costumer, damn it.

She was pretty sure she wouldn’t be able to live with herself if she folded. Her dreams of being a serious designer demanded more self-discipline than that.

Kate closed her eyes and found the remnants of her composure. “Good night, Syon. It was a great date.”

Frustration needled her, but she opened her eyes and refused to bend.

Syon regarded her from behind narrowed eyes. “I don’t go in for games, Kate.”

Her temper heated, but she drew in a deep breath because she realized she was sending the guy mixed signals. She owed him an attempt at an explanation. “Look…I’ve known you for a whole forty-eight hours, Syon. Yes, you turn me on, but I don’t know you. It isn’t a game; it’s called forming a relationship. That’s the sort of thing I go for.”

“You’re just as hot as I am to keep this going,” he said, trying to cut through her protest. “So stop being a cock tease.”

“Stop being presumptuous.” She propped her hand on her hip. “Going on a date does not mean there is going to be sex.”

“Sticking your tongue into my mouth while I’m kissing you says there is!” he growled.

“Stop taking this so personally, Syon. There are plenty of other men who have to actually get to know a girl before they get naked with her.”

She’d caught him off guard. One of his eyebrows rose in question. “You’re trying to get a commitment out of me.”

“Even if I were, I wouldn’t apologize.” Her temper sizzled. “I realize you’re used to nailing everything you see—”

“Only the pussy,” he drawled.

She rolled her eyes at his tone. “See? That’s exactly why you and I need to go to separate beds. I’m here as a crew member.”

“We don’t have any female crew members,” he argued.

“Well, you’re the one who ambushed me into this,” Kate replied. “So I’m a crew member now. I think there needs to be a clear line between crew members and fangirls.”

He crossed his arms over his chest. “What do you want, Kate?”

Confusion clouded her thoughts. “I just told you.”

“What, then? You want money? I’ll double your contract fee.”

Her jaw dropped. Then she took a swing at him. She never landed the slap, at least not on his face. Syon raised his forearm to block, and she ended up hitting nothing but hard muscle, leaving her hand stinging.

“Asshole!” she snarled. “I am NOT a whore.”

“Everyone”—he stuck a thick finger out toward her—“everyone wants something from me. You’re no different.”

His eyes were lit with a jaded conviction that sickened her. No one should be so certain they were being used by everyone around them. It doused the flames of her temper, leaving her miserable. They really lived in different worlds. His wasn’t any more perfect than her own.

“I’m sorry.”

He stiffened, drawing back as their gazes connected. A guarded look appeared in his eyes before he shrugged, pulling his flippant sex-god side back up to cover his momentary vulnerability.

“Don’t be. My life rocks,” he informed her. “I don’t need you or your pity. Just your leather skills.”

“Well, I’m glad we got that clear between us.” Her pride was stinging, but there was no way she was going to let him see it. She turned around and started down the hallway, blurry eyed and pissed. Fortunately, she found the room number written on the little paper envelope her key card was in only a few doors down. She slid the key card into the lock and pushed her way into the room.

The air-conditioning was droning away, soothing her flushed cheeks. Her bags were already on the luggage racks. It was a lavish bedroom, with a separate sitting area. But she didn’t have any will to appreciate it.

* * *

Syon slammed into the suite his bandmates were partying in. There was already a scattering of clothing on the floor. He unzipped his jacket and shrugged out of it, flinging it aside to join the mess.

“The Marquis!” a feminine voice cooed.

He turned to find a topless brunette greeting him with a bright smile. Her bare breasts bounced as she approached him, but all he felt snaking through his gut was revulsion.