Chapter 3

The air backstage was thick with the scent of sweat, expensive cologne, and the electric hum of a thousand amps waiting to be plugged in. I had been wandering the labyrinth of corridors for nearly twenty minutes, trying to escape the suffocating noise of the crew and the frantic energy of the production team, but my feet carried me back, inevitably, to the same heavy steel door marked *Private*. I didn’t need to check the sign to know he was inside. I could feel him. It was a pull in my chest, a gravitational force that had nothing to do with logic and everything to do with the raw, primal want that had been simmering between us since the first night. I pushed the door open, expecting an empty dressing room or perhaps just a stack of equipment cases. Instead, I found him. He was standing by the full-length mirror, adjusting the cuffs of his silk shirt, the sleeves rolled up to reveal forearms corded with muscle and dusted with dark hair. He didn’t turn around when I entered, but his posture shifted, just a fraction, acknowledging my presence with a quiet confidence that made my knees weak. “Come here,