"I'm going to spank your perfect fucking ass for this when you get off this stage tonight, princess," he rasps in my ear.
That doesn't sound like a bad time to me.
"Maybe I'll let you," I whisper back. "If you can keep up."
Not even the armies of hell are prepared for a smirk like his. It's unholy…and unholy hot.
"Try me, baby."
I turn, motioning for Chet, my guitarist, to bring him a microphone. Chet comes running, grinning like a madman as he slaps it into Kingston's hand.
"Good luck," he laughs before rushing back to his place.
Kingston just grunts, turning until his body is facing the audience. He isn't looking at them, though. He's looking at me.
"If y'all know the words to this one, why don't you help him out?" I shoot him a tiny grin. "Judging by his performance on the ice the other night, he might need the assist."
Kingston lifts the mic, one brow arched. "You know I belong at your feet, princess. I was just getting in position."
Oh, my goodness.
We have to wait for the crowd to stop screaming before Chet can count us off. Kingston never once looks away from me. And the way he's looking at me? God, it's the same way my dad always looks at my mom—like there's not a single other damn thing on the planet that he'd rather look at.
He isn't mad, embarrassed, or annoyed that I called him up here or that I'm teasing him in front of twenty-five thousand people. He's just playing along, watching me like he's ready to pounce.
This will be all over the news tomorrow. Hell, it probably won't even take that long. But for once, I don't really care. Our names are already linked all over the damn place, and what anyone else thinks doesn't matter right now. I'm doing what Everly said. I'm getting out of my own way.
If he turns out to be a jerk, well, at least I'll know.
My gut tells me that isn't going to happen, though. Kingston wants me—really wants me. Not my name or fame or my bank account or access to my father. He wantsme.
I launch into the song, line dancing across the stage. "Got a little dirt on my boots, but I don't care. My nails are a mess, but I still throw my hands in the air. My feet are on the dash, and I'm singing off-key. If you're looking for perfect, honey, it ain't me."
Kingston grins when I point at him for the next lines. "Her mama said, "Don't you dare dim your light", so my baby shines brighter than Vegas on a Saturday night."
I gape at him, shocked that he changed the lyrics—mama said don't you dare dim your light, so I shine like Broadway on a Saturday night—but he just winks at me, holding his microphone out to the audience.
They scream the chorus at us as Kingston attempts to complete the steps beside me, making everyone laugh and yell. He's a terrible dancer.
Three steps in, he gives up and grabs me, spinning me in a circle. My heart launches into my throat. His hand fits against my lower back like it's supposed to be there. I think he feels it too. His eyes meet mine, the hunger in his obvious.
"I've got a laugh that echoes down the block, and a heart that dances like it was born to rock. With a sweet tea buzz and a rebel soul, I don't color inside the lines anymore," I sing breathlessly, shimmying with him.
"They can talk, but my baby won't turn down," he sings off-key. "She was born to be this kind of perfectly loud."
We launch into the chorus. Kingston attempts to line dance again but fails miserably. He just shrugs and grins, pulling me into his arms.
By the time we hit the outro, I'm breathless and dizzy, and I think I'm having more fun than I've ever had on stage.
"I'm a little too loud, and I like it that way," I belt out.
"Go on then, baby, keep turning me on," he says into the microphone, catching me around the waist.
The crowd screams at his risqué lyric change…and then screams louder when he tips me backward, planting his lips on mine. He kisses me like no one is watching, licking into my mouth to steal what breath I have left.
I clutch at his shoulders, the crowd disappearing as he annihilates my world right there for everyone to see.
I fall for him in front of twenty-five thousand people, not a little bit, not slowly, but like a damn star crashing to the earth.