Zane
I had a headache.
That was the first thing I thought when I jumped off stage and made my way through the crowd.
The second thing?
I didn't want a marshmallow.
Stupid that my thoughts came in that order, but my normally twitchy sweaty fingers didn't shove themselves into my jeans pocket in search of comfort.
My eyes searched for her.
But the crowd was stifling, nearly impossible to get through, and I knew I needed to kiss her, if I could just kiss her, the headache would go away, the nightmare would stop, and we'd celebrate recording the last two songs of the album.
Together.
After one kiss.
Okay, maybe two.
But the minute I touched her, spoke to her, bit her neck, I needed more, wanted more, the screams were making it worse, the heat.
In an effort to get her away from ever
