Sam.

~~~

The warmth pressed against my back and the soft-tossing behind me stirred me from sleep. My skin felt sticky from the night's heat, so I kicked one leg free from the covers. A low groan rumbled close to my ear as the arms around my waist tightened, holding me in place. I stayed still, staring at the bus wall just inches from my face.

"Good morning," Ray's husky voice murmured, his hand already trailing beneath my shirt, grazing my ribs.

I stretched an arm backward, brushing my fingertips along his thigh. "Good morning," I said, my voice still groggy from sleep.

"Did you sleep okay?" he asked, shifting onto his elbow to look at me.

The muted sound of voices carried from the front of the bus, accompanied by the distinct, rich aroma of brewing coffee. I sighed contentedly, though my moment of peace was abruptly interrupted. The curtain shielding our bunk was yanked open, flooding the small space with light.

"Rise and shine, sleepyheads!" James's chipper tone cut through the stillness. He leaned into the bunk with a grin plastered on his face. "We're officially in Brussels!"

"Thanks for the heads-up," I mumbled, shielding my eyes from the harsh light. He smirked and disappeared as quickly as he'd arrived.

I turned my head toward Ray, a smile tugging at the corners of my lips. "Shower," I whispered, my voice filled with a mix of excitement and relief.

He chuckled softly, his warm laughter vibrating against me. "Anything for you," he said, climbing out of the bunk.

It wasn't just a shower—it was a rare luxury. Living on a bus meant every stop had to count. The tiny shower at the back was more of a decoration than an actual option, and my last shower had been almost twenty-four hours ago in the hotel. The thought of hot water washing away the remnants of travel was enough to make me giddy.

After a quick breakfast and coffee, we arrived at the Ancienne Belgique concert hall. The towering building stood proud and grand, far more expensive than the last few venues. Its exterior combined softened grays and whites with elegant, modern architecture. Inside, the white walls were offset by polished brown floors and subtle black detailing that gave the space a clean, refined energy.

Purple Rain was set to play the largest hall, with room for two thousand people. As we unloaded the bus—lugging equipment, clothes, and everything else we'd need for the evening—the magnitude of the venue began to sink in.

Once inside, the band headed to rehearsal, leaving me, Gabe, and Adam to set up the merch table near the entrance.

I had time to kill before the show started, so I decided on another coffee. The stairs to the second floor spiraled upward in front of me, promising the caffeine I craved. I started to climb when firm hands grabbed my waist from behind.

"Whoa!" I yelped, stumbling backward and colliding into a familiar chest.

"Come with me," Ray's voice, low and commanding, sent shivers down my spine.

Before I could protest, he slid past me, gripping my hand and tugging me up the stairs. "Where are we going?" I asked, my heart thundering as I hurried to keep up.

"Not sure yet," he said over his shoulder, his lips quirking in that mischievous smirk I knew all too well.

We passed one door, then another, each one locked. "Ray, we have a dressing room," I reminded him.

"Guys are taking a break. We need privacy," he said, turning his head just enough for me to catch the spark in his brown eyes.

Finally, he jiggled the handle of a door, and it creaked open. The room was dark and smelled faintly of cleaning supplies. My eyes adjusted, revealing shelves stacked with toilet paper, tissues, and other supplies.

Before I could comment, he turned and pulled me close, his lips finding mine with an urgency that made my breath hitch.

"What is this place?" I managed between kisses.

"No idea," he muttered, his hands sliding down to grip my hips.

He backed up until he hit a counter, pulling me with him. With one swift motion, he lifted me onto the cool surface, his palms warm against my thighs. My dress hiked up as his fingers trailed upward, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

"I fucking love this dress," he hissed, his voice rough and heavy with desire.

I laughed softly, reaching to pull his shirt over his head. My fingers trailed over the hard lines of his chest as he leaned into me, his mouth finding the sensitive spot on my neck.

His hands moved with deliberate slowness, slipping under my dress and peeling away my panties. He stuffed them into his pocket with a wicked grin, and I let out a shaky exhale as his thumb teased against my skin.

"I want you," I breathed, my fingers fumbling with his belt.

Ray's eyes locked onto mine, and the world around us faded until there was nothing but his touch, his heat, and the wild rhythm of my own heart. The night in Paris unlocked an internal need to have him, and as much as I enjoyed his slow lovemaking, this had to be quick.

Ray moved his hips, and his pants slid to his knees. I slipped my hand into his briefs, gripping his hard dick, brushing the precum from the head, and slowly pumping it. His groan reverberated against my neck, his breath searing against my collarbone, making my skin tingle with anticipation. Every nerve in my body buzzed with electricity and wild need.

"We need—" I tried to speak, but Ray silenced me with a knowing smirk and handed me a condom.

My hands shook as I ripped open the package, the heat of his fingers slowly pumping and curving inside me making it hard to focus. I gasped as his touch sent sparks through me, my breath coming in shallow bursts. With fumbling fingers, I managed to roll the condom on, and then his hands gripped my waist, pulling me closer to the table's edge.

The moment he thrust into me, I clung to his neck, his strength lifting me slightly off the surface. His movements were intense, hard, and fast, his skin damp against mine as my moans were muffled against his shoulder.

I wrapped my legs tightly around his waist, drawing him deeper, wanting more of him, needing him closer. Time blurred as pleasure consumed me, his name slipping from my lips in hushed whispers and moans.

When it was over, we lingered for a moment, catching our breath. I found a box of tissues nearby and handed him one before grabbing another for myself. Suddenly, the sharp creak of a door and a flood of light from the corner of the room made me squint.

I froze, still perched on the countertop, my dress thankfully covering me. Ray stood in front of me, his briefs in place but his pants still around his knees.

"A broom closet?" Logan's voice rang out, thick with laughter as he leaned against the doorframe, his sharp blue eyes twinkling with amusement. "Seriously, guys?"

Ray turned his face a mix of annoyance and disbelief. "Close the fucking door," he roared, his glare fierce enough to make me stifle a laugh.

Logan obeyed but not before laughing so hard his boots squeaked as he stepped away. "We've got a show, brother!" he called out his voice fading down the hall.

I couldn't help it—I giggled as I hopped off the table.

"Don't laugh," Ray muttered, tugging his pants back up. "Your dress was down, right?"

"Of course," I said, fishing my panties out of his pocket, a wicked grin tugging at my lips. "Not like Logan cares."

"I care," Ray said, his tone possessive as he stepped closer and pulled me into his arms. His hand slid along my waist, his lips brushing against mine. "That's mine. Just mine."

"Possessive much?" I teased, arching an eyebrow.

"Protective," he corrected, his brown eyes smoldering with intensity.

We slipped out of the closet separately, and I headed back to the merch shop while Ray prepared for the show. Later, I watched the concert from the balcony. The hall was packed, the energy from the crowd buzzing through the air, but exhaustion crept in, weighing on my limbs. After the show, I returned to help sell merchandise.

Brussels would remain mostly unexplored, a bittersweet thought as we packed up. We did manage a quick walk through the city, taking in the grandeur of Brussels Town Hall, the City Museum, and Saint Nicholas Church. I treated myself to Moules-Frites—a fresh, buttery indulgence—and, of course, a stash of chocolates I'd probably regret eating all at once later.

Back on the bus, my hair wrapped in a towel after another shower, I slouched on the couch. The guys were sprawled around the bus, their laughter filling the space as whiskey flowed. Avenged Sevenfold played in the background. Ray sat beside me, leaning his head on my shoulder, his warmth a comforting presence.

Andrew took a sip of his drink and smirked at us. "Oh, look at them. So cute and innocent."

Five sets of eyes turned our way.

"Innocent?" Logan raised an eyebrow, a wicked grin spreading across his face. "Yeah, real innocent. Considering I caught Ray without his pants earlier today." His laugh boomed through the bus, ignoring Ray's warning glare.

"Really?" James asked, his tone half-amused, half-curious.

"I mean, they were in a storage closet," Logan continued, wiping tears from his eyes.

"Why is this so funny?" I asked, brushing my hair out, pretending not to care.

Logan shot me a look. "Because it was a storage closet."

I tilted my head, giving him a sweet but deadly smile. "We could've done it right here, you know. There's a perfectly good bed in the bunks," I said, motioning toward them. "But we didn't, for your sake." Ray's lips twitched as he tried not to laugh. "Unless, of course, you'd prefer to hear me moan while your friend is fucking me."

Silence. Utter, stunned silence. The guys exchanged glances, clearly unsure how to respond.

Andrew was the first to break. "You know," he said, taking a long sip of whiskey. "I'm starting to understand why Ray's been into you since day one." Ray cleared his throat, but the faintest smile played on his lips.

I tuned out the guys' chatter about Germany, letting their voices fade into background noise as my thoughts wandered back to what had happened after the show. My fingers scrolled through my phone, lingering on the photos I'd posted from Paris. The notifications from my sister, Alyssa, quickly drew my attention, her messages laced with suspicion.

Alyssa: Why are you lying about not being with Tom?

I frowned, staring at the words as my chest tightened and confusion filled my mind. It always went back to Tom. I talked with my mom the other day she complained that Tom was not talking with his parents, he was avoiding them. The coward can't tell his parents the whole wedding thing not gonna happen.

I avoided telling Raymond about my family drama, and my parents' expectations, and I for sure couldn't tell him that I felt concerned enough to call Tom. He was of course fine, just dodging his parents. So maybe that was why my sister assumed I was with Tom since he was still "missing". I rolled my eyes and a small groan left my lips as I replied.

Me: I'm not lying. Tom is not with me. I'm traveling alone.

Alyssa: Then who took your pictures? Those aren't selfies.

I sighed, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. If a sixteen-year-old could see through my half-truths, then it wouldn't take long for everyone else to figure it out—especially Scott. A wave of humiliation washed over me as I realized I'd become tangled in my own web of lies.

What could I tell Alyssa that wouldn't make this mess even worse? After a moment of deliberation, I decided to go with a version of the truth. Switching to my other phone—the one meant to keep things off the radar—I started typing, the words coming slower than usual.

Me: Hi, this is Sam. You're right; those aren't selfies. This is my other phone. I can't explain why I have it, at least not yet. I'm not traveling alone, so you're also right about that. But I'm not with Tom. I... have a sort of new boyfriend. Please don't tell Mom and Dad. I'll explain everything when I get back. I'm sorry, Alyssa. You know I hate lying, but there's some stuff happening right now that I can't explain over the phone. Be patient with me, okay? I'll tell you everything soon.

I let out a slow breath as I hit send, feeling a fraction of relief wash over me. At least she'd have something. As I put my phone down, I caught Raymond glancing at the screen out of the corner of my eye.

"Sort of have a boyfriend?" he murmured, leaning in close so only I could hear.

"You should be patient with me too," I replied, locking my phone and turning to meet his dark, curious gaze.

"I am," he said, his voice low and warm as he pressed a kiss to my cheek.

"I'm going to bed," I announced, more to the room than to Ray specifically.

The guys mumbled their goodnights without much attention, their conversation quickly picking up where it left off. I climbed into my bunk, the hum of the bus and their voices creating a kind of white noise.