Once the last two fans left, the guys walked toward the door, eager to
get ready to take the stage.
“Treyton,” I called with conviction in my tone.
The guys all mumbled as they walked out of the room with Trey trailing
behind them.
Son of a bitch.
I dragged in a deep breath, then stormed out of the room, stalking
backstage where everyone grabbed food or drinks. I walked right up to Trey
whose back was to me and stepped in front of him. “You heard me.”
His brows squished together.
“You’re acting like a child. Act like a man.”
He grabbed my arm roughly and pulled me out of the room and into a
hallway, slamming the door behind us. He walked into me so I needed to step
back, right into the wall. He caged me in, his hands pressing to the wall above
my head. And just like he had the other night on his bus, he slanted his head
so our faces were close. “Fuck me?” he asked, questioning my words.
I swallowed hard. Having him that close was daunting, even if I was
pissed at him. I remained focused and angry. Because I was. How dare he ignore
me?
He shifted his hips, his erection pressing into my stomach. “Does a child
feel like this?”
Though the intrusion sent zingers through me, I couldn’t let that
distract me. “Stop.”
“Stop what?”
“Stop using your body to try to make me lose focus.”
He smirked, an evil glint in his eyes. “Is that what I do to you?”
“No, you piss me off.”
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