by Eden Summers
Whoever had taken the photos had decided to stay away, and the small group of paparazzi assholes had retreated from his front gates. He had no clue if, or when, another threat would come through, and at the moment he didn’t care. His security company had been informed of the situation and was instructed to do bi-hourly checks on his property during the next forty-eight hours. There was nothing else he could do, except wait for the current social media buzz to die down.
Pressing the security panel beside the front door, he re-secured the gates, and headed for his bedroom. He turned the handle slowly, not wanting to wake her, and then pushed the door open an inch.
She was a sight, sleeping peacefully with her hands tucked under her chin, and her hair spread over his pillow. She belonged between his sheets, with his body snuggled behind her. He’d give anything to slide against her and not have her flash her claws when she awoke. Too bad he appreciated his manhood a little too much to test her reflexes.
He leaned closer, pushing the door open a fraction more. The hinges creaked in protest, and he cursed under his breath when she stirred. “Sorry, sleeping beauty.”
She groaned, arching her back in an enticing stretch that had his cock pulsing to life. “How long did I pass out for?”
“About two hours?”
“Two hours!” She sat up, glancing at his bedside clock. “Damn it. Now I won’t sleep tonight.”
He grinned to himself. He was sure he could find something to occupy their time once the sun went down.
“Get your mind out of the gutter, Mason.” She flung her legs over the side of the bed and then ran a rough hand through her hair. “Is your mom still here?”
“She left a few minutes ago with stern instructions that you need to be nice to me.”
Sidney grinned, her ruby lips glistening as she unconsciously moistened them with her tongue. “I bet she did.”
For a moment their gazes held. Nothing monumental passed between them, but simply having Sidney look at him without scorn made him happier than he’d been in a long time.
“Do you feel like hitting the studio?” he asked. He’d grown to be a warrior against her rejection, no longer caring how she answered because he’d happily spend his time trying to change her mind.
“I thought you didn’t work weekends.”
Christ. He craved more of that sleep roughened purr of hers. “I’m happy to make an exception for a beautiful woman who no longer wants to gut me like a fish.”
She quirked a brow and pushed to her feet. “Who says I no longer want to gut you?”
He strode to her, noticing the hitch in her breath the closer he came. “Do you?” He peered down at her, hovering close enough to smell the sweet scent of her hair. He wanted her honesty. Even more than that, he coveted the arousal in her eyes.
She swallowed, her cute little tongue sneaking out once more. “No,” she whispered. “Not right now.”
His cock thickened, tightening with every quickened breath she inhaled. “What do you want to do?” he murmured, brushing his palm gently over her hip.
Another swallow. Another lick of her tempting lips. Then in the blink of an eye the daze of lust left her gaze and his little wildcat returned. “How ‘bout we do the exact opposite to whatever your dirty mind is thinking.”
She pivoted, hip-checking him out of the way, and retrieved her shoes from beside the bed. “The holiday is over, rock star. It’s time to work.”
SIDNEY STOOD IN the open studio doorway, breathing in the familiarity of a place which once felt like a second home. Not much had changed. A different Gibson acoustic here, another stool there. It still appeared to be the same studio she’d lost her heart in a long time ago, and the memory made a tiny sense of déjà vu nestle in her chest. She was back to square one, emotionally and physically.
“I can see that brain of yours ticking over.” Mason grabbed one of the acoustic guitars from a stand in the corner and sauntered his confident ass to the leather stool in the middle of the room. “Good ideas, I hope.”
If only he knew. The thoughts and images currently coursing through her mind were heated, passionate, and none of them revolved around song lyrics.
He narrowed his gaze on her as he settled onto the stool, then his lips curved, and deep, masculine laughter filled the intimate space. “I can tell by the heat in your cheeks that they’re kinky ones, too. My favorite.”
Sidney held her breath and continued to scan the new contents of the room, trying to curb the embarrassment. “Do you ever have wholesome thoughts?” She stepped inside and then pulled the door closed behind her.
He pondered the question, lightly caressing the strings of his guitar in a soft melody. “I suppose it depends on the company I’m keeping.”
He gave her a lazy smile that hit her with the force of a baseball bat to the ovaries. For so long, she’d been a mass of broken pieces, too strung up on what the future held to pay attention to her dwindling libido. Now, with one quirk of his lips, Mason made her feel like a woman again. He sparked her desire, made her breath hitch in the most annoying way, and the worst part was it felt right.
She’d struggled for years to hate him, never knowing why she couldn’t fully bring herself to do so. Now, with the knowledge he hadn’t betrayed her, every part of her was alive with relief, hope, and yes, arousal.
“I’ve actually been working on the perfect song for you,” she drawled, pulling up a stool in front of him.
“Oh, yeah?” He clapped his fingers over the strings and gave her his full attention. “Hit me with it.”
She smiled, excitement making her cheeks heat again, and cleared her throat. “Do you mind?” She indicated his guitar with a sweep of her hand, and he willingly handed it over.
“Not at all.”
Settling the weight against her thigh, she closed her eyes and slid her fingers along the frets. The instrument became an extension of her body, and years of lessons made the search for the right chord instinctual. She strummed the strings, buying time, searching for the lyrics she’d lied about working on.
“Give me a minute to warm up.” She hummed with the tune, warming her vocal chords, while piecing words together. For the most part, she’d have to wing it. Her muse had never let her down before, and Sidney was confident tonight wouldn’t be an exception.
“OK, here goes.” She opened her eyes and watched as her fingers moved in confident strokes, filling the room with sound. “Obviously, this will be sung by you, with a deep rock edge, but this will give you a feel for the song.”
A grin pulled at her lips, turning into a beaming smile she couldn’t control. Before she lost her composure, she opened her mouth, and let her voice be marred by sarcasm.
“There’s a package for you, it’s waiting in my pants.
You don’t need a ticket to board, just hop on and take a chance.
Grab my shift and stroke it, we’ll hit high speed together.
You’ll come undone with wanton screams, I’ll make you want me forever.”
She took a deep breath, biting back her laughter and kept her focus lowered on the frets.
“Don’t give me your life or your love, I’m not greedy for those things,
All I want is heaven, and I know where to find it,
So open those legs, yeah, baby, don’t deny it.”
“The chorus is a little rushed,” she blurted, continuing to work her fingers over the strings. “But it suits you.”
“I’m a pussy whore, give me that kitty, please.
I’m a pussy whore, gobble, nibble, suck. Don’t tease.
It doesn’t matter if it’s shaved, gemmed, black, or blue.
Open those thighs, baby girl, you know what to—”
She couldn’t continue. The shocked look on his face was too much. Tears of mirth were burning her eyes, and any moment now she’d release the hold on her laughter.
“Very funny,” he drawled, nudging her knee with his boot. “I don’t know whether to be envious of your i
mpromptu skills, or annoyed at the topic you seemed to think fit my personality.”
“Oh, it fits.” She laughed. “But I missed the best part. At the end of the chorus, it would be epic if you hit a high note with ‘Pusssssyyyyyy, pussssyyyyy, whoooooooorrr—”
He nudged her again, this time harder, making her topple off balance. “Not nice, kitten,” he growled. “I’m not a pussy whore.”
She met his frown with a beaming smile. “Oh, really? How many women have you slept with this month?”
He raised a brow. “Do you really want to play this game?”
She lowered the base of the guitar to the floor, resting the neck against her thigh, and then straightened, ready and oh, so willing to make her point. “How many?”
He hesitated, and she wondered briefly if he was trying to spare her feelings. It didn’t matter, though. Whatever number he came up with could be multiplied ten times over and still be smaller than the amount of women she pictured him with.
“Two.”
“Two? Really?” She frowned. “Is your appendage broken or something?” She indicated his groin area with a wave of her hand, bringing a grin to his lips.
“I’m not sure. You might need to check for me.” He gripped the waistband of his jeans and began unbuckling his belt.
“Ohhh. No!” She pushed to her feet. “That is not the aim of this game.” She placed the guitar on its stand, feeling the walls of the room closing in on her. There was too much temptation, too much opportunity to make a mistake now that she completely lost a hold on her anger. “What were their names?”
She hit him with an accusing stare and wasn’t surprised to see him scowling at her.
“See!” She pointed in his face. “You slept with two women and don’t even know their names. Pussy whore!”
He grabbed her hand, stealing her breath at the same moment. Time slowed, and she was sure the heavy beat of her heart was echoing loud enough for him to hear.
“I’ve missed this,” he murmured, tugging her hand and pulling her willing body between the strong muscles of his spread thighs. “You have no idea how many times I’ve sat in the silence of this studio, picturing you back here again.”
Thump-thump. Thump-thump. Thump-thump. Heart attack initiation sequence in five, four, three—
“Don’t you miss it?”
She paused, not because she had to mull her answer, because she couldn’t find the words. Every day she’d missed this. Every minute of every hour she would’ve given her most treasured assets to be back here, happy and carefree. “I do,” she whispered. “But a lot has changed.”
He released his grip, lowering his hand to her hip. She could smell him, sweet temptation and dark spice. It was too much, his touch, his scent, the hypnotizing way he peered up at her, his deep irises claiming her heart.
His fingers edged around the material at her waist, lightly stroking the skin underneath. The touch ricocheted through her, making heat well between her thighs. Her legs grew weak, her breathing labored, until every part of her being was consumed with the need to have him.
“This is too soon.” She stepped back, and he followed, rising to his feet in front of her.
He didn’t speak, didn’t stop looking at her in the possessive way that melted her panties.
“Mason.” She placed her hands on his chest, feeling the hard pulse of his heart underneath. She couldn’t do this…could she? Yesterday they’d been at each other’s throats. Today they were trying to get in each other’s pants.
There hadn’t been enough time to think through his revelation about the sex tape. Her morning had proudly been sponsored by autopilot. God knew what she would regret tomorrow if she went through with the invitation in his eyes.
“Mason…”
His other hand slid over the opposite side of her waist. The caress was tentative, cautious, and cemented her fate. When he leaned in, lowering his face toward hers, she was helpless—lost in the rapid beat of her heart and the lust rushing through her veins.
One hand left her hip, and for a moment she was bereft. Then a lone finger trailed up her neck, then along her jaw, and with a delicate hold, he gripped her chin. His gaze tore down her defenses, stripping away the apprehension, leaving desire in its wake.
“Kitten…” His cheek brushed hers, his mouth hovering close to her ear. “I’ll regret the pride that kept me from you for the rest of my life.” His voice was whisper soft, yet the words rung in her head like church bells.
She whimpered, closing her eyes to the images of the past. Up, down, side to side, her mind was spinning, losing control. The start of the week would’ve marked an innumerable amount of months spent living in a numb existence. Now, she was strung out on emotions, unsure how to breathe.
“I want to go back.” To the days of laughter and creation, the nights of flirting and smiles.
He released her chin, sliding his hand into her loose hair, making her scalp tingle. His lips brushed the sensitive skin below her ear, then her jaw, and her cheek. She had to grip his shirt for grounding, to keep her mind and body focused rather than fading into dreams of what could be.
Their noses brushed, and she moistened her lips, anticipating the taste of him. “Take me back, Mason. Please.”
His grip tightened in her hair, his hold around her waist unyielding. He slid his mouth over hers in a delicate caress, his tongue seeking immediate entry. Her chest expanded at the rekindled sense of perfection as she kissed him back. The damage faded away. There were no more lies, no humiliation, no lack of hope for the future. The slate was clean, her heart was full, and she would cling to the thrill of being alive again, until she had no choice but to return to reality.
MASON BROKE THE connection of their lips. He needed to see her, to make sure he wasn’t imagining things again. In two years, he’d slept with loads of women—groupies, models, actresses, and no matter who they were, whenever he closed his eyes, they turned into Sidney. He’d even earned a reputation for liking quiet women, those who wouldn’t scream his name, or make demands. It was his little treat, closing his eyes to reality and slipping back in time to share a moment between Sidney, himself, and the muse who always hovered close when she was around.
Your taste is heaven, your scent divine. Give me your soul, and I’ll give you mine.
He was delirious with lust. His limbs shaking with adrenaline, his cock straining against the tightness of his jeans. “We don’t need to go back, kitten. We’re going to start anew.”
Her wide eyes blinked up at him, her tongue snaking out to lick those delicious lips. “It won’t be easy.”
“No.” He shook his head and sunk the arm around her waist underneath her blouse. “But it will be worth it.” Her skin was smooth, soft, and he planned to nip and lick every inch of it. He wanted her laid bare, thighs spread, cursing with the need to have him.
“I don’t know if I’m strong enough.” Doubt shone in her eyes as her hands pulled tighter on his shirt.
“You don’t need to be.” She didn’t. She could break, crumple, fall to her knees in defeat, because he would be there to pick her up. Whatever life threw at them, he’d catch it. He’d be there to protect her this time. Pride be damned, his career too. Everything had fallen to pieces the moment he lost Sidney. He couldn’t let it happen again. “I’ve got us covered.”
He grabbed the hem of her shirt, lifting it over her head, exposing the creamy skin beneath. He’d been right about her weight loss. She was slimmer now, her curves less defined, and the lace cups of her lavender bra were holding in breasts smaller than he remembered. But her appeal was still as potent. Words lacked the awe he felt at the sight of her. Nothing could describe her beauty or the way she controlled him with nothing more than her presence.
Temptation has a name, and it’s tattooed on my soul.
“You amaze me,” he uttered.
She continued to stare at him, her teeth working the curve of her lower lip. Each silent moment, filled with the soft heaves
of her breath undid him, making him more determined to succeed. He was going to win this battle. He’d get the girl, the album, the future.
“You scare me.” She gave a sheepish smile, the affect was like a punch through his chest.
“Why?” His hands roamed her stomach, her ribs, and the curve of her waist. The entire time he kept his focus on her eyes, reading the emotions in the hazel depths.
She ignored the question and lifted his shirt, drawing the material higher until he had to bend to allow her to pull it over his head.
“Why, kitten?”
She clasped his shirt in her hands, wringing it between her fingers. “You make me weak.”
He smiled, his lips widening until he broke into a chuckle.
“Don’t laugh at me.” His shirt fell from her hands, and she turned to elbow him away. “Damn it. I knew this was a mistake.”
He tightened his grip, falling back onto the stool and dragging her along with him. “There’s no mistake. I laughed because I’m just as powerless against you.” He glided his hands over her hips, palming her ass to encourage her to straddle his thighs.
She moved onto him, her narrowed gaze announcing her doubt. “Please forgive me if I seem a little skeptical.”
His wildcat was back, the mischief and shield of sarcasm sparkling in her eyes. “What will it take to prove it?”
I’d kill for you, I’d bleed. I’ll knock down all your defenses till I succeed.
“Time.”
“I’ve got all the time in the world.” He ran his hand up her spine to her neck, loving how she shivered at his touch.
Her mouth opened, and he stole her reply with his lips. He kissed her hard, enunciating his declaration. He was at her mercy, and the only way he knew to speed up the process was to show her, physically, how much he was dying to be with her. So he kissed her harder, unclasping the back of her bra, while his other hand continued to palm her head, keeping her in place.