Another intense silence. I could hear myself breathing, feel the rush of blood pounding through my veins.
Please say yes, Sebastian. Please.
“What a loaded suggestion. You know, poppies have always been my drug of choice.”
I was still hazy from the mind-blowing kiss, so I didn’t quite connect all the dots. At the moment, I was done with thinking. I only wanted to feel.
“Hmm?”
“Think it through, love. Heroin is made from…?”
Ohhhh. “Poppies.”
“Yes, I crave poppies, but they aren’t good for me.” Sebastian smirked. “Or you. Now, head home to bed, by yourself, and we’ll forget this ever happened.”
And then he was pushing me toward the door.
Somehow, I couldn’t find the words to stop him. Like my tongue had become glued to the roof of my mouth.
Dazed, I stumbled out of the club and stood on the sidewalk, waiting for a cab. If I were smart, I’d let it go, but I didn’t want to forget. I wanted more of this—more of him.
Of course I did. I’d made the classic mistake of thinking I could have one taste and not want more.
All of a sudden, Kate’s plan didn’t sound so foolish after all.
I deserved a last gasp, don’t you think?
Chapter Three
Sebastian
You bubble-headed wanker.
I stood in the efficiency flat above the club staring accusingly at my own reflection in the bathroom mirror. The space wasn’t big—a bed, a toilet and shower, and a couch. As a man on a mission, I wanted as few distractions as possible.
And my stepdaughter was one immense, glittering distraction.
After Poppy left, I’d come up here and locked myself in, before I did something even more absurd, like following her home and snogging the living daylights out of her.
She was a real beauty. How could I not notice her? Poppy was a strawberry blonde, only a couple inches above five feet, a narrow waist, and curvy hips. And her breasts looked to be a perfect handful.
Throwing her a party tonight was the latest in a long line of pretexts—listening to classic records, playing demos of my new songs, anything I could think of. My fascination with her had grown during the past year. Now that the end was in sight, I was becoming restless, frantic.
Now that I’d crossed the line, my imagination ran wild. The mental picture of her sitting on my lap was mouthwatering. I’d run my hands through her blond curls, cup her lovely face and explore Poppy at my leisure—kiss her temple, the tip of her pert nose, take my time with her full mouth.
Bollocks.
I’d gotten married to fix my public image, and here I was, trying to burn the whole thing down. Right now, the last thing I needed was the press swarming around me. Bettie and I had agreed to this devil’s bargain to put our careers back on track. It’d be a shame to fuck it up in the eleventh hour.
I shouldn’t be surprised. Singing is a side gig for me—self-destructive behavior is my real artistic medium of choice. Nearly seducing my own goddamn stepdaughter was the latest in a life filled with all the wrong choices.
Over the years, I’d done lots of shady things. The women I cared about had a way of paying the price for my hubris. And I couldn’t let Poppy get sucked into my life. I was no good for her. Period.
My conscience was hanging on by a thread. The temptation to see her again was unbearable. I didn’t have a rational defense, and couldn’t even buy my own shite anymore.
Tomorrow morning, I’d get my arse to a Narcotics Anonymous meeting—confess my sins and get my head straightened out again. While I wasn’t contemplating shooting up, another addiction was calling my name. I went to a super-secret NA group downtown, one set up for celebrities. It was held in the back room at a local gym, so no one was the wiser.
Damn. Being sober was a stone-cold bitch. I scrubbed my hands down both sides of my face and glared. Get a hold of yourself, git.
In my younger days, I’d wake up without a clue what I’d done the night before. Made the damage much easier to handle. Times like this, I’d crawl in a needle and forget my problems for a few days. Of course, I’d come back to reality with a few more issues to sort out.
The sane thing to do was ignore this attraction—shove the desire down; sublimate it until the longing went away. For a hot second, I thought about pulling out my guitar and composing something sexual. Lust was the cornerstone of rock and roll, but I couldn’t concentrate.
I flung myself on the bed and tried not to think about Poppy.
No such luck.
All we’d done was share a kiss or two, but now I knew what I was missing. And against all the odds, she wanted me too. More than anything, I wanted to show up at her apartment and spend the night wrapped in her arms.
Dammit, I shouldn’t have broken my own rules.
And now, I was left with the hard and throbbing consequences. I lay back and palmed myself through the denim. This stiffie wasn’t going away anytime soon, so I might as well take care of it. I pulled my zipper down, then pushed down my jeans and underwear. Biting my lower lip, I seized the shaft and stroked myself.
Christ, I’m pathetic. Playing with my own dangly bits.
I could’ve picked a random number from my cell phone, but couldn’t stomach the idea of another woman, not after I’d touched Poppy. There were plenty of girls who hung around the bar. I’d shagged one now and then, though it’d meant nothing. They’d all been stand-ins for Poppy—a way of getting my rocks off without seducing her.
All of those one-night stands came with a certain amount of risk, too. It’s a special sort of hell to stop in the middle of the foreplay so your date can sign a nondisclosure agreement. Sometimes I wished the Lovesick producers would bugger off.
So, I could lie here, hard as a rock, or do something about it.
I wrapped one hand around the base, palmed the head with the other, and fondled myself as I replayed the evening. Only this time, instead of letting her go, I took Poppy into my arms and kissed her long and deep. She wrapped herself around me, drawing me closer.
When we couldn’t take any more teasing, I lifted Poppy’s legs around my waist, then pushed the skirt up over her hips, before I peeled her panties to the side. I stopped and started, building my orgasm—teasing myself with the thought of her.
My hips arched off the bed. But this no-frills contact wasn’t enough—not nearly enough. I needed to be inside Poppy, with the feel of her warm, wet quim snug around me, her breathy sighs ringing in my ears as I drove into her.
Soon, I was near to bursting, so I rubbed harder and faster. Groaning, I came—thick, sticky cum sprayed from the head of my cock, coating my fingers, my chest as I spurted again and again.
The afterglow didn’t last long. God help me, this was torture.
Now that I’d seen to the needs of my body, my mind was clearer. After cleaning myself up, I pulled on my jeans again, then dragged my battered acoustic guitar out of the case and strummed it. Sleeping tonight was out of the question; might as well channel this frustration into something useful.
Since my epic fuck-up, I’d played smaller venues, intimate clubs, living on the fumes over my former glory. I was ready for a big change in my life. These past few months, I’d been composing a new album. I’d split my time between running the club and songwriting. So far, I had nearly enough songs for a record. The past few weeks, I’d booked studio time with a band and laid some tracks down. But I still needed a standout hit, an anthem to drive sales.
This time, I swore it’d be different. Fame is a fickle bitch, and she’d ignored me since I’d pissed it all away in one terrible night. I was determined to get my life back on the right track. That was what all of this was for.
Like the other has-beens on Lovesick, I’d wanted my life back. Luckily, I’d been the one chosen by viewers and the producers to marry Bettie in this big charade.
That’d given me enough money to buy the bar, while I worked on step tw
o of my brilliant plan—write a new album. So I could release it and tour again. This time, I’ll be stone-cold sober.
And, most importantly, I’d stay the fuck away from Poppy before I steered us both into disaster.
***
Poppy
“You kissed him.”
I froze.
The next morning, I’d walked into my mom’s kitchen for a big cup of coffee. My head was pounding, and I hadn’t gotten much sleep last night, so I needed the caffeine.
Until she’d dropped a bombshell on my head. All of a sudden, I felt like I’d down three espressos.
Bettie stood in the doorway, a frown on her face.
“What? Uh, I—”
Her brows drew together. “Don’t you dare deny it! I’ve seen the way you look at him. You’ve wanted my husband for months.”
Oh God—she knows.
A flood of shame rushed through my body, turning my stomach into a tangle of knots.
Had Sebastian told her? No, he’d wanted to forget about the kiss. Maybe one of the busboys had overheard us and sold his story to a gossip rag. Hadn’t my mom warned me about reporters over and over again? You don’t know who’s watching you, Poppy. Never let your guard down.
“Mom, I’m so sorry. Let me explain. I—”
“Explain what?” Her brows rose. “I’m just practicing my lines.”
“Lines?”
“Yes, for the new show. Are you all right? You look anxious.”
And then I got it.
“Learning your lines…oh, for the pilot.” I sagged against the counter with a sigh. For a second there, I thought she’d been accusing me of cheating with her husband—which I was guilty of.
This hadn’t been the first time she’d burst into a room, caught up in the middle of a scene. Bettie said it was easier to act with others, so she needed someone to play off. I often served as a stand-in—feeding her bits of dialogue and filling in for other characters.
Last night, I’d come home to find her gone—still mingling at her fabulous party. I’d been relieved because I couldn’t face her yet and I still didn’t know what to say.
After my talk/make-out session with Sebastian, I was more confused than ever. The plan had been to gather up my stuff and hole up at the apartment I shared with the girls while I figured out what to do.
“Yes, Duncan gave me an audition.” She pursed her lips. “At this stage in my career, I shouldn’t have to try out, but I need this part, so I’m going to rise above and do whatever I have to.”
I was grateful for the distraction, so I seized on it.
“You like the role, then? Tell me everything.” While she filled me in, I poured a cup of coffee and pulled myself together.
“Love it, actually. It’s going to be a real change of pace, working on a television series instead of a play. I haven’t done this in years.” She sighed. “If I get this job, then maybe my punishment’s over.”
I remembered the hard times. She’d taken bit parts to keep food on the table, which must’ve been humbling. She’d gone from massive television star to has-been like that. I knew it’d hurt her pride to get shut out of an industry she loved so much. So, Bettie had taken a gamble, left scripted shows behind, and sold her proverbial soul to star in Lovesick, then the play.
“I’m glad—you deserve it.” She’d worked her ass off to get where she was—I hoped she got the role and knocked the critics right out of their chairs.
She beamed. “I do, don’t I?”
“You really want this, don’t you?”
“It’s too delicious to pass up.” She rubbed her hands together in glee. “Claire is a woman of a certain age—which I’m too young to play, but that isn’t the point. Anyway, her husband is having an affair with her younger sister. So my character gets revenge on them for their betrayal. Isn’t the storyline spicy?”
I almost choked. “Very.”
“So, what’ve you been up to? You were asleep when I got in, or we could’ve dished last night.”
“Yeah, it was quite a party.”
“Please tell me you did something fun for once.”
My face answered for me—I blushed.
“Oh my God! Something happened.” Bettie grasped my arm and dragged me into the living room, then pushed me down on the couch. “Tell me everything.”
Oh no.
What can I say? I have a cool mom and never had to hide any exploits. She’d never judged me for anything I’d done. When I’d lost my virginity, she was the first person I told. And she hadn’t given me a lecture on the consequences and her expectations.
Instead, we’d talked through sex—the mechanics, what it meant for a relationship, and how I felt about Justin, my boyfriend at the time. Months earlier, she’d taken me to the clinic for birth control and other supplies in case I “got busy with the boy.”
“Uh…” But I couldn’t tell her this. Not until I’d made sense of what happened between Sebastian and me. “I can’t.”
“Why not? We always girl-talk—you can tell me anything.”
“Not this—not yet, anyway.”
Her face fell, and I cringed.
I was sitting here like nothing was wrong, while she tried to talk to me about it. All I had to do was open my mouth and blurt it out, but I couldn’t find the courage to do it. Besides, there wasn’t enough time to have this conversation right now.
No, that was another excuse.
If I discussed my feelings with Bettie, I might talk myself out of this whole thing, and I didn’t want to.
Bettie took a deep breath. “Okay, I’m not going to push you—for now. You’re an adult and can make your own decisions, but should I be worried?”
Hmm. Good question.
Chapter Four
Poppy
Later in the afternoon, I was safe in my own apartment.
I shared a spot with the girls in Morningside Heights near the university. Nothing too fancy, but pricey due to the proximity to the school.
I hadn’t come to a decision about the Sebastian situation. He’d given me an out. I could walk away, and no one would be the wiser, but I couldn’t shake it off. My conscience was battling with my desires. I wanted Sebastian—badly. And now that I knew there was hope, I was running out of reasons to deny myself. Sebastian would be out of my life soon. My good intentions were lost in a surge of reckless hormones.
But my adult life would be starting soon, and I couldn’t give in to my whims anymore—not that I ever did. So maybe the universe owed me one? I deserved to do something foolish.
And I was talking to myself. Fantastic.
For the past three hours, I’d been texting and calling Kate, but hadn’t gotten an answer. I was desperate to hash my situation out with someone. I’d talk to Iris, but she was still dealing with her ex-boyfriend drama, so I didn’t want to drop this on her, too. Since Bettie was out of the running, that left me with only one option.
Darcy walked into the room holding a battered old copy of Pride and Prejudice in her hand. It was her favorite book—her parents had named her after Fitzwilliam Darcy, the hero of Jane Austen’s novel. Not that I’m an expert or anything. I’d only seen the Bridget Jones version of Pride and Prejudice—another Bettie film school pick.
She came by the bookworm tendencies naturally. Her dad is a big New York Times bestselling author. He’s had dozens of books on the list over the course of a couple decades.
Darcy’s a writer, too, but she’d never mentioned pursuing it professionally. I’d hate to have the pressure of competing with a famous parent hanging over my head. Thank God I’d never followed my mom into the acting field.
Come to think of it, discussing my problem with Darcy was a better idea. Kate would push me into pursuing something with Sebastian, while Darcy would talk me out of it.
“Want a blueberry muffin?” Darcy asked. There were three baskets full of them on the kitchen counter.
“Sure.” I grabbed a muffin and pulled off the top—the be
st part, if you ask me. “Let me guess: Iris was stress-baking last night?”
“Yup. If we hadn’t run out of flour, she’d have made us chocolate chip cookies, too.”
“I’m going to run a hypothetical situation by you. Okay?”
“Fine, hit me.” Darcy sat at the kitchen table with tea and a muffin.
“What if you had a moment with a guy, but he didn’t want to pursue anything with you…would you let it go? Or would you try to change his mind?”
“Is this guy your stepfather?” Darcy took a slurping sip.
So much for my crafty ploy, but I refused to admit defeat just yet. All I could think about was having one night with Sebastian, just one beautiful experience.
“No, it’s a hypothetical scenario.”
“Hypothetical my ass.”
“Just answer the question. Pursue him? Or take a walk?”
“I think you already know my answer. And shouldn’t you be talking to Kate instead of me? You’re besties.”
“I would, but she’s not here. Where is Kate, by the way?” It wasn’t like her to just up and disappear.
Darcy shrugged. “Hell if I know.”
“Okay, back to the theoretical discussion. Please tell me what you think.”
“You really want my opinion?”
I sighed. “I wouldn’t have asked otherwise.”
“Does the guy in question”—Darcy paused for a melodramatic roll of her eyes—“have a good reason for not pursuing a relationship with you?”
I opened my mouth, then slammed it shut. It was hard, even for me, to make a case for an extramarital affair with a stepdaughter.
“Yes.”
“Then leave it alone—move on and find someone more appropriate to crush on.” Darcy made it all sound so easy, but I’d been wrestling with these feelings for months, and I just couldn’t do it anymore.
“You’re a buzzkill.”
“No, I’m right, and what’s more, you know it. That’s why you want to talk to Kate about this. She’s hedonistic and impulsive and would tell you to go for it, which is exactly what you want to hear.” Darcy folded her arms over her chest and leaned back in her chair, like a smug judge who’d just pronounced me guilty.
Wild Ride (Let it Ride Book 2) Page 3