by Katie McCoy
I crossed my arms, hopefully showing him that I meant business. He sighed.
“Shoot,” he said, gesturing towards himself as I might actually shoot him. As if answering questions was as painful as that.
“If you hate talking about your music and you hate doing press, why release another album? Why go to all the trouble of writing new music if you don’t want to promote it? You clearly don’t need to write music to make money. Why not just stay in your cabin and write music for yourself if you hate the spotlight so much?”
He didn’t say anything for a moment, but I could tell my question had caught him off guard.
“I know it makes me seem like a bit of a spoiled brat,” he finally said, clearly choosing his words carefully. “But a part of me wishes that I could have a career in music without the fame.” He looked rueful. “I love making music, and I love sharing it with my fans—and I know that you and Zoey are right, that in order to share it, I have to share myself. I just—” He searched for the words. “I guess, I wish I could avoid all the drama and the gossip that comes with the rest of it.”
He sighed. “I know that I’m really, really lucky to be where I am. And I know that I sound ungrateful to complain about the things that come with that success, but sometimes, I just wish the music could be the focus. I wish I didn’t have to talk about my personal life or my former band, or anything that doesn’t have to do with the music I’m making right now. I wish the music could just be enough. It’s a catch-22,” Austin continued. “And I know I don’t really have any right to complain, but you asked, and that’s my answer—as selfish as it makes me sound.”
“I don’t think you sound selfish,” I told him gently.
He arched an eyebrow. “No?”
“Privacy shouldn’t be a privilege,” I said. “And you’re right, you shouldn’t have to carve out pieces of yourself just because you want to share your music with the world.”
Austin looked relieved. “It’s the trade-off. Always has been.”
“That doesn’t mean it’s right,” I said.
“Those kinds of comments could put you out of a job,” he teased. “Siding with your subject against the media.”
“I’m not on anyone’s side!” I protested quickly. “But a good journalist tries to see everyone’s story.”
Austin smiled. “Of course you do.”
I caught his eye and felt that heat surge between us. Damn. Beds or no beds, I couldn’t escape the chemistry if I tried. I needed a cold shower. And thankfully, the powers that be agreed.
I felt a raindrop, followed quickly by another. And then another.
“Fuck,” Austin swore lowly—the sound way too sexy for my comfort—but he didn’t seem particularly upset about the sprinkle of raindrops. I wasn’t either—I loved the rain—and a rainstorm in spring was always beautiful and refreshing. So at first, I just tilted my head up towards the sky, tasting the raindrops as they fell.
When I opened my eyes, I found that Austin had been watching me again. A combination of raindrops and sweat had his shirt sticking tight to his skin, his jeans equally molded to his body. I shivered a little, but not because I was cold—just the opposite. The look in Austin’s eyes had me on fire. He looked like he wanted to strip my clothes off and lick every last raindrop from my body.
And I wanted him to do that. Desperately.
But it quickly became clear that this was no mild spring storm—nothing like the romantic caught-in-the-rain scene that often played out in romantic comedies. Instead, this was a downpour. The kind that doesn’t look good on anyone. Pretty soon, rain was coming down fast and hard. Within minutes my clothes were soaked, my hair plastered to my head, my feet drowning in my sneakers.
“We should head back,” Austin said, blinking against the rain falling into his eyes.
“Fast!” I nodded, this time shivering from the cold. My clothes were already heavy and sodden, my hair dripping down my back.
We began the long walk down at a fast pace, focusing on staying upright as the path became muddier and more difficult to navigate. I slipped several times, even landing on my ass in the mud twice. Not exactly my finest moment. With mud smeared across the back of my shorts, my shoes nearly unrecognizable after being caked in dirt, and my skin cold and clammy, I was miserable by the time we finally returned to the cabin.
“Wow,” I gasped, hurtling through the door after him as the first boom of thunder rang out across the valley. “That got real!”
“Hold on, I’ll find us some towels.” Austin disappeared into the laundry room, and reappeared with two fluffy ones. I winced at messing up the pristine white—and dripping on his floors—but he didn’t seem to mind as I tugged off my shoes and blotted my face. I couldn’t stop shivering, and I hoped I could get warm before I came down with a chill.
“We need to get you warm.”
I looked up. Austin had stripped off his shirt in the hallway and was toweling himself off. I couldn’t help but stare.
His upper body looked as if it had been chiseled out of marble. It was absolutely gorgeous, each muscle defined, flexing as he lifted his arms to dry off his hair. Droplets of water slid down his shoulders, down his rock-hard pecs, and further still over his six-pack abs. One lucky droplet of water finally disappeared behind the elastic band of his shorts. I wanted to follow that droplet of water with my tongue.
Austin cleared his throat, and I looked up to find that my ogling had not gone unnoticed. That heat was still burning in his eyes, and when I glanced back down, I noticed that there was a very obvious, very flattering bulge straining against his shorts.
My mouth went dry.
He wanted me, too. There was absolutely no denying that.
“You need to get those wet clothes off,” he finally said.
I reached for the hem of my shirt, but he took a step back.
“I should go change too,” he said, clearly trying to put distance between us.
I would have been insulted, if it weren’t for his still-obvious erection.
“You should take a shower first,” he suggested, holding the towel up between us as if he was a bullfighter and I was a bull. Ready to attack.
He wasn’t that wrong.
I almost suggested that we do the planet a favor and share the shower, but he had turned and headed up to his room before I could.
Wrapping my own towel around my soaked body, I went up the stairs to my own room, feeling strangely pleased with myself. Sure, Austin had practically run away when I attempted to strip in front of him, but it wasn’t because he wasn’t interested.
He was interested. He was very, very interested.
Once I reached the bathroom, I stripped off my wet clothes and stepped into the blissfully hot water. Once my clammy skin had been warmed and my body temperature returned to normal, I washed my hair and body with all the fancy bath supplies that were readily available. Smelling sweet, my skin soft, I wrapped myself in another one of the super comfy robes.
As I toweled off, I heard music again, coming from downstairs. This time, I didn’t hesitate.
Austin was sitting at his piano, his back towards the door, which this time had been left wide open. Still, I paused in the doorway a moment, just watching him.
He’d changed into some comfy-looking sweatpants and a soft cotton T-shirt. His hair was damp, the ends of it wetting the neckline of his shirt. He was completely focused on the piano, head bent in concentration as he picked out the notes. It wasn’t a piece I had ever heard before, but it was clearly one that Austin had played over and over and over again.
He played the whole piece, and then when he was done, without looking up or back at me, gestured for me to join him.
How he had known I was standing there, I had no idea.
But I came into the room anyways, taking a seat next to him on the piano bench. “That was beautiful,” I said softly.
He was still looking down at the piano keys, giving me the opportunity to observe him. To take hi
m in. Something I never, ever got tired of doing.
His profile was gorgeous—a strong jawline, a nose that would make a Roman statue weep, and firm, full lips. Lips I desperately wanted to kiss. Again. And again. And again.
And I knew it didn’t matter what I told myself. Rules and professionalism didn’t matter any more. The only thing that mattered was him.
“You have to stop looking at me like that,” Austin said.
His voice was thick with tension, and he still hadn’t looked at me.
“Like what?” I asked, even though I knew exactly what he was talking about.
“Like trouble,” he told his piano keys.
My pulse was racing, but I forced myself to be brave. I moved my hand, and rested it lightly on his shoulder.
Austin swore—this time it was harsher. Sexier.
Then he looked up at me.
His eyes flashed with desire, and fuck, it was more than I could stand. I don’t know who moved first, but the minute our lips touched, I knew this wasn’t going to end the way our last kisses had.
This time we weren’t going to stop.
Austin’s mouth was firm against mine, his kiss demanding and intense. His hands tangled in my wet hair, his tongue thrusting against mine. This was a kiss that meant business. My own hands were fisted in his shirt, making sure that he couldn’t pull away. I wanted him so much that my entire body was vibrating.
His palm cupped my cheek, angling my face so that he could deepen the kiss. I tasted rain and whiskey and Austin. It was intoxicating.
But we were sitting side by side on a piano bench, our legs trapped under the piano together. It made for an awkward angle for both of us.
I shifted my body, trying to turn towards him, but he pulled away.
“This is a mistake,” he said, his voice raspy.
“No,” I told him, my heart catching. “No, it isn’t.”
He looked at me, that inscrutable look making me doubt myself for a moment. But then I saw something flash in his gaze, a truth he couldn’t hide, even if he tried.
“You want me,” I said simply. “Don’t pretend it’s not true.”
“That was never the issue,” he said, sending a thrill through me.
“Good,” I said, moving so I could straddle him on the bench.
The moment my body made contact with his, hard against soft, we both let out a moan. It felt so good that I couldn’t help rolling my hips against his. Austin gripped my ass, his fingernails digging into my skin. For a moment I thought he might push me away, but instead, he pulled my body against his. Hard.
“Fuck,” he groaned. “The things I want to do to you.”
I pressed my mouth against his throat, my lips near his ear.
“Show me.”
13
Mia
Before I could blink, Austin stood, the piano stool knocked onto the ground behind him. My legs were still around his waist, his hands on my ass. He spun us both around, his muscles taut beneath my fingers, as he lifted me as if I weighed nothing.
His mouth came down hard on mine as he set me on top of his desk. Our tongues tangled as he swept his arm across the surface, knocking free anything that had been arranged on top. Then he was kissing me again.
His hips were pressed against mine, his cock hard against my stomach as he leaned forward, bending me back against the desk until I was lying down. Then he paused, taking a ragged breath.
“Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” he groaned, his eyes sweeping my body, his gaze so hot I felt as if I was completely naked instead of wrapped in an enormous fluffy robe.
He kissed me again, and I dragged my legs up along the sides of his hips, wanting, needing him closer. His hands obliged, sliding downward, parting the lapels of the robe, exposing my breasts.
“Perfect,” he murmured before capturing one of my nipples in his mouth.
The sensation had me arching off of the desk. His mouth was so talented, his tongue and teeth teasing the delicate peak, while his hands made quick work of the sash at my waist. Before I knew what was happening, the robe was completely open, leaving me naked and exposed to Austin.
He pulled back to look at me.
“Now you’re the one looking like trouble,” I told him.
Austin gave me a wicked look.
“Baby, I’m just getting started,” he said, and dropped to his knees.
I felt his mouth on the inside of my knee, his hands spreading my legs wide as he kissed upward. When his lips touched me there, I let out a gasp.
Oh. My. God.
His tongue stroked over me, his shoulders holding my legs open as I squirmed and writhed against him, pleasure building inside of me. He licked and teased my clit, making me cry out with each thrust of his tongue. I felt him smile against me, his fingers gripping my hips, angling my body towards him so he could feast on me.
My own hands slipped down and tangled in his hair, pulling him even closer. Sensations ricocheted through me, my head pressed back against the desk, my eyes rolling back in my head as his hand came around my hip. Austin slipped one long finger inside of me. God, it felt incredible. I rolled my hips towards him, wanting more, feeling my orgasm building. He stroked me with his fingers, his tongue teasing me as well, both of them working together to make me pant with pleasure. Then he slid another finger inside of me, filling me up, and my orgasm crashed over me. I gripped his head, crying out loud as pleasure pulled me under.
I had barely come back to earth before Austin had lifted me off of the desk. Still boneless from my release, I somehow managed to wrap my arms and legs around him. I clung to him as he carried me out of the music room and up the stairs to his bedroom.
He hadn’t included it in his original tour, but there wasn’t much time to look at it now. I barely caught a glance of the gorgeous wall-to-wall windows before I was flat on my back in the largest, most gloriously soft bed I’d ever experienced. But I didn’t even have a chance to savor that before Austin was stretched out on top of me, his long, hard body better than anything the room had to offer.
He was still fully dressed, while I was completely naked. It didn’t seem fair to me, so I grabbed the hem of his shirt and gave it a firm tug upward. I barely caught a glimpse of Austin’s smile before he lifted his arms so I could pull the shirt free.
“Oh. Wow,” I said, finally able to put my hands on his perfect torso. Damn, this guy was ripped.
I dragged my hands across his chest and down his stomach, loving the way he shuddered at my touch. Then I slid my hands lower, finding the elastic waist of his shorts and slipping my hand inside.
He groaned as I stroked him, his huge cock hard against my palm. He rocked his hips as I explored, his body still braced against mine, his arms shaking from the effort as I teased him, smoothing my thumb over the head of his cock.
“Careful,” he choked out.
I took it as an invitation to strip the rest of his clothes off, until we were both naked.
Austin had his arms braced on either side of my head, our bodies close, but not yet touching. I wanted him badly.
Reaching up, I took his face in my hands and kissed him. He kissed me back, his tongue sliding against me as I pulled him closer, pulled him down on top of me. When he settled his body against mine, we both groaned.
“I need you inside me,” I gasped.
I had never been bossy in the bedroom before, but with Austin it just felt right. He grinned down at me. Then his long arm reached up and past me, pulling his bedside drawer open. He retrieved a handful of condoms and tossed them on the bed next to me. Then he looked down at me, and I trembled with anticipation. Grabbing one of the condoms, I ripped it open and helped roll the latex down his hard length.
He closed his eyes as I did, as if my touch was almost too much, the muscle in his jaw tensing as my fingers stroked him. As soon as the condom was on, I found myself on my back again, Austin’s body pressing against mine, his mouth hard and passionate as he kissed me.
I ra
n my hand down his back to his perfect ass, spreading my legs to make room for him. I felt his cock nudging at my entrance, my entire body ready for him. I bracketed his hips with my knees, urging him closer. But he went slow, painfully slow.
“Please,” I moaned.
“Please what?” Austin teased me, dropping tiny kisses on my shoulder as I writhed beneath him.
“Please fuck me,” I said, shocked by my boldness. “Now.”
I gripped at his hips, my nails digging into his skin. Then, with one smooth thrust, he was inside of me.
Fuck. Yes!
My head fell back against the blankets, my entire body practically exploding from the sensation. He was big, so big and he filled me up perfectly, stretching me to fit his thick girth and sending shivers of friction through my body.
“Mia,” he groaned, his mouth against my throat.
And then he began to move.
At first, his thrusts were smooth and slow. Every movement gave me pleasure, his hands lifting my hips so his cock could drag against my clit with each stroke. The sensation was almost too intense, and I had no doubt that my fingernails were leaving marks in his skin. I didn’t care, and I didn’t think that Austin did either.
He thrust into me again and again, losing the smoothness with each thrust, his movements becoming more erratic, and wild. I loved it, and I couldn’t control my keening moans that came with each thrust.
“Yes,” I gasped. “Fuck, yes!”
Pleasure built up inside of me again, my climax close. Then, Austin pulled my leg up higher around his hips. With his next thrust, he went even deeper. And then deeper still. Holy shit! I rose up to meet him, and Austin slammed into me again, hard. The feel of him, buried deep inside, pulled me over the cliff. I came, crying out, my body shuddering with the intensity of the pleasure that radiated through my body. As my orgasm overwhelmed me, I felt Austin speed up, his thrusts without rhythm, without finesse. I heard him shout his own pleasure and then, with one final thrust, he found his own release.
He collapsed heavily, rolling to spoon me against him. I sank into his embrace, pleasure and endorphins still coursing through me. Austin’s arms held me, safe and tight. It was a perfect romantic moment—