by Vicki James
“This place is…”
“Wild, right?” Dexter faltered, his hand falling from mine so he could hold it out to whoever was in front of him. “Hey, man, how’s it going?”
I blinked and faced forward again only to see the Rhett Ryan standing in front of me.
A breath caught in my throat as soon as I saw him. Rhett Ryan, the lead singer of the band, wasn’t just handsome. He was fucking gorgeous. There was a twinkle in his eye that told you he’d destroy you and your body within an hour if you let him. I could see why all the girls flocked to him. He was open to it—accepting of their attention, unlike Presley who was the more brooding member of the band.
“Uncle Dex!” Rhett cried, shaking his hand and pulling Dex to him in a manly embrace. They slapped each other on the back three times before they pulled away. “Fuck, it’s good to see you, dude.”
“Missed me, you little shit bag?” Dexter smirked.
“Hell, yeah, we all have. Travels have been shit without you. You here to see Elvis?”
“Sure am. Know where he is?”
Rhett’s eyes drifted to me as if he’d only just realised there was someone else in front of him. His lips parted to answer Dexter before they slowly closed again, and his eyes narrowed while his knowing smile grew.
“Maybe I do,” Rhett answered slowly, dragging out each and every word.
“Hey,” I squeaked, clearing my throat and holding my hand out.
Rhett’s hand rose, his whole persona changing from how he’d been with Dexter. He was going in for the kill, turning on his charm as he raised a brow and pushed his lips out, already tasting something he wanted on the tip of his tongue. When his palm met mine, he curled his fingers around and squeezed with just the right amount of pressure.
“And you are?” he purred.
“Uh… Tess,” I said as confidently as I could, trying hard to ignore the knot of nerves that were dancing in my stomach.
“You can call her Cherry,” Dexter said when he leaned in.
Rhett’s eyes popped wide open, his mouth falling the same way too as he looked at me. “Shit! Really?”
I glanced between them both, my brows creasing as I tried to read the look Dexter was giving Rhett.
“Well, fuck me,” Rhett said on a laugh, lifting the back of my hand to his lips to gift it with a kiss.
“Put her down, Rhett,” a familiar voice ordered.
I looked up over Rhett’s shoulder and saw the one thing that really could make me speechless.
Presley.
His blonde hair was tucked behind his ears, his bright blue eyes alive as he stared at me like he would die if he so much as blinked.
Those nerves in my stomach turned to a thousand butterflies that dipped straight into my intimate parts. My nipples hardened, the wind knocked from my lungs as I forgot how to breathe. Rhett may have been good-looking, but Presley was breathtaking.
His hands were tucked into the pockets of his jeans, his signature black leather jacket hanging open to reveal a strip of his bare torso I’d once spent the night trailing my tongue over.
Rhett looked up at me through hooded eyes and smirked. “I’m all for having a little fun and pissing him off, if you are.”
“If I were a cat, I’d have used eight of my nine lives already tonight by pissing Presley off.”
“Just my luck.” Rhett sighed, letting go of my hand before he spun on the heels of his boots and pointed a finger at Presley. “You’re a dick.”
Presley unleashed a hand from his pocket, cupped his cock, bit down on his bottom lip and gave a gentle thrust in Rhett’s direction.
“But damn, you’re a handsome one,” Rhett cried, acting like a super fan before he burst into a fit of laughter and wrapped his arm around Dexter. “Come on, D-Dawg. Let’s get you a drink and leave these two lovers to screw until they’re blue.”
“That’s a mental image I didn’t need, kiddo,” Dexter grumbled, holding my bag out to Presley.
I reached over to grab it, but one look of disapproval and shake of the head from Dex, and I was quickly dropping my arm back down by my side. Uch. Like I couldn’t carry my own bag, for Christ’s sake. But when Presley stepped forward and slung it over his shoulder like it didn’t weigh shit, I found my smile growing wider. Why it was okay to be made to feel like the weaker sex when it was by a man you wanted to drop to your knees for, I’d never know.
I never pretended to have morals when it came to him. Him, with his brooding eyes, ridiculous swagger, and those lips I wanted to lose myself in for eternity.
Presley held out his free hand, and I took it like a starving prisoner would take a plate of chips from a well-fed kid.
Blushing for the second time, my whole body began to tingle as I stood there, watching him eye-screwing me up and down. When his attention landed on my Bryan Adams T-shirt, that sexy little smirk of his turned into a full-blown toothy grin.
“What a way to make a horny guy go limp.”
“Jealousy does that to a man.” I smiled up at him.
“Not denying that.”
“I thought you were mad at me.”
“Furious,” he whispered.
“You’re terrifying. Truly,” I teased.
“Give me time.”
He sighed through a smirk and led us forward down a narrow corridor before he turned to twist a handle on a white door. He held it open for me and nodded for me to step through. I did, never taking my eyes off of him until I was over the threshold. His eyes were alive with electricity, flickering between anger and annoyance, to calm and peace. I wanted to jump on him right there, but thought better of it, slowly turning around to look at the room, feeling my butterflies turn to a swarm of buzzing, erratic bees.
A super king bed sat against one wall; the floor space insane. You could have had a game of cricket in there and still have space for spectators to watch. I had no idea why anyone would need that kind of room to just… walk around. In the middle of the suite were two small sofas and a coffee table between them. I couldn’t even see around the corner to my right, so I could only imagine what else was there. A bar? A swimming pool? McDonald’s? Who knew?
Presley’s sexy huff of laughter blew in my ear as he came behind me to rest his chin on my shoulder, not saying anything for a few heartbeats—just letting me look at all that was his for the night.
“Welcome to the dream, Cherry. We’re in my world now. The rules are different here. No more running away.”
Chapter Twenty
I looked up again. He was in front of me, and I knew everything I’d been trying to hide or fight was shining out of my eyes. I wanted him. The whole world wanted him, but I wanted him more.
His hair hung forward. His hands were by his sides as he stood there, taking in every inch of me like he was seeing me for the very first time. Presley’s body swayed forward, but he quickly blinked, shook his head and readjusted his footing.
“Are you… drunk?” I asked him quietly.
“Very,” he admitted freely.
Oh, Presley.
I offered him a flat smile and studied his face. There was no denying he was as gorgeous as ever, but there were differences I hadn’t noticed the other night. Presley’s eyes were glassy now, the edges tired even if his mind was wired. He looked calm, though. Was that because I was there? Or was it because the alcohol had made him as carefree as he wished to be? I wanted to ask him if alcohol was all he’d put in his body, but I wasn’t his mother, and this wasn’t the time. I was there with him on impulse, not knowing what the hell to say or where the hell to start. Only knowing that I wanted to lie down beside him and make more naked memories. I wanted to help him. If he was lost, I wanted to show him how I could be his home.
I guess I really was sorry for the deal I’d made with Dicky, after all.
Moving past him as carefully as I could, I looked around the room again, glancing around the corner that revealed a huge, open seated area that could house at least fifty people or more t
o party in.
“This place is impressive. You know you hit the big time when you get a pad like this all to yourse—”
His hand circled my arm, tugging me, and spinning me around until I was in front of him again, pressed up close with not an inch between us. His hands moved to cup my cheeks and push through the edges of my hair.
“Don’t do that,” he breathed down on me, all whiskey, smoke, and peppermint. “Don’t make small talk with me.”
“What should I talk about?”
“How pissed I am at you. How mad you make me.”
“You wouldn’t be looking at me like that if you were still mad at me.”
“Shh.” His thumbs brushed over my cheeks, his attention falling to my slightly parted lips. “Cherry red hair, green eyes, pink lips, perfect teeth, and a tongue that I want to spend forever tasting,” he whispered as though he was talking to himself. “Fuck, those green eyes. I’ve missed them.”
I blinked wildly.
“Everything seems clearer when I look at you,” he breathed.
“Presley…”
“Don’t go, Cherry,” he begged on a whisper. “Don’t leave me tonight.”
“I’m right here, rock star.”
Those words set his eyes alight before he leaned down to gift me with the softest kiss we’d ever shared. My head was tilted to one side, and Presley never let go of my face as the two of us moved together slowly—two lovers reunited after a lifetime of being a world apart.
Two nights. We’d only ever spent two nights together.
Two people. Why did it feel always like we were meant to be one?
Our kiss picked up pace, and I found myself pushing up on my toes to get closer to him. My hands roamed, sliding down his biceps and falling to his bare chest, where they palmed every inch of his smooth, defined stomach, and waist. His body was so warm that I wanted to bury my head beneath his leather jacket, curl up, and stay there forever—to find my hiding place in the rise and fall of every muscle he possessed.
I embraced every stroke of his tongue, every taste of him, and every brush of his mouth over mine. I couldn’t help the low, lustful moan that escaped me.
Presley pulled back slowly, leaving me with a swollen, open mouth, my face still in his hands, blinking up at him.
He shook his head. “I can’t do this.”
My heart plummeted into my stomach.
I tried to step away from him, but he held me in place. “No,” he said calmly. “No more running. I meant, I can’t do this again if you’re just going to fuck me and leave as soon as it’s done.”
“Fuck you and leave?” I repeated. “That’s never happened. That’s…”
“Cut the shit, Cherry. You left the first time, and I left because you wanted me to the second time. There isn’t going to be a third time if you can’t guarantee me that you’re not going anywhere afterwards.”
“I’m here, aren’t I?”
“Why? Why are you here?”
“Because I want you, and I’m fucking sorry, okay? Sorry for thinking I could make all this go away—make you go away!”
“I need more than that.”
“More?”
“More,” he mouthed; his jaw tight.
“You want me to beg?”
“Absofuckinlutely.”
“Presley…”
“More, Cherry. Tell me why you’re here.”
“Fuck! Fine! Yeah, I thought I could block you out, move on, create a life that didn’t involve me pining for you while you toured and rocked the whole damn world without me, because it was just one night we spent together, and that shit shouldn’t have mattered. One night shouldn’t have mattered, and I should be able to get over it already.” I stopped and sucked in a breath, pouring it all out the very next second. “But I can’t. I can’t, and there’s nothing I can do now but admit the truth. I’ve been fantasising about you for half my life, long before you even knew I existed, Presley, and it just sucked like hell that the reality of you was so much better than anything I could have dreamed of. So here I am, at your feet, saying sorry to you, to me, to us, and hoping like fuck I don’t live to regret it in the morning.”
I tried to swallow back the gigantic confession, but my apologies were shining off Presley’s smug face as he looked back at me and set his shit-eating grin free.
“It’s already morning,” he said quietly.
“Fuck you.”
“I’d like that. Very much.”
I rolled my eyes, but I was unable to stop the twitching of my mouth as my smile curled up on one side.
“But not yet,” he added, pulling my attention back to him. “I want to screw you, baby. I really do. But do you know what I want more than anything in the world right now? More than music, more than whiskey, more than sex?” His thumbs brushed the apples of my cheeks again as he dropped his forehead to rest against mine. “I want to go to sleep. I want to sleep with you… in my bed. Naked. I want to rest and know you’re going to be there when I wake up.”
The man was a wizard, toying with my wants, needs, and emotions until I was upside down and back to front for him, liking everything he liked… wanting everything he wanted… wishing for all his wishes.
“I’m so tired, Cherry,” he whispered.
“I know, rock star,” I whispered right back, my hands resting on the edge of his jeans and giving it a gentle tug. “I know.”
“Come lie with me.”
I nodded softly.
He guided me to his bed, pulling me along, our eyes never breaking contact. When the back of his legs hit the bed, he stopped and let my hands fall free. Watching Presley begin to undress was one of the most sensual things I’d ever witnessed. The lighting of the room seemed to focus on every perfect ridge in his stomach and make the curves of his biceps shine for me. I tried to look as seductive as he did when I started to find the edge of my top to peel off, but he was soon standing in his boxer shorts, pressing his hands against mine and shaking his head.
“Let me do that,” he demanded softly.
He undressed me slowly, the edges of his fingertips catching every sensitive part of my skin, coating me with goosebumps and quiet excitement. Presley bent to untie my boots, and he carefully peeled them off my feet, looking up at me while on bended knee, his eyes sparkling with happiness as he did. It brought an instant smile to my face.
There wasn’t a fantasy from the records of my mind that would ever compare to the reality of being with him like this. The tender moments and the unspoken words somehow meant more to me than the rampant sex and the filthy promises he was capable of whispering in my ear. I knew the latter was what the other women of the world wanted from him—I wanted that, too—but I’d been lucky enough to experience both, and knowing I was one of the few who got to see the gentle side of the man who hit things for a living… it was pretty fucking special.
He was slowly sliding my jeans down my legs when I found myself pushing my fingers into the thickness of his hair, tugging his head back. His lips parted in surprise, innocent eyes staring up at me.
“I can’t wait to fall asleep with you,” I whispered down on him.
Presley’s smiled seductively and stripped me of my jeans.
When he stood tall again, I unclasped my bra and rid myself of it without concern. I slipped my fingertips into the edges of my underwear, and I watched him watching me as I slowly slid them down and let them fall to the floor.
Presley swallowed harshly, his eyes trailing up my body, resting on my tits for a while before he raised his hand, cupped my neck and brought me closer to him. He lowered his mouth, brushing his lips against my cheek.
“Get into our bed, Cherry.”
“Our bed?”
“You better believe it.”
His free hand cupped his dick, rearranging it in his boxer shorts, and I knew he was hard without even having to see the wonder of it for myself.
I did as I was told, slipping past him to go to the bed, trailing my soft p
alm along the perfection of his abs and feeling them contract against me as I wandered away. Pulling the white, cotton duvet back, I climbed in and lay on my side, waiting for him to join me. He removed his boxers, and when he walked around his side of the bed, my eyes immediately fell to his huge erection standing proudly.
“You sure you don’t want to do something about that?”
“It’ll still be there in the morning.” He smirked.
“Me, too.”
“You’d better be.”
I pushed my hands under my cheek and smiled as I watched naked Presley climbing into bed, turning on his side to face me, and shuffling closer until we were only a couple of inches apart. His hand found my waist and tugged me closer, so our bodies were pressed together, and his arm was wrapped around me. We were all silence and eyes searching eyes as we stared at one another.
“Morning, Cherry,” Presley said through a sigh.
“Morning, rock star.”
He couldn’t keep his eyes open for a single second longer, and I watched him fall asleep; a huff of air leaving him slowly.
I studied the curve of his top lip, the almost cute button nose that took in his breaths and set them free as he slept, and I watched the way his lashes flickered ever so slightly while he got lost in a dream. I stayed that way for a while, taking every inch of him in.
This was perfect.
He was perfect.
When I finally gave in to sleep myself, I dreamt of him while in his arms, and not even my imagination could make him any more perfect than he already happened to be.
Chapter Twenty-One
My lashes fluttered wildly, and my eyes narrowed to fight off the sun that was streaming through the now-opened cream curtains in front of me. A huge, arched window looked out over central London, letting the whole world come to life while I remained half asleep. I couldn’t lift my head or even move. My hands were still tucked under my cheek from the night before, and my legs had the duvet trapped between them, one hanging out, exposing my back and arse.