Skylar #2
I’d like to think Phoenix wouldn’t get involved, but Josh has him wrapped around his finger most days.
If Josh found out about us, the band would be divided because Phoenix would take Josh’s side and Storm would take Memphis’s…
until Phoenix pulled his best friend since childhood card and forced his hand.
Then Memphis loses everything.
Because of me.
Indignity courses through my system like a boulder rolling downhill.
I never should have propositioned him in that bathroom.
Coercing him to risk everything he’s worked so hard for just because I’m desperate for great sex was incredibly selfish of me.
I have to talk to him and tell him I’m sorry.
That I won’t tempt him again.
That I’ll stay far away from him.
Compelled to right my wrongs, I quickly hop out of the tub, dry off, and throw on a fresh pair of sweats.
After making sure Josh is fast asleep, I slip out of my room and walk down the hall to Memphis’s.
He answers after the third knock. The hostile glare he aims my way makes it clear the disruption—and my presence—pisses him off.
I break eye contact, forcing myself to ignore the hard planes of his naked chest and sculpted abs.
The sweatpants that are slung dangerously low on his lean hips, showcasing that sharp V I want to trace with my tongue.
My name that’s still etched on his skin.
It’s been years since he got that tattoo. Lord knows he has the money to get it removed.
Yet, he hasn’t.
“What?” he grinds out, yanking me from my thoughts.
Nerves get the better of me, and I fidget uncomfortably. “Can I come in?”
Despite looking like he’d much rather push me into oncoming traffic, he steps aside.
Forcing a deep breath, I slip past him and into his room.
Memphis has always been no frills, and that hasn’t changed.
A partially open duffel bag full of clothes—mostly jeans and t-shirts judging from what I can see—rests on an armchair. Apart from a few water bottles and the empty carton of Chinese takeout, it’s fairly tidy.
I swivel my gaze around, pausing on the pen, notebook, and two guitars on the king-sized bed. The same acoustic one he’s always had…and the purple guitar I recognize from back when we were teenagers.
I love that even though he has access to the most expensive instruments, he hasn’t abandoned his old ones.
A deep—and unpleasant—throat clear has me spinning around.
Crossing his arms, he raises one eyebrow, no doubt waiting for an explanation as to why I’m standing in his hotel room in the middle of the night.
I lick my suddenly dry lips. “I came here to apologize for making things weird between us. And for putting your career at risk. I never should have asked you to be friends with benefits. Or followed you into the bathroom and…tempted you.”
That impenetrable mask of his remains intact and he stays silent.
“It won’t happen again,” I quickly add.
Nothing.
Not even an eye twitch or “get out of my room.”
Talk about awkward.
“Okay then…good chat.”
Humiliation burns a hole in my stomach lining. Coming here was a mistake.
Laughing without humor, I shrug. “I should have sent you a text instead. Then I could have spared myself the embarrassment of your radio silence that never fails to make me feel like I have the IQ of a goldfish.”
“Goldfish are actually the second smartest fish in the world,” he states matter-of-factly, his tone devoid of emotion.
Of course, he’d know that.
Pretentious asshole.
“In that case, I’m going to do the smart thing and go.” My heart contracts. “I won’t bother you anymore. You have my word.”
Turning on my heel, I sprint toward the door.
I’m halfway there when I feel him closing in on me like a two-thousand-foot tsunami.
I pick up my pace, mortified that I made such a spectacle of not only throwing myself at him, but apologizing for it.
The moment I step foot outside this room I’m going to find the biggest rock in the world and crawl under it for the next ten years. At least.
However, as soon as I wrench the door open…he comes up behind me and slams it shut.
Seriously? What more does he want from me? I’ve already swallowed my pride, ate a massive slice of humble pie, and promised to keep my distance.
Defeated, I press my forehead to the wooden panel. “Memphis—”
“Let’s get one thing straight.” His voice is a gravelly rasp in my ear. “We’re not friends.”
The words cut me to the bone. “I know.”
“Good.” My heart trips over itself when one big hand curls around my hip and he compresses his body against mine, digging his erection into my lower back. “If you want this benefit, there are rules.”
A spark of arousal lights me up, eclipsing my confusion. “Like what?”
Damn it. Get a hold of yourself, Skylar.
I just apologized for seducing him and vowed it wouldn’t happen again.
“No,” I say before he can answer. “You have too much to lose. I can’t…I shouldn’t be tempting you.”
His husky chuckle tickles my temple. “I’m the one tempting you, Sky.”
I mean, he’s not wrong…but still.
“We shouldn’t—”
“Fine.” He takes a step back and my body protests the loss. “Walk out then.”
My hand tightens around the knob, but I make no move to turn it.
Because I know the second I do, I’ll go back to being Josh’s full-time caretaker and wake up miserable each morning…mustering up every ounce of strength I possess just to get through a single day.
A deluge of nerves churns my stomach.
This is beyond risky. Not to mention selfish and immoral, but…
I need this.
Surrendering, I slump against the door.
The heat of his body returns, along with the scent of Irish Spring soap and oranges. Home.
“That’s what I thought.” Blood rushes in my ears when he shoves my sweatpants down my hips. “Rule number one…” Grasping the hem of my shirt, he pulls it over my head. “What happens between us stays between us.”
I nod in agreement. “I won’t say a word to anyone. Promise.”
“Rule number two…” His fingers hook onto the sides of my panties, and he slides them down. “This is just sex. Nothing more.”
An all-too-familiar pain stabs my breastbone. “Wasn’t it always just sex for you?”
Sharp teeth nip my shoulder blade. “Rule number three…” He drags the calloused pad of his thumb across my lips. “This smart mouth of yours will be wrapped around my cock any time I want.”
The thought of Memphis summoning me to suck him off shouldn’t turn me on so much, but holy hell it does.
However, as much as I’d like to, it’s not a rule I can abide by…given taking care of Josh is a full-time, always-on-call job.
“I can’t. Josh—”
“Rule number four…” I gasp when he cups my bare pussy. “I don’t share. Which means this isn’t his. It’s mine. All mine.”
The sheer possession lacing his words turns my spark of arousal into a full-blown inferno. I grind against his hand, desperate to relieve the ache between my thighs.
“If you suck, fuck, or let him touch what belongs to me, our arrangement ends.” He nips the tender skin on the nape of my neck. “Understand?”
I comprehend what he’s saying, it’s just going to take some careful maneuvering on my part. Then again, I turn Josh down so much already he probably won’t even notice something’s amiss.
Memphis runs his knuckle down my slit, taunting me. “Say it, Sky.”
“It’s yours,” I breathe, my nipples hardening to painful points. “All yours.”
Humming his approval, he slips a finger inside. “Goddamn right it is.”
I close my eyes, unable to form cohesive thoughts as he slowly pumps in and out of my soaked flesh.
I’m sinking, falling…until reality dumps a vat of ice water over my head.
The euphoria he gives me is more potent than any drug out there…but the lows always come after the highs.
I want him—so much—but I don’t want to be stuck on his mental seesaw.
I place my hand on top of his, stopping him. “One more rule.”
“What’s that?”
I spin around to face him. “You don’t get to pretend like I don’t exist.”
The corner of his lip curls as he rakes his molten gaze up and down my naked body, lingering on my pussy. “I can’t ignore you when you’re sitting on my face.”
His dirty words—and the carnal way he’s looking at me as he drops to his knees—has my brain short-circuiting.
I draw in a lungful of air as he kisses a path down my stomach, trying to regain some semblance of control so we can discuss this. “I’m serious—”
“So am I.” Rough hands fasten around my hips, and he tugs me with so much force I fall on top of him as we tumble to the carpet. “Sit on my fucking face. Now.”
Talking is overrated, I tell myself as I straddle his chest.
I inch up a little higher…then hesitate.
Surely, Memphis doesn’t actually expect me to mount him.
How exactly does one sit on another person’s face without suffocating them?
That’s the kind of stuff they should be teaching in sex ed.
A growl of impatience leaves him, and his gaze darkens in warning.
Placing my thighs on either side of his head, I hover several inches above his mouth. “I don’t want to smother you to death.”
Calloused fingers skate down the length of my back. “If I die, I die.”
Before I can object, his hands lock around my waist and he pushes down, crushing my pussy against his mouth.
Heat rushes through my veins and a garbled moan jams in my throat as he proceeds to lick every inch of me with pure greed…like this is solely for his pleasure instead of mine.
Holy hell.
He flicks my clit before sucking in long pulls that have the sensitive bud pulsing in time with my heartbeat.
Just when I think I can’t take any more, he shoves his tongue inside. I whimper when he extends it before methodically thrusting in and out, fucking me.
“Oh. My. God.”
I writhe against him, my legs trembling, my pussy throbbing. The need to come so urgent I require it more than my next breath.
“Fuck yeah,” he rasps. “Ride my face, dirty girl.”