Chapter Twenty-Three
Rosalie
After my shoot, I’m headed back home for some much-needed space from the three men who are sticking to me like glue.
It was enough when Kairo had to step in as a model.
Carlos offered to give me prints of the photos, and I kindly turned him down before closing myself into the back of the SUV, turning towards the window, and drowning everything out on the trip back home.
While Kairo and Roman discuss security plans in the front, Maddox is seated beside me, his head slouched back against the headrest as he snoozes peacefully, unaware of the inner turmoil I’m facing at the moment.
I saw far more of Kairo than I ever imagined I would.
And I liked it.
Something is seriously wrong with me. Maybe I’m running a fever?
I press my fingers to my temple before shaking my head. Catching a cold isn’t going to change the fact that I was…impressed by what I beheld.
But the rush comes from knowing I did that to him. He was turned on because of me, and I don’t know how to feel about it.
“You haven’t eaten lunch,” Roman comments from the driver’s seat, his eyes shifting to me in the rear-view.
I place my elbow on the door, propping my chin on my palm as I stare out at the passing city. “An astute observation. You have amazing basic comprehension skills.”
His jaw grinds, and I’m drawn to the dangerous ink over his throat. “Your fucking mouth is going to get you into a lot of trouble, Siren.”
The atmosphere in the vehicle shifts, becoming sweltering. The nickname makes me pause, mulling it over until I realize with a start that I like it. A small flicker of something ignites in my lower belly, and I shift my thighs together as I try to ignore it. “And what are you going to do about it?”
Fuck me.
Can’t I ever just shut up?
The old me would have tucked tail and cowered. The new me wants to annoy the absolute piss out of Roman Briggs until he regrets ever showing up on my doorstep.
Those haunting, pale eyes see straight through me, digging into my being like a needle in a vein. Roman’s gaze darkens. “What if I bend you over my fucking knee and spank your tight little ass until you’re begging for mercy? Keep playing with me, Rosalie.”
Heat paints over my cheeks and across the back of my neck as my mouth falls open. My eyes narrow on him. “You wouldn’t.”
Kairo chuckles softly from the passenger seat. “Why don’t you test your luck, Thorn? He’ll make it impossible to sit comfortably for a week.”
They’re ganging up on me! These assholes!
I cross my arms, feeling cocky. “Are you forgetting who signs your paychecks now? I own you.”
Roman’s hands tighten on the wheel. When he speaks, his voice is a warning growl. “You don’t want to know what we do to people who think they can control us, Siren. Watch your mouth.”
It’s a blunt dismissal of the conversation, but I don’t want him to have the last word. My lips part on more venom threatening to fall when a hand clamps around my thigh. I jolt, my head whipping down to see that Maddox is squeezing my leg. In his sleep.
I’m wearing a plaid skirt that exposes a little skin, and as his thick fingers dig into my flesh, I bite back my whimper.
I glance up at the front, but Roman and Kairo have gone back to discussing their plans.
They aren’t paying us any attention as Maddox’s hand shifts up further, and his fingers dip under my skirt.
His warm palm closes around the inside of my thigh, ghosting the lacy pink panties I’m wearing.
I peer over at him, the breath skating from my lungs as his pinky nestles between my clothed folds. His head is tipped toward the side, and his face is still slack with sleep. I try to gauge if he’s awake, but I can’t tell.
“Maddox,” I whisper in a hiss as I gently pry him off of me.
His mouth twists as his hand tightens on my thigh, and I wince at the pressure. I grab his wrist, but it’s no use as his finger rubs against me in a slow, punishing rhythm.
“Oh, fuck,” I curse low, pressing my hand to my mouth. He’s teasing my clit through my panties, and the wetness coating me is embarrassing. I try to clamp my legs together, but it only heightens everything as he presses his digit harder against me.
I bite my lower lip, panic and desire clawing away at me and battling with my reason.
This is messed up.
I should wake him up.
I reach across the seat and lightly slap his cheek. “Maddox! Wake up!” I whisper, but he doesn’t budge. I slap him again, more forcefully this time, and I’m still met with radio silence.
It feels good to smack him around, but he’s asleep. Not waking him would be a serious mistake I have to answer for in the future, and my morals have never been questionable. I have to get him up somehow.
His finger presses into me, soaking my panties with my arousal as he circles my bud with gentle, teasing strokes. My eyes flutter as pressure builds, and I try to stop him.
This is so wrong.
How the fuck is he still sleeping?!
I dig my nails into his wrist, squeezing as hard as I can, but he only grunts in his sleep before pressing harder into me.
Fighting seems to make it worse…
I relax my body, letting my thighs part against my better judgment, and rest my head back as I ride out the pleasure.
When he wakes up, I have to tell him.
His fingers work me expertly, even in his comatose state. It’s like muscle memory for him, and I can’t find it in myself to be angry. It’s not like he knows he’s doing it. He’s still sleeping!
I’m reaching the peak as my climax builds.
The slickness between my thighs only seems to encourage him further as he speeds up.
I roll my bottom lip in, keeping my moans contained as the heat in me begins to spread.
I’m scratching his wrist in the process, my nails digging into his flesh and leaving red marks everywhere.
As my orgasm shatters me, I swear I feel him tense, but when my head whips around to him, he’s still slouched.
I pant quietly from my seat, letting the last dregs of my post-clarity clear before Maddox’s arm goes slack, and his hand hits the seat.
He’s still dead to the world, and I’m stuck trying to pick up the fragments of my composure.
I fix my skirt, clearing my throat as we near the electric gates of my home. Roman rolls down the window, typing in my code before the iron slides open, granting us access.
Up ahead, Charlie’s custom, fire-red BMW is parked along the cobblestone path, and she’s propped against the door with two iced coffees in her hands.
She’s dressed in a cute, black mock neck romper that stops just past her calves and thick tortoise shell sunglasses blocking out her sleep-deprived, baggy eyes.
As Roman shifts into park, Maddox’s head whips up, and I stop breathing. I think he’s going to notice what happened, maybe feel the dampness on his fingers, but he opens the back door and slides out without even looking back. My shoulders sink at the anti-climactic moment as nerves eat away at me.
I’m going to have to confront him.
Charlie gives me an impatient look through the windshield, and I grumble as I open my door and step out onto the driveway.
My best friend holds up the coffee. “I brought a peace offering for not being at the shoot.” Kairo reaches for one with a grin, and she yanks it away from him. “Down, boy. Not you.”
He mopes into the house with Roman hot on his heels. The bigger guard stops in the doorway before giving me a pointed stare. “Eat some lunch. Coffee isn’t a meal, Rosalie.”
“Eat some lunch,” I mock quietly, flipping him off in my head as I snatch one of the coffees from Charlie. “Fuck you for leaving me with them.”
She grimaces. “I heard it went…well.”
“Have you ever seen a dumpster fire?”
“Plenty,” she snorts.
“Mhm,” I hum as Maddox catches my eye from the threshold of my house. Before he steps beyond the door, he lifts the fingers that were just pressed intimately to me and shoves them past his lips while making dead eye contact with me.
My mouth falls open as my features pinch with rage while he licks my juices from his digits. His lips pull up into a shit-eating smirk before he winks and closes the door behind him.
That fucker!
He was awake!
“What’s got your panties in a twist?” Charlie muses, making me sputter around my coffee.
Heat spreads down my neck as I cough. “What? Nothing!”
She lifts a brow. “Okay…”
I sigh, linking my elbow with hers before leading her up the steps. “It’s just been a long day.”
“I heard that,” my best friend smiles as we step into the foyer. “Today is the first day since Piper was born that I don’t smell like spit up.”
I bounce with excitement as I lead her to the living room. “Show me pictures! I need to see my godchild.”
Charlie flicks through the photos, showing off Piper’s little chunky arms and cheeks. “You FaceTime every day. It isn’t like you haven’t seen her.”
I take her phone, melting into the sofa as I stare at beautiful, big brown eyes and tiny fingers. “How’s Eve?”
Charlie gets a fond smile on her face. “She’s doing amazing. Motherhood looks perfect on her. She’s just got this glow now. I can’t explain it.”
Their love story is one for the books. They met in our second year of college and have been inseparable since. I always said I wanted a connection as deep and natural as theirs, and I’ll hold out hope for that until my day comes.
It isn’t that I haven’t tried to date. The scene in Los Angeles just isn’t my thing. For being a pop star, I don’t thrill over long nights in clubs or going to the next big grand opening of some overpriced restaurant. I want something real and genuine, like what Charlie and her wife have.
“Sooo,” Charlie says before tucking a leg under her. “I was thinking about the tour—”
I tilt my head, my lips thinning disapprovingly. “You’re on maternity leave. You shouldn’t be thinking about work.”
She fans her hands, rolling her eyes. “I know, but I haven’t been out of the game this long since before your first album. I can’t get rusty.”
I deadpan. “You’re not going to get rusty. You’re a workaholic. No more talking about this. Tell me how mommy life is treating you.”
She groans before snatching her phone back, but as she sees the pictures of Piper, that frustration seems to melt away in an instant.
We spend the next two hours discussing diaper changes and feeding routines until our coffees are watered down and the condensation has dripped onto my coffee table.
It’s good to get this reprieve from the men haunting my home.
It makes me realize just how much I’m missing Charlie while she’s away.
Late afternoon rolls around, and my best friend sits up when she notices the time. “Dammit. Piper is doing tummy time right now, and I wanted to video it for you.”
I usher her out the door, hugging her tightly. “Get lots of pictures and give her a kiss for me.”
Charlie squeezes me to her. “Will do. We’ll be over for a visit soon. Hopefully, your dogs will be well trained by then.”
I snort before letting her go. I wave to her as she drives down the cobblestone path, and I’m left feeling a little empty. I rub my hands over my biceps before my stomach rumbles in protest, and I begin to get the shakes. I head to the kitchen to start making dinner before my blood sugar drops.