I've met him! Birthday magic works. On track to get that record deal and achieve the dream!
With a yawn, I drop the pen, lose the T-shirt, and stagger back to bed. Sam is there, solid and warm.
Without thinking, I curl into him, fitting myself softly along his side. Sam feels so right. I know I promised to respect his one-night rule, but it's my birthday.
And slowly, so far, my dreams are on their way to coming true.
CHAPTER 12
SLAYER
The insistent throb of arousal pressing against the firm curve of Bix’s backside pulls me from a restless sleep. Morning light seeps through the windows.Another day in paradise.
I carefully disentangle myself from Bix, not wanting to wake her.
The cascade of soft blonde curls spills across her bare shoulders like sunlight on silk. Just above the ridged edge of the blanket, a single rosy nipple peeks out.
Virgins with angel faces and honey-blonde hair can easily undo the Dark Prince. I remind myself to tread carefully.
I step into the shower, turning on all six jets, and let the hot water pound the night off my skin.
I lather with sandalwood body wash, rich and earthy, and close my eyes as the scent wraps around me, sharp with memory.
My hands glide down my chest. Over my abs. Then lower. I grasp the hard weight of my cock.
Pleasure clenches low in my gut almost immediately, fueled by the images flooding my mind—her green eyes staring wide, her lips parted, her hips rocking forward, slow and shy and bold all at once.
I picture cupping her perfect breasts, kissing the top of each onebefore nudging my way lower, the smooth head of my cock brushing along her heat.
Guiding myself into her body as she arches toward me, breathing my name against my mouth.
She tasted like cherry lip gloss and need.
The orgasm swells quickly. Sharp, hot, and unstoppable.
It crashes over me, a brutal rush of release. My muscles lock.
I press my fist against the cool glass, and for a long moment, I’m nowhere. No label. No shows. No damage. Just sensation. Just her.
As I come down, I brace both hands on the tile, dripping and spent. I let the water wash the last ripples away, but her face lingers—lingers like the scent of sex and heat and damn near happiness.
Wrapped in a towel, I face the mirror. The steam has fogged it over almost completely. I swipe a hand across the glass, clearing the condensation.
The man looking back at me is both familiar and foreign. Eyes rimmed in regret.
Jaw clenched too tight. I see the wear layered over my skin, the questions still lingering in my gut.
I don’t know what last night was. But I know it wasn’t nothing.
I check my phone. A new message blinks on the locked screen. I missed it last night. Sterling wants me to stop by the studio before France. Urgent. Not planned.
Of course.
It’s barely eight AM, but the Equinox sports club below the Mandarin Oriental hotel opens early.
I pull on joggers and a black tee, drop my towel into the hamper, then toss what I need into my gym bag.
As I return to the bedroom, I pause at the edge of the bed.
