“Hey, Abel, can we keep this between us?” he asked, his tone laced with barely disguised frustration and flavored with a hint of fear. “I know I probably shouldn’t have brought her here, but she really wanted to see the studio, and I thought it would be a good way to end the night.”
“Who the fuck am I going to tell?” I turned on him, pissed about the interruption and no longer constrained by the presence of a fan. “The studio manager? If I were you, I’d be less worried about him and more worried about me. Pull that shit again, and you’re gone. And don’t even think about fucking her in there and getting your fluids all over the couch. Understood?”
His face had gotten progressively redder as I spoke, and he gave me a jerky nod when I finished. “I’m so sorry. I’ll get her out of there right away.”
Without saying goodbye, I got into my car and drove home, irritation coursing through my veins.
Despite taking it out on Kyle, I knew it wasn’t just his little visit that pissed me off. It was everything preceding it, and how I no longer felt like I knew what the fuck was going on.
I had just written a song.
This thing that had been hanging over me, the fear that I could no longer write, had finally budged, so why wasn’t I ecstatic?
The answer came quickly. It was because I’d just spilled all my dirty little secrets to someone I was supposed to be staying away from.
The rush from composing with her had clouded my mind. I couldn’t believe how well we worked together, how effortless it was. With Charlie, song writing had been war. With Adeline, it was peaceful surrender.
What was I supposed to do with this new knowledge? In less than two weeks, we’d no longer be working together.
In fact, I’d no longer be working with anyone at all.
At home, I realized my hoodie was gone. I hadn’t taken it back from Adeline, and the thought of how it might smell like her after she had used it made me not want it back at all. Everything about her was intoxicating—her scent, her face, her body, and her talent, and I couldn’t afford to turn into a drunk.
I had to stay away, but today I’d done the exact opposite, and in the moment, it had felt so fucking good.
Guilt gripped me like a vise. What kind of a sick bastard was I? Charlie had died less than two months ago, and even though whatever there’d been between us had been troubled, I had loved him for years. My grief and my feelings over his death were a densely tangled mass, impossible to unravel and understand.
Why hadn’t I seen how deep his issues ran? In those last few weeks, the rest of the guys had wanted space from him. They couldn’t deal with his toxicity, so they tapped out, but I couldn’t afford to do that. I wanted to write, and I’d believed with my entire being that I could only write with him.
He was so volatile—so angry—while we worked together. I felt his pain, but my attempts to comfort him were pushed aside with vitriol that threatened to seep into my veins and kill me like slow-acting poison. Still, while the guys had no way of seeing what was going on with him, I was right there on the front lines. And I’d done absolutely nothing.
The more time I spent with Adeline, the more confused I became. Now that I knew I could still write music, my conviction to break up the band was wavering, and I didn’t know what to do with that.
I tore off my clothes, littering them across the floor before collapsing onto the bed. A feverish chill ran across my skin, and I immediately thought of Adeline rubbing her arms as I walked into the studio today.
She’d looked at me with a mixture of apprehension and fascination. I liked how her big gray eyes widened when I said something undoubtedly rude. The rapid rise and fall of her chest when she got angry. The way she sucked on her bottom lip when she was concentrating on a tricky guitar solo that I told her she couldn’t nail.
I shouldn’t notice these things, but I did, and as my hand drifted toward my hardened cock, I couldn’t deny the attraction I felt.
She was undeniably beautiful, and the thought of being inside of her made my hand pick up speed. Would she feel as soft around my cock as her skin had felt beneath my hand today? Would she gasp and shiver when I pushed my way into her tight cunt? Or would her nails leave marks down my back?
I came with a grunt, hot cum spurting over my hand, and imagined Adeline lapping it off.
So what if I was attracted to her? If I wanted to fuck her? She didn’t mean anything to me. Not like Charlie did. With her, it was purely physical. The things I’d revealed tonight? A simple moment of weakness. Maybe if I’d talked to the guys about Charlie and I earlier, I wouldn’t have opened up to her.
Where did all of this leave me? I could tell the rest of my band was into her as well. Judging by the satisfied expressions Cole and Ezra had worn most of the day, something may have happened between them already. I didn’t know if Adeline was open-minded enough to sleep with both of them, and I didn’t give a shit.
Or at least I shouldn’t.
Still, my traitorous mind went there. If she was willing to screw those two while we were working together, maybe she’d be willing to add me to the rotation?
Of course, only for the sole purpose of getting this craving out of my system.
I pounded my fist on the pillow in frustration, feeling no better than a petulant child. I was Abel fucking Donovan. Why was I pining so hard for her?
No, I was better than this. All I had to do was get through two more weeks, and then I could forget Adeline and her beautiful, expressive eyes.
18
