Page 83 of Lyric & the Heartbeats

And as if the universe had manifested her forbidden desire… there he stood.

It seemed even Lyric had her breaking point.

Her lips parted, and instead of an apology for the interruption, what came out was, “I’ll play.”

When Lyric’s words reached Adra, he froze, his fists clenched around Emerson’s tee, and his feet planted to the floor like they’d decided to take up roots.

In hindsight, should he have let Emerson rile him up to the point where he had to shut the other alpha up any way possible before he did something worse?

No. But Emerson knew exactly what buttons to push to set him off, and it was a dangerous game he liked to play.

A game where they both usually came away winners.

Lyric appearing had not been in the game plan, but now that she was here…

Adra’s blood ran hotter, burning away the disbelief as he stared at her over his shoulder. Her gaze had been focused on Em’s hands and the way they clawed into Adra’s sides before her eyes rose to the both of them.

Adra turned back around to face Emerson, his lips red and plucked full by his own mouth. “What’d she say?” he asked.

Emerson grinned like he’d won the lottery and pushed Adra back a step before sliding around him.

Adra turned and watched carefully as Emerson approached Lyric, removed the bucket from her hand, and chucked it at Adra. He caught the thing, the plastic bag crackling at his touch.

“Fill that up,” Emerson demanded over his shoulder.

He narrowed his gaze at the order, but obeyed… for now.

Adra missed what words were exchanged as he stepped forward and placed the bucket under the dispenser, and then the loud noise of the ice machine filled the small space, blocking everything else out.

As he watched the ice crash into the plastic, his mind tried to conjure a million reasons why this was a bad idea… but of all the thoughts rushing through his mind right then, he couldn’t latch onto a single one.

Instead, he came up with so many better ideas and removed the bucket once it was full.

“Come on,” Emerson called. “Our room.”

He was holding Lyric’s hand, and she followed after him, her steps totally silent against the carpeted floor.

In every other situation, Adra was the one calling the shots. He was the one telling Emerson to get to his knees or slamming their mouths together until he quit talking.

But this time Adra dutifully followed, and his gaze traced over Lyric’s figure. The shirt she wore was large, covering her from neck to knee, and he wanted to peel it away from her.

The beep from the lock on their room door intruded into his thoughts, and Adra was so distracted he didn’t even think about holding the door for Lyric. Thankfully Emerson took over that job, and as Adra slid past him, he tried to read his damned mind through his gaze.

It didn’t work.

Lyric stalled out in the middle of their room, the two full beds seeming awfully small when there were three of them in the space. Adra kept walking, placing the ice on the dresser in front of the beds, which housed the television.

When he turned back around, Lyric was standing in the same place while Emerson locked the door.

Her gaze was fastened on him, and Adra licked his suddenly dry lips.

She tracked the movement, mirroring it a second later, and that tiny tell was what made him approach her.

When she’d surprised him right out of the shower that morning, it had only made it harder to ignore the constant need that thrummed through him.

Adra wanted her.

He had harbored a tiny, hopeful but useless crush on her long before he ever met her. Had never imagined he’d actually get chosen for the tour. Never in a million years had he seen this coming, but now that he was here, standing before her with the promise of everything he’d ever wanted just inches away from him, he hoped with his entire being that she—