“Out of how many was it again?” My voice was quivering. I was shaking from fear, from lust, from what I’d just done.
From what he was about to do.
“Seventeen in twenty-four hours.” He shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal when I’d never even had one with my ex.
“That’s a lot.”
His grin was wicked. “I’m an overachiever. What can I say? And I really, really, really want to make you scream.”
I gulped. “Don’t be insulted if I don’t.”
“Don’t be embarrassed when you do,” he fired back, and then, without any warning, his palm was on me, followed by his mouth, and I, Bronte Connors, lasted all but thirty glorious seconds.
CHAPTER 15
Andrew
I was in love.
Epically.
Terrifyingly.
In love with the way she tasted, with the way she laughed, the way she licked— Shit, I was already in so deep.
The sound of my name on her lips was going to the top of my list as my favorite sound in the world, right next to the sound of her orgasm.
I still had, what? Sixteen to give? And the only reason I didn’t do more was because of the way she’d looked at me when I was done tasting her.
It was fear.
And the last thing I wanted was for her to be afraid of the raw feelings between us or the way I made her respond.
My body was still shaking from the taste of her on my lips. Hell, my tongue kept darting out in a desperate attempt to find more of her taste only to come back empty.
After getting her clothes back to rights, I popped the champagne, handed her a glass, and whispered, “Bet you didn’t realize you could scream that loud.”
She took the champagne and blushed. “Maybe I’m just easy.”
I snorted. “Nothing about you is easy, trust me. I feel like I’m going to have to give you a kidney or something in order to feast again.”
She frowned. “Feast?”
I licked my lips. “Feast.”
I didn’t think it was possible, but she blushed harder and threw back the champagne in one gulp.
“Impressive.” I sipped mine and then set it down. Champagne and cider were about the only alcoholic beverages that didn’t have memories of needles, pills, and powder.
I shuddered.
“Thank you,” she whispered as another wave rocked against the cliff. “For not making me feel… awkward.”
Did she even realize how stunning she was? From her dark hair and full lips to her always-wide eyes, as if she was constantly trying to take in the beauty of the world. I was struggling to just take in her beauty. “I’d like to think that I’ll get rewarded for being on my best behavior.”
She held out her glass for more with a little smirk. “Maybe you will.”
I pressed a kiss to her cheek and growled against it. “Promise?”
She didn’t say anything, but her sigh and body language had already told me I might have a bit of a fight on my hands later that night. No problem. I was prepared for an all-out sensual assault.
And I was only taking one prisoner.
Her.
“Thank you… for this.” She tilted her head and then ran her free hand through my hair as if she was curious as if she wanted to comfort me. Or maybe just touch me?
I went still and let her roam, and then I took the plastic champagne flute from her hand and held it.
The best part of my day was that she let me.
That she didn’t pull away.
That she gave off the impression that this was more than a fling for her too as she laid her head on my shoulder and said, “One day, I want to hear about that baggage.”
“One day,” I whispered, “I’ll tell you.”
“Not today?”
I licked my suddenly dry lips. “I don’t want to ruin the best few moments of my life with my darkness. It’s never fun when you invite your demons out to play.”
“We could make it fun if you let me fight them.”
“Small, but packs a punch?” I guessed.
She looked up at me with those accepting, incredible eyes. “I’m scrappy. I’d win, and I’m beginning to think that I’d kill anything that tried to pull you down when you, Drew Amhurst, were meant to fly.”
She looked away.
So, she didn’t see the tears well in my eyes.
She was too far away to feel the way my heart pounded heavy in my chest.
And she didn’t know that with those poignant words — with that promise —that one of the bags I’d been carrying, the one that said, You’re worthless, fell from my body and was left in the dust.
We talked a bit more then rode stupid Will back to Dave, who still refused to look at Bronte like a person and not his next meal.
I was blasted with numerous calls from Skye, which I ignored, and texts from the guys asking about when I was coming back into the studio.
I’d been MIA for two days, and last time I had been missing… well, it wasn’t exactly a favorite memory, so they were probably worried.
So, before I showered the horse off me, I decided the guys needed an update on everything. They were going to give me hell, but at least they’d know I hadn’t spiraled with a bottle of Jack and line of coke.
No, my new addiction was Bronte, and I knew she would be impossible to quit.
I tapped the group text.
Me: I rode Will today.
Trevor responded right away.
Trevor: Does his wife know?
Will: THE HELL YOU DID! Wait; what? Did you mean to type that? Guys, I swear I was home all afternoon.
Ty: Laaaammmmeeeeee, and cool, bro, you do you!
I laughed. Of course, Ty would say that. The guys from the band AD2 who lived here too hadn’t responded yet, but I would put my money on Zane saying something next.
Zane: First, he can’t come up with any songs, and now he’s riding Will. I think we saw this coming, guys. Let’s be honest. Bro swinging both ways, not a bad thing, means you have more fish in the sea!
Will: For the
