Total pages in book: 31
Estimated words: 29451 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 147(@200wpm)___ 118(@250wpm)___ 98(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 29451 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 147(@200wpm)___ 118(@250wpm)___ 98(@300wpm)
“Yes,” I say, smiling broadly.
My smile only widens when his stress deepens. “Where?” He reaches under the back of my skirt, massaging my right butt cheek. “Here?”
“Uh-huh.”
He gives a regretful exhale. “If I didn’t have this goddamn sound check, I’d bring you to the hotel for a soak.” He rubs a knuckle against my sore opening, his mouth coming down to collect a slow kiss of my lips. “God knows you earned it.”
“It’s okay,” I whisper. “I can give myself a bath.”
“Yeah, I know that. But…” His chest expands and contracts, three small grooves forming between his dark eyebrows. “I don’t know, it’s like I’ve got this responsibility to do it for you. I want to do it for you. Soap you up and wash your hair and everything. Snuggle you up in a towel afterward…and just watch you be cute. What the hell is wrong with me?”
My heart is singing. “Sounds like Daddy behavior.” I rush to add, “Totally different from boyfriend behavior.”
“Right…” He draws the word out, sounding suspicious. “I don’t want you going anywhere without me, June Bug. Stay right where I can see you during sound check.”
“Okay,” I laugh. “I was going to do that anyway. I’m your assistant, remember?”
We’ve reached the stairs that lead off the bus. Before I can release his hand and descend them in front of Deke, he pulls me to a stop, a muscle flexing in his cheek. “You didn’t let me do those things to your body because I’m your boss, did you? Or because you felt pressure to—”
I interrupt him by pressing onto my tiptoes and kissing his mouth. “Deke,” I say, blushing. “You’ve seen the notebook. You know I wanted every single thing you did to me.”
His big shoulders relax. “And you haven’t been disappointed yet. With me.”
It sounds like a statement, but his eyes are searching. “No,” I say, sobering. Crossing my wrists behind his neck and bringing my body up against his. “The way you touch me is better than any of my fantasies,” I whisper against his mouth. “The way you fuck me,” I say, rubbing my breasts against his chest. “The way you lick me. The way you pulse in my mouth—”
“Stop,” he groans, pillaging my mouth from above, his tongue delving deep, the way I crave. “Don’t make me hard when I don’t have time to fuck you properly.”
“You call that proper?”
His laugh is whiskey soaked and husky. So masculine that the sound of it rolls down my spine and makes me shiver happily. “I do fuck you quite improperly, don’t I?”
“In highly inappropriate ways, yes, but I’m not complaining.”
His forehead rolls right to left against mine, his big hands sliding up my skirt to knead my bottom. “Good. I don’t plan to stop.”
“You have no idea what I’d let you do to me, if you played ‘Worth Your Wild’ on stage tonight.”
As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I know I’ve made a mistake. Every muscle in Deke’s body is instantly riddled with tension and he’s pulling back to look at me, his gaze shuttering. “I don’t play that song anymore.” He releases me, plowing a hand through his hair. “I’ll never play it. Don’t ever ask me that again.”
I should apologize for poking a sore spot.
But that’s not who I am. I’m not a girl who backs down from fights.
“Why won’t you play it? That song is a classic. It’s everyone’s favorite. People miss hearing you sing it. I know I do.”
He storms off the bus, his tread heavy on the steps. “That’s too fucking bad, ain’t it?”
I follow right behind him, running to stay on his heels while everyone stops walking toward the venue to watch us argue. “Tell me why you refuse to sing it.”
“No.”
“Why not?”
He rounds on me, leaning down to get in my face, his upper lip in a snarl. “Because I don’t owe you an explanation.”
“You owe one to everyone!”
“It’s my song. I wrote it. I decide what to do with it.”
“I’m sorry, but the first time you sang Worth Your Wild, it started belonging to everyone.”
There’s a brief shift in his expression, as if he never considered what I’m saying, but it’s gone in a flash, replaced by irritation. “I’m not listening to this fanciful bullshit,” he scoffs, storming away from me again.
I start to let him go, but he glances back at me and I catch it. A tiny thread of vulnerability and I have no choice but to pull it. I catch the door through which he enters on the way backstage, following him into the space where roadies are already milling around and preparing for the sound check. “Talk to me, Deke.”
“Let it go, June Bug.”
“I can’t. I’m speaking on behalf of millions of fans.”
“Because that’s what you are, right? At the end of the day, you’re just a fan.”