“I meant the audition for Stella.”
“You’re saying you don’t want this too?” His tongue flicked in my mouth, and a traitorous moan seeped out of my chest. He was just as talented at using his regular voice to persuade, as he was with his singing voice. “Why can’t we help each other?”
“Are you,” I gasped, “trying to extort me?”
“Of course not.” He nipped at my lips. “Is it working?”
Fuck, it totally was, but I couldn’t let him know. It didn’t matter, though. He walked us backward until the edge of the desk hit me behind my legs, and then his hands clasped around my ribcage. His sure grip lifted and pushed me back, seating me on top of the desk with a loud thump.
I gaped up at him in shock, but he wasn’t apologetic. If anything, he looked victorious. Lord, it was fucking hot. He moved to stand between my parted knees, and his mouth captured mine, driving me back against the cold mirror.
There wasn’t a lock on the door. Anyone could walk into the green room right now and catch us. Honestly, what we were doing was incredibly tame by musician standards—I’d walked in on at least one orgy in the past with one of the bands I’d managed.
But if I was going to take him on as a client, this was beyond unprofessional. It was a line I wasn’t going to cross.
Like you care. Didn’t you cross a bunch already?
Troy’s hands dove under the hem of my shirt and slid up, his fingers gliding up over my bare skin until his palms landed on my bra-covered breasts. His action sucked all the air from my lungs, and I slumped farther back against the mirror. Maybe I’d done it to give him more room, but I wasn’t sure. I was halfway out of my mind for letting this happen, and I lost whatever sense I had left when his fingers hooked into the front of the cups of my bra and jerked them down.
My breasts tumbled free into his awaiting hands. As he palmed me, his mouth latched on to the side of my throat and sucked, sending sparks of pleasure skittering down my legs.
I wanted to wrap my thighs around his hips and lock my ankles behind his back. I wanted to ask him if he liked how my new tits felt and tell him the way he gripped me was so fucking perfect. Instead, I summed it all up in one word.
“Fuck,” I gasped.
“Yeah.” He was short of breath, and his voice went low and rough. “We should do that.”
The image of us together sliced through my mind. I saw him tugging off my jeans, one leg at a time, while I struggled to undo his zipper over his massive erection. He’d pull a condom out of his pocket, tear it open, and by the time he had it on, I’d have stepped down off the desk and turned around.
He’d bend me over, and although he’d take me from behind, I’d get to watch through the mirror. I’d see his hands, which were rough with callouses from his guitar, clench on my hips as he drove into me. Satisfaction would twist on his sexy face.
It was the hottest fantasy I’d ever had, and I went cold with the realization that, that was all it could ever be—a fantasy. A sob of disappointment welled as a hard lump formed in my throat, but I swallowed it down.
I sat up so abruptly, I nearly knocked our heads together. “Wait, wait.”
His hands froze, each one cupping a breast, and uncertainty tightened his expression. It grew into anxiety as I closed my hands over his and gently eased them down and away.
I hated the words, but knew I had to say them. “We can’t.”
There must have been enough seriousness this time in my expression because he retreated and straightened. He knew the answer but asked it anyway. “Why not?”
“Pick a reason,” I said. “It’s unprofessional. Inappropriate. I’m twice your age, and your mother’s best friend.”
“So? We’re both adults.” Was that desperation in his eyes? “She doesn’t need to know.”
I sighed and pushed off the desk to stand on my kiss-drunk legs. “Then, go with one of the other reasons.”
“I’m serious.” Troy’s expression was firm. “I’d rather have a chance with you than the audition.”
Everything went still.
I didn’t ask it to be mean, because I was full of worry. “Are you insane?” There was no power in my voice. “This is a once in a lifetime opportunity.”
“Yup.”
He’d said it so simply, I couldn’t help but wonder if he thought I was talking about me and not Stella’s audition. No, that was ludicrous. Almost as ridiculous as this bluff he was making. He was a twenty-four-year old, self-assured guy used to getting his way.
“I don’t believe you,” I said. “Look, what we did cannot happen again, especially if we’re going to be working together. So you need to put it out of your mind.”
He laughed like he was amused, but it was tinted with bitterness. “Yeah, right. Forget it then. I’m not interested in auditioning.”
What the actual fuck? “Because I won’t sleep with you?” Anger flared inside my belly. “If you’re too scared, man up to it. Don’t try to use me as an excuse.”
Oh, he didn’t like that. His posture went stiff, and his eyes narrowed. “I’m not using you as an excuse.” He dipped down to grab the strap of his guitar bag and jerked it up onto his shoulder, before shooting me a dark look. “I’m a lot younger and you were married, and it was wrong, but . . . shit. I wanted this for a long time. And then it happened, and it was even better than I thought it’d be.”
It felt as if he’d picked me up and flipped me upside down. I didn’t know where to look or what to do, but the weaker I became, the more he seemed to strengthen.
“And now,” his tone was sour, “you’re saying it can never happen again. I couldn’t stop thinking about you before any of this, how the hell am I supposed to now? And work with you on top of it?”
It was like I was standing on ice. Any move I’d make would be precarious. I couldn’t latch onto thoughts or process what he was saying. “What?”
“You can’t be my manager,” he said. “You don’t know a thing about me.”
I was too dumbstruck to do anything other than watch him stride to the door, yank it open, and walk through it without another word to me.
Troy
I parked my Jeep on the street in front of Erika’s house and turned off the engine, but I couldn’t make myself get out of the seat. Eventually the heat would get to me and force me out, but I need another minute to prepare. It was Tuesday, which meant I’d need to go inside her pool house.
Last time I had, it’d been one of my fantasies come to life.
Don’t think about it.
Because if I did I’d get hard, and I was frustrated enough already.
She’d sent me a text yesterday.
Erika: Can we set up a meeting? I’d like to talk.
My answer was straight to the point.
Me: No.
If I took a meeting with her, she’d fill my brain with ideas. I’d see record deals, and music videos, and thousands of fans screaming my name—when none of that was going to happen. I’d dreamed big once and failed so hard, I’d learned my lesson.
Hopefully.