Does Lorelei leave? Does Jack wake up and stop her? What happens next?
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The Right Song is complete and the answers to those questions are right around the corner. If you would like to see the yummy cover and be notified when the story releases in kindleunlmited, sign up for my newsletter.
My name is Michelle Mankin. My author tagline is romance that rocks. You can check out all my books on my website or start reading the very popular Once Upon A Rockstar series with The Right Man, a Cinderella retelling with a Pretty Woman vibe. All the books in this series are free in kindleunlimited
RECKLESS SIN
EDEN SUMMERS
CHAPTER 1
Sidney
Strong hands wrap around my waist from behind, the muscled arms holding me hostage against the kitchen counter.
“Look who I found all alone and vulnerable.” Mason nuzzles the back of my neck. “My pretty little kitten.”
I chuckle, masking a moan, and turn in his arms. “We don’t have time to fool around.”
He leans in, his mouth descending on the sensitive skin just below my ear. “There’s always time.”
Warmth floods my veins, the surge of lust as instantaneous now after eighteen months together as it was the first night we touched.
“Not today there isn’t.” I slide out from between him and the counter, dragging my mug of coffee along with me. “My client will be here any minute, and so will yours.”
“She’s not my client. In fact, the power dynamic is the opposite. She needs me.” His grin is slow to form as he reaches for the waistband of my jeans. “Which means she won’t mind waiting at the front door for ten minutes if she gets here early.”
“Ten?” I raise a brow as he drags me forward. “Since when have you lasted that long?”
His face deadpans. It’s hard not to laugh at his offence. “That’s a low blow. I’ve never been a ten-minute man.” He keeps tugging my jeans until I’m back against his chest. “Have you got complaints I don’t know about?”
There’s genuine curiosity in his tone.
A hint of concern.
“Well, seeing as though you’re asking…” I place my mug on the counter while panic builds in his eyes. “I’m joking.” I brush a chaste kiss against his lips. “You know I have no complaints.”
“Are you sure?” His brow furrows. “We’ve been a little off lately.”
By we he means me.
I’ve been off. And not by a little. I’ve been too stuck in my head to enjoy the mind-blowing perfection of his affections for a few weeks now.
“I know.” I fight to keep my smile in place. “It’s hormones.”
“Are you sure? It feels like more than that.”
Damn it. My anxiety is starting to mess with his head, too. That’s the last thing I want.
“It’s nothing. I swear.” I wrap my arms around his neck. “Give me a few days and I’ll be back to normal.”
“Promise?” He strokes a stray hair from my cheek. Gentle. Tentative. “Because the last four days have felt like ten years.”
I roll my eyes. “You’re such a spoiled man. Half a week without sex isn’t the end of the world.”
“Tell that to my dick.” He grinds his hips into mine, his cock hardening between us. “I want you all day, every day.”
My insides warm, no place hotter than between my thighs.
I want him, too. His touch always calls to me… only lately I haven’t been able to hear the ring. Not in its entirety. Stress has made it impossible for me to cross the finish line. And starting the foreplay process just to end it in frustration will make my day harder to navigate.
“Tonight,” I vow. “After dinner with everyone. We can come home, maybe have a shower together, and then…” I shrug. “See where the night takes us.”
He grabs my hips and lifts me onto the kitchen counter. “I can tell you exactly where it’s going to take us.” His hands slide to my inner thighs, adding pressure until I spread my legs. “And I promise it will take a lot longer than ten minutes.”
He steps into me, his mouth swoops down on mine. A zing shoots through me, from lips to toes and back again. My body wants to succumb. My heart, too.
“Mason,” I warn. “We’re not doing this now.”
“Are you sure?” He deepens the kiss with a grind of his cock against my zipper.
The friction on my clit is delicious. Perfectly positioned. Exquisitely honed.
“It kinda feels like we are.” He speaks into my mouth. “I fucking need you, Sid.” His hand slides up my waist to cup my breast. “Let’s cancel our meetings and spend the day in bed.”
I scoff a laugh and push him away. “No. Today is important for me.”
He sighs as he retreats. “Fine. Who is this new client of yours anyway? She must be a money-maker if you called in security.”
“He,” I correct. And yes, arranging a few guys to patrol the Goochland property and man the gate soothed one of the many facets of my anxiety over my newest collaboration partnership.
“You’re blowing me off for another guy?” Mason frowns.
“I’m not blowing you off.” I scoot from the counter. “You have a meeting, too.”
“I have a conversation,” he corrects. “One that will revolve around you. This movie deal isn’t just for me.”
I stop myself from cringing. I lock the adverse reaction to his latest obsession deep inside because he’s super excited that Hollywood wants to make a film based on our relationship. But doing cartwheels over a potential box office hit that revolves around the lowest points in my life isn’t something I’m capable of.
“I know.” I turn away from him to reclaim my mug, draining the lukewarm contents before placing it in the dishwasher. “It’s for us.”
To build our brand.
Our empire.
What Mason doesn’t realize is that all the advantages will be at the expense of what little stability I’ve gained since our sex tape went viral.
“So, who’s the guy?” he asks.
I reach across the counter for my purse and retrieve my lip gloss. “Linden Lee. He’s the lead singer of—”
“Basic Bish.” A slight growl enters his tone. “Why are you working with that muscled up, smart-mouthed pretty boy?”
“I guess I’ve got a type.”
He scowls. “I’m not a pretty boy.”
“Of course not,” I drawl. “He reached out to me. He said he wanted to collaborate, and I didn’t hesitate. I’m actually really excited about working with him.”
Every other high-profile client I’ve had in the last eighteen months has been because of the engagement ring on my finger. Linden is the first project I’ve gained without Mason’s input.
“You need to be careful,” he warns. “It could be a publicity stunt. Some sort of band rivalry promo opp. We beat their asses at the Grammy’s last year, remember?”
“Ouch.” I wince. “Has my reputation fallen so far that I’m incapable of gaining new clients unless it’s a ploy to get to you?”