“Are you okay?” Concern swims in his eyes. “Do you need something?”
“It’s okay, I’m good. I feel better.” I squeeze his hand and stand. “Let me shower and get ready.”
The party is in the penthouse, the largest suite in the hotel at forty-five hundred square feet. And when we arrive, it’s crawling with people.
Most of the crowd are decked out in fancy clothes, an odd mix of executives in more conservative yet expensive attire, and free-spirited others, perhaps the talent, in wild or little-to-no apparel.
I’m out of my depth and stick close to Jared. He doesn’t let go of my hand and introduces me to everyone.
Some I vaguely recognize, not for their music careers but for their other passions like politics or humanitarian efforts. Like I said, I’m out of my element.
And then there are the fans. I’m not sure who decides who gets access to events like this, but men and women alike strive for the attention of the famous.
Jared is the center attraction and even though I am on his arm, I’ve been bumped and jostled out of the way just so they can get to him.
Working the room, we finally arrive at the place where we started more than two hours ago, and I excuse myself to go to the ladies’ room.
“Want me to come with you?” he whispers in my ear, and I shiver.
“No, I’ll be okay. Thanks.”
I wade through the crowd and have to stand in line for my turn. Easily thirty minutes later, if not more, Jared isn’t where I left him.
It takes a while to find him and when I do, my stomach is in a tangle. Women flank his sides, all of them gorgeous, sexy, and ravenous for the man. He isn’t indulging—in fact, every few seconds he glances around the room.
On his third sweep, our gazes lock and something hot and, dare I say, arrogant, swims in the depths of those amber eyes. With no words for those around him, he prowls toward me, parting the crowd like Moses did the Red Sea.
There’s this visceral, poetic torment about him that wasn’t there before, when I knew him as a boy. I mean, Jared was always raw, didn’t know how to do polished, and he never held back. But this is different and new, the shift only happening while I was gone.
He appears tortured.
“We’re leaving.” A large hand wraps around my waist, securing my hip, and his fingers sink into my flesh.
“You okay?”
I sense his struggle. He’s wrestling with something, as if suddenly awkward in his own skin. Or maybe it isn’t him he’s uncomfortable with, but this party, these people.
“I will be.” His voice is low and gravelly, and I recognize his desire to flee.
He guides us to the door, and the elevator ride down a few floors to our suite is quiet. Our hotel room is dark, and once the door closes, he’s on me.
His large, hard body presses my back into the wall, his forearm resting on either side of my head. He has me caged in, and the sinful heat of him makes me dizzy.
“Eva.” His tongue darts out, licking his bottom lip, and his smoldering gaze lingers on my mouth. “I’m going to kiss you.”
He isn’t asking, and I’m unable to find the words, only nodding, my gaze never leaving his full, wet lips. His mouth crashes onto mine the instant I’ve given consent.
Even in anticipation of the kiss, a sharp intake of breath fills my lungs followed by my soft moan. He grunts, hands moving to grip my waist and the back of my neck, tightening. I let his scent, leather and spice, wash over me as his lips mold against mine.
My head tilts to one side, wanting more, and he opens his mouth wider. He reaches out with his tongue, touching mine, and I don’t hesitate to lick across his lips before delving back into his mouth.
He tastes so good. Masculine and minty. Grinding into me, his hard erection presses into my stomach, and he kisses me again and again.
My hand grasps the back of his neck, pulling him closer, wrapping a leg around the back of his muscular thigh. A long, suffering moan slips from him, sliding down my throat, as he punctuates his arousal into me.
Face heating, I shamelessly rub against him, needy and throbbing for him, and my heart pounds faster.
“Eva, I don’t deserve you.” His mouth never leaves mine as he speaks. “I’m too tarnished. If your dad thought I wasn’t good enough for you when we were kids…”
He rips away from me. His wounded stare bruises as he turns on his heel and stalks further into the suite. Bereft and lost, his words and withdrawal are a jagged slice to my heart.
24
Secrets are dangerous
JARED
“Don’t say that.” Her voice is soft and raspy, and the heat of her advancing on me warms my back. “What my father thinks doesn’t matter. It’s what I think.”
“But you don’t know the half of it. I was messed up as a kid, dabbled with drugs and illegal shit.” I’m not telling her anything she doesn’t already know. “But my life…if anything, becoming famous only led to more of that shit.”
I didn’t like the idea of hurting her, but my filth can’t be hidden. The party, and how uncomfortable she was even if she said nothing, only made that more apparent.
“You’re a rock star.” She steps in front of me, her swollen lips curving into a brilliant smile. “Your dream came true.”
Her fingers run gently over my temple and down to my jaw. She shines from every pore and it should comfort me, but bitter irony burns my gut, difficult, if not impossible, to smother.
The only dream I ever had was her.
“No, I’m nothing.” I brush an errant curl behind her ear. The overwhelming urge to taste her again, have all of her, nearly bowls me over, and I break away.
“How can you say that? I saw all those people tonight. You were their sun. All of them drawn to you, orbiting around you.” She oozes wonder but there’s also a touch of melancholy.
“I’m undeserving of the opportunity my fame afforded me. Shit, I’m undeserving of you.”
Tonight was too loud, too many people, too much, and it wasn’t good for me. And instead of keeping my distance, I took what I wanted. Kissed her and—no surprise—she was fucking exceptional.
“We were lucky, and it was about time since none of us had easy childhoods. Right place, right time, and Trojan exploded, almost overnight.” I run my fingers through my hair, and she hangs on my every word, a troubled expression setting in.
“Excess, debauchery, and destruction became my life. I was like a devil, feeding off the frenzy, the fans, money, fame, and the women.”
She flinches and I grimace, tossing my jacket onto the chair. I start unbuttoning my shirt, tearing it off. Everything feels too tight.
“Eva, I was numb to it all. I died the day you took your last breath. For so long, there was nothing to me. Fuck, even now, having you here…” my voice cracks, words lodged, swollen in my throat.
I strain to breathe past the emotions I’m failing to keep under wraps, buried in the darkest part of me.
“Jared, we both were numb. You weren’t the only one. The boy I love, he’s still in here.” She rests her hand against my now-bare chest. “Come on, I’m not naïve enough to think you lived like a monk. If you want to tell me about it, I’m all ears. But don’t feel you have to confess what you feel are sins. I meant what I said on the plane. You don’t have to be sorry for living your life.”