She decides to try making all the wrong choices for three months. Hit on a tattoo-covered rock musician? Check. Go back to his dressing room for a hot hook-up against the wall? Gulp. Drop everything to be a roadie for him to binge on more of the best sex of her life? Maybe. Start falling for him despite her better judgment? Um….yeah. Figure out why doing everything that seems wrong feels so darn right?
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Waiting wouldn’t make her any braver. So
she marched right up to the hot man. Couldn’t even see his face because of the
exposed single lightbulb hanging two inches above his head. Kylie focused on
the late day scruff along his jawline instead.
“Hi. I think you’re hot. I’ve had a
really lousy day, and I think kissing you will make it better.”
Silence—or what passed for silence in a
crowded club at almost ten pm—hung between them just long enough for Kylie to
decide she’d made a horrible mistake. She was only wearing jeans, not anything
sexy. This guy was waiting for a bathroom to open up. Maybe he needed to pee
more than he needed to be sexually accosted by a stranger. She tried to squint
past the bright halo obscuring his face to figure out if he was smiling or
shocked or just dismissive.
“Let’s find out,” he finally said in a
good-natured tone.
Wow. That was easy. Except….asking him was only step one of her
first bad decision. Implementing step two was something else entirely. Kylie
had no idea how to start. Should she wait until after the bathroom? Go straight
for the lips, or kick things off with an introductory neck nibble? And where to
put her hands?
The man snaked out an arm around her
waist, pulling her close enough that the buttons on their jeans clinked. Kylie
stumbled, which ended up putting one of his legs between hers. Both hands flew
up to rest on those taut pecs. “Hi,” he breathed softly against her ear.
Oh. That was nice of him. The polite
‘hi’ was all it took to spur her into action. Kylie pushed onto her tiptoes,
turned her head sideways and aimed for his lips. She almost missed. Got the
corner and some sharp stubble.
But this guy knew his stuff. He caught
her lower lip with his upper, tugged her into place. And then he nibbled. Just
soft, short nibbles. Ones that made all the hair on her arms stand up. His
tongue traced the crease between her lips. Kylie parted them on a sigh, but he
didn’t push the advantage. Instead, he just kept up the teasing, back and forth
motion.
Heat seared into her lower back. Without
her realizing it, he’d shifted his hand to the exposed skin between her jeans
and tied-up tee. Big. Warm. Moving in a slow whoosh, like a brush across a
snare drum. It made Kylie want to wriggle closer. So still on tiptoe, she
wrapped her leg around his. That motion brought her flush against something
very, very hard. Wow.
His other hand grasped the side of her
face. Tilted it back a bit. Then his tongue finally swooped in,
caressing—seriously!—all of her tongue as carefully and thoroughly as Kylie
imagined he might treat her breast. God, she wanted to rip her shirt off and
let him do just that.
Tipping his forehead against hers, he
asked, “Is your day any better now?”
“Who cares about my day? My night is
freaking fantastic.” Kylie pulled back to look at him. And felt her knees turn
to slush. It….he…the man she’d been kissing was none other than Cam Watson.
God, she’d spent hour after hour staring at his pictures and gifs and videos.
Kylie felt like an idiot for not recognizing him sooner. Of course, he’d cut
off all his signature long hair and spiked-up what was left. It made him look
edgier. Badder. More mouth-watering.
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