Rock with Me (With Me in Seattle, #4)(38)

“No problem. There’s no one here now, so feel free to walk around and just ask me questions when you have them.” Rick turns to chat with Skip and the guys wander back toward the sound booths. Eric turns back and eyes me appreciatively, and I immediately realize he finds me attractive.

This could get awkward.

“So, are you from Seattle?” he asks with a grin. He really is cute. His jet-black hair is too long, and his eyebrow is pierced. He’s slim with strong arms. He’d have to be built to play as vigorously as he does for up to two hours at a time.

“Yep, born and raised,” I smile.

“Cool, me too.”

“Yeah? What part?” I ask, truly interested.

“Bellevue area,” he responds.

“Me too!” I lay my hand on his arm and grin. “What high school did you go to?”

“Excuse me,” Leo interrupts and I glance up into angry gray eyes.

What the hell?

“Skip, is there an office I can quickly use? I need to speak with you,” he murmurs to me.

“Sure, it’s down to your right,” Skip responds and returns to his conversation with Rick.

Leo links his fingers through mine and pulls me behind him to Skip’s office, shuts the door behind us and locks it.

“What’s the problem?”

He doesn’t answer, he just grips my upper arms in his hands and kisses me, hard, ravenous.

And I’m immediately caught up in him. I practically climb him, trying to get closer to him, to feel his skin on mine.

God, it’s always this way. One touch and I can’t get enough.

He lifts me against the door and grinds his cock against my center, kissing me to muffle my moans. His hands are rough, harsh. Hurried.

This is new from him.

I grip his hair and pull his head back from mine, both of us panting and gasping for breath.

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

Still no words, he spins with me in his arms and lays me across Skip’s desk, not bothering to move papers. He unfastens and yanks my jeans over my hips, freeing only one leg, frees himself and pulls a condom out of his pocket.

“You’re going to f*ck me here?” I hiss at him, shocked. “There are people thirty feet away!”

“Stop talking,” he commands, his eyes feral and jaw tight, and damn if he doesn’t turn me the f*ck on.

I’m already soaking wet.

I lean up on my elbows as he grips my hips and pulls me onto him, ramming himself inside my wetness.

“Oh God,” I whisper, my gaze caught in his as he pushes in and out, hard, fast, over and over.

“Mine,” he whispers and clenches his eyes closed. “Mine.”

“Damn, Leo,” I grip his face in my hands.

He pins me again with those eyes. “You. Are. Mine.”

And with that I come apart, biting my lip until I taste blood so I don’t cry out, spasming around him, and he follows me, coming hard and grunting softly.

He gasps for breath and leans down to whisper in my ear, “Do you have any idea how twisted up you have me? You’re mine, goddamn it.”

“Leo,” I begin but he pulls out of me and tucks himself back in, watching me stoically.

I adjust my clothes and clear my throat. “Were you trying to mark me?” I ask quietly, trying to understand what just happened.

“I don’t need you flirting with my band, Samantha.”

“Leo, I was being friendly.”

“You touched him.”

“So?” I look at him like he’s gone mad.

“Eric will…”

“Eric isn’t an issue,” I interrupt, pissed off. “Unless you let him become one.”

He raises an eyebrow and then laughs.

“Leo, I get along well with men. I always have. If you have issues with that, we need to talk about it now.”

He eyes me for a minute, and with a muttered curse scrubs his hands over his face.

“I’m an idiot.”

“Yeah, but you’re hot, so I’ll overlook it this time.” I smirk and lean my ass against the desk, my arms folded over my chest.

“I didn’t like it,” he whispers.

“So noted.” We eye each other for a minute longer until he steps forward and wraps his arms around my shoulders, trapping my arms between us.

He kisses my forehead softly and smiles ruefully down at me. “Is this how you’ll feel about groupies?”

“Probably not,” I respond with a frown. “I don’t give a shit about groupies.”

His eyebrows climb into his hairline. “You don’t?”

“No.”

“Why not?” He looks almost insulted and I can’t help but smirk.

“Do I have a reason to worry about groupies?” I ask sarcastically. I know I don’t.

“Hell no.”

“That’s why I don’t give a shit about them, babe. They’re nothing.” I shrug and kiss his chin. “I’ve been around crazy women fans for far too long to let them worry me.”

“That’s right,” realization dawns and he smiles. “I bet Luke had his share.”

“Luke had a woman kill herself in his house, Leo. I know all about women fans.”