Vipers and Virtuosos (Monsters & Muses, #2)(88)

Parties always were her biggest stressor, so I can only imagine how difficult it must be this year without anything else to focus on.

For a washed-up pop star like Calliope Santiago, becoming her celebrity son’s manager is about as good of a distraction as one can get.

And I fucked it all up for her.

After an uncomfortably long gap in conversation, Callie clears her throat. “How’s Colorado?”

“Cold and snowy, mostly. Not much to report.”

She laughs softly. “Sounds a lot like home.”

“Yeah, only like a mile above sea level, so the air here is dry as shit.” Blowing out a breath, I let my arm fall above my head, tracing abstract patterns in the vaulted ceiling with my eyes. “Liam tell you I’m doing a New Year’s show?”

“He did.” Pause. She clears her throat again, and this time I hear her swallow. “I think that’s great, hijo. Can’t hide from the world forever.”

“I’m not hiding,” I say, biting back the urge to mention that she’d know what I’m doing here if she hadn’t been ignoring me.

“You’re hardly living.”

My nostrils flare, and I grip the headboard in one hand, my rings digging into the pine. “I’m not sure you’re in a place to judge, Mother.”

Her sigh crackles through the receiver, and I hear her mumble something in Spanish. “I didn’t call to fight, Aiden. I just wanted to check on you.”

“Why? Just making sure I’m still alive?”

“Ay, no. Why would you even say something like that?”

I groan, and Riley rolls away from me, pushing my legs with her feet. “You’re right, I should be the one checking to make sure you’re not dead in a hotel bathroom somewhere.”

She stays quiet for a long, long time, and I feel my heart flatten as my words reabsorb into the air, disappearing like I didn’t utter them.

“Look.” Now when she returns, her voice is cold and hard. Almost detached. “Scandal ruined my career. You were young, so I don’t expect you to remember, but—”

“I remember,” I cut in, my throat constricting around the words. “I remember more than you think.”

Everything. My memory is completely intact, each traumatic event burned into my brain, so I recall it with perfect clarity.

It’s a wonder I didn’t try to off myself sooner.

“Then it should be easy for you to understand why your mother had a hard time with all of this. Sexual assault allegations are very hard to bounce back from, papi.”

“Thank you for that brand-new information.”

Another sigh. “I’d better get going. The housekeeper will be here to let in the catering staff any minute now.”

I bite down on the inside of my cheek, staving off the rejection. “Don’t want to keep her waiting.”

Before she has a chance to reply, I end the call and toss the phone to the foot of the bed.

Throwing back my side of the comforter, I slip from the bed and pad into Riley’s bathroom, quickly brushing my teeth.

Spitting into the sink, I notice the peppermint lotion by her faucet, and roll my eyes, dumping it into the garbage bin by the toilet. When I head back into the bedroom, Riley’s splayed out in the middle of the mattress, snoring so loud I feel it in my chest.

And even though she’s a mouth-breathing, sleep-kicking bed hog, I don’t think she’s ever looked more like her namesake.

I peel back the blankets as I climb back in, shuffling myself so she’s lying directly on top of me. My fingers find her hip, tracing lightly over the tattoo there. I just brush the corner of her scar, and her baby blues fly open, on high alert as soon as she feels the touch.

“Merry Christmas,” I tell her, threading my free hand through her blush-colored locks, fisting the base to press a harsh kiss to her mouth.

“Ungh,” she moans, jerking away and sitting upright. Her tits are covered in faded-red bite marks and rubbed raw from the scruff on my jaw, and my dick roars to life at the sight. “No fair that you brushed your teeth.”

“Your morning breath isn’t that bad.” Pushing up on my elbows, I rub my nose against her chin. “Tastes like us.”

“Not that bad is not a compliment, and definitely not what I want to hear in relation to our bodily fluids.”

She shoves at my bare chest, pushing me so I’m lying flat again. I go without a fight, and she glides her hands up my torso, watching my abs contract beneath the pads of her fingers with a satisfied smirk.

“Like what you see?” I taunt, and she nods, continuing her exploration.

Bending at the waist, her tongue follows the trail of her fingers, leaving a stripe of saliva up the middle of my stomach, then between my pecs, and finally over my nipple ring.

“How come you don’t take your shirt off in public?”

I quirk a brow. “How come you won’t tell me what sent you to Lunar Cove?”

Freezing, she bites the piercing, pushing upright again with an annoyed expression. Crossing her arms over her breasts, she glares at me. “Those questions are not equal in weight.”

“I agree. I’ve been waiting years for the answer to mine.” Swallowing, I decide to give her a little in the hopes she’ll return the effort. “I like my privacy, and my body is one of the few things I’ve been able to keep control of in the public eye. I don’t think everyone deserves to see me like this.”