The Purest Hook (Second Circle Tattoos #3)(34)

Like he did with the fire, he stoked flames within her. She turned to face him, and he cupped her cheek.

When his lips meshed against hers, they carried none of the softness she’d experienced over the course of the day, instead they reminded her of all of the pent-up energy he’d unleashed the night of the concert. A vital expression of his hunger.

“Fuck,” he growled against her mouth.

His kiss consumed her and turned her inside out, leaving her all kinds of raw.

He tugged her to him and she fell forward, hands pressed against the contours of his solid chest. Strong hands ran down her back, the sensations too overwhelming to consider the implications of where they were heading. He reached under her butt and lifted her so that she straddled him. She’d never been with such a physically intimidating man before, and his raw strength turned her on.

She forced away feelings of guilt, attempted to sever the past and present.

Dred pulled away from her. “Sorry, Pix, I . . . Fuck . . . Ten more seconds.”

Pixie fought against the riptide he created. Just when she felt like she had her head above water, Dred groaned against her lips, his muttered curses of desire pulling her back under. She was drowning. Pixie pushed against his chest, torn between the fear and desire of continuing.

“Sorry, Pix. Being around you is . . .”

“Yeah. I know.” She sighed, collecting her emotions that seemed to have run all over the floor like errant marbles. She fidgeted on his lap.

“As good as that feels, Pix, I’m trying to ignore the way your ass feels pressed against my cock.” He looked down at her, his eyes giving none of his feelings away, but the hard ridge of his erection said enough.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured.

Dred lifted her off him and lay down lengthways on the sofa. He held out his hand to her. “Come back here, Snowflake.” She liked the way he called her that. It had a purity to it she wasn’t sure she possessed.

She lay down in front of him, her back up against his chest Dred wrapped his arms around her and pulled her a little higher so her head was on the cushions.

He smoothed her hair back and kissed her gently on the neck. “I’m more than willing to wait for you, Pix, because I think when you and I finally sleep together, it’s going to be unlike anything I’ve experienced. But don’t for a second think that I’m not desperate to strip you naked and take you right here.”

And his words made her want that, too.

*

Fuck me, it’s bright.

Dred squinted one eye open and tried to focus. Shit. They were still on the family room sofa. Someone had thrown a blanket over them. Likely one of the guys when they’d come home last night. He was so freaking hot, and his mouth felt like something had died in it.

If he didn’t know better, he’d swear an octopus was clamped around him. He lifted his head to look at Pixie. She was still very much asleep, her mouth slightly agape yet still beautiful.

His balls were probably bluer than the Blue Jay’s mascot, but that didn’t stop his cock having a mind of its own.

He looked toward the kitchen counter to see Jordan munching away on the only breakfast cereal he’d eat, Lucky Charms. He had six boxes in the cupboard, always fearful he’d run out. There were provisions in their contract to have them on hand at every gig. Christ, they were a f*cked-up bunch.

“Morning, brother,” he said quietly.

Deftly, he untangled their limbs and managed to climb over the back of the sofa. Sure, he had a crick in his neck, but he’d had the best night’s sleep he’d had in months.

The thought of Pixie going home today was like a kettlebell to the balls. Not only had she accepted what he’d told her about living with the guys, she’d told him she respected him for it. The kinds of girls that had stayed over in the past were more interested in f*cking the rock star, and in some cases, rock stars. Groupies who wanted to land them all at some point or another. They never thought to question why the band all lived in the same house.

What if she went home and decided to not come back? Or worse, what if his anger issues scared her away? Wasn’t it a fait accompli that she would leave? Would she give up on him like his nine sets of foster parents had? The only people who hadn’t were Maisey, Ellen, and the men in this house.

He grabbed a piece of paper from next to the fridge and scribbled as more of the song he’d started the previous night came to him.

I can’t write this song without you. What am I going to do?

Dred tapped his pen against the paper. The other words were ideas. Images. Nothing that he could settle into place.

Jordan pushed a cup of coffee across the counter. He’d not even seen him get up.

“You look like you need this,” he whispered.

Dred looked over to where Pixie was still sleeping. Part of him wanted to carry her upstairs and keep her in bed for the day. But he felt the shift in her when they were kissing on the sofa. She’d been right there with him one minute, then something got into her head and she’d pushed him away. He wanted to push her, not into sex because he would never do that, but he wanted to challenge her into understanding what had come between them in that moment so they could address it.

“Thanks.” Dred took a sip. Sure it was manlier to drink it straight up black, but he preferred it sweeter than sweet.

“Did you guys have a good night?”