Page 42 of My Rockstar Ex's Broken Vows

With a strangled cry, she comes undone. I work her through it, not stopping until she gently pushes me away.

I stand, pulling her into a deep kiss. She fumbles with my belt, her hands shaking slightly.

"Need you," she pants. "Now."

I lift her, pinning her against the wall. She wraps her legs around my waist as I thrust into her. We both groan at the sensation.

"Fuck, you feel amazing," I growl.

I set a fast pace, unable to hold back. Sienna meets me thrust for thrust, her nails digging into my shoulders. The room fills with the sound of skin on skin and our breathless moans.

"Callum," she whimpers. "I'm close."

"Me too," I pant. "Come with me, Si."

A few more thrusts and we're both falling over the edge. Wave after wave of pleasure washes over me as I empty myself inside her.

Afterwards, we slide to the floor, a tangle of limbs. As we catch our breath, I pull her close. I can't help but marvel at how right this feels—like coming home after years away.

FIFTEEN

Sienna

No more shadows, no more shame

8th St - NYU Station

11:04 AM

The airoutside the studio is crisp and bright, a stark contrast to the hot haze inside the studio. It’s the first true spring day this year, and I can’t tell if it’s a sign of rebirth or the universe reminding me how easy it is to fall for someone who wears charm like a second skin.

I adjust my crossbody bag and head down the stairs to the train. My heart still hammers in my chest as I step onto the sidewalk. Even with the markedly warmer day, my breath comes out in little clouds. For a moment, I just stand there, staring at the steady stream of cars and people passing by, trying to ground myself.

I told him I had a meeting. It wasn’t a total lie—I do have work to do, but it could’ve waited. I needed to get out of there. The thought of sitting down for a meal with him and his bandmates was more than I could wrap my mind around.

I'm still trying to figure out what in the hell this even is.

The studio felt too small after what just happened. The air became thick with him—his touch, his voice, the way he looked at me like I was the only thing that mattered. It was everything I’d dreamed of for years, and somehow, that makes it worse.

Because now I don’t know what to do with it.

My mind goes back to the not-so-veiled threat by Marcus. He made it clear he doesn't want his son, our son, to have anything to do with Callum. I know part of it is that he saw how hurt I was when Callum left. He is protecting Ollie, and I should be doing the same.

I walk without thinking, my feet moving down the steps. The subway noise wraps around me. The hum of traffic behind me and the scrape of the metal wheels on the tracks below fill the quiet I’ve been trying to escape since the moment I left the studio.

My mind won’t stop replaying it—the way his hands felt on me, the way he whispered my name like a promise, the way he made me forget everything that led us to this point.

God, what was I thinking? And in the studio, of all places? I let myself get swept up in everything—seeing him up there, hearing his voice, meeting my long-time idol. It was like I wasn’t even in control, like my brain just shut off and let every primal instinct take over. Rational thought didn’t stand a chance.

The stale underground air hits me as I swipe my Metro Card and walk through the turnstile. The rhythmic screech of an approaching train drowns out the pounding in my ears, but it doesn’t quiet the voice in my head reminding me how vulnerable I just made myself.

What am I even doing? Twice now, I’ve let myself fall back into him. Am I an idiot to think nothing’s changed, like I’m not still holding the pieces he left behind? And for what?

To feel alive for a moment? To pretend this is more than it is? Because at some point, I’m going to have to ask him. When the studio wraps and he heads back to Nashville, what happens then? Does this end as suddenly as it started? Is this just fun for him while he’s in town, or is there something real here?

I don’t know if I want to hear the answer. But I know I need to ask the question.

Everything about him pulls me back to a version of myself I’m not sure I can be anymore. I glance at my phone, half-expecting to see a text from him, but the screen is blank. My stomach twists, and I shove it back into my pocket. He probably thinks everything’s fine. That what happened between us was just another step toward... what? Something? Nothing?

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