Page 143 of A Ballad of Betrayal and Beauty

In one swift movement he grips beneath my thighs and I instinctively wrap my legs around him. We’re simultaneously so close and too far. His kisses cover my face and neck and I gasp when I feel the tip of his cock brush against my pussy.

“Oh god, Key, I need you.”

“Not in here,” he says, fumbling for the tap, and I plunge into scattered shivers as the heat flies away from me. He wraps his fist in my hair and squeezes out the water before stepping out and carrying me with ease. As if I’m only a doll.

I can’t stop touching him, my hands caressing his back and shoulders while my teeth gently snag the edge of his ear. I’m aching for him. Some long and hidden feeling bursting through me like a suppressed and forgotten dream. It’s not enough.

“Please,” I beg, “I need all of you.”

His eyes are dark but hazy, like he’s lost in the fog too. “Condoms?”

I nod and point to my nightstand. My heart thunders along as I wait for him to get ready, then he’s over top of me, lining himself up and sinking into me so perfectly I cry out louder than I ever have before.

Sex with Joel is incredible and it’s different. It’s slow and methodical and builds to an insane euphoria—like being high. Sex with Key is desperate, needy and animalistic—it’s grounded in the earth. Like two wild animals we ride each other. His body hits and pulses into mine and before I even know it’s happening, I’m coming hard and fast, my nails scraping down his back as he grasps a fistful of my hair and groans against my ear.

“Fuck!” he cries, holding me tighter against him.

He collapses over me a heartbeat later, but it’s not suffocating. It’s the opposite. It feels freeing. As if not having him in my life has caused me great strain. My body knows this was always what was needed. Him and me.

“Are you okay?” he asks. “Sorry, I couldn’t hold back.”

I smile and push the dark curls away from his face. “Me either.”

And then the giggles start. My body vibrates with deep, belly laughter. He’s confused at first—or concerned, I suppose—but I know he feels it too: this has been a long time coming. I feel like a teenager again, giggling like a schoolgirl who just walked into class and caught the boy I’ve loved my whole life staring at my underwear.

“I wanted you to look, by the way,” I whisper.

He rolls to the side and props up on his elbow. “What do you mean?”

“That day in school when you looked at my underwear,” I admit. “It wasn’t an accident.”

He pinches the skin at my ribs. “What! You had me thinking I was a pervert for weeks.”

I lift my hand, my palm facing him. He raises his own, his fingers gently sweeping across my palm before our digits entwine.

“I can’t believe we’re here,” he whispers as though thinking out loud. “It feels like the most beautiful dream.”

“We got lost,” I say, letting sleep consume me. “Took the long way home.”

* * *

Even though Keyand everyone else in the boardroom is confident, I can’t help but shake a little.

“It’s going to be okay,” Key whispers in my ear.

I nod stiffly as we wait for the others to arrive. On my left is Key, who holds my hand under the table, and on my right is the band’s lawyer. I’m the only woman in the room, and I tried my best to look professional, but with my job history . . . I mean, I don’t just have pantsuits hanging in my closet.

My heart is fluttering and my fingers tap nervously on my thigh. Oh god, what if this doesn’t work? What if we waited too long and they want more evidence?

The door creaks open and in walks a man with light brown hair and the smuggest smile on his face. That is, until he sees Key.

“Keith,” he says, the note of surprise in his tone clear. He takes his seat at the table across from us, rolling his shoulders back and doing his best impression of a man who didn’t just have the rug pulled out from under him. He didnotexpect Key to actually show up. “It must be so embarrassing for you and the band to be going through this. I believe even the local radio stations have stopped playing those songs.” The two men at his sides—his lawyers, if I had to guess—exchange a look that saysGet this kid under control.

Heat flares in my face, a rage brewing in my gut, but Key squeezes my hand and simply smiles.

“Logan,” he says. “I wish I could say it’s nice to see you again . . . but, here we are.”

Logan rolls his eyes, and thankfully, an older man in black robes enters.

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