Page 3 of Contrition

“Reaallllly?I think I know just about as much as my darling brother does. The only thing he has a one-up on me is how to make you shiver, squirm, and moan.”

A gasp caught in my throat as he lowered his head even more. The sharp point of his nose scraped the side of my neck, and I inhaled deeply at the intimacy, only to be nearly drugged against the woodsy cologne that filled my senses. “This…this is inappropriate. You need to leave.”

“One kiss.”

“No.”

“Estrella.” He picked his head up, pleading now, and I watched as his tongue swiped out against his bottom lip. The bottom lip that had nearly consumed me months ago. The bottom lip I had moaned into—because some deranged, fucked up part of melikedit. Liked his touch on me. “I will get on my knees and beg for you. One more kiss.”

I shook my head. “We can’t. I’m not going to hurt Zack like that. He’s never hurt me. You were drunk, and I should have shoved you off of me. That’s the end of it. No more, no less.”

“But what if there is more?”

My heart nearly broke as I had to equally spell out the words for him. I had no idea why rejecting him pained me as much as it did, but it somehow felt like I was closing out a chapter that hadn’t even begun. “That won’t happen. We won’t happen. I’ve never even told you if I’m interested in you. Zack is my future. Not you.”

I watched as his blue eyes went nearly blank at my words, only for him to stand up straight and nod. He looked at me intensely, eyes sweeping from the crown of my head to the French-tip painted toenails in my wedges. He turned swiftly towards the exit, right as my papá entered. “You’re a beautiful bride, princess. He’s a lucky son-of-a-bitch.”

And as mypapáturned to me with a raised brow, I only shook my head as music began to play.

It was time.

And Theo was right.

Zack would never hurt or embarrass me by leaving me at the altar. But he sure as hell did months later, once I had started believing everything was perfect.

Even with his vow of never letting me go—no matter what.

one

ESTRELLA

Every single bone, muscle, tendon, and nerve in my bodyached, and that didn’t even account for the raging migraine tearing through my skull as I shifted my head against the hotel pillow. It only worsened at the sound of some man’s voice—Derek, I think—equally groaning against my shoulder blade as his arm tightened around my abdomen. “I need water. And Tylenol. And maybe round five.”

Same, same, and absolutelynot.

I picked my head up from the bed, desperate to grasp the surroundings around us. Except I was met with the sights of an extravagant room, kitchenette, and private pool directly out of the open blinds that only heightened my headache.Were we in a fucking penthouse?

Only headliners ever stayed in penthouse suites. And we most-definitely were not in a tour bus.

My head plopped back down on the pillow roughly. “God, how much did we drink last night?”

“Uh…I stopped counting after tequila number six, in complete honesty. I wouldn’t be surprised in the slightest if we polished off a bottle, though.”

A groan reverberated out of my chest. “My liver hates me.”

“We’re in the music scene. We never stood a chance.”

Well, he did have a point there. “Let me up. I need to pee. And you feel like a furnace.”

His hold released my waist, and I looked down with enough time to see a fully blacked-out tattoo sleeve, paired with the sight of a skeleton hand tattoo, right before he threw the duvet comforter over himself again.

Fuck me.

I wanted to facepalm myself into oblivion. I would know those tattoos anywhere—and not just because photographing them every now and then paid my bills—but also because I actually heavily enjoyed the sound and performance of their music. I had even gone down the YouTube rabbit hole a time or two.

“Did I really just sleep with the lead drummer in Neon Cherry?”

He turned his head to look at me directly before blinking dramatically. “Yeah?”

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