Page 3 of One More Song

He drags a thumb across his bottom lip, and I follow the movement, unable to stop my tongue from flicking across my own lips.

I blink. One. Two. Three.Still not breathing, my head reminds me. And I feel the world around me start to spin.

The man says something, but his words are muffled in my ear, all I hear is my own heartbeat. Thump. Thump. Thump.

“Pardon?” I manage to say, finally taking in a lungful of air, but it doesn’t stop the tingling that started in my fingers and has spread through my entire body. Or the ache in my core that makes me need to squeeze my thighs together.

God, Em, get a grip. For all I know, these men could be here to rob me. Not that there’s anything of value left.

Only my dignity. But this man seems to want to steal that too.

Gray eyes takes a step toward me, his mouth twitching up slightly, but the amusement stops there. “I asked if you’re Ember Skye? You own this bed-and-breakfast?”

“I-I am,” I stutter out, needing to regain some sense of composure, and failing miserably. “And you are?”

I see the hint of surprise in his eyes like he thinks I should know him. “I’m Ash.” Then he nods over his shoulder. “That’s Dusky, Saint, and Synn.”

An awkward laugh spills from my lips, and I say before thinking, “And Happy, Grumpy, and Bashful will be arriving when?”

Dusky snorts, but Ash frowns at me like he doesn’t get the reference. “What?”

“I think the lass is making fun of our names,” Dusky says, grinning at me. “I like her.”

Ash grunts, those gray eyes never leaving mine. I’ve felt attraction before. Little sparks of energy that make a person think unreasonable things. I felt it with my high school boyfriend when he first kissed me, and the first time Mitch asked me out on a date.

But this...it’s so much more.

It’s not just sparks. It’s electricity and heat. An inferno that’s so hot I feel a bead of sweat forming on the back of my neck. Like I can already feel the man’s fingers caressing my body, his mouth soft and warm, possessing my own.

It’s exciting.

And terrifying.

But for a brief moment, I’m lost again in those eyes.

And then I hear a deep laugh behind him, and Dusky mutters, “If the two of you are done eye-fucking, I’d really like to know where I’m supposed to be sleeping.”

“Sleeping?” I glance at Dusky, then back at Ash, whose expression is guarded now. “Look,” I say, my brain slowly starting to work again. “This isn’t a hostel. It’s a bed-and-breakfast, and I’m already booked for the next few months. I have a guest who’ll be arriving anytime, and it’s going to look really bad if you’re all here, so I’d appreciate if you’d take your things and leave.”

Ash shares a look with the other guys, but none of them make any show of leaving.

“Fucking Maryll,” the guy Ash called Synn grumbles, leaning against the wall, his muscles flexing under the colorful display of ink.

“Maryll?” I ask, my voice catching. They’d mentioned the woman’s name before, but now tiny pieces of the puzzle start to fit. And I’m not liking the picture it’s making.

Shit. Please, please, please don’t let this be what I think it is.

When Maryll came with her offer, I’d jumped at it because honestly how much trouble could a middle-aged woman be?

But these guys? They had trouble written all over them.

Especially Ash.

“You spoke with our agent, Maryll Kinglsey,” Ash says, those gray eyes searching mine, and I see a hint of sympathy in them like he knows I got duped.

“Your agent?” I repeat. “I think there’s been some miscommunication.”

“Obviously,” Ash deadpans, arms crossing over his muscular chest. “If you’re worried about damages, it’ll all be covered—”

---