Page 103 of Closer

Besides, I don’t need my kid having his first concussion before birth. I’m not doing anything to screw up this child, and French women are scary as hell when they’re mad.

I run my hand over Brie’s swollen belly, feeling the baby kick against my palm. All those endorphins in Brie’s system must create their own kind of music because this kid is dancing like he’s the second coming of Michael Jackson.

I bury my head beneath her dress again—you know, to get closer to the baby—at least that will be my excuse if she tries to push me away. Since she hasn’t already, I take that as a green light and shove her legs further apart, burying my face in her sweet, hot cunt.

“Holy shit!”

I slide out from under Brie’s dress and wipe her juices from my stubble with the back of my hand, climbing to my feet. “What the fuck, Ryan?”

He covers his eyes. “Sorry, shit. I’m sorry, Brie.”

“I told you not to come in here unannounced,” Ali says, whacking Coop in the chest. She doesn’t bother covering her eyes though. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say my ex wanted to get all up in my Angry French Girl’s snatch.

“Mon Dieu!” Brie sighs. “Is nothing sacred around your band?”

“Not really. Welcome to loving a rock star,” I say, tucking her panties in my back pocket.

“You get used to it,” Ali says.

Brie lips twist into a smirk, directing her playfulness at me. “Hmm, I’m not entirely sure he’s worth it.”

“Hey,” I say. “I’m worth every annoying word that comes out of Coop and Zed’s mouths.” And because I can’t help it, I pull her close and kiss her stupid.

“Mmm.Tu sens comme moi,” Brie says. “You taste like me.”

“And that’s our cue to leave,” Coop says.

“Well perhaps if you’d listened to me in the first place, dumbarse, we wouldn’t have interrupted them.”

“Yes, Ali-cat, I should never doubt your sage wisdom again. Brie, you’re wanted in the studio. Kit’s just laid his bass down for the track.”

“He go okay?” I ask.

“Yeah, he was good.” Ryan shrugs. “He’s no Ash, but then who is, right?”

“Hey, my client is fucking awesome,” Ali says.

“Still can’t believe my own wife hustled me.”

“Hey, Ali, maybe when you grow up and become a real manager, you can have more than one client.” I wink. She gives me the finger.

“I don’t need more than one client. You just wait until you arseholes start touring. Kit’s going to be all they talk about.”

“Kit’s going to get eaten alive. The kid will have more pussy than he knows what to do with,” I say, ignoring Coop and Ali, and kissing the most beautiful woman in the world. Her eyes are glassy as she comes up for air. I wish these arseholes would fuck off because Brie needs to be in the studio to record the songs we wrote in this house all those months ago, and just like then, I haven’t had my fill yet. I’m not done with her, and I doubt I ever will be.

“And speaking of pussy, get the fuck out. My woman needs to play, and I promised to make her come on my hand while she blows me.”

“Right, well, you two have fun with that. Coop and I will be ... not here.” Ali grabs her husband’s shirt and pulls him from the room. His reply is lost on me, because my everything moans as I gently push her back against the wall and kiss her again as if I’m dying, and she’s the oxygen to my lungs.

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