Page 8 of The Rockstar

This will be a one-time thing for him, but I’ll likely spend the rest of my days replaying it in my head. He’ll ruin every other guy for me.

He can move on from me, but I can’t do the same. I’ll be too attached.

I’m still mentally debating with myself when the tension snaps.

His hands are on my waist. The shock of it steals my breath. But before I can even inhale, his mouth crashes into mine, hungry, hot, and demanding.

Now I have something else to tell Valerie. Ryder is a damn good kisser, the best.

His fingers tighten at my hips. My hands rise without thinking, fists bunching in the fabric of his shirt, pulling him close because I can’t get enough. He presses me closer to the van, and I arch into him, looping my arms around his neck.

Light drizzle clings to my hair, slicks my skin, and chills my spine, but his body is fire, and it’s everywhere, demanding attention, burning every part of me.

His mouth slants over mine again, deeper this time. Slower. Teasing. A flick of his tongue makes me gasp, and he uses it, swallows the sound, and tangles his tongue with mine.

Dear Lord. It’s the kind of kiss I used to dream about. The kind that makes me lose my mind and my toes curl. The hollow ache between my legs becomes more pronounced, and I realize a little late that I’m already rubbing against his crotch, the hardening tent in his pants.

When he pulls back, barely an inch, his breath fans my lips. “I wanted to do that since I laid eyes on you.”

“Just a kiss?” I whisper, voice unsteady, my heart about to burst. “Nothing more?”

He exhales a laugh, forehead resting against mine, tension vibrating between us like a taut wire stretched too far. The flashlight drops to the ground, but neither of us moves to pick it up. “You want more?”

I think about the list, about all the reasons why this is the mother of all bad ideas. But they all crumble into dust when he slips a finger under the waistband of my pants, the pad of his finger rubbing against my lower belly slowly, seductively.

With all the courage I can muster, I stare at him. “I want more.”

3

RYDER

Vivian wants more. Well, fuck, who am I to deny her?

She’s still breathing heavily when I kiss her again. I can’t seem to get enough of her. The taste of her is already burned into my memory. Her lips part, and I take advantage, deepening the kiss until her soft moan punches straight through my gut.

Then her palms slide along my chest, and I’m pretty sure she can feel my heart pounding.

I think she’s going to push me away, say this is a mistake. But she tugs me backwards, and in a dizzying moment of realization, it hits me. She’s guiding me inside the van.

The door slides open behind her with a metallic groan. She moves in first, retreating into the dark because she knows I’ll follow.

She’s right. At this point, she can tell me we’re going to hell, and I’ll happily trail behind her.

I climb in after her, ducking under the low ceiling. It smells a whole lot cleaner than my own car. My knees hit the floor mat as she sits on the bright yellow leather seat. We face each other in the cramped space, breath mingling in the silence, her legs trapping my body.

“This is a bad idea,” she whispers.

“Maybe.” I brush a strand of wet hair from her forehead. “But I’m not exactly known for good ones.”

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