Total pages in book: 54
Estimated words: 48700 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 244(@200wpm)___ 195(@250wpm)___ 162(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 48700 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 244(@200wpm)___ 195(@250wpm)___ 162(@300wpm)
She smiles at me like I hung the moon just for her, and damn if that doesn't make my heart race. Damn if it doesn't make me want to be that man for her. I'm not good enough for her. Doesn't matter if I have money in the bank and fans screaming my name, she deserves better. But that isn't going to stop me from claiming and possessing every inch of her. Until she's stripped raw, consumed by me, I won't quit. I can't.
"Let's get you inside," I say, scooping her off the bike.
She glances all around, staring at my space as I carry her into the house, kicking the door shut behind us. My boots echo against the white porcelain tiles. Floor to ceiling windows line one wall, offering a view of the manicured grounds and the glittering lights of Nashville in the distance.
The furnishings are sparse but comfortable—oversized leather couches and chairs in deep shades of brown and black. Chrome and glass accent tables catch the dim lighting. It's the kind of furniture a single motherfucker like me would pick out— functional and easy to maintain. No fussy throw pillows or knick-knacks, no personal touches.
I spend most of my time at the bar, on the road, or handling my career. It hasn't left much time to think about shit like decorating.
I carry her through the living room into the kitchen and set her down gently at the massive island in the center, tucking strands of hair behind her ears.
"What do you want to eat, Toto?"
"Food."
"Smart ass."
She smirks at me.
"Keep it up, princess. After your little stunt on the bike, I'm just itching to fill that smart fuckin' mouth so full you won't be able to speak," I growl, wrapping a hand around her throat to pull her close. "In fact, you won't even be able to breathe."
"Mm," she hums, her lips an inch from mine. "You know what they say, Memphis. It's the small objects that create the choking hazards."
I crush my mouth to hers, silencing her with a hard kiss. "Fuckin' savage," I mutter against her lips before pulling away to make her something to eat. If I don't feed her now, the only thing I'll be feeding her tonight is cock and cum. And when she's gagging on all nine inches, she'll see for herself that the armchair experts don't know every goddamn thing.
She laughs quietly as I stride to the fridge to start pulling out ingredients and then turn on the indoor grill to get it heating.
"You owe me a story," she says, her voice light as she watches me form meat into burger patties.
"Is the Wizard of Oz not doing it for you anymore, Toto?" I ask, adding spice to the meat.
"I finished the series two days ago, Memphis."
I glance at her over my shoulder, startled. "When the fuck did you find time to read an entire series?"
"I'll never tell." She beams at me, batting her lashes. "Now, spill. How did you get into music?"
I slap two burgers onto the grill, and the sizzle of the meat fills the air. As I cook burgers, I find myself sharing a piece of my soul.
"Music has always been an escape for me, even when I was a kid," I confess, assembling a salad. "Didn't have much family, just a brother. Jayson." His name catches in my throat, the memories too close to the surface to stay buried. I push them down anyway, fighting to keep them contained. "When he died, music was all I had left."
Kylie is quiet for a long moment—too long.
I turn to glance at her to find her staring at me, an odd look on her face, almost as if she wants to cry. She notices me staring and blinks rapidly, schooling her expression.
Jesus. Is she ready to cry for me?
"Riley found you in a bar, right?" she asks before I can say anything, her voice probing as she tries to understand the man I've become.
I hesitate for a moment, and then decide to circle back to whatever the fuck that look was after I answer her questions.
"Yeah." I nod, my throat tight. "She found me playing with the house band in some dive in Knoxville." It was…fuck…I don't even know. Two or three years after Jayson died. The days all blurred together.
"She signed you?" The shadows in her eyes are gone too. So are the tears. I could almost believe I imagined them; except I know damn well I didn't. She was ready to cry.
Who the fuck is she?
I nod again. "I don't know why the fuck she decided to take a chance on me. I didn't deserve it. I still don't. But she hauled my ass out of there and signed me the next day. She changed my whole life, gave me a reason to keep going when I had none."