Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 60750 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 304(@200wpm)___ 243(@250wpm)___ 203(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 60750 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 304(@200wpm)___ 243(@250wpm)___ 203(@300wpm)
“Yeah, right!” Rhys chuckles again. “Even if he were, the guy keeps his sex life so under wraps that we wouldn’t know about them hooking up until like, next year. Honestly, I don’t even know if he has a sex life. He never says anything about it.”
“Well, either way, I doubt Cameron’s going to really give a shit about things with Alyssa, especially if we seem a lot calmer when we’re back in the studio.” I shrug. “If all he knows is that things are peaceful again, that’s probably all he needs to know for now, anyway.”
Chapter 12
Alyssa
There’s no coming back from what I just said on that rooftop.
I just never know when to shut up.
I’m pacing around the hotel room, my arms crossed over my chest, anxiety filling my every step. I don’t know why I decided to blurt out the honest truth of the situation, highlighting my utter inability to choose between Rhys and Van when it came right down to it. But now they both know how I feel.
And they both know what I like in bed, too.
“Oh my God,” I mutter to myself, coming to an abrupt stop mid-pace. “Oh my God. What the hell is wrong with me? Why did I ever think any of this was okay?”
I groan before flopping down against the mattress, my hands flying up to cover the shame that’s burning on my face. If I were still back home, I never would’ve done anything like this in a million years. Who is this girl hooking up with one guy after the other, letting Rhys Marshall fuck her in a conference room, letting Van get her off by dirty talking about how much she wants to get fucked by other guys, too.
Who am I anymore?
I mean, I’m still Alyssa Smith, right? I’m still just a girl from a small town with a big dream who got lucky enough to get a shot at her big break in L.A.? I’m still best friends with Marina, and still feeling like I’m somehow coming in second place to her, too. On top of all of that, I’m a pretty badass songwriter, and I know how to write memorable lyrics, the kind that people think about getting tattooed on their arms.
But…is that really who I am?
Because I know that if I asked someone like Geesha Riley, she’d say that I was a shameless boyfriend-fucker, just another one of Rhys’s bedwarmers. And I have a feeling that if she found out about Van and me, she’d label me as the thot of the century, just another sex-obsessed L.A. transplant, a poser whose biggest talent is spreading her legs for her own bandmates—
No.
I have to stop. This has to stop.
I can’t just sit around beating myself up. What for, anyway? For enjoying myself for the first time in my life? For having sex with men who actually care about what I like in bed, what I want them to do with my body? I shouldn’t be trying to punish myself for craving the pleasure they give me, and I’m not going to feel bad about wanting it, either.
Because why wouldn’t I want Rhys’s hands all over me?
Why wouldn’t I want Van’s hands all over me, too?
Pretending that I prefer one over the other would be a total lie and trying to deny the way I feel about either one of them would be an even worse one. Although, now it’s going to be up to Rhys and Van to try and figure out if either of them still want to be with me, or if my inability to choose is enough to drive them both away—
My thoughts are interrupted by the sound of a card being swiped on the other side of the hotel room door, a small beep letting me know that Van’s using his room key. A few seconds later he’s standing inside the room, a wide smile plastered all over his face. At the sight of his smile, something flutters in my chest, happy that it seems like I’m going to be able to keep at least one of the men I’m growing so fond of.
Instinctively, I meet him at the door, my arms wrapping around his shoulders, my chest pressing close to his own.
“I thought you were going to hate me,” I admit as I look up at him. “I thought you were going to think that I was the worst person in the world.”
“I could never think that about you, princess,” Van replies, his hands shifting down to my waist.
“I could never think that about you either, darling,” Rhys adds, as he suddenly appears inside the hotel room too, his gaze landing right on my own. “You look beautiful tonight, by the way. I really love that color on you.”
“…Thank you?” I reply, puzzled by the situation. “Van? What’s going on—”