Page 23 of Hot Ride

I cup her face, tilting her chin so her gorgeous eyes meet mine.

“There's no going back.” My voice is a low growl, thick with longing—a promise and a vow. “Not for me. Not after this, Scar.”

She pulls back, her eyes shining with desire and uncertainty, searching my face for answers. “What about Daniel?”

Her words cut through the haze of lust like a cold splash of reality. The genuine concern for her brother is etched in the slight furrow of her brow, and how she catches her lip between her teeth.

I get it, I do. Daniel's not just her brother, he's my best friend, my brother in all the ways that count.

But this thing between Scarlett and me, it's not some tawdry fling or casual hookup. It's real, and powerful in a way I've never experienced before.

She's the missing piece I never knew I was searching for, the other half of my soul.

I brush my thumb over the seductive fullness of her lip, her breath catching at my touch.

“He'll understand,” I murmur, my voice low and rough with conviction. I have to believe that. Daniel knows me better than anyone. He'll see the truth of what Scarlett means to me.

I lean closer until I can feel the heat of her body and smell the intoxicating scent that is pure Scarlett. “Trust me, baby,” I whisper against her lips, a vow and a plea all in one. “It will be alright. We'll make it alright.”

Because I'm done denying what I feel, done letting fear and obligation rule my life. Before she can protest further, I capture her mouth again, kissing her with a possessiveness that borders on feral. Scarlett's fingers tangle in my hair, tugging me impossibly closer.

“Jett.” She whispers my name like a prayer. I swear I've never heard a sweeter sound.

I grasp her curvy hips possessively, pulling her pliant body close, and letting her feel how much I want her.

Nothing else matters–not the grueling tour schedule, not the screaming fans, not even my next hit song. This connection between us eclipses everything. I need to mark her, bind her to me completely, erasing any doubt that we belong to each other.

Scarlett breaks the searing kiss with a devilish grin, her cheeks flushed and eyes sparkling with mischief. I'm breathless, my heart pounding against my ribcage, every nerve ending electrified by her touch.

With a challenging look that sends heat straight to my core, she reaches for the mini-bar, snagging a bottle of Jack Daniels, the same whiskey we used to steal sips of as teenagers.

“Liquid courage,” she purrs, her voice a teasing rasp that makes me ache to taste the whiskey on her tongue.

She pours two shots with a steady hand, the amber liquid sloshing invitingly. Then she knocks one back in a single gulp, her throat working as she swallows. It's so unexpected, so out of character for the studious good girl I thought I knew, that it takes a moment for my lust-fogged brain to catch up.

Scarlett, the brilliant, straight-A student who always played it safe, is treating hard liquor like water? But this bold, uninhibited side of her—a side I never dreamed existed under her cool, polished surface—has me straining against my jeans, desperate to discover what other surprises she's been hiding.

“Your turn.” Her husky voice is an invitation impossible to resist.

I throw it back, relishing the burn. But it's nothing compared to the heat in Scarlett's gaze. Suddenly, she's on me, nimble fingers gripping my shirt. She tears it open with a sharp tug, buttons scatter across the floor.

My pulse races as she pushes the fabric off my shoulders, her fingers trailing over the exposed skin. I hiss at the contact, every nerve ending sparking to life.

Her eyes roam over my exposed torso with undisguised hunger. A low, appreciative sound rumbles from her throat.

I flex instinctively, muscles tightening under her scorching appraisal. “Like what you see?”

She leans in, her lips a breath away from mine. “You have no idea,” she murmurs against my mouth.

Her fingertips trace the ink etched into my skin, leaving trails of fire in their wake. “Tell me about this one,” she whispers, following the path of a serpentine dragon that coils around my ribcage.

I draw in a shuddering breath as her nails graze my flesh. “Got that after our first sold-out tour. It was a reminder of how far I'd come, how much music meant to me.”

She hums in appreciation, her fingers drifting to the scripted lyrics spanning my ribs. “And this?”

“Lyrics from the first song I ever wrote.” I confess, my breath hitching as her touch ignites sparks beneath my skin. “It's about chasing dreams, no matter the cost.”

Her lips quirk into that devilish smirk I've come to crave. “And what does this represent?” She traces the Japanese characters inked along my hipbone.

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