Page 64 of Rebel

Reaching up, I slap his face and then jerk it down with my hand on my chin. “Don’t you dare. You don’t get to come until I come again.”

“Mean, baby.” He grins, twisting his hips so his dick drags along the nerves inside me. “You always come first, beautiful, always, so come for me. I can’t hold back. You look too good filled with my cock. You look too fucking good spread across my bed. Come for me, Beck. Come.”

His hand grips my throat as he fucks me, and when I start to see spots, I let go once more. I cry out my release, feeling his cum fill me as he yells, and all I see are dots, then I float away, feeling nothing.

A smile curves my lips.

Trav snores, lying on his front with one arm under his pillow, his other reaching for me. His hair is messy as hell and sticking up, and his silken sheets fell, showing off his marked ass thanks to my nails. His back is no better, and I turn away to slide out of bed. He groans, and I freeze. When he goes back to snoring, I pad to his open laptop.

I need evidence, I need the truth, and I’ll get it.

I fucked him, but that doesn’t mean I won’t destroy him.

It just means I have a better opportunity to.

For a moment, I hover my hand over the keys, remembering his earnest face and soft eyes as he brushed my hair back and kissed me last night. “Beck Danvers, I don’t know where you came from, but you amaze me. You make me obsessed.”

Shaking my head, I wiggle the mouse pad and bring the screen to life. The familiar Dead Ringers logo with a skull and lips appears, and there isn’t even a password, the idiot.

There isn’t much on his home screen, so I navigate to his files. I find lyrics, sheets, contracts, and merch designs, but I ignore them, scrolling through pictures while looking back at him to make sure he isn’t awake. I still when I turn back to the next picture.

It’s of him and me during rehearsal.

I’m leaning into his drums, my eyes shut as I sing, and his eyes are on me. His smile is so wide, it has to hurt. I don’t know who took it, but I swallow as I go to the next image to see it’s of me again. This time, I’m cupping my face and grinning in the kitchen. The next few are also of me. There’s a mixture of him and me, but in each one, I’m smiling and he’s watching me.

I turn back to face him, my heart racing.

Does Trav like me? A lot?

Swallowing, I turn back and close his pictures, checking the rest of his computer, but it’s clean. I shut it down again so the bright light doesn’t wake him, then I open the top drawer of his desk. Luckily, the music is still pumping from downstairs, so it covers the creak of the wood opening.

There are pens and pencils, some empty music sheets, and notebooks. I flip through the books filled with lyrics, raising an eyebrow. Trav is an excellent songwriter.

The last one makes me freeze though.

It’s a love song.

I don’t know when it was written, but one of the lyrics catches my eye.

Moon-kissed skin, dangerous eyes, and thick thighs.

Looking down, I scan the rest.

Does she know that I dream of her?

Does she know I love her?

They say it’s wrong, but how can it be when it feels so right?

Shutting it, I rummage around underneath the random junk, only to pull out an old polaroid photo. My sister is staring back at me. She’s grinning up at Trav, who has his arm wrapped around her shoulders as he beams at the photo. She looks happy and healthy.

Why is he hiding this?

Looking at my sister, I rub my chest as my heart clenches in agony. Fuck, she looked so happy. Could she have lasted like this had I only been here? Could she have had her dream?

The more I look at the picture, though, the more my suspicions rise.

She loves him. It’s in her eyes.

---