Page 142 of The Bridges I've Burned

I fucked her hard, gripping her ass for leverage as I slammed into her body over and over. I stifled her moans with my hand before replacing it with my mouth.

It felt wild.

It felt desperate.

When her orgasm finally claimed her and I felt her fall apart in my arms, I had no choice but to follow.

When it came to Elena Mendez, I realized I’d never had a choice.

From the moment I’d walked in that bar, I had been hers.

“Come on tour with me,” I said, my breathing still labored from our lovemaking.

We quickly adjusted our clothing, but I kept her pinned to that wall.

“What?” Her hands pressed into my chest as she stared into my eyes.

“Leave with me on Sunday. I want you there with me for my first concert. For every concert, Elena.”

She swallowed, and I could see a myriad of emotions in her reaction.

“I can’t just leave,” she said. “I have a whole life, a job?—”

“That you hate,” I reminded her. “You could start over. Pick a different career, write a book, or, hell, do nothing at all.”

She flinched. “I can’t just be your groupie for the rest of my life, Zander.”

“That’s not…” I was screwing this up, and I could already feel her retreating. “I just meant that you could have the freedom to do and explore whatever you wanted.”

“And if we don’t work out?”

“What?”

“It’s a logical question, Zander. We’ve only known each other for three weeks, and you’re asking me to give up everything for you.”

I took a step back, feeling the loss of her touch instantly. “No, I’m asking you to make a life with me. There’s a difference. It shouldn’t feel like a sacrifice if it’s right. Elena, I?—”

The sound of knuckles rapping against the other side of the door interrupted me.

“Elena?” It was Molly. “Guests are starting to arrive, and Marin isn’t ready yet.”

She looked at me, and I merely nodded.

“I’ll be right out.” She stepped out of my grasp and flipped the lock. “We can talk later,” she assured me.

There was something so final when she walked out that door, and it took less than an hour to find out why.

When Lance had warned that things would only get worse, he’d proven why he was a damn good manager.

The large red door to the inn swung open as Billy and Eli stepped inside, looking like two opposite ends of a spectrum. Billy had dressed up a nice pair of dark jeans with a black button-down and boots while his husband looked like a sixth member of The Fab Five. His tan suit, black fitted T-shirt, and loafers no doubt cost more than my mortgage.

“Jesus, what a madhouse!” Billy exclaimed.

“I thought I’d left this bullshit in New York,” Eli said, running a hand through his neatly trimmed hair.

“Sorry, guys.” I grabbed the back of my neck, feeling helpless as the rest of the wedding party and several of Marin’s family members tried to get through.

Jake had managed to get the reporters off inn property, but unfortunately for many of the wedding party, the parking lot was now full, thanks to the inn being at capacity, and they were having to park on the street, which was fair game.

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