Page 13 of Forbidden Billionaire Rockstar

All I want is a nice shower to wash away the small amount of makeup we were forced to put on today, then forget about the fact that I’m going to be close to Mallory throughout the duration of our tour.

I burst into my room, slamming the door behind me. My fingers fumble with my phone, desperate for a distraction. Music floods the room, pulsing through the Bluetooth speaker in the bathroom. I strip off my clothes, scattering them across the floor as I stumble towards the shower.

The hot spray hits my skin, and I lean into it, letting the water wash away the day. But it can't wash away the image of Mallory that's burned into my mind.

I close my eyes and lean forward, pressing my forehead against the shower wall as a fantasy I shouldn’t be having floats across my vision.

Mallory steps into my room, smirking at my form sitting at the edge of my bed, and she shakes her head at me. “I didn’t strike you as the jealous type. You keep surprising me.”

“I’m protective of what’s mine,” I say simply, staring at her form as she starts taking steps toward me.

She arches a brow. “Yours, huh?”

“You’re damn right,” I growl, reaching when she gets close enough and tugging her over to me until she straddles my lap.

The laugh she lets out shakes me straight to my core, making me more feral for her than I already am, and I lean forward to glide my tongue against the couple inches of exposed skin along her neck.

“I approve of these little outfits you’re wearing.”

“Approve? As if I need your permission,” she says breathlessly, still trying to argue even though I’ve got her in my clutches.

“The less skin you show, the better it will be for everyone who stares at you, wouldn’t you say?”

She flutters her eyelashes at me when she looks at me, smirking. “Even if it’s all for you?”

I hum in agreement. “Guess I could let it slide then.”

I run my hands along the skirt she’s wearing, while toying with the neckline of her shirt with my teeth, and stop my perusal when I get to the zipper located at the waistline right against the small of her back.

Mallory lifts up, placing her feet flat on the floor, and allows me to spin her around so I can push the skirt down her slender legs. The fabric pools at her feet, showcasing the lace thong she’s been sporting underneath, and I growl low in my throat.

“God, do you have any idea what you’re doing to me?”

I slam my hand against the shower, sending the fantasy scattering away, but it doesn’t stop me from gliding my hand down and wrapping it around my hardened length. Mallory’s hands are what I would rather have gripping me, but this is the best I’m going to get right now.

The way she looked in that skirt, even if it barely gave me a glimpse of her thighs, is enough to have my spine tingling.

For a moment, I go back to our night together, and think about what it would’ve been like had she touched me in the way I’m desperate for right now. If she were to walk into my bathroom right now, would she be gentle or as eager as I am?

I’d like to think she would be eager.

She would rip the shower curtain open, baring me to her, and she’d slowly lick her lips and eye me with nothing but hunger in her eyes. Mallory would gaze at me as if she’s the predator and I’m the prey.

I imagine her hand replacing mine, the tips of her fingernails dragging over my dick like a balm to my soul. Even though I know she’s not truly touching me, that doesn’t stop the fire from igniting through my body as I eagerly try to bring myself to release.

Mallory would see the effect she has on me, then wrap that pretty mouth of her around my length and guide me so far down her throat I would have no choice but to come down it.

As if on cue, my vision whitens, and I jerk my hips forward as come shoots out and onto my hand. The hot water spraying over me immediately washes away the evidence, but it’s going to stay imprinted in my head for the rest of time.

I lean my forehead against the cool tile, letting the water wash over me. What the hell am I doing? Fantasizing about my best friend’s sister, my colleague’s new marketing manager? I’m playing with fire, and I know it. But I can’t seem to stop.

I step out of the shower, the memory of my fantasy clinging to me like steam. As I dress for the show, I repeat my new mantra: She's off-limits. Professional. Focused. But even as I say the words, I know they're going to be put to the test.

Hours later, our tour bus pulls up to the stadium. The parking lot is already filling up with fans, their excited chatter drifting through the tinted windows.

I take a deep breath, steeling myself for what's to come. Stay out of my head and focus.

Simple.

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