Page 17 of Forbidden Billionaire Rockstar

His gaze darkens, and he cocks his head to the side. “Is that what you did?”

“Maybe,” I whisper.

In the blink of an eye, he’s slamming his lips hard against mine, then pressing against me so that my ass comes into contact with the counter behind us.

His one hand stays in my pants, his fingers circling over my clit, while the other disappears beneath my shirt, and he rolls a nipple between his fingers.

My body is on fire from the sensations, even though I know it’s the wrong thing to do. Any one of the guys could come down here, struggling to get to sleep just as much as we are, yet I don’t move away from his searing touch.

The image continues in my head with him tugging the neckline of my tank down, exposing my breasts, and leaning down to wrap his mouth over my nipples. He swirls his tongue over them, sinking his teeth lightly against the buds, and it’s enough to have me rocking my hips into the vibrator I’m using.

My mouth pops open, eyes closing as the image takes over, and I run my vibrator along my center frantically to catch the release I need. Jace continues running his fingers over my clit, but pushes a thick digit into my entrance that makes my toes curl in response. It’s like he’s actually in the room with me, doing everything I’m fantasizing about, and I can feel the desire pulling in my belly.

I’m a shaking mess, sweat beading on my forehead, and I spread my thighs apart further while the image slowly plays through in my head. My release is right there, teetering on theedge of the cliff, and right now, it feels as though Jace is the only one who can coax it from inside of me.

“God,” I whisper into the empty room. “I need more.”

As if hearing my reality and fantasy, Jace curls his fingers inside of me and brushes against the most sensitive part of me while pressing his lips against my throat. “Let me hear you, sweetheart. I’ve been dreaming of your screams for months now.”

Just like that, a moan slips from my throat, and I rock my hips into the vibrator that I’ve pictured as Jace’s hand, my release coming out in wave after wave.

I’m breathless as I come down from the high, my fantasy fading until I’m looking at the white ceiling above me, and I swipe at the sweat running down my face.

This is bad.

What if someone saw us downstairs earlier and comes to a conclusion that’s not true?

Oh God, how loud was I just now?

Trevor’s room is on the other side of mine, and it would be embarrassing if he heard me through the thin walls. My cheeks heat, but I feel like I could sleep through an earthquake. Instead of worrying about everyone else, I simply lift the blanket, placemy vibrator on the stand next to me, and curl onto my side while staring out the window.

I’ve got to ignore Jace. That’s the only hope I have of not ruining the job I’ve worked my ass off to get. I’m not that old, Mallory, anymore. That’s who Jace knows, and I’m sure that’s who he’s looking for.

That’s not me.

Unfortunately, when I close my eyes, all I see staring back at me is a pair of sapphires.

Even in my dreams, he can’t seem to stay away — what does that say about me?

6

Jace

When the guys walkthrough the back entrance, Mallory is already standing in the center of backstage while talking animatedly to one of the Sweet Surrender members — Paxton. He nods slowly, eyebrows furrowed in concentration, and I steal the moment to look over her outfit.

A familiar ache settles in my chest, a bittersweet mixture of longing and regret. Mallory looks effortlessly stunning, a painful reminder of what I can’t have.

I nudge her shoulder as we walk past her and wink when she flicks her gaze at me briefly. “Blue’s my favorite color. How did you know, sweetheart?”

Instead of answering me, she rolls her eyes and goes back to whatever she’s saying to Paxton.

Carmen is waiting for us on the stage, where the stage crew is setting up our equipment for rehearsals, and she waves to us excitedly. If it weren’t for the dark circles under her eyes, I’d believe that she was okay.

The cavernous arena engulfs us, the empty seats stretching into darkness. The air is thick with the scent of dust and metal, mingled with the faint aroma of coffee from the crew's cups.

Overhead, a maze of scaffolding and lights cast long shadows across the stage. The distant echo of technicians' voices and the metallic clang of equipment being set up creates a symphony of pre-show chaos.

“Good, good,” she says while waving a hand to the stage. “We need to get you guys up there so you can get some rest before the show.”

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