Page 88 of Snared

“Charlie,Charlie!How’sthehoneymoon going?” A reporter called out as we made our way into our New Orleans hotel two days later.

“Perfect,” Josh said, tugging me into his arms and kissing me before I could walk into the lobby.

“Get a room,” Jax called out with a chuckle, like it was something he was tired of seeing.

Of course, they probably were. And confused.

Hell, I was confused.

We’d ramped up the PDAs since the article had come out. It’d been our only acknowledgment. I hadn’t contacted Troy to say what the fuck, and we hadn’t done an official press release.

Troy had yet to reach out to me either, so I had no idea what had triggered him to speak to that reporter in the first place.

And that left me on edge.

Hell, the entire situation had me on edge.

Between the media, my mother, and Josh’s ever-present mouth on mine, my nerves were beyond frazzled.

What of this was real at this point? Any of it? Or was it all for show?

I had feelings for Josh, of that I had no doubt, but I still wasn’t sure if his were purely lust-driven and if pursuing anything wasn’t the biggest mistake I could possibly make.

And I knew the scrutiny would only continue for our extended stay in New Orleans.

Three days.

Three days in a hotel room with this man that, for some reason, I couldn’t get enough of.

A shudder rolled through me as Josh’s arm tightened around my waist, his tongue tracing the seam of my lips. Kissing him came as natural as breathing.

And that scared me most of all.

“Looks like it’s going well,” someone called out, and I pulled back from Josh’s kiss, but his arm still held me close.

“Or maybe it’s just for show,” another person said.

I took in a deep breath and looked over my shoulder at the group of reporters and photographers.

“All that matters is that we’re happy. Hope to see you at the show tonight,” I said, then turned back toward Josh and we walked into the hotel.

“Well done,” he murmured against my ear, making me wonder if it really was only for show.

But then he nibbled my earlobe and chuckled at my indrawn breath, muttering, “I cannot wait to get you all to myself for three nights.”

Fuck, I was confused. But my body definitely wasn’t.

“If you’re done manhandling her, we’d like our room keys,” Tristan said, his eyes narrowed.

At this point, I had no clue what my bandmates thought. I’d been too afraid to ask. Did they know we were fucking? Were they judging me for that?

Dammit. I was not this insecure person. I’d worked my ass off to shove aside the self-doubt I’d had as a child, thanks to my mother’s bullshit opinions. I refused to let it spring up again.

My phone dinged in my pocket and I saw her name when I pulled it out. It was like her ears were burning or some shit.

Mother: They’re still gossiping about you, Charlotte. Please talk to me so I know what to say to my friends.

I slipped my phone back into my pocket. She could wait. It’s not like I’d been completely ignoring her, but the less we communicated right now, the better.

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