Page 23 of Rockstar's Accidental Marriage

“This is... nice,” he says, his voice laced with amusement. “Definitely a step up from the tour bus. A little too sparse for my tastes, but…”

I ignore the jab, close the door behind him, and cross the room to pick up the envelope. My hands feel shaky as I hold it out to him.

“What’s this?” he asks, taking it from me but not opening it.

“Divorce papers,” I say, my voice steady despite the tightness in my chest. “I had them drawn up a few weeks ago. All they need is your signature.”

He stares at the envelope for a long moment, his jaw tightening. When he finally looks up, his eyes are unreadable.

“You’ve been carrying these around for weeks?”

“Yes.”

“And you waited until now to give them to me?”

“I figured it was time,” I say, crossing my arms. “We both know this will never work. It’s not—”

“Stop,” he interrupts, his voice low but firm.

I blink, startled by the sharpness in his tone. “Excuse me?”

“How can you say it won’t work when we haven’t even tried?” he says, tossing the envelope onto the desk like it’s nothing. “That’s just your excuse for giving up.”

“It’s not an excuse,” I snap, my frustration bubbling to the surface. “It’s reality, Sam. We’re opposites in every way that matters. You take nothing seriously. You’re reckless, and—”

“You think I can’t be serious?” he cuts in, his lips curling into a bitter smile.

“Yes,” I say, my voice trembling. “I think you use humor as a shield.” Closing my eyes in defeat, I say in a weak voice, “I need someone who takes being in a relationship seriously. I needstability, someone I can count on. Someone who wants to be with me.”

“And you think I can’t be that person?” he asks, stepping closer.

“Can you?” I challenge, my heart pounding.

For a moment, he doesn’t answer. His gaze locks on mine, intense and unrelenting, and the air between us feels like it might ignite.

“I don’t know,” he admits truthfully, his voice softer now. “But I want to try. Emily, I don’t want to lose you.”

His words hit me like a physical blow, and I take a step back, shaking my head. "Don't pretend you care just because you're faced with divorce papers." Even as I say it, my body betrays me, responding to his nearness. The heat radiating from him, the way his muscles flex beneath his shirt—it's all so achingly familiar.

"That's not what this is," he says, his voice dropping to that dangerous register that makes me weak. He steps closer, and I can feel the magnetic pull between us, that same electricity that makes him so hard to resist.

Before I can stop him, his hand cups my face. The rough pad of his thumb traces my bottom lip, and my breath hitches. His touch is gentle but possessive, igniting every nerve ending.

"You want me to sign those papers?" His whisper brushes against my lips, his forehead almost touching mine. "Fine. I'll sign them. But tell me this first—what if we're not a mistake? What if this thing between us is real, and you're just too scared to admit it?"

The words die in my throat as his other hand slides to my waist, the heat of his palm burning through the thin silk. My body remembers this dance all too well—the way we fit together, the intoxicating mix of tenderness and desire whenever he touches me.

When his lips finally claim mine, it's like striking a match to gasoline. The kiss is hungry, desperate, filled with all the words we can't say. My hands betray me, sliding up his chest to curl into his shirt, pulling him closer even as my mind screams to push him away.

A soft whimper escapes me, and I feel him smile against my lips, his grip tightening possessively.

I know I should stop this—stop him and remember all the reasons why we won't work. Instead, I remember how he made me feel that night in Vegas. His thumb traces my jawline, and I shiver at the familiar calluses on his guitarist's fingers, recalling exactly how those skilled hands felt, exploring every inch of me.

Suddenly, the tempo of the kiss changes and his lips soften and move against mine with a tenderness that makes my chest ache. For a moment, I forget why I called him here.

He’s now taking his time, and it's like he’s savoring me—tasting me as he slowly explores my mouth. This is a side of Sam I haven’t felt before. It feels adoring, even loving, and it cuts through every one of my defenses.

As he deepens the kiss further, I give another soft whimper.

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