Page 24 of Rockstar's Accidental Marriage

He nuzzles my neck, and I tilt my head back to give him more access. I hear his husky murmur warm against my skin, “It’s times like now that we are very compatible.” He continues to nibble his way across my damp collarbone, moving my robe out of his way. “Where our differences don’t matter. In fact, I like how different we are.”

I give a low moan as his hands find the belt of my robe, and he unties it. His warm hands reaching out to cup my full breasts. His thumbs rub across my nipples, creating friction that sends an ache right down to my core. I press my thighs together, trying to assuage the need for him.

I feel his hand slip between my thighs, finding me aching and wet. I gasp as he slowly parts my folds and inserts a finger into me, pressing in deep. My mind clouds with passion as he expertly pushes in another finger, working me, priming me.

Suddenly, I feel my back pressed against the wall as Sam hoists me higher. His hands around my bare waist. My robe, long forgotten as it hangs open, exposing my breasts to Sam’s seeking mouth. He covers a nipple with his hot lips as his hand continues pumping into me. The duel sensations leave me a quivering mess. As he works me like an instrument–building my pleasure.

I feel the first tremor, and my eyes flutter closed. Then my body clenches down on his fingers, my hands tightening as they grip his hair. But he doesn’t stop. He doesn’t slow, and he continues until I let out a keening cry as my body orgasms.

When I finally open my eyes, I find Sam staring at me. I expected a smirk–an arrogant grin or for him to make some snide joke. But instead, his eyes are intense, filled only with desire–for me.

His gaze never leaves mine. The only sound I hear is his zipper being pulled down. God help me. I can’t wait for him to take me–fill me. My entire body is begging for more of him.

He doesn’t make me wait. He urgently lowers my body over his thick length, filling me in one deft stroke.

As my eyes flutter closed again, he demands in a guttural voice, “Don’t close your eyes.”

My gaze locks onto his, so brilliant green that it steals my breath. He pulls out just to surge into me again and again. It’s powerful and raw, and it only takes a few more strokes before we both cry out as the passion carries us over the edge of our desire.

Once the storm is over, Sam holds me tightly in his arms. He carries me over to the bed, and my legs lift, going around his waist. When we reach the mattress, he kneels down and gently lays me in the middle. As he leans down to kiss me, his cell phone buzzes.

Without ever bothering to see who’s calling, he ignores his phone. Instead, he leans down and brushes my lips with his.

“Aren’t you going to get that?” I finally ask, my voice breathy.

“No. I’m going to be busy all night.”

He makes good on his words.

Hours later, my body is spent as the dim light of dawn filters into the room. I slowly open my eyes. The bed feels empty. I glance to the side. Sam is gone. I reach out, and the sheets feel cold. My eyes dart to the hotel clock. It’s very early in the morning. He left without saying goodbye, and my heart gives a funny little pang.

Logically, I know he went back to the bus to protect me—us. But I’m still disappointed that he isn’t here, lying beside me. Sitting up in bed, I glance over to the desk. The divorce papers are still there—unsigned.

I draw in a shaky breath as mixed emotions flood my system. We had sex. A slow smile pulls at the corner of my mouth. No, it wasn’t just sex. It felt like something more—like making love.

But then reality comes crashing back. Did last night change anything?

No. Not really. So many things are still unresolved—mainly our marriage and now our divorce.

Eight

Sam

I wake up to the soft glow of early morning light filtering through the bus window. My first thought is of Emily.

How she looked when I woke up this morning, lying beside me, her hair spread across the pillow like a dark cloud, her skin glowing in the soft light. The sheet had slipped down to reveal her bare shoulder, and I had to fight the urge to trace the marks I'd left there the night before. For a second, I didn't move; I just stared because she looked so beautiful and peaceful—like a vision, so different from her usual controlled demeanor.

Last night wasn’t planned. It wasn’t even smart. But it felt like a surrender. As if all the tension between us had ignited, and we simply couldn’t fight it anymore.

And now?

I exhale slowly, careful not to wake up any of the band. The divorce papers were left on her desk, unsigned and untouched, but the weight of them still lingers, pressing on my chest.

We haven’t solved anything. In fact, we’ve probably made things more complicated. But as I think back over how Emily looked at that moment—content and satisfied in the bed we just shared, I can’t bring myself to regret it.

Our truce is subtle at first.

We haven’t talked about what happened. Hell, we haven’t even mentioned our marriage or the divorce papers. But something between us has shifted.

---